The city is burning, a raven came to me, I, King of Kings will find an answer. The city is burning and there is nothing we can do, but fight, fight for the honour that we deserve, for the passion, for the blood that we will not drop. The city is burning and you, my soldiers, my troops, are the last solution, the last chain to keep us afloat. The castle is in flames and the horses are dead, the city drips with blood of the innocent children, blood of your children, and the blood of my children.
But do not fight because is your duty, fight because it is your passion, your last call to arms. Farewell to the flesh and the weak, farewell to forgiveness, and to the sympathy. Fight, not for your King, but for your children, fight for your homes and your wives, fight for the families you once had and the new dawns you shall see. Do not fight because it is your duty, fight because it is your passion. Fight to avenge the burning foundations of the citadel. Fight for your life and your life alone. Do not fight for your King, for your King is merely one of you, founded in sweat, blood, and fire, I, your King, will fight at your side, will bathe in the screams of our enemies, I, you King, will fight for our honours, for our life, and most importantly for our futures.
The city is burning and the grounds are in flames, the horses are dead and the children will cry. The city is burning and so it’s our soul, burning with the passion of revenge and the need to avenge the death, we have our honours and our swords to guide us through. We have our hatred and our wills, our prides, and our desire to make us the victor of this macabre sacrilege upon our city.
Soldiers! Do not fight for me, do not fight for the richest you will obtain, because there will be none, fight for yourself and fight for your kind to survive. Do not fight for your Gods, the Gods are gone with the flames, do not pray to the Gods, the brave does not pray. Fight mercilessly, fight cruelly and engorged with rage, fight for victory, fight for your Honour.