wary wigeon
Hark! From the mora-scorched South, where sands lie deep,
A Lance-Maid stern, sworn vengeance doth to keep.
Her arm is strong, her purpose forged in fire,
Beside the Heir, consumed by dark desire.
No crown adorns his brow, but shadow's blight,
By Cassid guile unthroned, denied his right.
His birthright stolen, like a jewel besmirched,
By traitor's hand, his royal lineage birched.
