Nope, I have not chosen to join the army of Avalon for the glory of the kingdom, nor the pride of my old mother … In fact, I was in a hostel for my birthday Bough and a very nice guy paid me a tour fortnectar, then another and so on. The next day, once sober, I learned that it was a recruiter and, completely drunk, I had signed my commitment.
– Oh, you too? And like me, the price of the tour was withheld on your first balance ???

Everyone knows the Avalon exploits of legendary knights or the effectiveness of the Templars. These are their adventures which is made legends and tavern stories, tales and family glories. And yet, apart from those who are lucky enough to have never experienced war, everyone knows that it is not they who pay the heaviest price for their bellicose lords. These are the men of rank, simple soldiers, dying by the dozens to ensure that a hero can happen in life to the place of his future exploits or go fast enough that the enemy does not add to his list of conquests.
But few who care: their families, perhaps a young woman he met in a kastel or an outpost, but that’s all.
They are the silent majority of Avalon troops. Some of them have chosen the profession of arms to escape their parents, others do not have this freedom, but all are now part of a kind of warrior brotherhood which one becomes a member by not birth or by land, but by surviving the battles, learning to stay calm in the midst of hell, running for days, wounded in the mud. All recruits have yet in the eyes of this species or disenchanted wisdom that attitude qu’arborent veterans but all want to acquire. Because they know, they can not return home, where await only the ingratitude of the people and the misunderstanding of those they protect themselves, or even hope to one day escape their condition and join the nobility and those religious who despise both. They are now their own family, and only the people around them now are worth fighting for them.