To the Empire of Thalassa,

You cast a wide shadow across the realm, and your forces swell like the waves you so revere. In this rising tide of glory you have finally found a voice to add to the Achaean cacophony, marrying well-stitched finery with Vashnarian steel. A splendid mettle, indeed, especially when compared to what you once were.

You sully your distinction with your insistence upon bullying those who cannot stand up for themselves. Not so long ago, you were crafters and traders in need of protection from greater powers, and somewhere along this long and bloated road you've lost sight of where you came from.

Doth the woe of those crushed 'neath a God-Emperor's heel no longer stir the poet's soul?

We have done what Mhaldor could not and granted their Isle the freedom it craves. Those poor, broken, beaten-down soldiers of the Baelgrim are incapable of dislodging you, and yet you humiliate them for the sin of not being strong enough to do so.

Shame on you. Consider my pearls clutched.

- Eoka e'Jahlorien

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Scarlatan, in the year 1001 AF.