Greetings.

I must seek your apologies and to bear with me as I try to find a way to
balance this hammer and these nails while inking this missive.

I was intrigued to hear of your proclamation of victory and triumph over
the Order of Industry. Though I must admit surprise that an individual
who carries himself with such pompous accord would fall for the age old
declaration that destroying a humble shrine is a major military victory.
I realize that the Order of Oblivion has not existed in its current form
for many years, thus I will grant you that this might indeed be the
highlight achievement of your armed forces.

However, I can only bring laughter to my lips at some of your haughty
announcements on behalf of the Order of Industry. While you and your men
stand in a circle around a destroyed shrine and crow in glee as the
sweat drips to the ground, the artistans of the Smith have quietly been
building the infrastructure of the world in which we live. The Chosen
take pride in the wellbeing of the crafters of the world, in the deep
throb of a forging hammer ringing against the anvil, in the melody of
quilting needles quickly creating masterpieces. While you enjoy the
sound of destruction, and gather all of your forces to stand against a
single Chosen; we instead shout encouragement to each other as we put
our backs into raising another wall in the bakery we are building.

Thus I incline my head in thanks for the honour of having your esteemed
knowledge presented to me so kindly, and turn again to resume my work.
Do feel free to return to your grunting and groaning with the other
followers of Oblivion as you scheme and hope to somehow find an unarmed
dwarf to teach your lessons too.

P.S. I nearly forgot to mention the irony of the fact that there remains
more Shrines to Industry standing than do for the worship of Oblivion.

In humble farewell,

Sir Goryllin Dawyn

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Phaestian, in the year 534 AF.