We came from the east. Hundreds of years ago, the 108 clans gathered under the banner of Álmos and took the path our forefather, the Great Attila, had shown us: to the west. The seven vovoides had sworn an oath, confirmed with their own blood spilled in a single vessel – the way of the old gods, that they would serve Álmos and his descendants untill their death. He would not live to see our new homeland, but his son Árpád did. We rode our horses to battle, and we won. We took this land and named it to Almos’ clan: Magyarország.
Our forefather, Borsa from the kindred Záh, rode with Árpád that day, and many enemies fel to his arrows. For his contributions in combat, he was rewarded with lands, as were many others who fought bravily. Was it a blessing or a curse? We forgot the hardship of the steppe, and became soft. Even our gods were forgotten, we adopted the God who died at the Cross. We made wine at Lake Balaton, and farmed the land. From hunters we became peasants. A kingdom they called it, like those in the west. But soon enough the sons of Árpád died, and the kingdom fell with them.
We have become weak, my son. If this continues, other people from the steppes will come and take this land. We have forgotten them. But they have not forgotten us. We need a new king. This is why I will support Talwin of the House Senta. He has old blood, I can see it. If I die before I see him king, then continue my task. Make our people strong again.
- Tremer de Varazdin (1226)
