Alcander's Fantastic Voyages Part 6

The battle is over.

We won.

Not the Knights of Heracles, but the men of this town.

It makes me more sure than ever of something of which I had been unsure. The spirit of Heracles is no longer with those who claim to be his knights. But it is with me, thanks to that cleric.

By the gods, I don't even know his name, but he may have saved me. I feel closer to the god than ever before, though I would rather it had come a different way.

In the order, I was always taught that the rage of Heracles was a curse, that to grow closer to Heracles I must avoid the anger which was his birthright. I was lied to.

The battle was close. The Heracletians came upon us in the morning, and many of those who needed to guard the town were not yet awake. Men ran to rouse them, but we needed something to slow the Heracletian advance until they were awakened.

I volunteered. Several men agreed to go with me, to buy the city some time. It was suicide, but we went.

I stood in the morning sun and let the men advancing see what I wore. The very sight made some men stumble, and then we charged.

I cannot recount fully what happened. I felt something come over me that I had never felt before. A rage, a blind fury that these wretched imposters would claim to be stewards of Heracles. There was no more honor, no sense of justice, only vengeance on behalf of the god.

Vengeance I got. When I came to my sense, the skin I wore was soaked in blood, and the men of the city were victorious.

Of the men who led the charge, only I was still alive.

The Knights of Heracles have been defeated, and this city may now stand as a bastion for those who would fight against the false Heracletians. It is a great victory.

And a great victory for me. For I have tasted the wrath of Heracles, and I have found it to be mighty.

I wonder, though, precisely what it means.

For now, I return to meet with the cleric again.

Perhaps he will have answers for me.