The black tide that blotted out the sky surrounded the city walls,
The soldiers manning the walls battered from battle.

Melodious chords of music were suddenly heard —
A single swordmaster had overcome the waves of enemies.

The song flowed from betwixt the blades,
Breaking through formations as a dorsal fin cleaving the waves.

When the last wicked beast finally fell,
Shattered into pieces amidst the sword's dance,
The frost blade bore no trace of blood.

“The legions of heroes under my command are as vast as the sea,
Yet lack a formidable sword banner.”^[1]
The commander extended a hand, inviting the musician to join.

Should a fish separated from its school glimpse a faint glow,
It will swim toward the light.

The swordmaster clasped the commander's hand,
As though gently grasping the hilt of a keen blade.

When the spray of her waves extinguished the fires of war from the holy city,
A golden name was engraved upon the stone pillars —
The former commander burned the crown to become king.

“Hysilens, brave in battle, triumphant in command.
I grant you the title 'Dux Gladiorum.' Let us all forge ahead together!^[2]

During the banquet after the battle,
The weaver tailored for her a splendid dress,
And the commander poured her honey brew.

Her golden-blooded comrades gathered about her,
Chanting her new name,
Urging her to play that splendid music.

The candlelight danced and mingled with flowing drink,
Swords and song ringing out in unison.

Yet none knew,
That was one a lonely melody from the deep sea.

The music of revelry continued for a long time —

Until the whispers of conspiracies were buried in the songs,
Until the roars of lethal struggles shattered the music.

Legend holds that they who bear the weight of a pillar,
Shall one day return to where it stands.

Those who tug at the earth shall end amongst the mountains,
Those who sew dawn and dusk shall remain eternal in the sky.

And she would once again return to the pitch-black sea,
And she would once again sing her music alone.

The bountiful ocean,
With the banquets of bygone days,
Stir as futile bubbles at the bottom of a glass.

Many years later,
The song once played by that swordmaster,
Was played by future generations in the holy city.

The people knew,
The demigod of the seas was still a noble captain.
She possessed peerless swordsmanship,
And a song that is passed down through the ages.

It was just that she had long since vanished.

Guests at the banquet sometimes spoke of her,
But it was only a prayer between their cups —

“Hysilens, melody of the waves, bless our night that we may drink deep and dance till dawn!”