Throughout Cormyr...

[Fleur de la chevalerie]

A tall, brown-haired man wearing simple grey traveling clothes and wearing a garnet cut into the shape of a rose about his neck travels to various inns, taverns, and festhalls and recites these words for the patrons:


Shall we linger in Marsember among spring flowers
Between the white diamond of the lake
And the blue necklace of the river
Sliding away to the sea
As pearls run through a woman's fingers?
Shall we linger to sing the praises of this city?
And shall we not remember as we do
Cormyr in the time of dragons?
In the temples of Ilmater, it is told,
Twenty thousand loaves of bread fed the people
Each and every day
In the kingdom of the Obarskyrs,
In the time of dragons

Shall we linger here amid this fragile beauty
Admiring the fall of starlight on marble?
Shall we ask ourselves
What will become of Immersea,
Beloved of the Moonmaiden Selune?

What has become of Arabel?
Where are the centers of wisdom and the teachers?
Where are the dancing maidens with slender ankles,
And where the music 'neath the chestnut trees?
Where is the fortress whence the Dukes of all-fame
Thundered forth with armies
What foul creatures wander now at will
between the ruined pillars?
Orcs are seen by white moonlight there

Ask in stout-walled Castle Crag for news of the Stonelands
but ask here in thy commons of thee homeland
Ask of ourselves, between Sunset and Thunder,
If we will suffer the Dragon's Flame to be snuffed out
Ask of the forests, ask of the fields
ask of the wine that flows tonight
between the torches and the stars.
-GGK

The man never accepts payment, but will sleep under a roof if such is available.

[Fleur de la chevalerie]

The same man once more takes up the life of a troubadour and accompanying himself on a lute sings this mournful dirge-like song:

There is a deep pathos here
A monumental sorrow
Blood has stained this ground
The very land itself a barrow

The echoes of battle ring cold through the ages
The moon shines on old ruins, awakening ancient hatreds

Swords held high to the crimson sky at such great a cost
Standards fly above funeral pyres
Victory and loss
We are strong, but when the day is done we are left bereaved
Marching on to the battle drum
Triumph and defeat

Behold the storming flood of iron
Destruction wrought there upon the field
A host of warriors fall, never to return
Their epitaph a song of steel

A kingdom built upon the bones of those who stood beside us
The sun has set eternally into the dark
And we have seen the fields of war steal the lives of sons and brothers
The iron heart of glory beats a hollow dirge
The gods of battle rise and fall but the thirst for blood lives on
The wolves of war rise and howl for honour's debt
The fields forever greedily consume the blood of friends and fathers
The annals of history will open wide with dreams of death

There is a deep pathos here
A monumental sorrow
Blood has stained this ground
The very land itself a barrow


He again refuses coin, requesting that instead any extra money be donated to war orphan funds, refugee encampments, and the care of wounded soldiers returning from battle.