"In Astora, one was considered a man at the age of fifteen, though it was only in the most desperate hours that our nobles even considered drafting anyone so young for their armies."

Though Astora's nobility had its fair share of decadence and arrogance, they were a relatively decent lot, compared to the nobles of other lands. It was a small nation, one that could be easily crippled by a peasant revolt, so the nobility tended to stay on good terms with the common folk.

"Though I cannot remember much of my life before becoming Undead, I do remember having a family. A wife, and three children. That time is centuries past, and they are long dead, but I cannot help but still think of my children as wee babes. I think of them often when I see the younger Legionnaires."

It had been so long, and dying so many times had taken such a hard toll on his mind, that he could no longer remember any of their names. He could only recall fading images of their faces, and that warm feeling he had whenever he saw them each time he returned home.

"But you are right. They are certainly impressive, and I am proud to fight beside them. Perhaps we'll even manage to teach them a thing or two about survival. For the ones who aren't too stubborn to listen, at least."