The King is dead, his spirit is to be absent from the body, it is to be sent to his cursed god, now only the dust returns to ground, like vengeance, empty. Maybe his spirit can be forgiven by the Arch-Paladin, who gave it; his dragons are gone but the havoc they have wrought still remains.
Now the Lord waits in the wings; the land I love, the land of my fore fathers can be re-built with his guidance, his wisdom. Woe to him if he falls to the same path of the fallen king, for the only thing that can fill this hole in my heart is more vengeance.
I see myself standing by the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sun and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Am I done my Lord or is there more I must do avenge our fallen?