• Early in the morning it was for that day,
    Clouds laid in the sky, only white and no grey.
    It was in a small town it all began,
    That going on a journey was the plan.
    There were cries of farewells, loud enough to hear,
    And by the way it looked, it was very clear.
    Wishing good luck from people to a small squad,
    And in return, they looked to them with a nod.
    Then they turned away and went on their way,
    Along the path they traveled... without dismay.

    But little did they know that they were being followed,
    Yes it was I, under the trees where I'm being shadowed.
    I will tell you about something that only I know,
    What I see about them, I'll try to be slow.
    The people of that squad were formed of three,
    Not less than, not more than, it is to what I agree.

    There was a Warrior, a fine young man,
    Who was a survivor from his clan.
    The last one who remained of the family, was he
    But the last one who died was his sister, Amalie,
    Young he was but possessed of great skill,
    Given by his father who died of a horrible kill.
    Trained very hard he did without a rest,
    Fighting for what's right is what he does best.

    Day and night, he would travel on his own,
    Following the honor and courage that he has known.
    He had a disciplined mind of no wrong obligation
    And a warm heart that keeps a strong dedication.
    Trust, kindness, and respect are those he showed,
    Protecting the innocent and the weak was his code.
    Everything he has done that would be a concern,
    He will never ask for anything... in return.

    When there are battles from one place to another,
    He will fight for what's right, even against a blood brother.
    Each favor he accepts from those who are in need
    He'd give away his reward to the poor without greed.
    When a comrade comes to him for need of advice,
    His words are quite wise, not containing a vice.
    He always speaks the truth that is not a doubt,
    But for such lies he'd never want them to go out.

    For what he wore is what he truly possessed,
    Of leather clothes and silver is what he dressed.
    Colored brown and polished light grey they were,
    And on his skin was a scar but it was such a blur.
    He uses in combat the sword of divinity
    And what he calls it is the Blessed Trinity.
    In all his life, it was never ever absurd,
    For he was the warrior, a man of his word.

    An accurate and precise man of good renown,
    There was a Marksman, bold and well-known.
    With an educated face, he was very smart
    And with his sharp eyes, he can stare like a dart.
    When time passes by with barely anything to do
    He would teach his pupils, all he knew.
    His words are wise and adoring,
    Yet too much of them can be very boring.

    There are equipments that he possessed,
    Surely his clothes were fairly dressed,
    He wore an archer's tunic, not colorful and light,
    Boots and grieves too, but his appearance is not very bright.
    A bow and arrows are seen, right on his back
    And when a fight begins, he's ready to attack.
    In the field of battle, he uses just one eye,
    When everything is calculated, he obtains a bull's-eye.

    He had things organized, like it was perfection
    But when it comes to women, he's a mess with affection.
    When it comes to dues, he'd sometimes borrow for his pay,
    But there is no payback and his loaner becomes a stray.
    As for his passion, I have nothing to say.

    The last to follow is the one who can kill
    Yet by the way he looks, he barely possesses a skill.
    He was the Assassin, looking dangerous and strong,
    Yet he doesn't look like so, when he's in a throng.
    When he hears children, with their loud happy cheers,
    He would scare them viciously and they'd run in tears.
    Between two houses, if there was a set up for dealings,
    he'd steal the loot, without any feelings.

    When the time comes for him to do his work,
    He would groan and complain, then turn with a jerk.
    Hired many times from ten to twenty years,
    But all he ever was seen doing was drinking loads of beer.
    In his everyday attire, he wore an assassin's guise,
    But it wasn't washed in ages, people can even see flies.
    He often curses when he was in an angry mood,
    Especially to women; he is absolutely rude.

    Now I have told you shortly, all I know,
    I shall take my leave, like a graceful doe.
    It was their time now to go on their own,
    For the path of a new beginning, it has been shown.