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CHRONICLE OF THE BLOOD-FILLED CROWN Prologue: The Last Flag-Bearer We must not part, my flag and I; Although I've lost an arm, a tooth, and an eye. The birds of war, above our heads do fly: Raven, crows and vultures – all screech and cry. Innumerable dead carcasses on the ruddy ground do lie. The widow weeps, as the dying man sighs. Houses burn, and children scream and cry. Men, horses and sheep – on the same ground – all die. But we must not part, my flag and I. I am the last of the eight. The other seven have met their fate. I suppose they must do, to reach Heaven's gate. Death is the only route, and it is never