Le Morte Dartic

Within the rolling fields of yellowing grass and sand dust deserts, lie marshes of blood, spilled for honour and for glory. There are codes, orders, and men who die for them. And there are pointless lines on maps, on tallies, on epigraphs and elegies, and General Alexander Arctic Turner, along with his trusted Lieutenant attempt to steer the wagon of their fates hurtling down rocky cliffs.

And then there are the pebbles, small, insignificant, yet they batter at the wagon's wheels. And there are also boulders, fat, hulking, imposing barricades that would certainly smash apart the fragile wagon's walls.

Chiseled into the largest boulder of them all, "Miles Kane".