I sit a top a hill and listen to the sound of Steele at it rings. The sparks from blazing swords cut  through the night as fires burn to light the battle. I hold fast to the reins of my horse as I prepare to take the field. With lance in hand I hold my own destiny of which new generations will sing. I rally my comrades for my final push as I swear upon my fathers bones, I will reclaim his rightful throne and in my wake upon the rotting heaps of the dead, I will be crowned the rightful king.