The Last Disciple
A story by ONE FOR pALL
He stood alone, the last of his Order, atop the Vigil of Deschain the once great Fortress of the Empire named after the legendary ancestor of his Majesty, Roland Deschain.
“May you find your Tower…” he uttered to himself quietly.
Not long ago whenever these words were uttered they were always met with the second half of the motto of the Disciples of Deschain but now his voice was the only one these sacred walls heard.
He picked up the broken horn carefully and inspected the damage. Some say that this horn was the same one that belonged to the Legendary High King of All-World Arthur Eld and was passed down through generations to Deschain himself.
Whether this was true or not it was the story he overheard at a now forgotten Space Station that made him seek out and join the Disciples and despite everything he had went through he still didn’t regret his decision.
Before he joined they were already a dying Order some saw the Disciples as suicidal fanatics willing to go where most would not, tied to the old ways and blindly loyal only to his Royal Majesty Emperor Almar Eld, Second of his Name but from the day he joined he never saw them that way all he ever saw were comrades, friends…family.
I could rebuild he thought to himself after all he was now the highest ranking member of the Order, only by default of course as he was never the model soldier nor was he the smartest or the bravest. But still, the old scripts and training manuals were intact.
He regretted this idea instantly. The very thought of making new brothers only to lose them again terrified him more than being alone ever could.
He placed the Horn down on the bench and opened his toolkit.
“May you find your Tower” he said again. Silence still the only response.