In this dream, a man stalked prey in a pantherskin loin-clout, fought savagely on the deck of a corsair, led desert raiders to fall upon travelling caravans and, finally, sat gloomily upon a throne decked in this armor. This set of armor was conceived in such a dream. Not the vile dreams of the Black Lotus, but dreams more like memories, only rippling backwards into the past. It is whispered that some threads of destiny are so strong that men dream of them before they come to pass. Over all they put the silken surcoat with the royal lion worked in gold upon the breast, and they girt him with a broad gold-buckled belt which supported a jewel-hilted broad-sword in a cloth-of-gold scabbard. Conan's armor of black plate-mail, with the vizored salade, and the dark plumes nodding over the wivern crest.
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