Original subtitles

No!

No! Fucking fuckity fucking fucking fuck!

Aah!

Ah!

I'm sorry. I'm sorry!

Fuck!

No! No!

Don't! No!

Oh...

Ooh... Oooh!

Wow. Wow, wow!

Ooh. Wow.

Well, this is weird.

Um...

All right. What...

Hello?

Nope, nothing?

Yaah... all right.

What do we do, Jaskier? What do we do in situations like this? We...

we revert to the basics.

Hello!

Hello!

- Hello, Sandpiper. - Aah! Aah...

This is new.

Uh, for the record, I'm not...

I'm not not into it.

Good-looking man, nice boots.

Am I dead?

Aah! Ow, ow!

Not dead.

I'm getting that.

So you... you are something else.

You're a Doppler.

No.

Not a Doppler.

What are you?

I am many things. Many faces. Many places.

- Then why do you look like me? - Because you love yourself.

I have other faces.

If you prefer.

Better?

Oh... Whoa...

Um...

Yep. Yeah.

Wonderful.

Why did you save me from the Temerians?

I need you to sing a story back to life.

We're related, you and I.

You're a bard. I am a storyteller.

Of a sort.

I beg to differ. You-- you are a time-stopping, shape-shifting,

probably-gonna-eat-me-without-salt at-some-point sort of storyteller.

I... I'm just... I'm just a man, with an admittedly... fun hat.

We're not the same. You're...

I slip between worlds and times, collecting forgotten stories.

I bring them back to life when the world needs them.

Are you sure you've got the right man for this?

Of course I am.

You're the Sandpiper.

Smuggler of elves to safety.

The Sandpiper's a name. It's a title. I'm just a bard.

A bard the Scoia'tael risked attacking a Temerian army camp to save.

They know you care for them. Their struggle for justice.

I do.

The Scoia'tael mean well,

but elfkind cannot win fuelled by pain and anger alone.

Hope is vital.

The elves need a story lost to time. One of the few who overcame the many.

The Story of the Seven.

The St... the Story of...

Let me guess.

A bunch of warriors join forces to fight against all odds.

It has been done to death.

Has it?

Seven estranged warriors who come together to fight an unstoppable empire,

bring humans and monsters to the world via the Conjunction of the Spheres,

and create the very first version of a witcher.

That's been done to death?

Uh...

No.

No, no, I've... I've not heard that one, admittedly.

Wow!

That's very different.

Ooh!

This is really fun.

You're telling me that the first version of a witcher was a badass elf?

This is really gonna piss Geralt off.

All right.

Where do we start?

It all began twelve hundred years ago.

In the Elven golden era.

Before the arrival of humans and monsters in the world.

Six lone outcasts,

strangers to each other,

destined to be bound together in a blood quest.

Fjall of Dog Clan.

Scían of Ghost Tribe.

Brother Death.

The mages Zacaré and Syndril.

Meldof and her vengeful hammer, Gwen.

Soon to be led by the seventh.

The one they called the Lark.

Good morning. Alms for an ex-soldier?

Thank you.

Do they have music here?

Hasn't been music on the island in years.

Good luck.

You too.

♪ A flower shall grow ♪

♪ Where our peasant blood flows ♪

♪ Our lives they have taken ♪

♪ Are the seeds they have sown ♪

♪ Rise up from the soil we till ♪

♪ Rise up from the soil that they own ♪

♪ We are the Black Rose ♪

- ♪ Let no one doubt our cause... ♪ - Oh!

My.

Aren't you the pretty young bud?

♪ For each rose they cut down ♪

- ♪ Another will grow... ♪ - I'd say you're ripe for flowering.

Ithlinne is not right, sir. She has fits.

Please, let her go. You can all drink for free.

Ma!

I'll fucking stop you! Fucking come on!

Sorry, friends.

Can't abide bad manners.

To the Lark!

The Lark!

♪ We are the Black Rose ♪

♪ Let no one doubt our cause ♪

♪ Rise up and let them hear our roar ♪

♪ The lowborns' day has come ♪

Go on, you girl!

Go on!

Far south from Inis Dubh,

the newly crowned King Alvitir, determined to be seen amongst his people,

toured the lowborn streets,

despite the threat of assassins from other kingdoms.

Protect the king!

But first they would have to get through the royal protectors, Dog Clan.

And their greatest warrior...

...Fjall Stoneheart.

Princess!

I've got you.

Yah! Yah!

Yah! Yah!

Get back!

Get away!

Down!

Like I showed you.

Aah.

- Good? - Good.

Enter.

- Apologies. - It's all right, Fjall.

Decorum be damned.

Dog Clan sealed the palace.

No one's in or out until we find out who's behind this.

Now, I want you to hang on to this.

Just for now.

You saved us.

You saved me.

You saved yourself.

You've always been there when I've needed you.

It's my duty.

Well, we both know that it's more than that.

We agreed.

You might be able to forget, but I can't.

I haven't forgotten.

- If we'd have been caught... - But we weren't.

Fjall, I nearly died today.

I won't die living a lie.

I was born to be your protector.

So protect me.

No markings on the assassins.

Captain Eredin is rounding up suspects for interrogation.

Eredin doesn't know his arse from his elbow.

Fuck him and his shiny army.

Where the fuck were they today when it counted?

Couldn't organize a ride in a brothel.

Where's Fjall?

Fuck.

Just kill me. Be done with it.

No. You need to suffer.

In disgrace.

New king, assassins waitin' in every shadow,

and you couldn't even keep control of your cock.

Thank the gods Kareg didn't live to see you betray your own clan.

I know you wished he returned from battle that day instead of me.

I never said that.

Didn't have to.

I've wished the same every day since.

I needed both of you by my side.

He was taken, and you were supposed to take over as chieftain.

But you betrayed your clan.

Your oath.

You betrayed me.

The border.

Aye.

Let's be done with it.

Fjall Stoneheart,

you have broken your oath as royal protector

and betrayed your birth clan.

You are hereby banished from Xin'trea.

Dog Clan disown you.

As do I.

You'll die forgotten. And unspoken.

Goodbye, Father.

Yah!

Shall I guess?

The Solryth Sagas.

Don't mock, brother.

You're obsessed. You need at least one friend who isn't a book.

I don't know how you live like this. Mm... The smell alone.

All this is our future. What has happened will happen again.

- Oh, you're a seer now. - No.

I just don't deny what's in front of my own eyes.

Dwarven script, fifteen hundred years old,

telling of Solryth's arrival.

The siege of their city before she drove them out

and built Xin'trea on its ruins.

History is all around us, brother,

reminding us how brilliant we once were,

and how brilliant we can be again if we try.

I could be of use to you, you know.

As an... an adviser...

The generals and mages would eat you alive.

But there is a role for you, sister, in all of this.

Now that your little indiscretion with Fjall has been taken care of,

it's time to look to the future.

I've found a worthy suitor for you.

The king of Pryshia is a widower.

A marriage between our kingdoms would make him amenable to signing.

Oh...

Of course. Whatever... you need to achieve peace.

A brighter future. Thanks to you.

Hmm?

Queen Merwyn of Pryshia.

Deep in the Valley of Lost Souls,

a lone warrior sought answers to the strange skies

that had suddenly cast their ominous shadow across the land.

But her ancestors remained silent.

Nothing like this had ever happened before.

For another had learned to tear the veils between worlds.

I've returned.

Defeated or victorious, Chief Sage Balor?

My assassination attempt failed.

I need your help.

So tell me, how did you learn to fight?

I was born into Raven Clan.

No! You were a protector?

Indeed.

Loyal bodyguard to King Midir and the royal family of Pryshia.

So you must know Lady Cethlenn of the Knives.

She's my mother.

What?

What are you doing here?

You could be at the palace with the kings and queens and heroes.

I chose this path.

When I was a young girl,

my sword master had a key harp on her wall.

I fell in love with it.

My mother tried to save me, but I was lost to the music.

And so I became a roving bard.

Here.

I wish I had a calling for something like that.

All I have is a sickness.

I have visions, fits,

and the people in the town are scared of me.

The ignorant are always jealous of anyone with gifts.

Open up!

- Or we'll burn this hole to the ground. - Oh, shit.

You in there?

Why do assholes run to town guards when they get their asses kicked?

Singing, my ass!

Dog Clan? What the fuck?

Hey!

Aah. One of Cethlenn's scrawny little ravens.

Better a scrawny raven than one of Osfar's mangy bitches.

Huh?

Aye. Probably right there, Raven.

- The name's... - Fjall Stoneheart.

Son of Osfar.

I remember that pendant

from when you took my cousin's eye in the Battle of Brokilon.

I swore to her I'd kill you if we ever crossed paths again.

I see. And I don't even remember you.

I'm the one who sends you to the clay.

Relax.

My Dog Clan days are done.

Horseshit.

No one leaves Dog Clan.

And yet here I am,

earning my fortune as a sellsword on a poxy island at the edge of the world.

What the fuck's a Raven Clan warrior doing so far north?

Not a warrior. I'm a bard.

A Raven Clan bard?

That's a first.

Wait.

You're not the Lark everyone round here's been goin' on about?

I'd planned to come see you sing myself. If not for the current circumstances.

How did the son of mighty Osfar fall so far?

Easy.

Fucked the princess.

Horseshit. Your head'd be on a pike rotting over the city gate.

And embarrass the Crown?

No.

Better I be stripped of my clan and banished in silent disgrace.

Can't blame them.

Protect, not fuck. Clan basics.

Should have got that one tattooed.

Too long a phrase for a Dog Clan cock.

I'll remember that when your head rolls to a bloody stop in the mud.

Looks like we've ran out of time.

You, back against the far wall.

And you, your freedom's been bought.

- What? - You heard me.

Well,

many thanks for not trying to kill me in my sleep.

There's still time.

An eye for an eye.

Hey, get back! Back up!

Back!

I said back against the wall!

Fare thee well, Lark.

May the executioner's blade be keen and quick.

Actually, fuck it.

I don't give a shit.

Report.

The Pryshians have been running some harrying raids. Testing our lines.

If we offer the dwarves access to our Xin'trean mines,

- we can count their alliance to our... - No. No.

I cannot fight a war on two fronts and keep my kingdom from starving.

I've a new plan.

End the Thousand-Year War.

I've already sent emissaries to Pryshia and Darwen.

- A peace treaty is to be signed here. - Preposterous.

- It'll be our end! - Sire.

Pryshia and Darwen will never sign.

- This war... - Will end.

They're as stretched to breaking as we are.

My sister is to be married to King Midir.

Our mines in Sliabh Liath will be gifted to Queen Neera.

They will sign.

What say you, Chief Sage?

Apologies, Captain Eredin.

The role of chief sage is no longer one of adviser to the throne.

I'm merely here to advise on matters of magic.

If we keep warring as we are,

famine and the stench of defeat will be our only legacy.

- Sire... - This peace treaty will happen.

Dismissed.

- ♪ Ay, oh, the big puck goes... ♪ - Fjall!

Shen.

It's good to see you.

- Did you bribe the guards? - Listen.

Osfar wants you to return immediately. There's to be a peace treaty.

The king's arranged a signing between the kingdoms.

The answer's no, little cousin.

- Where are you going? - To find the nearest brothel.

What'll I tell your father?

Tell him I'm too busy dying, forgotten and unspoken.

Now go home, Shen!

Good elves of Inis Dubh.

Are you well? Because you're looking well.

I have but a few hours left on this shithole of an island.

Who wants to ply me with the finest skril and unspeakable debauchery, huh?

Behind these doors lies a veritable cornucopia

of delectable depravities and unmentionable delights.

But first we must address the sordid issue of coin.

Ah, yes.

My word is my coin.

Your word affords you...

naught but the greasing of a cat's arse.

- Sylanya, go find Fluffy! - Hup-hup-hup.

I can pay in silver.

Look at that!

Fuck.

Ah, yes.

We'll make a player of you yet...

Never really understood why you chose this thing over an honest blade.

It's so... fragile.

You've not changed.

You have.

Mother sent me to bring you home.

The Continent's changing beneath our feet.

Your king's travelling to Xin'trea to sign a treaty. We need your skills.

I no longer follow the way of the blade.

And yet...

She's really willing to forgive me?

Cethlenn needs you. This is your chance to redeem yourself, sister.

I can't.

I can't do those things again.

How can you live like this? Don't you miss it?

I miss you.

Desperately.

Then come back to us.

The others said this would be a waste of time.

Help me prove them wrong, sister.

It's your last chance. I sail on the next tide.

Are you all right?

The time of the spheres is upon us.

Worlds will eat worlds. Emerald skies.

Fire will summon a new dawn.

A great beast born shall be slain by your blade.

Two apart shall become two as one.

The Lark's most precious notes

shall be the key to all things.

And a quest in the name of your clan will bring you redemption.

Ithlinne said I'd find redemption in a quest for my clan.

Her visions, have any of them ever come true?

All of them.

One way or another.

Here. Give this to her when she wakes.

Tell her I'm... sorry I couldn't wait to say goodbye.

- Hopefully, our paths will cross some day. - Where's the road takin' you?

To seek redemption.

Niamh!

Can't let you travel alone.

Some wicked elf might steal your virtue.

Not enough to have a musician sister. Now I must suffer a shit jester too.

Don't make me change my mind, wench.

As if anyone's capable of that.

I'm just glad you're...

No!

Show yourselves, you fucking bastards!

That's my fuckin' pendant.

Skills!

I hate runnin'.

What the fuck are you doing here?

Lookin' for a boat off this shithole.

You're welcome, by the way.

Who's the warrior?

My sister.

What the fuck?

This mark.

Xin'trean army. Fifth column.

I know her.

She's a cavalry captain in the Pryshian army.

A Darwenish infantry dagger.

It makes no sense.

Why are soldiers from three kingdoms at war

working together to kill us?

The treaty.

- Niamh came to tell me about a treaty. - I know. I was sent for too.

- Shit! - Someone didn't want clan warriors there.

It's the armies, they're finally making a move against the monarchies.

- I need to get to Xin'trea, warn my clan. - So do I.

Fuck your clan.

Look, there are bound to be more of these stabby fuckers on the way.

We'll have more chance if we stick together.

Despite you being a pain in me hole.

Fine.

Right.

But cross me and I'll feed your cock to the dogs.

I don't fucking trust you, Stoneheart.

Nor I you...

Lark.

They killed my sister.

The Lark is dead.

My name is Éile.

We'll meet again in the halls of Caer Aenwyn, sister.

And so the Lark no longer soared alone.

One had become two.

Please.

Princess?

Ket, I fixed it! Solryth's eyes blaze once more.

We need to get you dressed.

Don't you see? When all hope was lost, they led her ships to this continent,

and now they light our skies again.

It's a sign, Ket.

Maybe there's hope for me too.

Your brother will have my guts if I don't make you look presentable

in time to meet your future husband.

Yes, of course.

With highborn hostages exchanged between the warring kingdoms,

the other monarchs had sailed to sign a treaty

that would finally end the Thousand-Year War.

King Midir of Pryshia and his Raven Clan warriors.

Queen Neera of Darwen and her Serpent Clan warriors.

And Alvitir, the brave architect of a new dawn for elfkind.

I love you, brother.

Warriors of Xin'trea.

Thanks to the bravery of our royal guests,

today shall see our long, dark night of war and hunger end at last.

A new dawn will rise upon the Continent for all elfkind.

Famine replaced by peace and prosperity.

A united Continent once again.

A Continent of possibility.

We are Xin'trean.

We are Pryshian.

We are Darwenish.

- But we will all be... - Your Majesty?

- Summon the physic. - No.

- It's just... nerves. - ...one, as strong and...

Perhaps I should retire to my chambers.

...day we first landed on these shores and civilized this land.

So I call upon...

gracious Queen Neera of Darwen,

and good King Midir of Pryshia...

to join with me as allies in this new dawn.

What's that?

Fire!

Free them!

Go back the way we came!

In that moment, the Elven world had changed forever.

A thousand years of monarchies, kingdoms, and clans were erased.

It's done.

Indeed.

My beast has done well.

The peace treaty had allowed Balor

to turn war-hungry mages and generals against their monarchies.

It was just the beginning.

Empress.

The three kingdoms are yours.

All hail the new Golden Empire.

Rise.

We have much to do.

This storm's unnatural.

We're sailing for safe harbor in Gaylth.

That's not even close to Xin'trea.

We're no use to our clans at the bottom of the ocean.

Merwyn was free now.

Free to write her own story.

Just as her hero Solryth had.

To start a new golden era.

This was her destiny.

Empress!

She plays her part well.

A shiny thing to appease the masses.

They all fall so eagerly into place, despite their world turning on its head.

Faced with chaos, the people will always choose order.

No matter the cost.

Or how blatant the farce.

How long do we need her?

We shall see.

Take me down to my people.

The skies and seas were not the only thing

to have changed without warning.

What the fuck are those flags?

- I've never seen that crest before. - Not Pryshian. That's for sure.

Let's head to this tavern. Get some locals drunk, find out what's going on.

With what coin, exactly?

Too long on the clan teat.

You need to cultivate some initiative, boy.

- Oof! - Sorry.

Come on, then!

Mmm.

At least she ended the war.

Not many'd have the stomach to kill your own kin.

And her own brother, no less.

- Calling herself Empress Merwyn now. - Empress?

Wiped out the lot of 'em in one go.

Useless royal bastards and their poxy clans.

- She killed them all... - No.

That's impossible.

How does one princess no one's ever heard of

manage to take the whole Continent easy as piss like that?

I heard she's got herself a three-headed beast, the size of a ship.

Sucks on her teat like a babe.

Beast!

A beast?

Lay off the godhead pipe.

Beast or no,

no Xin'trean bitch is gonna tell me I'm not Pryshian anymore.

Yeah, you lot are worse.

Paradin' around in your Pryshian armor mere suns ago.

Traitorous pissants, dressed in that cunt's armor.

Fuckin' slut's got you lot by the balls!

Anyone seen 'em?

Éile of Raven Clan, Fjall of Dog Clan.

We need to be smart about this.

If you can't control your fire because someone insulted your lover,

we should part ways now.

- This has nothing to do with her. - This has everything to do with her.

She killed our clans.

One! Two!

One! Two!

- One... - You!

Oof!

The largest we've excavated yet.

I need more power to stabilize the gateways.

- How many monoliths have you raised? - Three in the north, two in the south.

Another five excavated being configured with Syndril's sigils.

Not enough to power a gateway for a legion. Why the delay?

Have at you! Pull!

The empire's young.

Our troops are stretched thin.

You absorbed the entire Darwen and Pryshian army.

How can you be stretched thin?

There were more deserters than anticipated.

And since your purge of so many mages...

Non-cooperative mages.

Crop failures are worsening. Bread riots are running rampant...

Then quell them.

Those that make excuses don't make history.

I said pull!

Pull!

What of Fjall Stoneheart?

He escaped our assassins on Inis Dubh.

Along with the Raven Clan warrior.

But we have elite troops scouring the Continent as we speak.

That's a heroic folktale waiting to happen.

End them. Now.

Horses are secure. I'll take first watch.

Maybe some of them survived.

My clan would have fought to the death.

So would yours.

A monster.

How can that even exist? Where did it come from?

There was a mage in Xin'trea.

Syndril.

He dug up and raised an ancient Dwarven monolith.

He used it to... open up a gateway to another world.

- The monster came from there? - I mean, maybe.

- I know it sounds insane. - There are old stories of other worlds.

And nothing's been right since.

- Even the skies have changed. - And the seas too.

Everything's off.

But even with the beast, Merwyn had no power to pull this off.

There has to be someone else behind this. The generals, or the mages...

- You're making excuses for her. - No.

If, now I mean if, she's Empress, then she was involved.

She'll pay with her blood for what she did.

I should have died with my clan.

Me too.

We're the last of us.

They'll erase our clans from history.

Not as long as we breathe.

Then we end them before they end us.

Raven Clan.

Dog Clan.

How can we trust each other?

By the blade.

By the blade.

We find Merwyn, end her beast and anyone who stands with her.

Send them all to clay.

Blood sworn.

To the end.

To the end.

Your brother. How could you?

I'd no choice, Ket. He'd written my life for me.

I was destined for more.

Old stories are bound to repeat.

They just need the right person to tell them.

When Solryth died, we turned on each other.

A great golden era destroyed by an endless cycle of war.

And one my brother's treaty would have paused, at best.

Balor and Eredin want to use Syndril's gateways

to conquer.

But conquest for conquest's sake means nothing.

I want to civilize these new worlds.

Bring our art, our science, and culture to them,

and create a new golden era for all of elfkind.

You th...

You think you're Solryth.

No.

Not yet.

Not while I remain Balor's puppet.

I need to become Empress in more than just name.

Or all of this, every drop of blood spilled,

will have been in vain.

I just have to find a way.

What have I done?

You've unlocked the future, Syndril.

Without your knowledge, none of this would have been possible.

Now the master monolith is raised, who knows what worlds await?

Ready your final calculations

to connect the rest of the monoliths across the empire.

You should be proud.

This new dawn of possibilities is all thanks to you.

I can't believe they united the armies.

The closer we get to Xin'trea, the worse our odds.

Then we change the odds with the best blade in the land.

- Who? - My old sword master.

If she doesn't kill me on sight.

She was the one who introduced me to music.

When I left my clan to become a bard, she was banished.

Forced to become a sellsword.

You're willing to risk your throat?

We want vengeance? We need her.

She have a name, then?

This sword mother of yours.

Scían.

Last of the Ghost Tribe.

Ghost Tribe are a myth.

No myth.

Finest sword masters to ever grace the Continent.

Till you lot wiped them out.

Before my time, then.

When they refused to fight for him,

your King Darach poisoned their water supply.

Scían was the only survivor.

Our clan found her, took her in as sword master...

Éile.

Please. We mean you no harm.

What brings you so far from the main roads?

We fled Bon Machán.

Our mages and elders refused the new empire.

Her soldiers burnt it to ash,

stole our young to dig up their black towers.

To raise monoliths.

Why are they raising them outside Xin'trea?

Are you the Lark?

I don't go by that name anymore.

I saw you last year at the Aedd Gynvael.

You were brilliant.

Those songs,

so full of hope,

made us feel special.

Like the world was ours.

Any chance you could sing "The Black Rose"?

We could use a bit of hope.

♪ We are the Black Rose... ♪

That's enough.

Good luck.

♪ We are the Black Rose ♪

♪ Rise up And let them hear... ♪

He had heard that song far south in Xin'trea,

hummed in doorways,

sung in streets and taverns, always amongst the lowborn.

And now here in the far north.

How could one song have this much power?

We're not far from her. Tread lightly if you can.

This Scían,

the paranoid type, then?

Her entire tribe was poisoned.

Pit trap.

It's not my first time out, Lark.

I seen it.

And the one 30 paces back.

She'll have to try a lot harder than that to catch me...

Fuck's sake.

The clans are gone.

How are you still alive?

I sense the echo of slaughter on you.

The beast I gifted you gave you what you wanted.

It did.

I've taken control of the entire Continent.

And yet?

It's not enough.

These people will never accept me as their emperor.

I'm lowborn.

Interesting...

I need a power that only I can wield.

One that raises me above any highborn, royal, or army.

You want to be a god amongst elves.

Yes.

I need... your Chaos magic.

Are you willing to sacrifice anything for it,

no matter what the cost?

Yes.

Whatever you ask for,

you shall have.

Never thought you'd darken this place again.

Didn't mean to bring you dishonor.

And yet you did.

The new empress wants you dead.

Why have you come?

To ask for your help.

Come with us.

We're riding to Xin'trea to kill her.

If not for me, then for your ancestors.

Xin'trea stole your tribe's sacred blade.

This is your chance to reclaim Soulreaver.

Who knows where it is now?

Your blade's with the other trophies in the palace.

Three green stones like that, and markings on the pommel,

something about...

Black Sands.

Born of Black Sands.

Blade and soul as one.

All beginnings.

All ends.

You'd never get past the city gates.

If you even make it that far travelling with the enemy.

Ah...

Knitbone.

It'll ease the burn.

Éile.

You can't trust her.

She has an axe to grind with you.

She's got contacts from sellswording across the land. Contacts we may need.

Contacts she'll use to sell you out the first chance she gets.

There's no one else left.

Scían's all I've got.

These changing skies bode a darkness.

We have a chance if we do it together.

Your quest is hopeless.

- I need you. We need you. - You have your own path to take.

I can get us past the gates and into the palace.

There's a secret passage into the city that's unguarded.

We could use your sword.

No doubt you could.

But...

I won't be going with you.

The only good thing that's come of all this

is that Dog Clan's gone for good.

And may your father suffer eternity in a lonely grave.

My father should have finished King Darach's work.

Put you down with the rest of your tribe.

I would have liked to see him try.

Blindsided by a sweet little princess,

not fit to hold an axe of a clan chieftain.

- What are you doing? - He's the one with an axe.

Doesn't seem to know how to use it, though.

Scían, stop!

You've gotten rusty.

Have I?

Your instincts are good, but you let your emotions control you.

And you, you have forgotten how to work as part of a clan.

You're not bad when you're working together.

We can work with that.

So you're coming with us?

The ancestors will it.

Three against an empire.

Not enough. We need to find more.

Then we'll find others who want to kill the bitch.

There'll be no coming back.

And so two became three.

The first drops in a torrent that would change the world forever.

♪ We are the Black Rose ♪

♪ Let no one doubt our cause ♪

♪ Rise up and let them feel our thorns ♪

♪ And freedom will be ours ♪

♪ We are the Black-Thorned Rose ♪

♪ Singin' songs for the unsung ♪

♪ Rise up and let them hear our roar ♪

♪ The lowborns' day has come ♪

♪ The flowers shall grow ♪

♪ Where our peasant blood flows ♪

♪ Our lives they have taken ♪

♪ Are the seeds they have sown ♪

♪ Rise up from the soil we till ♪

♪ Rise up from the soil that they own ♪

♪ We are the Black Rose ♪

♪ Let no one doubt our cause ♪

♪ Rise up and let them feel our thorns ♪

♪ So freedom may be ours ♪

♪ We are the Black-Thorned Rose ♪

♪ Singin' songs for the unsung ♪

♪ Rise up and let them hear our roar ♪

♪ The lowborns' day has come ♪

♪ For each rose they cut down ♪

♪ Another will grow ♪

♪ Till the land is covered With petals like snow ♪

♪ No lights in your castles No light in your gold ♪

♪ Our fight is undying Our truth will be told ♪

♪ We are the Black Rose ♪

♪ Let no one doubt our cause ♪

♪ Rise up and let them feel our thorns ♪

♪ And freedom will be ours ♪

♪ We are the Black-Thorned Rose ♪

♪ Singin' songs for the unsung ♪

♪ Rise up and let them hear our roar ♪

♪ The lowborns' day has come ♪

♪ We are the Black-Thorned Rose ♪

♪ Let our voice be our blade as one ♪

♪ Rise up and let them feel our thorns ♪

♪ The lowborns' day has come ♪