Having conquered the four ends of the earth after securing his father’s name established in the strength of Vahanagir by means of legions of hoplites, cavalry, angels, and seraphim, he blessed the earth, and loving God with an arrow of the heart shot into the heavens, he, with endless longing and praise, rejoiced in the victory of his people. King Armen marched with sword raised and in rhythmic meter against the war lords, evil men, and demons of the earth. Isahac, Ghevont, and his brothers, lowly and humble, giving the one true crown to him, he soon fell in the pride of life and in the weakness of ripened age to sorcerers and satanists.
His legion of knights, thousands upon thousands, shouting in glory for the coming King of Heaven, reverberating in mountain ranges across the world, became a mere memory, a story of the past, a legend to be told.
King Armen sought refuge in mountains unknown as if a fallen angel, immortal yet sinful.
Aru, finding him in the pit of darkness grabbed him by his teeth as he was bleeding to death before the invisible attacks of a force unbeatable by prayer and faith.
Training for years at a time beside Aru, quiet and patient, King Armen, having lost his kingdom, his sanctity, and knightly name, surpassed the rank of saints, become a god, equal to, if not greater than those of ancient myth.
His name no longer merely Armen, nor merely born of royal blood, but King Armen the Lion Bearer - those to whom all may turn to and find the consolation they so need.
Dwelling in the darkness of the forests, not a thought too high for his soul within, he sought continual knowledge from Aru, as he aged from youth to maturity, seeing himself as neither king nor lord, but a man united to God forever and ever - a god named by heaven and earth.