Welcome back, Forename. By your tranquil countenance, it is plain that both your body and soul are in readiness for the next stage of your journey.
Very well. The time is ripe that I teach you the Ballad of the Vainglorious Fool.
The song tells the tale of an archer of the Gods' Quiver whose peerless skill was surpassed only by his hubris.
Alas, that hubris led to the annihilation of his entire regiment at the battle which has come to be called the Massacre of Griffin Crossing. Ahem!
Standing guard in dead of night,♪
An archer, wearying of the sight,♪
Drunk on pride and starved of glory,♪
Forsook his post to claim victory.♪
Ten score yalms had the archer crept,♪
When shrieks rang out whence his comrades slept,♪
For he was not there to see the knives,♪
Nor to ring the bell and save friends' lives.♪
Tell me, Forename, what lessons can be learned from this tale?
Ah, but hold that thought─what your tongue claims to understand interests me not.
As before, I'd sooner have you demonstrate the fruits of your learning with bow in hand. This time, however, you shall have the pleasure of my company.
I would have you escort me to the Gelmorra Ruins in the North Shroud. It is there that some few fallen from the Massacre of Griffin Crossing have been laid to rest. Pray honor this place of remembrance with a bouquet of lilies.
Heed me, O Puissant Althyk! Cast Thee back the rains to the firmament, that we might gaze upon the battles of yore!