It was already getting dark in the capital of the Puffington Empire, somewhere in the Realm of Ghur. Two figures strode casually along the dark grey battlements, patrolling the perimeter of the bustling free city of Puffington, the single most largest settlement in the area. Several miles across and surrounded by thick walls and bastions, this imposing fortress city housed hundreds of thousands of men, aelves and duardin alongside their Stormcast protectors. Despite its size, wealth and importance the entire complex was silent, sleeping.
The two figures were almost indiscernible in the darkness, any colours and heraldry blending into the darkness that the setting night brought with it. Only their silhouettes could be distinguished against the faintly-lit horizon: one with the size and proportions of a man, the other with almost twice those both. The soft shuffle of the man's boots against the flat rock of the ramparts was accompanied by slower, heavier metallic clangs of the giant. They spoke in low tones, their voices audible only to each other as the words drowned in the evening breeze sighing against the stone crenellations.
They came to a large gatehouse, opening the reinforced wooden door to step into the warmth of the braziers inside. For a moment, yellow torchlight washed over the battlements and muttered greetings could be heard from inside, only to be cut off when the door was pulled shut behind them. For several moments only wind blew across the walls. Then the door on the opposite wall of the gatehouse opened, again casting a brief pillar of light across the flagstones.
"That's the West Gate, then! We're a good hour or so ahead of the schedule, Iberius. How about we stop for a moment to catch our breaths?" Ludwig called out to his companion as they left the gate's garrison to their games of dice and cards.
"No need on my behalf. I'm not fatiqued," replied the towering Stormcast as he yanked the door shut behind them, plunging them into darkness once more. The freeguilder snorted.
"Of course you're not."
The guardsman let out a deep sigh as he placed his shield and spear carefully against the wall. He took off his helm and placed it on the nearest crenellation, leaning out against the cold stone as he ran his palm through his greying hair. The night breeze felt invigorating as it swept across his sweating scalp.
"So... how's it like?" Ludwig asked his companion, his gaze turned to the stars above. The Stormcast was still standing in the middle of the rampart with a grandhammer leaning against his right pauldron, the eyeslits of his warmask turned towards the old veteran.
"What?"
"To be immortal."
"I'm not immortal. I bleed and die just as you do. I just get remade each time."
Holding his arms crossed before him on the crenellation, the guardsman frowned.
"I bet you could call that some sort of immortality, Iberius. Death holds no permanent or inevitable grasp on you as it does on mortal men. It's not the end of all things."
"True. And that is why I do not fear death."
"Of course you don't," Ludwig blurted out, waving his hand dismissively. "But have you ever considered that you should be afraid of the absence of it?"
"Of death?"
"Yes. It must be terrible to live on indefinitely, dying over and over again in this war or that. Dying once should be enough for any man, the way I see it..."
The Liberator lowered his grandhammer and set it against the wall, removing his warmask to reveal the handsome face of a man in his prime age. Curls of black hair fell free, flowing free in the wind.
"We fight for the glory of the God King, to protect his people from Chaos. That is a noble cause for a lifetime, not to mention several lifetimes," Iberius pointed out.
"The Stormcast fight and die to preserve what Sigmar and his allies hold dear. To suffer more deaths than one is a small price to pay for the strength to uphold that cause."
"Perhaps, but that still doesn't sound like something I'd want for myself..." Ludwig replied, hurrying to explain more when seeing the Stormcast's deep frown.
"What I mean is... Why would I want to live forever fighting an unending war to protect people who age and perish even while I'm at it? Think of it this way, Iberius: with the inevitability of death lurking behind every corner of a mortal's life, that mortal has a meaning and a purpose for what he or she does. The life has its beginning, it has its ups and downs, and eventually it meets its end. This all gives meaning to that life. Knowing that you'll some day perish will have you work all the harder for things you want to accomplish in this life, it will have you love your family and friends with more genuine passion, it will have you express that love to them more often... All of this because you know the reaper'll come calling some day, and you don't even get to know that day beforehand."
Iberius had fallen silent. The young Stormcast was staring into the black nothingness of the night that spread out beyond the battlements upon which they stood, his eyes open and unblinking.
"Having no control over when our lives begin and when they end leaves us with only one moment we can actually affect in this world: the present," Ludwig continued, so lost in thought that he failed to notice the singular tear that was forming in the corner of his companion's eye.
"Only by living the present moment can a mortal hope to get the most out of his or her limited time in this world. With your mind stuck in the past or flung off into the far future, you'll miss the only moment that matters. I love my wife, my sister and my four kids, and I let them know that every single day. I want them to know that fact, to remember it, even if some beautiful day I wouldn't return from a patrol. I wouldn't be able to let them know that after I've died, so I won't keep it inside myself for some future moment or opportunity that might never come. That's why I tell them before I leave home. Every day."
"So, when the burden of mortality is lifted from one's shoulders, what will remind him or her of this importance of the present? Certainly not the looming possibility of death. You see what I'm after here, Iberius? Death gives limits to life, limits provide a purpose and purpose feeds our will to live our lives here and now," Ludwig concluded, turning his gaze from the stars to look at the Stormcast once more. Iberius was wearing his warmask again, picking up his grandhammer from its resting place against the wall.
"I quess I only have one question for you, my friend," Ludwig said, smiling warmly at the confusion he sensed in his companion. Seemed like the Stormcast were just humans, after all.
"Let us hear it," came the booming reply from behind the emotionless warmask. Ludwig picked up his helmet from the crenellation, turning it around in his callused hands.
"Is it worth it?"
There was a moment of silence, during which the guardsman donned his helmet, tightened the strips of his vambraces and snatched his spear and shield from where they were leaning against the wall.
"Much is asked of those to whom much is given," said Iberius, lifting his hammer against his shoulder with a metallic clang.
"Fair enough..." nodded Ludwig. "Shall we resume our patrol? I feel better already."
The rest of the night they walked in silence.
"The Stormcast fight and die to preserve what Sigmar and his allies hold dear. To suffer more deaths than one is a small price to pay for the strength to uphold that cause."
"Perhaps, but that still doesn't sound like something I'd want for myself..." Ludwig replied, hurrying to explain more when seeing the Stormcast's deep frown.
"What I mean is... Why would I want to live forever fighting an unending war to protect people who age and perish even while I'm at it? Think of it this way, Iberius: with the inevitability of death lurking behind every corner of a mortal's life, that mortal has a meaning and a purpose for what he or she does. The life has its beginning, it has its ups and downs, and eventually it meets its end. This all gives meaning to that life. Knowing that you'll some day perish will have you work all the harder for things you want to accomplish in this life, it will have you love your family and friends with more genuine passion, it will have you express that love to them more often... All of this because you know the reaper'll come calling some day, and you don't even get to know that day beforehand."
Iberius had fallen silent. The young Stormcast was staring into the black nothingness of the night that spread out beyond the battlements upon which they stood, his eyes open and unblinking.
"Having no control over when our lives begin and when they end leaves us with only one moment we can actually affect in this world: the present," Ludwig continued, so lost in thought that he failed to notice the singular tear that was forming in the corner of his companion's eye.
"Only by living the present moment can a mortal hope to get the most out of his or her limited time in this world. With your mind stuck in the past or flung off into the far future, you'll miss the only moment that matters. I love my wife, my sister and my four kids, and I let them know that every single day. I want them to know that fact, to remember it, even if some beautiful day I wouldn't return from a patrol. I wouldn't be able to let them know that after I've died, so I won't keep it inside myself for some future moment or opportunity that might never come. That's why I tell them before I leave home. Every day."
"So, when the burden of mortality is lifted from one's shoulders, what will remind him or her of this importance of the present? Certainly not the looming possibility of death. You see what I'm after here, Iberius? Death gives limits to life, limits provide a purpose and purpose feeds our will to live our lives here and now," Ludwig concluded, turning his gaze from the stars to look at the Stormcast once more. Iberius was wearing his warmask again, picking up his grandhammer from its resting place against the wall.
"I quess I only have one question for you, my friend," Ludwig said, smiling warmly at the confusion he sensed in his companion. Seemed like the Stormcast were just humans, after all.
"Let us hear it," came the booming reply from behind the emotionless warmask. Ludwig picked up his helmet from the crenellation, turning it around in his callused hands.
"Is it worth it?"
There was a moment of silence, during which the guardsman donned his helmet, tightened the strips of his vambraces and snatched his spear and shield from where they were leaning against the wall.
"Much is asked of those to whom much is given," said Iberius, lifting his hammer against his shoulder with a metallic clang.
"Fair enough..." nodded Ludwig. "Shall we resume our patrol? I feel better already."
The rest of the night they walked in silence.
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