The fog hangs heavy in times of war, the magnificent crimson haze
revealing as much as it obscures.

Firstly, to the desperate and wretched East-Ithmian commune. I offer you
my sincere sympathies upon the cementing of your ties to Darkness and
its home. In these days of shattered alliances - where sovereign
entities proudly stand alone, you have clearly displayed your mettle and
greater States have taken note.

To the Church, my condolences.

In the past couple of years you have not simply lost an ally upon whom
you formerly completely relied, nay. Despite all of your efforts, the
very finest in shameless backpeddling - even the desperate cheapening of
your faith and uttered dissent of the Te'Serra has failed in keeping the
Eleusian whore, with all of her issues, from searching out and embracing
the Dark Father upon the shadowed plains of Nishnatoba.

To Hashan, I offer deeper commiseration and also an admission of guilt.

It was personal folly which placed you in this position. In arranging
for your guidance and instruction, I overestimated the chosen agent. I
was mistaken in my hope that Lord Twilight's patronage could steer you
beyond your apathetic existence and towards strength, and in granting
Him the throne I have done you a disservice.

All is not lost, however. In the coming years, you will be repaid
ten-fold. With Suffering as your teacher you will come to know strength.

To the City of Ashtan, some advice as we part ways.

Do not rest on your laurels. If anything was made apparent over the past
year it was that beneath your small band of Nihilists lies a bloated
bladder of incompetence. Hardship will befall you, and a
most-embarrassing incontinence seems the likely result.

Theirs sincerely,
General Sabiru, Augur of Abbadon

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Ero, in the year 573 AF.