First was the wolf and the wilds and the will and the rule of the mid-realm king
Long was the night when the wolf pack was still in their wait for the gathering spring
Soft was the face of the deep-hidden flower that bloomed in the whispering wood
Strong was the sight of the heaven's red eye when the dawn was the scarlet of blood

Then came the ship to the ice-ridden shore that carried the northern star
Proud indeed was the banner they bore that flew from the uppermost spar
Many a back built the citadel wall that grew on the banks of the leer
Loud was the sounding of destiny's call for those with the wisdom to hear

Up leapt the spark that ignited the rain of Septentria's flint and steel
Deep were the secrets the dwarf smith could name and the cauldron of gold could reveal
Dear was their sister who guided the Skraels in the lands of the easterly dawn
Steep were the banks of the river of years when their duty was finally done

Strong is the pull of a name for your home and a heritage all can share
Old was the wisdom the bard had once shown who had founded the land of the hare
Thoughtful the moot and the future they saw and the hope they agreed to declare
Gold and the pattern on history's loom were the threads they were measuring there

So spread the dream like a hungering flame over Ealdormere's towns and fields
Fated were they who would carry the name and the weight of the champion's steel
But for the symbols in copper and hide that encircled their necks like a wreath
Great was their promise as Ealdormere's pride but their stewardship doomed to be brief

A warlord arose in the far southern land that spoke of a northern threat
Artless the fall of his iron-clad hand and the turns of their servitude set
Heavy the heart of the conqueror's son the northerner's knew as a friend
Dark were the skies with a gathering storm as he told them their freedom would end

Then with the heat came the summons to war and they followed the warlord's son
Proudly they shouldered the burdens they bore and the praise for the battles they won
Silent the war cries and tongue-less the bards as they toiled in the sand and the mud
Loudly their discipline spoke of the land that whispered its name in their blood

Still their were two who embodied the north, champions in all but name
Low burn the embers of Ealdormere's hearth, the seeds of a slumbering flame
Moved by her courage, they fought for the doe, proudly they stood in her guard
Slow went that harvest and small was its yield and for many the winter was hard

Heard from the south road the hills of the spring with news of a tourney won
Many did wonder what summer would bring with the conqueror's dynasty done
Solemn that dragon proclaimed in his heart that the law of the land should read hence
"That any who challenged the name of the north would answer the steel of its prince"

And so was the title of Ealdormere's lord assumed by the southron king
Great was the voice of the wolves of the north who were given the freedom to sing
White were the blooms of the trillium flower they gathered and raised in their hearts
Scarlet the bonfires that burned through the night that were seen from the cities and farms