I wear my Pen as others do their Sword.
To each affronting sot I meet, the word
Is Satisfaction: straight to thrusts I go,
And pointed satire runs him through and through.

Though the pen is mightier than the sword, the sword speaks louder and stronger at any given moment.

For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds,
And though a late, a sure reward succeeds.

Virtue was its own reward.

Kingship wrought of Infinite worship,
Quick-forged by the Swift Sure Hand;
Bold in Righteousness,
Valiant in Justice,
A sword of honor to defend the clans of Albion!

Sellswords put gold before honor.

Virtue has her heroes too
As well as Fame and Fortune.

Like an ambassador that beds a queen
With the nice caution of a sword between.

Virtue's a mere name,
Or 'tis high venture that achieves high aim.

Now it cuts like a knife,
But it feels so right.

In a swordfight, a man's surest defense is the swift stroke that slays his foe, not cringing behind a shield.

The brave man slays with a sword, the craven with a wineskin.

To win was always deemed a splendid thing,
Whether it be by fortune or by skill.

For blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, And though late, a sure reward succeeds.