This work is by Kaj Sotala and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Xuepolis
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For long has the kingdom been fallen,
long has the fight to defend it been.
By the seven great kings it created was,
the ruler of them all it blessed has.
Once upon a time will it be rebuilt,
undone will be the traitor's guilt.
Yet the curse cannot be easily broken,
a noble hero's life must be taken.
Those cursed will forever wander,
around the high hills yonder.
A champion yet will hear the summons,
rising from the shadow of the commons.
Nary a companion will he find,
only treachery that makes him blind.
But upon entering the mountains dark,
none of the enemy's dogs will bark.
Unseen shall he move in the shadows,
protected by the blessing of the widows.
Quietly will he move among the slaves,
even as they fill their graves.
There encounter his love he will,
in the middle of a night chill.
In a move that is too fast to see,
the slave girl shall be set free.
Away from the mountain will they journey,
their pursuer cold and boney.
Escape will they for a day and a dozen,
their spirits getting less and less brazen.
A ruined fortress will they make their final redoubt,
of their fates can neither of them feel a misdoubt.
And so speak shall the champion,
"Our pursuer is cunning as a scorpion.
But he is only one,
a mistake from which he cannot atone.
You have brought me back to life,
never shall I see you fall prey to strife!
My lady, you must flee,
so at least one of us the next day will see."
And a response will his love give,
"I knew you'd this idea conceive,
yet yours is not the choice,
at best can you give advice.
I might have brought you life,
but you saved me from the knife.
Alongside with you shall I stand,
the mark of cowardice will not me brand."
Together will they the pursuer face,
ready to meet its mace.
Together will their blood be spilt,
on the rocks that were long ago built.
For the curse to be broken,
must a hero's life be taken.
Only then can the kingdom be rebuilt,
undone will be the traitors guilt.
Restored will be the work of the king,
in his glory will the peasants sing.
Everything due to the hero,
of whom known is zero.
The land's splendor will again be shown,
thanks to the hero who is not known.