Page 55 of Pride: Kneel Before None

We all need something here.

Three, and we reevaluate your current posting.

My jaw clenched tight, my palm squeezing the device with enough force to threaten the phone’s integrity. I forced myself to release the tension that had rolled through me before responding with the only answer that mattered.

ACE

Convenit.

GRIER

Settled, indeed.

Grier Fyrewell was a mentor of sorts on decent days. A thorn in my side every other day. It had been almost a decade since we had last spoken. The estrangement between us had begun over a disagreement of principle.

Eternal flames flickered in every corner of the Hall of Bleeding Embers, the sacred meeting spot where all Knights of Hell congregated during periods of great transition. Those who were newly inducted and those who were entering a period of reflection—also known as retirement.

After the ceremony, the passing of torches, Grier approached me. All the others had filtered out of the room, proceeding to more celebratory activities.

“Never thought I’d see the day Crestpin himself would enter his period of reflection. It leaves the Knights underserved with the wisdom he bestowed upon us all.”

I nodded, not in agreement, but in acknowledgment. Crestpin was a cranky motherfucker. He should have parked his ass on a shelf and started collecting dust years ago.

Good riddance to the wrinkled bastard.

“His absence leaves a path for new perspectives,” I offered the alternative as a respectful challenge to current standards.

Slowing his footsteps to a halt, Grier turned to look at me with dark eyes that reflected the dancing flames on the wall behind me. His armor remained as quiet as his breaths, allowing his thoughts to grind the loudest.

“Do you know why Crestpin has remained a symbol of the Knighthood for so long? He chooses wisdom as his weapon and wields it as a means to inflict fear. That is why people bow before him. You could learn from his methods, Barnabel.”

I stood rigid next to him, spine straight with discipline.

“Lessons cut both ways, Grier.” Not always for the better either.

He made a sound that reflected both exasperation and reluctant amusement.

“Always pushing the status quo. An admirable quality, even if misguided.”

The judgment of his words weighed heavier than the armor I wore. Before I could get out a retort, he raised a gauntleted hand to silence it.

“Do you know why we are entrusted to protect those who are most sacred? It is because we are superior to all the other species we encounter. Where they lack discipline, we embody it. Where they falter under pressure, we become what only pressure can create. We teach Superbia why they bow before the Knights of Hell in matters of upholding the only duty that matters.”

The chuckle that escaped me was borderline insubordinate. Didn’t care.

Grier tilted his head to one side just enough to infer disapproval. “You disagree, Barnabel?”

I rested a hand on the pommel of the ceremonial sword sheathed at my left hip. It was a dull blade, all show and no bite. If I wanted to inflict damage, I relied on my dual swords secured within the confines of my penthouse.

“Not in matters of superiority, but in the foundation of it,” I replied, measuring my words carefully. Arguing the basic principles of our kind could easily be misconstrued as seeking separation, a lack of discipline, and worst of all, weakness.

A thoughtful nod from Grier preceded a gesture for me to explain myself.

Remaining tall in my stance, I pointed out the fault in the current mindset of the Knights with confidence.

“We are either superior to others, or we are not. There is no need to prove what simply is, Grier. Seeking validation from the lesser population is a crack in our armor. If those who kneel before us one day choose to stand, then our authority was never our own. My worth will never be dependent on others bowing before me. My pride comes from knowing I will never bend a knee to a soul who matters nothing to me.”

My mentor’s face was set in stone, unflinching and unfazed.