From the Northern Wallachian Forest... Tyranny Returns

Harness the black steed... Aye, my liege
 May the night and fog be my veil
 As I carry the word to the forest citadel
 That the lord on exile may arise
 (legend part 1)
 The fullmon stained crimson over the realm
 Traces of terror, impaled greet from villages, hills
 Shade of the grey castle, like shroud of fear, the folk benumbed
 Tales hover of morbid godless rites, heretic acts
 The tyrant holds the kingdom
 With iron embrace
 Still holds sword and shield
 Against outlandish thread
 (legend part 2)
 The folk's grief becomes wrath, confederacy grows
 Unawared the grim lord made the realm an unbroken stronghold
 The greedy lords from the south dare not cross the bounds
 They crave to behold the tyrant fall
 And stir up the flame of insurgence
 For the blind crowd own destruction
 A requiem for northern Wallachia
 (interludium)
 The threads of betrayal extend
 Messengers tramp in the woods
 Town alleys, the evening whispers
 The lord on exile awaits
 (legend part 3)
 At last the signals resounded
 Messages delivered, blaze aroused
 Many fell to banish the fierce lord
 And pyres of retribution gleam
 Among choirs of rejoice
 And content gaze from the south
 Among thunder of forges and kettle drums
 Heralding the war...
 (postludium)
 Forgotten are the wounds set by foreign swords
 When own stakes and gallows grow
 The price of throwing chains may be the shield's decay
 One day the tyrant summoned will return in glory...