The last Emperor of Rome raised his arms to the sky and shouted, "where are my griffins?"
The voice of God answered him: "the Empire never dies and by this sign, you will win!".
The defrocked priest is not enough to throw down the banners that like ornaments seduce my warrior consciousness.
Shining uniforms and golden armors, the messengers seduce by the Order they announce.
And yet, I ride the bull.
Zagan has stolen the griffin's wings and dives into the chromatic water of Chaos. He splashes the Eternal City with corrosive bursts of freedom: "by this chromatic cry you will lose!" says the echo. I do not bow, non serviam, but I accept the kingdoms of the world, too bad for God, and too bad for the tiara!