Our home lies south along the shore
Our phalanx stands at five
We’re marching north to Tarsus
To keep our lands alive

Tarsus falls between our lands
A most important region
The brothers led by Tibius
Command the Tarsus legion

Each soldier in our perfect line
Stands taller than the last
I may only be the smallest
But I have a hardened past

Tarsus agree to turn their backs
They forgot of our support
Tibius offers a tempting trade
His iron for their fort

What of us, the southern folk?
Our toil holds up this land!
Without our strong foundation
This world can’t even stand!

The smallest hoplite I may be
But I still hold my place
On the eastern flank of our formation
I always leave my trace

The duels I’ve won with bigger foes
The beatings I’ve sustained
I always get back up to fight
Some battle scars just gained

We march up to the Tarsus gate
Our northern borderlands
First we’ll try diplomacy
We deliver our demands

The legion have all left their posts
Constitutions swaying
Iron used for luxury
Stability decaying

Tibius stands upright and tall
Drunk with all his power
But the clever brother, Fibulis
Knows the scene is dour

For balance in these southern lands
Cannot survive consumption
The region will soon starve to death
This is no presumption

Fubulis surveys the fort
Barren and disarrayed
He suddenly then strikes his kin!
His brother lies dismayed

The clever brother understands
An agreement must be reached
For every day they starve the south
He feels their power leached

For me the smallest hoplite
Defender of this federation
Will uphold the balanced rules of trade
For the good of every nation

Our phalanx in its rightful place
Food sent to our table
We learn again to work as one
The southern lands now stable