Yet a faint hope kindled in Axela the Arcane,
Far away another toiled bending metal shaping wood,
In ruined Oficina hammer blows fell swift as rain,
Anelahk did labour as her rage swelled into flood
Not only did her hands engage in work toward the good,
Fed she her mind on stratagems to her plans nutritious,
Until the ways of war were carved deep in her heartwood,
Her mind a vault of tactics noble, clever and pernicious
Steam churned and smoke billowed on this field inauspicious,
One hundred men, a mailed fist, for one girl sure surfeit,
She cut them down with steel rain like thunder repetitious,
The ground drank imperial blood none could escape her net.
Roared for the first time that day on the field of bone,