Gallant Few

Gallant Few is the name of a Syaran ballad that originated during the Divide War. The song chronicles the efforts of the Armed Forces of the Syaran Republic against the Cacertian Empire and became a rallying cry for the Republic during the war and after. It became heavily associated with the rise of Syaran nationalism following the Divide War and in the lead up to the Siduri War.

Origin

The exact origin of the song is unkown. The tune is likely based on traditional seafaring hymns common along the Sanguine Sea, shared by sailors from Syara, Ruvelka, Ossoria, and Æþurheim. The first recorded playing of the song was on radio in Zovahr sometime in 1918 during the Desopya Campaign, sung by folk singer Miroslav Kazepov. Kazepov was initially believed to have been the original song writer, but according to later accounts he had heard it while visiting friends near the Alekso Line. It is possible the lyrics originated among Syara soldiers or civilians living in Makedon during the war and Kazepov altered what he heard for a more appealing piece of music.

"Gallant Few" operates as both a balland and lament, simultaneously extolling the virtue and dignity of Syara's fight against the Cacertian Empire, while also mourning the loss of life as a result of the fighting. The song reflects what at the time was the growing wariness of war among the Syaran people, who after waging a seemingly meaningless conflict against Ruvelka, now found themselves the target for imperialist ambitions. That sentiment largely changed following Syara's unexpected victory in the war in October 1918, and the song became a rallying cry for Syaran nationalists.

The song fell out of common use after the Siduri War. It was briefly revitalized among Royalist forces during the Refusal War.

Lyrics

Near the Lycian Hills one grim morning
to the peaceful city rode I
Amid armed lines of marching men,
with squadrons passing by
No chatter bespoke, no rubber spoke,
did turn in one or two
But the rally cry over Makedon,
called out to the Gallant Few

From the homes and towns came the trumpet call
for brave Syaran swords
Freshly cut and still soaking red
with the blood of Ruvelka's hordes
And from the breadth of all four realms
volunteers came pouring through
While Cacerta's Huns, with their long range guns
fought against the Gallant Few

Oh the night fell black, and the rifles crack
made Sabria's bastards reel
In the foggy gray, amid cannons and brass,
of burning flames and steel
To the All-Mother's soul a prayer was said,
for Syara free and true
And when morning broke,
still the war flag shook under guard of the Gallant Few

Twas Empire's twisted fate and fall,
that all nations would be free;
With broken stones and forgotten graves,
remains among the Sundering Sea.
Had the pikes and lances held,
and rebellious strife subdued
Their reigns we'd keep until the great Kings sleep,
so held by the Gallant Few

But Makedon's fall, and the steppe men's call,
was heard and heeded clear
For those who died under arrow fire
in the Nemaro fields of year
Went to beyond, but could gaze along,
as their brave descendants knew
That who carried the fight, so Syara's light
might shine with the Gallant Few

In streets and towns did the preaching go,
warning of blood and fire
But it is better to die a Syaran son,
then a slave to an Empire
And in droves and fro do we march and go,
for the Republic we all knew
So that homeland's peace will be earned
by the act of the Gallant Few