Bright-speared Targossas, the City of Light;
Crown of the Ithmia, Hashan of Night.
Ashtan, the grand city-state of the free;
Eleusis, the city that's one with the trees.
Cyrene, where peace and respect do belong;
Astute Mhaldor, that gives all to be strong.

All admirable states, with their virtues and vices;
All killing each other through their own devices.
Guards that will slay without batting an eye.
Totems that send one to sleep, and to die.

And children, the young ones, reborn through the Flame,
Are trained to take part in this gruesome war-game,
And raised until they may go out and die,
And shed blood and bleed blood and cry...

Is this wise?

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Lupar, in the year 644 AF.