• A scent of the fallen fills the air...
    My sword hits solid ground...
    The faces of my fallen comrades...
    They flash trough my mind...
    ruining the whole concept of victory...

    the ragged banner is laying on the ground...
    As i pick it up, i see the face of his owner...
    Or what is left of it...
    The lower powers of mother earth are having a party on his face...
    Worms crawling out of his jaw wound...

    No, i can't bury my comrades...
    500 are too much to bury...
    The glory of the nation comes first...
    As the banner is plunged into the moist soil,
    i hear the sound of horsemen...

    My leaders show no emotion...
    Maybe a glint in their eyes,
    betray that they are happy...
    Soldiers are replaceable...
    I am replaceable...

    By that last thought i fall down to the ground
    and pull the arrow out my shoulder....
    The rest is just a memory...
    The memory of a soldier...
    The unseen scars of a soldier...