Let it be known:
On this ground, soil beneath our feet,
we stand brightly—
unshaped by mana, unburdened by darkness.

Gavreck speaks, unadorned and unmolded,
no bearer of lowly wreaths,
or one whose legs bent to adversary,
Rather with, rending and sending.

He cast away the hide of our falsehood, a first for his place—
and so we too are free to do the same.
We are leaders—
and to be so further, kings.
Not by clan, nor by command,
but by sweat, stone,
and the labor of our choosing.

O dearest Ursaidh, connector of lands,
who brought us here,
your strength flows surely in him—
not in mends, but in the weight of our essence.

The old chains lie scattered,
the dust of realms we will not mourn.
Here, there is no shame, no cover—
only flesh, spirit, and truth revealed.

What is a king,
if not one who cracks at the earth?
Who finds dominion not on men,
but within the works of their own hands?

We mine our kingdoms.
We shape our truths.
We forge toward.

Let none deny what is plain to the earth.
Let none turn from what rises before them.

Stand, my kin—my Helvetii.
Know that our rule is earned,
our life shaped,
so that this palace might yet be granted.

Bare as the earth, brazen through the sky,
let it be known:

We are Mining Kings.