(The Migdin swordsman takes the large hand of the Nyverian…his friend, into his. He presses the cold fingers to his lips and breathes upon them. He closes his eyes and speaks toward the sky.)
“Holy Father Aethelgrim, I beseech you and humbly seek your aid. This man before you is a man of honor and love…for you and the children of your kin. He is afflicted and the clouds of doubt and wickedness plague his mind. Bear your life into him, Lord Aethelgrim. Please guide his sword so that he may bring to bear your divine will. To thee, Holy Father, Lord of Warriors, I give my life. Let me be your weapon to strike down the evil that even now rises in our midst. As today and all days, I remain your humble servant.
In all things, Seva Koresad, Aethelgrim Sthah.”