"Villainous Aedomon led the Saferi down on unsuspecting Manetheren, pillaging and burning, driving all before them until King Buiryn gathered Manetheren’s strength, and the men of Manetheren met the Saferi at Midean’s Ford, holding, though heavily outnumbered, through three days of unrelenting battle, while the river ran red and vultures blacked the sky. On the third day, numbers dwindling, hope fading, Buiryn and his men fought their way across the ford in a desperate sortie, driving deep into Aedomon’s horde, seeking to turn the enemy back by killing Aedomon himself. But forces too great to overpower swept in around them, trapping them, driving them ever in on themselves. Surrounding their king and the Red Eagle banner, they fought on, refusing surrender even when their doom became clear. ...their courage touched even Aedomon’s heart, and how at last he allowed the remnant to go free, turning his army back to Safer in honor of them."
Soft, the winds, like springtime’s fingers.
Soft, the rains, like heaven’s tears.
Soft, the years roll by in gladness,
never hinting storms to come,
never hinting whirlwinds’ ravage,
rain of steel and battle thunder,
war to tear the heart asunder.
...Back across the blood-red water,
marching back with heads held high.
No surrender, arm or sword,
no surrender, heart or soul.
Honor be theirs, ever after,
honor all the Age shall know.