Up out of the battle table rises the claws of Splinter, the dragon and exalts Calibourne, the victorious. Who will weld the exalted dice? Who will fall at its demand? Beware fair adventurer for fate is a fickle mistress, reigning down fire and vengeance on the just and unjust, pray fate is willing to spare you this day when you seize Calibourne, the exalted dice.

There drew he forth the brand Calibourne,

And o’er him, drawing it, the winter moon,

Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth

And sparkled keen with frost against the edge of twenty:

For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks,

Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work

Of subtlest numbers.