From the Book of Foes:

“When the great battle was over, and the final horns had blown their final cries, the haggard old general looked all around the battlefield, and he fell to his knees.  ‘I do not understand,’ the general spake aloud.  ‘Our plan was infallible.  My men were ready.  How could this come to pass?’  Just then, the bright sky darkened.  Clouds as black as The Saint’s army’s shrouds rolled across the merry sun.  The grizzled general turned, and the Dark Lord stood before him.

‘You men fought well,’ the Great Saban said.  ‘I hungered to see my men tested, and you have served my purpose.  But know this:  all that happens on this field happens because it is my will.  Come not to this hallowed ground and expect joy, for you shall find none.  Even though you know it not, you are all a part of The Great Process.’  And the general opened his mouth to speak, but he hesitated, and then fell silent, for he now knew the Dark Lord’s words rang true.

And the Great Saban came before his Army, and he told them, ‘Be not cheerful, for you have failed me.  You did not win this victory; your opponents merely lost it.  You have crushed great armies in the past, but today you forgot the things that brought you to that point.  You must reach within yourselves and find anew that competitive desire that shall sustain you relative to your crushing our opponents in the future.  Only through this shall you make them cry relative to their desire for mercy and avail yourselves of the spoils of victory, relative to your opponent’s wenches.’  And the Army of Saban was ashamed, but knew that they had learned from what happened this day.”

Continuing our lesson from the The Great Tome of Saban, Book of Davis:

“On his journey home from the land of the Athenian Hound, the haggard old general began to formulate a plan to defeat The Great Saban.  ‘His men doubt our prowess in battle,’ he thought.  ‘They will surely think us easy prey after a victory over a general with renown such as The Saint.’  And so he journeyed back to his homeland, across the blue grasses, and to the lands where great armies were held in lower prestige than the small bands of giants that fought inside the coliseums of the land.  When he arrived at his camp, he told his lieutenant, ‘Bring to me the White Shadows.’

First came the eldest of the White Shadows.  Great in stature he was not, but so gaudy was his garments that he commanded the attention of all who saw him.  ‘My son,’ the haggard general said.  You have fought foes like this before.  Foes which they gave you no chance to defeat, and yet you prevailed.  Do you remember our battle with the Master of the Hat?’  ‘Yes, my master,’ the soldier replied.  ‘Our field general reigned supreme that day.  But he has joined the mercenaries, now.  No matter.  The men of Saban are not fit to polish the silver of my chains.’  With this confident boast, the haggard general was pleased, and so he gave him leave.

And then approached the second of the White Shadows.  Eight feet tall was he, with rosy cheeks, and from each ear gleamed a glimmering stone the likes of which even the ladies in the Land of Saban would admire.  ‘My son,’ spake the haggard general, ‘My field general abandoned me to join mercenaries in the New City.  It will be up to you to lead this army into battle.’  ‘Ha!’ scoffed the soldier, his shimmering ears reflecting the crisp October moonlight.  ‘Four battles have I fought, and never has defeat found me!  The men of Saban are not fit to polish my jewels!’  And with this confident boast, the haggard general gave him leave.

Though the old general spoke to his men in confidence, no words in those days could be spoken that would not reach the ears of the Dark Lord.  Manifold were his spies, and long was their reach, and keen were their ears, and disreputable were their wenches.  One of these came to the Great Saban, and falling on his knees, he cried, ‘Great Saban!  The Army of the Bluegrass approaches!  They make ready for battle!  A giant leads them, along with the Great Gotti!’  ‘Arise, cur,’ hissed his Terribleness.  ‘Their coming has been long known to me.  Their general knew of our previous deeds, and he seeks to come and extinguish the light I have shed on this place, and to bring back light were I have snuffed it from the very sky.  Let him come.  My men have been too arrogant before, but no longer.  They are finally heeding my words.  They are finally assuming my image.  We have started this march, and we shall finish it.  Let him come.’

And the Dark Lord departed, and he made ready his Army for battle.”

From the Book of Davis:

“Far in the North dwelt a haggard old general, once renown for his great prowess in battle.  Like so many others, he had forsook his own men for an army of mercenaries, and never again did he regain his former splendor.  Rich was his name, but poor were his coffers of victory.

Word reached this grizzled general that spoke of a rising power to the south.  ‘The Dark Lord returns!’ the messengers cried.  ‘If he is not stopped, surely he shall cover these lands with his shadow!’  The general knew that his men were not ready, and he knew that chances were slim, but he said, ‘I shall take this challenge.  No army of Black could defeat him, but my army clad all in blue shall show the world that his greatness is still but legend!’  And with this, he set off on a long journey.

Through many hardships he toiled, until he came at last to a decrepit tent on the outskirts of a once great city.  The great temple there was collapsed, and only sparks jumped from where once great torches had blazed.  ‘Rupp help me!” he cried.  ‘This is the city of the Athenian Hound!’  And he grew very afraid, and he ran into the tent for shelter.  Therein lie a shell of a man.  Hollow were his cheeks, but golden brown was his skin.  ‘Great General,’ sighed the man, knowingly, ‘I know why you have come hither.  You seek to question me about my past battle with the Dark Lord.  You wish to know how to climb The Mountain and claim victory at its peak.  You seek to make the Great Youth look like a mere child.  But hear me now, O Great General of the North, greater than you have tried, and greater than you have fallen, for even Saints bow to him in the end.’

And with this, the general retreated back into the cold night, and he began his journey home, and he vowed never to tell his men what he had heard.”