The Story of the Hot Gates Collection

The Unknown Warrior

I know what you see when you look at me. An old and weary man, humbled by time, now sitting alone beneath the shade of this olive tree, waiting for death.

If you look past your contempt and into my eyes, you will see the truth. This frail shell houses a spirit that is unbroken and the embers of my dying furnace still burn hot.

Much have I seen and known.
The fall of mighty cities and the birth of young kings.
I stood beside the great Leonidas and faced an army beyond measuring,
a simple soldier I was then, my arm strong like any Spartan warrior.
Our immortality was unshakable, every victory beyond doubt.

I saw Leonidas fall, surrounded by a dozen enemies, his great arm still pushing them back. Now that was a man! The world will never see his like again.

I burned like a hot, new star, my anger unquenchable, to see my king fall.
We pushed the Persians back and broke their spirit until they crawled away like a lizard beneath a rock, waiting for their empire to fall.

My name will never be known, never pass the lips of bards, and my deeds will be forgotten. I care not, as my welcome into the hall of heroes will be thunderous, my king will greet me with open arms.

The story of our deeds at the Hot Gates will never be forgotten. Time is imprinted with the memory of Spartan glory.

Never was so much owed by so many, to so few.