Power and treasure for a prince to hold,
Hard and steep-cheeked, wrapped in red
Gold and garnet, ripped from a plain
Of bright flowers, wrought--a remnant
Of fire and file, bound in stark beauty
With delecat wire, my grip makes
Warriors weep, my sting threatens
The hand that grasps gold. Studded
With a ring, I ravage heir and heirloom.

To my lord and foes always lovely
And deadly, altering face and form.

-Ammanas

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Miraman, in the year 518 AF.