Easterners:

Doubtless your already sizable egos have been somewhat inflated by your
destruction of the Wheel of Chaos. Allow me some words of caution lest
you begin your celebrations too early.

When Ashtan and Shallam last embarked to march the bloody path of Aegis
in opposition to each other, the world was quite different, and yet very
much the same. It is hard to believe that almost eighty years have
passed since the Archprelate Rho DevEvensong laid down his edicts
concerning the use of devotion in city-states other than Shallam. Many
of us blessed with long lives remember those Strife-filled times, and so
also remember the ultimate outcome of the Four Years War. It took the
rest of the world some time to respond to the Churchs initial actions;
there were numerous meetings, discussions, and debates about the
appropriate response. But when the discussion was over, the East felt
the full fury of the soldiers of the Bastion bearing down upon it, and
crumbled like a castle of sand before the might of a storm.

Governments are rarely perfect; democratic ones in particular are often
subject to the vicissitudes of politics. A city as ancient as Ashtan has
undertaken many decisions impacting the lives of the northern peoples.
It is my firm belief that only one truly significant mistake has ever
been made by councils past. When we had a sword to your throat, we
decided to exercise mercy. Foolishly, we believed that you had the
ability to learn. We thought you would recognize the destruction you
brought upon yourselves whenever you allowed religious fanaticism to
gain power, as when Rho became Archprelate. It seemed impossible that
such a thing should ever happen again.

We will not make the same mistake twice.

You have pledged yourself to the collection of weak young Gods styling
themselves the TeSerra. Swayed by Their siren spell, you have allowed
the seeds of hope to grow in your hearts. False hope is a dangerous
master indeed, for it is the quickest and surest path away from reason.
But I recognize that to exhort you to turn back now and save yourselves
would be futile. Your path is chosen, and I can no more change your
minds than command the sun to rise and set. Now that you have
wholeheartedly embraced faith alone, and dared to meet a far braver and
greater nation on the fields of Nishnatoba, I challenge your Gods to
save you, if They can. The power of Lord Babel, Master of Ruin, will
sweep Them all away just after They suffer through the destruction of
Shallam, the Church, and every last Easterner. This time, there will be
no mercy.

Sapience, the plumes of smoke rising over Shallam currently come from
the pyre they use to destroy any text that questions the tyrannical
authority of their dogmas. Soon, that smoke will be replaced by the
smoke rising from the smoldering remains of every building in the city
ruled by a child-Caliph. I counsel you who may yet be spared to shun
this people destined to be destroyed. Denizens of Jaru, you in
particular would do well to heed this warning. Your proximity to the
Jewel need not be your downfall; it is entirely possible to resettle you
elsewhere. If the buffoon Cotridge is determined to continue playing the
role of puppet despite the wishes of the Jaruvian population, simply
send notice, and he can doubtless be replaced with a mayor more
concerned about your welfare than the absurd goals of the Viziers.

But for the adherents of Good, there can only be the sword.


Gloirin Silvertongue



Penned by my hand on the 20th of Scarlatan, in the year 540 AF.