Chapter XXVIII: Lazarus on the Rise.

I remember the day my father died like it was yesterday. It was a somber occasion, one that I knew was coming but never really prepared myself for. My father, Demetrios, was a great man. He was a noble man and a devoted father. He taught me everything I know about honor, courage, and chivalry. And when he died, I was left with a void in my heart that I knew could never be filled.

The funeral was a solemn affair. My father was buried with all the honors due to a knight of his stature. But as I stood there, watching the ceremony, I felt lost and alone. I didn't know what to do next. My father had been my mentor and guide, and without him, I felt rudderless.

It was then that George, the Grandmaster of the Saint Lazarus order, approached me. He had known my father well and had always respected him as his fellow friend, he told me that he was the reason why he is still alive and well. George told me that my father had sworn an oath to him, promising to protect me at any cost. And now, George said, it was his turn to fulfill that oath.

George invited me to join the Saint Lazarus order, and I accepted. I knew that my father would have wanted me to continue his legacy, to uphold the principles of chivalry and to defend the weak and helpless. And so, I trained with the Saint Lazarus knights, learning everything I could about combat and strategy.

But my father's legacy extended beyond the Saint Lazarus order. His past exploits and heraldry had earned him the respect of the Teutonic Order, and soon after I joined the Saint Lazarus, I was invited to join the Teutonic Order as well.

I was knighted by the Teutonic Order in 1267, the youngest of the Knights, and sent to fight in the Battle of Rakvere. The battle was a brutal affair, with both sides suffering heavy losses. But I fought with all my heart, driven by the memory of my father and the oath he had sworn to protect me.

We battled fiercely, sword clashing against sword, shield against shield. I fought with everything I had, knowing that my father was watching over me from the heavens. And when the battle was over, we emerged victorious.

As I looked around at the carnage, I knew that my life had changed forever. I had proven myself on the battlefield, and I knew that I would spend the rest of my life fighting for what was right and just. My father's memory would always be with me, guiding me and inspiring me to be the best knight I could be.

And so, I continued on my journey, fighting for justice and defending the weak. My father may have passed away, but his legacy lived on through me. And I knew that he was watching over me, proud of the man I had become.

As time passed, I continued to fight for justice and honor, always keeping my father's memory close to my heart. But there was something different about me that I couldn't explain. I didn't age like everyone else around me.

At first, I thought it was just a coincidence, that perhaps I was blessed with good genes. But as the years passed, and I remained the same, I realized that there was something more to it. I was ageless.

It was a strange and lonely existence, watching my loved ones grow old and pass away while I remained the same. But I didn't let it get me down. Instead, I focused on using my gift to help others, to fight for the oppressed and the weak.

And so it was that I found myself on the battlefield once again, this time during the Battle on Marchfeld in 1277. I had heard that Ottakar II was in need of help, and I knew that it was my duty to aid him just as my father had done before me.

The battle was fierce, with the sound of swords clashing and men screaming filling the air. But I fought with a renewed sense of purpose, knowing that my gift made me uniquely qualified to aid in this fight.

As I charged into the fray, I felt a surge of energy that I had never felt before. I was faster, stronger, and more agile than anyone else on the battlefield. And as I struck down my enemies with ease, I knew that I was making a difference.

In the end, we emerged victorious. And as I looked around at the devastation and loss of life, I couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt. I had been blessed with a gift that allowed me to fight with greater skill and longevity than anyone else, but at what cost?

But then I remembered my father's words, his teachings about honor and justice. He had taught me that we must always fight for what is right, even when the cost is great. And so, I held my head high and continued on my path, fighting for what I knew was right and just.

As the years turned into decades and then centuries, I remained ageless, my gift allowing me to continue my crusade for justice and honor. And though I knew that I would never be able to escape the loneliness that came with my gift, I took solace in the fact that I was making a difference in the world and giving my father the revenge he deserved.