To the eyes of Sapience,

Let it be known.

Khadafi, once counted among the ranks of Mhaldor, in a tantrum of wounded pride and petulant weakness saw fit to destroy the clan of the Black Cathedral. Not in honorable rebellion. Not in calculated defiance. But in emotional fragility, the flailing spite of a man too small to bear the weight of the oaths he swore.

He did not sever weakness from himself. He became it.

The Black Cathedral was not his to touch. It was not his to profane in a moment of childish rage because he lacked the spine to endure correction and the strength to submit to it.

Understand this clearly:

This was treachery born of impotence.

The penalty is set at 5,000,000 gold sovereigns.

Until such time as that sum is paid in full to account for the damage done, every citizen of Mhaldor is not only permitted, but encouraged, to kill him on sight.

We will grant him no peace, no rest, no mercy.

If he asks why, his answer will be:

Five million gold.

Gold is the measure of consequence. Pain is the language he chose.

He will learn both.


In Service to GOD,

Commandant Pharaus Lichlord

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Daedalan, in the year 998 AF.