I - Spring of the year 1063.
Ramiro I of Aragon besieges the city of Graus.

I never thought a battle was anything so fierce. Until now, I had
only had contact with the weapons in the trainings with my good
friend Prince Sancho...
Now, it was different, very different. In the workouts, I couldn't see
the blood run this way. Maybe the blood of some small cut or gall, but
nothing of importance. Right now, I am seeing as the limbs of the
fighters are cut, the heads with the neck almost cut are twisted to one
side and the body, which almost does not hold them, collapses and
crashes against the floor. The field is a mud, but it is not water that
turns the earth into mud, it is the blood... Screaming, screaming
everywhere. Wailing and weeping. Heartbreaking sounds...
Sancho had told me that his father Fernando, the King, had
communicated him that the regent of the taifa of Zaragoza, the
Muslim Al-Muqtadir Billah, had requested help, since the King of
Aragon, Ramiro, had besieged the city of Graus. Our King cannot
deny, since the taifa of Zaragoza pays religiously for his pariahs and,
as against benefit, we must go to his aid when he requires it with
justified motives.
"Rodrigo, my father has told me that I must go to the aid of the
Moor King Al-Muqtadir, from the taifa of Zaragoza. As you know, it
is one of the taifas that religiously pays the pariah imposed by my
father for his protection. It seems that Ramiro, my uncle, King of
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