Cautious I've thought you Basil, but never before a coward. We all have waited for the prince's return. Now that he has returned you walk away, the form is different, true, but his spirit is here, here, and isn't his spirit the truest part of him? Did it occur that maybe he chose this shape and symbol as the sign of his intentions? Aye, perhaps that soul, in hated delay, snared helpless in a jewel while his men hid and shirked their duties, his duty, perhaps that soul formed itself to this, and by no mistake comes to you now, in no more fine and final form as this. A sword. You say you cannot follow a sword? Well, I say you have strayed from your own too long!

Why are you here but to fight? Your prince has shown you the manner of his purest mettle, aye, in metal itself! And this true, unerring razor's message is clear beyond words, for now is not the time for words, but for brave hands, bright swords and blood! Aye boys, it's about blood now, too long frozen in your veins, and you'd rather yourself be rigid than follow me.

Well, if you won't, then shamefully know that your prince will. For his blood be solid too, but strained to steel, and tempered in death. Arise the like as he, as swords as we are crowns the like as he!

The prince is dead! Long live the prince!