Hail. Brisk spring tidings to all.


To the Regent Ser Aerek and Countess Nezaya - powerful though the Common tongue may be, there is no language flowery enough or powerful enough to transform outright theft into noblesse.

To those who may yet rally to defend Meropis from the aggression of Saravoia, of Aster Malik, and of Sapience - you will be outnumbered. Your prospect for victory, slim. But you have before you the sort of battle and end that the finest bards dream to sing tales of in the dimly-lit tavern halls.

For your hearts are made of stone; let them repel all arrows. Your souls are formed of diamond; let them cast light to all four corners of Meropis. Your eyes are bolts of lightning; let them see the mark. And your blades are the bringers of tears; use them.


In strength,

Sir Aodfionn Wintermourne
A Gaian Knight

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Scarlatan, in the year 993 AF.