The Knights of Malta

[Jihadjoe]

The crowd outside the building was large. Very large, but this was Arsenio's forte. He was a performer, both in battle and as an orator, his life was about theatricality. A fight won efficiently was inferiour to a fight won with style. If you conducted yourself with grace and style and still won, then you handed your enemy an insult. Or so Arsenio liked to believe.

He made a gesture and the crowd quietened, his image replicated on the large screens either side of the stage.

"Countrymen." He paused.

"Friends... I have resigned my commision as Admiral in the 101st Outcast Guard."

There was a stunned silence. Arsenio looked around. He knew this would happen.

"I don't leave with any bitterness or resentment. The Ghost of Rasgriz are honoured friends. Family, as is every Maltese man or woman. Ours is a nation of strength, dignity and honour."

He paused again and looked down to the left at Cianna, his wife-to-be. She smiled. Maltese society was divided into those decended from old-earth Italian blood and those of Spanish decent. The Zavala family was of the latter, whereas Cianna D'Elia was of the Italian speaking community. This match-up had ruffled a few feathers in the Council of Dons. Arsenio didn't much care.

The crowd relaxed slightly. Arsenio had gained a reputation as a formidable combat leader. Dennis Jameson, the administrator of the 101st had dubbed him 'The Executioner' upon his promotion to admiral and the name had stuck within certain circles of Maltese society.

He cast his eyes over the crowd and resumed his speach.

"My duty is to my nation, as is that of the Ghosts of Rasgriz. However my focus is a little different. My eyes have turned to the south. Our 'cousins' on Crete have become increasingly bold on our southern borders, breaching the great minefield in Omicron Eta with increasing regularity."

He paused for effect.

"In centuries past my ancestors of the Zavala line have fought for our nation on the front line with the Corsairs. I will be no exception to this."

He slammed his fist down on the lecturn infront of him and raised his voice.

"The Corsair incursions into our space will end. They renounced their claim to any brotherhood to us when they abandoned the Hispania, crippled beyond repair and made planetfall on their own rocky hell."

The crowd erupted. An angry cheer. He quietened them again with a gesture. He spoke more quietly now.

"Three centuries ago, the honoured Miguel Zavala formed the Knights of Santiago. A group of men and women dedicated to the reconquista of our lands, our space and territory, from the Corsairs. Named in homage to the brave Spaniards of old earth who fought to libertate their lands from the Moorish invasion of the Iberian peninsula. Our blood, our history, our ancient heritage reborn in the men of Malta."

He surveyed his audience and smiled. 'Easier than the old council' he thought to himself.

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