Epic of the Hundred Years

[Doroschuk]

His majesty lie,
Sick in his bed,
He knew he would die,
Who would take his stead?
His son, he did give,
As his designated heir,
But the diet, they did not forgive,
The son’s bastard stare,
And so the electors gathered in High Haven,
The capital city of the Imperial Raven,
Whose symbol adorns the flags and shields,
Of a thousand armed soldiers, rune-swords they wield,
To protect and serve the walled city High Haven,
White city it be, to house the White Raven,
The Raven had landed, and the diet was stranded,
What course would they take?
Which prince of the realm, with high crowned helms,
Would be the Emperor to make?

[Doroschuk]

In the Walled City,
The electors cast their vote,
In the Walled City,
A Hundred Years were wrote,
Some voted for Henri, sire of Lovien,
Some still for Fordrim’s Leodred the Jovial,
Few for the bastard, Flavian his name,
Many for Charles, of Savillian fame,
His skill with the sword, known far and wide,
His visage foreboding, filled with strength and pride,
But the electors did vote, and history was wrote,
For the election was hung in deadlock,
And the lords did jeer and mock,
The bastard who failed, the Raven who fell,
And the Empire split amongst hawks,
The Kingdoms divided again,
Which prince was to reign?
A Hundred Years darkness began.