What we hold sacred is honor, justice, and glory. You need not swear allegiance to our storm god, to serve with us. Fighters are among us from many lands, with many gods and many beliefs. Believe as you will. What is between a man and his god is theirs alone to say.

You're talent, and we're the talent scouts.

To the death with honor, shoulder to shoulder, and no one gets closer to a Stepson than his partner.

"Dreamers and dreaming dead, lots of them from neither here nor there with no chance of getting home again, lost in place and time.

And what do the Theban hoplites see in this extended rending of the sky, this white-bright glory of Enlil's lightning? The future, but not theirs: paired cavalry fighters; formed ranks of armored death; grim men on their tall horses with lightning limning weapons tailored to the task; men spoiling for a fight if the gods allowed - the Sacred Band of Stepsons, out from shadows and the dark.

Keep your enemies at a distance, your partners close at hand.

Something awful is always going to happen, Arton. It's Sanctuary. You're a Stepson. Awful is a big part of your job.