The Blade
The blade that my father gave me, I was too young then… It was so sharp, could cut through years of love easily, and in a blink of an eye could erase memories of a lifetime…

He asked to hold it in my hand, the glaze lit my face, so bright that my eyes couldn’t see… But I could hear him tell to me and to the god that resides in the temple, the blade shall now be mine and after me, my son’s.

Today I hold that blade again, rusted now, but still the one; still can guide hordes of mindless hate… I don’t quite know, why I must ride, but it was the call of our old and I must obey…

The blade, that once brought the freedom of our land, freedom we love so much to hold it in our fists… So I ride again, beyond the hills on which I played as a child, and towards the plains where children of our enemies play, and to burn the farms where they spent their quiet lives…

The blade, that was forged to destroy the evil that ruled from our palaces, shall now satisfy the greed that now rests within our hearts…

All Hail…