Four kingdoms stood on the edge of battle,
One loving, one mourning, one rich, one poor
The lords and ladies, the knights and chattle,
All took up their arms and rode off to war

The first was famed for acts of charity
The second, for care in burying dead
The third craved gems of size and clarity
The last loved combat, and much blood it shed

Who once they called friends, they now called vile
Broken and strained alliances crumbled
As atop a hill, the armies piled
Axes met swords, and downwards they tumbled

All shared one fortune when battle was done
Noble or common, all dried in the sun