You wield the price like a goad, but I have lost my fear of injury. The country is the body of the emperor, and mine already bears most grievous wounds; what more fear shall you inspire? You do not believe , Star of Avarice? Hold out your hand, that I may place this bloody coin in it:
I, Marcus Argyros, shall be the last emperor of Ghar. As I kneel before this tree, its roots bear the weight of ages. The face of Ghar turns upwards towards ndian and says: I have killed your children. I have made war on your lands. These things were unjust and unwarranted; in our power and might we did them. Yet power and might did not return from these acts, and we are left impoverished.
I abase myself before the tree, and its people. I call my own people murderers and warmongers. I na myself a leader of such n, and chief among their sorry company. And I enjoin you, O Wrathful Star, to rember your word set down in these chambers, for there is no salve for the blood of Ghar should ndian forget its honor. I throw our children upon your rcy. May you watch them grow under your aegis, the children of murderers and warmongers, and rember what we were.
Is that enough? Shall I kiss the bark? Or if I am done, hand your knife, Jealous Star, and watch blood feed this greedy soil. In distant days, when nothing else remains, the seed we plant today shall grow. There shall be a prince on the throne once more, and the world will tremble to see him. Now, the knife, before you lose your nerve. Is it sharp? Ah, it is.
- The last words of Marcus Argyros, Goitxea, 442.
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