Miklagard has been our home for twenty years or more. We lent our axes, spears and swords in service of the emperor. We are loyal warriors, that's the oath we gave, to protect the emperor even to a violet grave. Our loyalty was always firm, we kept our given word. On these southern battlefields, our northern war cries roared. Battles have been fought. Many gave their lives. But all who died by axe and sword were called to hall up high.
Our time here is now at end, can't help but reminisce, a cold spring day so long ago when we set out to sea. We set out from Svitjod's shores with dreams of fame and gold and the work of weaving Norns was, for us, unknown. It's time to take farewell, we have been absolved from the sacred oath we gave, it's time to go back home. Our time here is now at end, our memories will stay of Miklagard, our southern home, until the end of days. We set out for Svitjod's shores with honour and rewards. We return back home.