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The old King lay dying. His son, the Warrior Prince, leaned closer to hear his ailing father´s final words. "Would that I could die as I was born, in our family´s ancestral land!" The ancient one struggeld for breath. "Reclaim our conquered Kingdom, my son. Defy the Sinister Serpent! Prevail against its henchmen! Restore our tarnished pride! ... Defy ... prevail ... restore ..." With that, the withered monarch breathed his last. The Warrior Prince, much moved, stood slowly. He unsheathed his broadsword, and, holding it high above his head, he solemnly intoned, "Defy. Orevail. Restore. I vow it!"