Scott

“What matters is that you did not know the story. And the reason you did not...is that our ancestor William - through his deeds of arms, his force of personality and his vast conquests - had achieved so much by the time his belly exploded that even this undignified end was soon forgotten by all but the most diligent annalists.

...

You and I, continued the king, have achieved nothing yet. Nothing...You may die here in Normandy, like our ancestor. But unlike our ancestor, should your dead belly burst and release poisonous miasmas that sicken all who smell them, then that, my son, will be the story of you.”
― Dan Jones, Essex Dogs

“Shoulder to shoulder they stood in a circle of woe, and woe was all their assailants found to greet them.”
― Tim Willocks, The Religion

“Three floors.'

'What?' Glave snapped.

'No legs. It had no legs, but it crawled up three floors trying to kill us.'

Glave thought about that, then swept the beam of his meltagun across the rockcrete stairs, eating away at the grey stone and metal supports beneath.

'Well the next one will have to jump for us.”
― Robert Rath, The Fall of Cadia

“My five Upstart sons are all bloody and brave
I’ve got one on the gallows, and two in the grave
One is your prisoner, and none is your slave

“Pish,” said Gormalin. “That’s a war song!”

I’ve got one in the hills that you never have met
And though he is young, he will murder you yet
For the hour is coming you’ll answer your debt

“That song’s illegal!” he protested, and right he was. It’s the very song that got Kellan na Falth hanged. “You can’t sing about men killing men since the Goblin Wars! Especially not a song against a proper king of Holt, even an old, bad king!”
Now, of course, I joined in.

My five Upstart sons have declared against you
Their tongues are as black as their promise is true
And they’ll call you to answer whatever you do!

No Coldfoot guard was going to be left out of an illegal Galtish rebel song, so Malk picked up the next verse with us, his strong, confident baritone suddenly making the whole insurrection seem credible.

The crown you so love sits but light on your head
The castle you stole has a cold, stony bed
And though I am old, I will yet see you dead
You’ve hundreds of men with long swords and long knives
But you’ve lain with near half of their fair Galtish wives
And none of them love you to lay down their lives
Abandon your tower and open your gate
No silver-bought army can alter your fate
If all my five perish, my neighbor has eight
Our ten thousand sons have declared against you
Their tongues are as black as their promise is true
And they’re coming, they’re coming, whatever you do”
― Christopher Buehlman, The Blacktongue Thief