Hand of Phaestus,

I was surprised when word reached my ear of you, once again, running your mouth with regards to things you know little of. It is interesting to me how on one hand, you claim that we are so bothersome, but on the other, you seem so intent on continually contacting us. I had thought we were finished with whatever this was. Not so?

My extraordinary patience is wearing thin.

You made deals with our enemies. You lied to us. You made a promise in your Lord's name, and then broke it. You even slew one of ours. Yet, you have the audacity to throw insults at us as if it is us who are so corrupt and loose with our ideals.

Indeed, you have the audacity to come crying to us when your Order faces mild consequences for taking a slight stand in the furtherance of a cause they claim to be the foremost supporters of. Which is it, Hand? Are you "Defenders of Creation," as you claim, or are you not?

We perform our work with regularity. We fight these battles monthly. If you are not inclined to do anything more than talk, you are useless to us. We care little for your struggles whilst you selfishly seek to pursue only your own interests.

Yet, you are a distraction. An annoyance. A source of untruth, even. And this grates on me. This is your last warning. Cease your prattling about my Lord and His Caefir, or we will make time to destroy you ourselves.

In His service,

Farrah Roualt
Avatar of the Righteous Fire

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Glacian, in the year 778 AF.