Граф Орлов
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-- Is that so? If I survive, tell me this story as a reward.
Valdemar turned sharply on his heels and headed towards his brave quartet.
-- So, brave warriors, -- he paced back and forth in front of them, hands on his hips, and looked up at the sky. Do his gods care about him, treading this barren, forgotten land? Do they even know about these exiled people, praying to who knows who? Are the blessed spirits interested in the petty struggles of mortals on earth? Valdemar didn't know, and wasn't really interested, it just seemed funny – is the sun shining the same way here as in distant Lisliar? He has the means – his strong body, his armor and weapons, and now his comrades-in-arms, what else does he need? The time of gods walking the earth is over; now his foot treads the battlefield, and he has the power to act – like a god, or like a worm. At least, it was pleasant to think of himself as the master of his own destiny, and it was unpleasant to think about war – that it was like burying oneself alive. -- I assume none of you doubt that my person, having long-standing experience in leading a squad, is the only right choice for commander? -- he continued, not giving anyone a chance to interrupt. -- I know that none of you chose your current location or goal. But each of you is free to choose your own path, -- he stopped and looked intently at each face in turn. His eyes then burned with a long-forgotten, bold fire, the same fire that shone when he, at the age of twenty-one, first led a hussar squadron into battle, and which all the hundreds of liters of various drinks he poured into himself in his idle life could not extinguish forever -- And I expect that the path will be chosen worthily, and you will not disgrace yourselves. Forget about fear and doubt. In the mountains, you will become like wild trees of the northern mountains – having a strong core inside, Alm, you fool, you're thinking about something else again, having a strong core, you will stand firmly on any ground. Do not succumb to despondency, even in these gray wastelands, be filled with anger instead! In spite of that insane, contemptible, vile, frigid, miserable bitch – you, bastards, will cross these damned mountains, overcome, if necessary, even pumped-up bandit-philosopher-fighters, or mountain creatures, and return alive and together! Do you understand?! No one will run away. Our past is different, our present is one, and in order for us to have a future, we must act together, act in concert and decisively. I expect from you – not blind obedience, but subordination! Let those who have something to say speak, but in a dangerous moment, we must act as a single whole, without doubts and disagreements! Well, are you ready – let's go, to meet the danger?!
Valdemar turned sharply on his heels and headed towards his brave quartet.
-- So, brave warriors, -- he paced back and forth in front of them, hands on his hips, and looked up at the sky. Do his gods care about him, treading this barren, forgotten land? Do they even know about these exiled people, praying to who knows who? Are the blessed spirits interested in the petty struggles of mortals on earth? Valdemar didn't know, and wasn't really interested, it just seemed funny – is the sun shining the same way here as in distant Lisliar? He has the means – his strong body, his armor and weapons, and now his comrades-in-arms, what else does he need? The time of gods walking the earth is over; now his foot treads the battlefield, and he has the power to act – like a god, or like a worm. At least, it was pleasant to think of himself as the master of his own destiny, and it was unpleasant to think about war – that it was like burying oneself alive. -- I assume none of you doubt that my person, having long-standing experience in leading a squad, is the only right choice for commander? -- he continued, not giving anyone a chance to interrupt. -- I know that none of you chose your current location or goal. But each of you is free to choose your own path, -- he stopped and looked intently at each face in turn. His eyes then burned with a long-forgotten, bold fire, the same fire that shone when he, at the age of twenty-one, first led a hussar squadron into battle, and which all the hundreds of liters of various drinks he poured into himself in his idle life could not extinguish forever -- And I expect that the path will be chosen worthily, and you will not disgrace yourselves. Forget about fear and doubt. In the mountains, you will become like wild trees of the northern mountains – having a strong core inside, Alm, you fool, you're thinking about something else again, having a strong core, you will stand firmly on any ground. Do not succumb to despondency, even in these gray wastelands, be filled with anger instead! In spite of that insane, contemptible, vile, frigid, miserable bitch – you, bastards, will cross these damned mountains, overcome, if necessary, even pumped-up bandit-philosopher-fighters, or mountain creatures, and return alive and together! Do you understand?! No one will run away. Our past is different, our present is one, and in order for us to have a future, we must act together, act in concert and decisively. I expect from you – not blind obedience, but subordination! Let those who have something to say speak, but in a dangerous moment, we must act as a single whole, without doubts and disagreements! Well, are you ready – let's go, to meet the danger?!
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers