Oaths Are Not The Credit Of Men

This Is The Law: Blood Spilt Upon The Ground Cries Out For More.

In Every Tyrant's Heart There Springs In The End This Poison, That He Cannot Trust A Friend.

May Dawn, As The Proverb Goes, Bring Happy Tidings Coming From Her Mother Night.

The Anvil Of Justice Is Planted Firm, And Fate Who Makes The Sword Does The Forging In Advance.

Success! To Thee, As To A God, Men Bend The Knee.