At the court of king Chaos only blood can write its own tragedy...'
march, all led by golden winds Mighty warriors from the silver hills Elves and trolls from holy mystic woods run through the last snow Glory, pride and honor ride with him
handling proud his magic sword
He's now coming from the middle lands Burns the flame of north They will all meet in the Kazar ruins In the temple of the fallen one not so far from Ancelot
their hope will be born... Born from the asches of ancient glory... Born!
They all hail the mighty chosen one
reaching the skies with their cry They are ready to reach Ancelot
Arwald's calling loud... Magic and steelgods lead us to a new dawn'Glory ride with us! Lux triumphans!