I'll tell you an old story. A story about enmity and hatred, friendship and betrayal, in which, by the will of the immortal gods, I became not only a witness, but also a participant. To this day, when I touch the strings with my hand, the sounds of the harp awaken a forgotten past in me. And again I feel the icy breath of death, as on that bloody day when many of those I knew went to Valhalla. And I hear the growing menacing roar of battle, and the warriors fall on the snow trampled by their feet, and blood flows in streams...