Artist's commentary
The Flat of the Exalted Cross
The knight harbored no love for the blade.
Spear and bow lay equally untouched upon the earth.
His chosen implement, a massive shield, seemed a burden too great for his frame so slight. Yet, not in vanquishing foes did his purpose reside, but in the safeguarding of his comrades.
Many lauded him.
The sinless one.
A Holy Knight, revered, precious, and brimming with love.
And thus, they averted their gazes from the battlefield's malice, the war's grim horror.
The knight, his inner world, he kept ever veiled from the masses.
He was not so human as to condemn their cherished illusions.
A solitary truth, and naught else, he left to the one who would tread his path.
Mark well my words, you who shall inherit this shield of mine.
There is no virtue in war.
To choose this shield, and stand as guardian to those behind you, is the very same as wielding the sword.

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