A leader's siren. And.... so it begins.

Vance: Believers in honour, believers in righteousness, believers in "morality."

The great man sighed.

Truly, everything rhymes.

Vance: Believers in love, believers in battle, believers in fairness, believers in custom.

The looks on the faces of the men said it all.

They all saw it.

The words of what he spoke.

Only now, in true being.

Every word, bringing unto them a new, perhaps more solid definition of reality.

Or, perhaps simply a promise.

After all, at times, a promise is all a man needs to get off his feet and get going.

Vance: And... of course, because of what they believe, because of what we believe... these people look upon us with... disgust.

The men's breaths resounded in the air.

One could here their agreement even without the words being said of it.

Truly, they all, each and every one of them, believed, lived and received of what he said.

It was not only his words, no.

It was also their lives.

Truly, everything rhymed.

Vance: To them, we are sin. Nay. We are that which one should never be.

Truly, everything rhymed.

Every word, almost as though carefully calculated to stir their hearts.

However, this was not so.

How so, dear reader?

Do you know the answer?

Well, perhaps the answer may be seen as a purpose rather than ideal.

Purpose rather than ideal, you say?

Why... yes.

Perhaps a leader can truly lead from the ethos of purpose, rather than from the ethos of ideal.

What is that to say, say you, perhaps?

Why... that is to say, that perhaps leadership is more of a calling, and less, much less of an ideal.

After all, know ye not that a man be inspired before he do a great deed.

Yes. That is humanity.

Vance: And to this great nation. This nation that surpasses all the nations in the land.

The nation of which he spoke, being the great Vesturia.

Vance: Yes, this great nation, my brothers. To it, what do we say?

Truly, everything rhymes.

From the hate, even unto their own relationship with the way they see the eyes of the people of this land.

Dear reader, I say to you.

When everything rhymes, nothing can be undone.

Truly, the more it rhymes, the more permanent it becomes.

As he said these words, their eyes all looked forward, no not forward, but forward.

As to what they were looking forward for, that would be a good question.

For an answer, for a purpose, or... for something they expected.

The answer here, is... an answer.

Hmmm?

Know ye not that the last option, even though dramatisised, need not be the correct one?

And of the answer, why... it was the answer of the first question.

The question unto which all their hearts hearkened.

The question... what new thing shall ye tell us of... brother?

And of that... that new thing. Yes. What is it?

Vance: Tell me my brothers, what do we say of it? What do we say to it?

And even still, the brothers remained in their stances, waiting all the while for his command.

And, even more, for his words.

For his words would define them that night.

Nay, even grow them.

He held his tongue but for a moment, almost as though waiting for an answer.

Perhaps he was, perhaps he was not.

Of that, dear reader, I tell you, he was.

Vance: That is easy, my brothers...

It was then that a scratching sound could be heard.

Yes. A scratching.

Of what, you may ask?

Why, it was a strange cause indeed, but the cause, was magic.

Vance Hessenger had placed his knife's blade upon the paper, and was there and then "cutting" at it.

However, what followed was not a cutting of the paper, nay.

It was the formation of an insignia.

The odd formation of a sign. Of a symbol.

And a bright one at that.

What kind of symbol?

Well, seeing as he has only started, we must wait for that.

That being said...

Vance: ... we are shinobi-wizards. Through and through.

And his words, even unto their impoversihed hearts, ...

Vance: We are not less, nay. We are not weak. Nay. We are not sin. Nay. We are great. We are just. We are power.

... watered them unto a bloom. Reminding them of their pride...

Vance: And of this land, what do we say? Why... that is easy.

Once he said these words, tears could be seen falling off of his brother's face.

Truly, a boy inspired into manhood by a man.

The man by the name of Vance Hessenger took a few steps back from his work, so as to inspect it.

Fire.

Why, yes.

The symbol was a simple one.

A drawing of fire.

A single outline, yet, with a simplicity that one would almost call childlike.

Yes, that was the spell.

Vance: Of this land... we say.... Now... Incantation....

As he said these words, a loud scratching surfaces.

In all the other three, yes, all the other three towers, had the shinobi wizards also begun to scratch the paper.

However, as before, the paper was not cut, merely, an insignia formed.

The leader, Vance simply waited patiently.

Not a word escaped his lips.

Not a word escaped his soul.

He simply waited, hearing unto himself the sound that came from the light stones.

The words he had spoken rung through their hearts with every flicker of their blades.

Each dash, each twist of the knife as they drew their own flames, yes.

Each movement under the meditation.

Those under them.... and what they thought of them.

The leader had spoken, the siren had sung.

And once all flames had been drawn, the leader's eyes took to his own flame, that had begun to glow a firely red.

From the light stone, in patient meditation of his words, they all said it.

Kyle, Thorton and Ray: Incantation...

For that is the word that must be said before a spell is cast.

Incantation. Indeed, it must be spoken.

Vance: Well met, my brothers. Of this nation, we say...

Now, he looked unto his paper once more.

Their hearts all breathing in and out.

Vance: .... to this nation of fools, we say....

And with the pangs of the struggles of a leader, with the birth bangs of a great idea, yes, then did he speak the words...

Vance: Incantation!

And they all followed....

Ray, Kyle and Thorton: Incantation!

As for the last words, the words upon which they focused, the words upon which their hearts were fully rested, the words upon which their hearts had decided.

Vance, Ray, Kyle and Thorton: Luna's Ring Of Fire!

They said it all in unison, their hearts decided, their beliefs united, their hearts never wavering, their minds in sync.

And, dear reader, I do say, that it was at that very point that the whole wall, yes. The entire wall... burst into flames.