A young man blossomed, with the fountain of youth,
He was not much more than a boy,
His bravery fair, his courage was great,
To be involved in so treacherous a ploy.

He sought for only glory, and honor to his name,
Yet all he got was destruction, and broken, bloodied shame.

The enemies came, some trusted, some not,
And took away his life and his pride,
Yet when the dust had dismissed, and promises were missed,
He was left with nowhere to hide.

So sorrowed were the townsfolk, so saddened were we all,
We had lost one of our best!
And the deeds he had done, and the battles he won,
Lie close, as we lay him to rest.

Yet the tragedy that played upon,
So many wearied heads,
Will echo into Evil's reign,
While they lay in their beds.

We raise him up today, from the boy that he once was,
And bestow the accolade to him, of the soldier he'd become.

His youth belied a wisdom,
And his strength belied his age,
But the story here, is yet to end,
The final page is ours!

In their blood we write the verse,
Their screams, the melody,
The chrous is their broken corpse,
Their death, our revelry.

Yet for every dream that falters,
A surge of truth holds tight,
They have taken, and we will take back,
In this, our greatest fight.

Yet anger guides my hand today, as it will guide us all,
And revenge will be as sweet as sin, and hear that clarion call.
Their blood shall be our river! Our boats shall be their skin!
And we shall sail, through rain or hail, to destroy their closest kin.

For every dram of agony, they suffer at our hands,
And every ounce of pleasure, they fail to understand,
We don't do this for the thrill, we won't do it for the joy,
We will do it for the life that was, of Lucin, the boy.

Daijin Isis Ryuu-Sar'vet
Steel Commander of the Steel Bastion

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Miraman, in the year 573 AF.