None may approach that battlefield.
The lone army of Kremnos, an obstacle on the
Flame-Chase Journey.

He ordered his troops to stand aside —
That was the first meeting between hero and prince.

The two men fought for ten nights unceasingly,
Till the combat drew to its end.

Neither was able to score a single victory,
And conceded not a single defeat.

None know why this man's fate,
Is always overshadowed by a single number decreed.

Just like now none can ascertain,
How the Flame-Chasing heroes
Convinced this man.

It was not mutual appreciate. Nay.
For in his memories,
Seven sentences were all his mother to him ever spake.

Yet, somehow, that leader who weaves the golden threads —
Recounted one of the seven with ease.

There is no right or wrong in the man's heart.
“The lion has its own historian.”

“And the history of the hunt should not be held by the hunter alone.”
And thus, he speaks little.

Others once guessed,
He regards the holy city as his home,
For he seeks a land to belong.

As the king to his people,
It is the first gift to them he brings.
But as per the rule with gifts —
Once given away, the gifter will never re-possess this thing.

The journey is long,
Yet none ever dares to anger the man.

Not because of his unrestrained manners —
But because every meal the heroes partook in,^[1]
Were all cooked by his peerless skill.

One's sight serves falsehoods in the woods.
He has relied on scent since young
To distinguish guests and obtain gains.

Yet there are always exceptions —
The man's archenemy often puzzled,
Why their food was always borderline nauseating.^[2]

He still recalls the day he entered the holy city —
One who worships strife,
Is bound to have rumors rife.

“Even insects consume each other, and he's no less than the Mad King's kin.”

It matters little,
For the man always considered himself and enemy to the world.
He paves the road so that one day his peers,
Would match his anger within.

Yet, until the prophecy turned true…
None in the holy city,
He ever did ruin.