Of Dolor and Valor
War and Warfare. Men and Mankind.
I would say nothing of a man nor take account of him for any wit of the mind or dueling skill he might have.
Not if he had the size of an Orc and the strength to go with it, not if he could outrun the very wind itself
Not if he had the stealth of the Alamutians nor the fury and odium of those under Nyssa Heretic
Not if he were more skilled in the art of Seamanship than a Ghiscari Pirate nor the ferocity in battle as Captain Gandamar
Not if he were as skilled in Politics as those in the 9th Legion, not if he could design a city as well as Algaron
Not if he were more handsome and spoke with more charm than an Invictian or had more riches than Doom had, or Dam too,
Not if he were more of a king than Grailen Warith, or had the power of speech and persuasion Darkfeather had,
Not if he had all the traits of a true man without a fighting spirit. For no man ever proves himself a good man in war
Unless he can endure to face the blood and the death; to be able to go close against the enemy and fight with his hands alone.
Here courage stands, mankind's finest possession, here is the noblest prize that a young man can endeavor to win,
And it is a good thing his city and all the people share with him when a man plants his feet and stands in the foremost spears, a fearless vanguard.
All thought of running and flight completely forgotten, and well trained his heart is to be steadfast and to endure,
And with words he encourages the man who is stationed beside him. Here is a man
who proves himself to be valiant in war.
With a sudden rush he turns to flight the ragged battalions of the enemy, and sustains the beating waves of assault.
And he who falls among the champions and loses his sweet life, with his death blessing
with honor his city, his father, and all his people,
With wounds in his chest, where the spear that he was facing has torn through
that guard of his shield, gone through his chest-plate as well,
Such a man is lamented alike by the young and the elders, and all his city goes into mourning and grieves for his loss.
His tomb is pointed to with pride, and so are his children, and his children's children,
and afterward all the kin that are his.
His shining glory is never forgotten, his name is remembered, and he becomes an
immortal, though he lies under the ground,
When one who was a brave man has been killed by the furious, bloodthirsty War God
Having stood his ground and fought hard for his children and land.
But if he escapes the fate of death, the bane of being, and wins his battle,
and become renown for the work of his shield and sword,
All men give honor to him alike, both the youth and the elders, and much joy comes his
way before he goes down to the dead and return to the earth.
With age, he has reputation among his citizens. No one tries to interfere with his
honor or all that he deserves;
All men withdraw before his presence, and yield their way to him, the youth, and
the men his age, and even those older than he.
Thus a man should endeavor to reach this high place of courage with all his heart,
and so trying, never be fearful in war.
For Aloria will grow worse till men redeem it,
And wars more evil, till all wars cease.
