From Northern city did she hail
To piety she was ever true
Her zeal inspired those who would fail,
Her voice a wondrous instrument.
The priest, Lavaine, her ideals pursued
She walked a righteous but arduous trail,
When strife against her home ensued
She served as Divine implement.

Her rock, her angelic companion
Together they served great Sarapis
Lisanne felt for Lavaine compassion
Because of her predicament.
For bonds to homeland weren't just dismissed,
The memories not easily abandoned
So as she prayed, she reminisced
On internal matters dissonant.

The Emperor sought greater domains
To fight a threat 'twould surely come,
And here, this march on Ashtan's plains
Would not go without incident.
'Twas not long 'ere the sounded drums
Would herald battle's harsh refrains
Lavaine was roused, no longer mum,
A resolution imminent.

She took up arms and with Lisanne
Met with the army and entered the fray
With mace and sword and Divine plan,
They fought with power transcendent.
The godless heathens would not pray,
And Ashtan's king joined with the van
Determined, he prepared to lay
His life down as his testament.

With fury did that heathen charge
To strike the Emperor Nicator,
"Lisanne, go now and serve as his targe,"
Lavaine cried in her vigilance.
The angel, just for a flash was tore
Lavaine would not survive onslaught unbarged
But she knew the Emperor's life meant more
So to her final battle she went.

Lisanne prayed for the strength to aid
The Emperor who was in distress,
Defending him she fought unafraid,
Her blade did not for a moment relent.
The heathen offense was suppressed,
But still the king's resolve unswayed
He would not quietly acquiesce
To loss he could not circumvent.

The angel and the king would clash
A hundred times across that field,
The battle raged and their weapons crashed
Their lifeblood on that grass was spent.
But still the two sides would not yield
Their lives faded with every slash
But in the end, the winner revealed
The one who was from Celestia sent.

But hark, the battle had taken its toll
Lisanne stumbled to the ground, dying there
"How could an angel have mortal soul?"
She wondered with her sweet lament.
With prayer she'd laid her feelings bare,
By Logos granted mortal soul,
She lay, expiring, but did not despair
For she had served to her heart's content.

"Lavaine, Lavaine, where have you gone?"
She asked as priests came, attending her side
"She fell in battle upon that lawn,
Her voice an unfaltering instrument,"
The priests replied, and sweet Lisanne cried,
For she had not felt her dear friend pass on.
Emotions torn as life did subside
For once angelic implement.

Two lives with destinies intertwined
By Godly devotion and mantle took,
Together serving the good of mankind
To form a bond unbreakable.
They travelled the world over hill and brook,
Don't pity them for they lived unconfined -
They're canonized in history books
For shaping an Empire unshakeable.

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Lupar, in the year 650 AF.