They Bled for Me

Forty left. Eleven back. They ain’t owe me nothin’. Still stacked. Came in forty, now we eleven, Twenty-nine dine in a warrior’s heaven. Storm in the steel when the blades start ringin’, Nesirie cry where the tide keep singin’. They had no oath, no chain, no boss — Every crown sit high on loss. Wasn’t my bloodline, wasn’t my crew, No banner debt, no fealty due. Different halls, different code, Still they strapped up when I chose that road. No contract signed in ancestral ink, Just eye contact — no time to think. I said “ride,” they mounted fast, Strangers then — now built to last. Every order came from me, Every risk they couldn’t see. Every name carved cold in slate, Leader eats that kind of weight. Cuircerean — that’s my god, Storm-talk loud when the sky go hard. He don’t whisper. He don’t soothe. He test the steel in the men He choose. Thunder roll when the lines collide, You could see His fire in their eyes. That’s Jarl faith — no soft belief, War-god crown carved outta grief. Eighteen chains hit frozen ground, Freedom paid when the steel came down. If blood bought breath for even one, Then mark that ledger — debt was done. Three came back with lightning veins, Storm-mark burned through flesh and pain. Power like that ain’t born in peace, It spark where life and death both meet. Came in forty, now we eleven, Twenty-nine dine in a warrior’s heaven. Storm in the chest when the war drums toss, Every victory stamped in loss. They had no lord when first we rode — Now their names in my blood are wrote. I knew ’em weeks — that’s real talk, Still they matched me step for step in frost. That ain’t loyalty grown from fear, That’s choice made clear — “We here.” They weren’t sworn to my father’s name, No childhood ties, no inherited claim. They chose that smoke. They chose that flame. That make us brothers — not the same. And I don’t dodge what that cost. I don’t hide behind “we lost.” Every grave that winter filled? That’s on the man who gave the will. When we dock, we say each name. No sugarcoat. No polish, no fame. Gold for the widows. Blades for the sons. Truth about what their fathers done. We knock on doors where the black veils fall, Tell ’em their men stood ten feet tall. Not for plunder. Not for claim. They had no lord — but they came. No blood oath signed. No pressure play. Just “we ride” — and they rode that day. Wasn’t my kin when this began. Now they my brothers. I’m their man. Nesirie’s waters carry the tears, Salt in the wounds of coming years. But grief ain’t weakness — it’s sacred weight, Proof those lives were something great. Haelyn judge me if I fall, If I waste one drop that answered my call. Cuircerean guide my sword arm true, If storm must rise — I rise with You. Came in forty, now we eleven, Twenty-nine dine in a warrior’s heaven. Storm in the grip when the cold wind blow, North don’t bend — we let ’em know. Call it victory, count the cost — Real kings built from what they lost.