Velldr, an antiquated martial commander and an emperor, was a prodigious strategist of

exceptional calibre. Velldr's tactical genius and fair governance earned him the reverence of
people throughout the land. His triumphs on the battlefield were countless, and with his astute
leadership, his dominion had surged far beyond its frontiers, vanquishing distant lands and
subjecting their inhabitants.

Velldr was more than a mere conqueror; he was also an exceptional statesman who recognized
that a successful empire relied not only on military might but also on the welfare of its citizens.
He invested heavily in education, infrastructure, and public works, fostering the development of
a prosperous and peaceful realm. Velldr's reputation as a conqueror was equalled only by his
devotion to ameliorating the lives of his people, who regarded him not just as a victorious
military commander but also as a sagacious and equitable ruler. His legacy remains a testament
to the potency of effective leadership and dedication to communal welfare.

Velldr was an unparalleled conqueror, renowned not only for his tactical acumen and shrewd
leadership but also for his eponymous mount, "Porteur du Conquérant." Porteur du Conquérant,
with its faultless lineage and agile, sinewy build, embodied Velldr's might and prestige.
Frequently it was Porteur du Conquérant's swiftness and nimbleness that proved to be the
decisive factor in Velldr's triumphs on the battlefield. But Porteur du Conquérant was more than
just a horse to Velldr; it was his loyal companion, and he cherished it as if it were kin. The bond
between horse and rider was unassailable, and on numerous occasions, Porteur du Conquérant
rescued Velldr from certain death in the throes of combat. To those who witnessed their exploits,
Velldr and his mount were a sight to behold, evoking admiration and embodying fortitude,
valour, and fidelity.

Velldr's renown had spread far and wide, striking fear into the hearts of many kingdoms. Yet,
amidst this sea of conquered territories stood the Kingdom of Tarak, a small but fiercely
independent realm that had never bowed to an outside power. Its ruler, King Xaros, was a man of
inflexible pride and stubbornness who refused to recognize Velldr's authority.

Velldr comprehended the critical significance of subjugating the Kingdom of Tarak. He

acknowledged that the annexation of Tarak was pivotal in amplifying his empire's economic and
tactical clout. The geographic location of Tarak served as an essential gateway to the adjacent
territories, and the realm's commercial corridors prospered. Furthermore, Tarak boasted some of
the most eminent educational establishments globally, which Velldr viewed as a prospect to
heighten the intellectual accomplishments of his realm.
Driven by an unwavering determination to crush Tarak's unyielding defiance, Velldr assembled
his elite army and embarked on the arduous journey. The path ahead was perilous, as the rugged
landscape presented treacherous ravines and towering mountain ranges at every turn. However,
Velldr's unwavering faith in his troops and unmatched military prowess kept his spirits high.
Mounted on his trusted companion, Porteur du Conquérant, Velldr led his army with a relentless
determination to achieve victory at any cost.

As Velldr's formidable army approached the gates of Aranthia, the capital of the Kingdom of
Tarak, Velldr's formidable army encountered fierce resistance from the Tarakian forces. The
atmosphere was tense as the two armies confronted each other on the open field outside the city,
ready to spill blood for their respective kingdoms. The Tarakians, with their unyielding spirit, put
up a valiant fight, determined to protect their homeland at any cost. But the clash between the
two armies was as epic as brutal, and Velldr's troops were no less determined.

The Battle of Aranthia earned its place in history books, and its name would resonate for
generations. Infantries on both sides fought fiercely, clashing with swords and shields, while
cavalries charged at each other, their horses' hooves pounding the ground with an almost
deafening thunder. The Tarakians suffered heavy casualties, with many of their troops falling to
Velldr's expertly coordinated attacks.

Velldr had meticulously planned every move, anticipating his enemy's counterattacks and
preparing his soldiers to respond with lightning-fast precision. His cavalry charged in from the
flanks, enveloping the Tarakian infantry and cutting them off from their support. Meanwhile, his
archers unleashed a hail of arrows upon the enemy, causing chaos and confusion in their ranks.
His infantry, armed with swords and shields, advanced as an impregnable force, their metal
shields glinting under the sun as they relentlessly pushed back the Tarakians.

The remaining Tarakian soldiers were thrown into disarray as Velldr's forces pressed forward,
striking at their flanks and cutting off their escape routes. King Xaros tried to rally his troops, but
it was too late. The Tarakians were in a state of panic, and their retreat quickly turned into a rout.

He urged his army forward, skillfully manoeuvring his horse amidst the chaos of the battlefield.
Riding at the head of his cavalry, Velldr spurred his mount on with expert precision, deftly
dodging arrows and enemy soldiers. His trusted companion, Porteur du Conquérant, rode
alongside him, their steeds pounding the earth in perfect unison. The open field outside Aranthia
reverberated with the clash of swords beside thunderous hooves as Velldr's forces closed in on
the retreating Tarakians.
As Velldr's forces charged forward, his right arm raised high as he shouted orders to his troops.
But as they advanced, disaster struck. An arrow struck Velldr's right arm, the sharp tip piercing
through the skin and bone. The arrowhead jutted out from his arm, causing him immense pain as
he slumped backwards in his saddle. His trusted companion, Porteur du Conquérant, quickly
caught him before he could fall to the ground, but it was clear that Velldr was grievously
wounded. Velldr gritted his teeth and snapped the arrow, breaking off the protruding end.

The soldiers encircling Velldr were left aghast and distraught. The soldiers knew their
commander's injury was critical and feared losing the battle without him. But Velldr was not one
to surrender so quickly. Despite his grievous wound, he relentlessly impelled his troops onward,
his voice feeble but resolute. "For the glory of the empire!" he bellowed. "For the honor of
Porteur du Conquérant!" Tarakians were surprised by a sudden burst of energy from their
opponents. The soldiers of Velldr had no intention of winning for themselves; they were fighting
for their fallen leader, for the prosperity of their empire, and the valour of Porteur du
Conquérant. His determined spirit and unwavering courage inspired his troops to fight harder,
despite their leader's impending fate.

Despite his mortal wound, Velldr refused to surrender his fight. With sheer force of will, he
retrieved his dropped sword with his left hand and continued the battle without missing a beat,
demonstrating his exceptional skill and unwavering resolve while mounted on his horse,
directing his troops and issuing orders with unwavering determination until the very end. Porteur
du Conquérant seemed to sense his master's urgency and fought with renewed vigour, leading the
charge and inspiring the troops with his commanding presence.

As the conflict neared its end, Velldr sensed his time was running out, but his tenacity persisted.
He clutched the reins of Porteur du Conquérant, steadfast in his desire to remain in the fray until
its conclusion.

As the Tarakians were defeated, Velldr's troops hastened to his aid, endeavouring to staunch the
bleeding from his injuries. Alas, it was evident that the emperor's demise was imminent.

Amidst the shroud of agony and fatigue, Velldr summoned the last of his strength to speak.
"Through wars, I rode, with Porteur, I'll rest - a conqueror," he murmured, his voice feeble but
resolute.
With one final display of courage, Velldr spun his sword in his left hand before flinging it into
the ground. The blade pierced the earth, standing tall and proud beside him as he took his last
breath.

He remained atop his horse, the emperor's body slumped forward. As if sensing the solemnity of
the occasion, Porteur du Conquérant beneath him as if showing his master the reverence he
deserved in his last breaths. The horse's nostrils flared with every breath as it stood stoically by
Velldr's side, unwaveringly loyal to the end.

Amidst the aftermath of the battle, the soldiers' mournful song filled the air, a solemn tribute to
their fallen emperor,

"His sword was swift, and his heart was bold,

He rode with courage uncontrolled,

A conqueror on the field of strife,

In battle, he gave his very life.

His deeds will echo through the land,

His courage we will always stand,

Our hearts weigh heavy,

Burdened with grief and woe,

As we lift our voices in mournful flow.

Let the world hear the melody of our tears, a requiem for our fallen emperor dear,

His legacy will forever remain,

His memory, we will forever sustain,

So let us sing a solemn melody,

For our emperor brave and mighty."

Porteur du Conquérant, with unwavering loyalty, stood still as the soldiers' voices soared, gazing
towards the distant horizon as if anticipating his master's triumphant return.

In the moments that followed Velldr's departure, the battlefield fell into a hush, save for the
gentle whispers of the soldiers paying homage to their deceased leader. As the minutes passed,
they began to mount their horses, ready to embark on the solemn journey back to the capital to
proclaim Velldr's heroic triumph and ultimate sacrifice.

As the army commenced their journey, Porteur du Conquérant exhaled a mournful sigh and set
off in a slow and steady gait, bearing the lifeless body of Velldr upon his back. It was as though
the horse carried the weight of the kingdom's sorrow and loss, a burden too heavy to bear alone.

The journey to the capital city of the kingdom, named Valoria, was a sombre procession.
Mourners filled the roads, their faces etched with grief and disbelief at the news of Velldr's
passing. The passing of Velldr had already spread like wildfire, and the people mourned his loss
deeply. In every town and village, they lowered flags to half-mast and tied black ribbons around
trees and lampposts.

As Porteur du Conquérant and the army approached the capital city, a sea of mourners dressed in
black greeted them, weeping openly. People lined the streets, holding candles and flowers, and
mournful wails filled the air, along with the scent of burning incense.

The once-vibrant square, with its towering marble columns and intricate statues of past rulers,
now stood in mourning at the centre of the city of Valoria. Black drapes had been hung,
replacing the once-vibrant flags and banners, turning the grand square into a sombre reminder of
the loss of Velldr.

The statue of Velldr stood tall in the centre of the grand square, a symbol of his triumphs and
sacrifices. Artisans cast his noble form in bronze as he held a gleaming sword in his right hand
and clutched a tome of knowledge in his left. A crown of gold rested upon his brow, signifying
his rightful place as ruler of the kingdom.
But as the news of his passing spread, the statue took on a new and profound meaning. It stood
as a monument to his unmatched bravery and exceptional leadership, reminding all of the
immeasurable things he had done for his people. The shining bronze, once gleaming in the sun,
was now stained with the tears of those who mourned him, and the sword and book he held felt
heavy with the weight of his absence.

Years ago, during Velldr's peak of power, the king erected the statue as a testament to his vision
for the future. As they gazed upon it, a deep sense of loss overwhelmed them. They knew their
beloved ruler was gone, leaving an uncertain future behind.

The people of Valoria had gathered in the square to pay their respects to their fallen ruler, their
faces etched with grief and sorrow. They wore black armbands and carried candles. Their
flickering flames cast a dim light on the scene.

The air resonated with weeping and mournful whispers, and even the birds had fallen silent in
tribute to Velldr. The trees swayed mournfully, their leaves rustling in sorrow, and the flowers
seemed to droop with the weight of the news. The earth seemed to tremble with grief as if
mourning the loss of the great ruler. The usually bustling square now felt empty and bereft, as if
the very heart of the city had shattered.

As Porteur du Conquérant made his way through the square, carrying Velldr's body on his back,
the people fell silent and bowed their heads in mourning. They knew they had lost a great leader,
a conqueror who had brought glory to their kingdom and whose legacy would live on forever.

Once a symbol of their strength and power, the grand square had become a place of sorrow and
loss in this moment of mourning for the fallen ruler. It stood as a testament to the price of
greatness, a reminder that even the mightiest leaders must one day pass on.

As the sun set on the capital, Porteur du Conquérant made his way to the pyre, carrying Velldr's
body with a solemn and respectful air. The people fell silent as he approached, and a hush fell
over the city.
With solemn ceremony, the soldiers reverently set Velldr's body upon the pyre, and with a burst
of flames, the people began to sing a mournful dirge, their voices lifting to the heavens in tribute
to their fallen king.

After the funeral, the city entered a prolonged state of mourning. Shops and businesses closed
their doors, and people gathered in the streets to share stories and memories of Velldr's life and
reign.