Speak of honor

The marble floor of the Summer palace, is only inhabited by the bitter ashes of defeat and death. A testament of a long-forgotten kingdom. The bones of heroes scattered around the field, and the glory of battle is only evident to those who see the tattered banners, unrecognizable and sun-dried by so many years of exposure, adorned at their base by the rusted weapons and battered shields.

There is much honor is what once was a mighty fortress, if only the dead could tell of such exploits. Much glory to be found, if only you cared to dust away the sands of times and uncover the remains of heroes and fools, warriors and levies, knights and boys, who all died and are forgotten.

The marble floor knew the knees of both dignitaries and prisoners, of slaves and nobles, and the stepping of royal guardsmen who marched onto war. Now, it knows plenty about dust and earth, of crumbling walls and pillars.

It knows of this, and nothing more...