[Intro]
[Tankards mark the 6/8 pulse as hurdy-gurdy states the five-note dice motif.]
Rain beat nails through the Griffin sign,
Black smoke curled from the border line.
Five wet cloaks by the chimney flame,
Five closed mouths and no shared name.

[Verse 1]
Mara wore mail where her crest had been,
A broken oath stitched beneath her skin.
Brunna set an axe by a foaming cup,
Dared the loudest soldier to take it up.
Lark tuned gut strings with a silver pin,
Sang the last line wrong, then grinned again.
Veyr kept one horn beneath his hood,
While young Tomas feared what his fingers could.

[Pre-Chorus]
Then the blind man tapped on the oaken board,
Not with a cane, but a notched old sword.
[Lark]
“War eats crowns and the brave feed war—
Would you choose the woond if you knew the score?”

[Chorus]
At the Crooked Griffin, hear the red bones fall,
Silver numbers turning where the dead kings call.
One cast buys a kingdom, one cast makes a slave—
Roll once for glory, twice for the grave.
Five hands round the table, five debts yet unpaid,
And the dice know every bargain heroes made.

[Verse 2]
The minstrel unwrapped them from burial cloth,
Red as butchered roses, pale numbers frost.
“No god blessed these corners, no saint cut these signs;
They were carved from the knuckles of powers between times.”
Mara saw a road through a ruined gate,
Brunna heard a hammer beneath the slate.
Lark heard his own voice in a rhyme gone wrong,
Veyr heard his patron complete the song.

[Pre-Chorus]
Tomas touched one edge; every candle bent,
Every shadow pointed where the cold draft went.
The blind man smiled where his eyes had scarred:
“Luck is only hunger wearing painted cards.”

[Chorus]
At the Crooked Griffin, hear the red bones fall,
Silver numbers turning where the dead kings call.
One cast buys a kingdom, one cast makes a slave—
Roll once for glory, twice for the grave.
Five hands round the table, five debts yet unpaid,
And the dice know every bargain heroes made.

[Instrumental]
[Hurdy-gurdy and twin guitars trade the five-note motif while tankards become war drums.]

[Bridge]
Mara drew the cloth across the crimson pair:
[Mara]
“We take them from the world; we do not use them there.”
[Narrator]
Veyr gave half a laugh with his teeth held tight,
Brunna raised her cup to the coming fight.
[Lark]
“Heroes always lie before they ride,”
[Narrator]
And Tomas heard the dice roll from inside.

[Buildup]
Five chairs scraped back from the firelit floor,
Five boots turned toward the splintered door.
Outside, bells counted another town lost;
Inside, red corners glittered through frost.

[Final Chorus]
At the Crooked Griffin, let the red bones fall,
Silver numbers answer what no priest can call.
One cast buys a kingdom, one cast makes a slave—
Roll once for glory, twice for the grave.
Five walked from the table beneath the cannon rain,
Each carrying a future with a different chain.
The blind man whispered as the hinges gave:
[Lark]
“Blood keeps the tally of the ones you save.”

[Outro]
The hearth sank low; the last cup spun.
Beyond the wall, the road had begun.
Two red dice slept in a leather fold—
Warm as a pulse and twice as old.