Overseer,

I find myself envious of you, that you have so much free time on your hands. Surely the governance of the Seat of Chaos would occupy a lesser man, but you? You seem bored. Bored enough that you have taken the time to offer a generous bounty to any who can entertain you at the expense of Cyrene.

But, as they say, if you're bored, then you're boring. And you have grown very boring, Overseer. Post after post, you delight in the regurgitation of syllables, basking in the cleverness of you, offering naught but bluster and bullying over matters that do not concern you.

You are a small, small man. A pitiable man. A man who fears not only to be wrong about anything, but to be ignored.

You want a caricature of jealousy, spite, and lust? Envious eyes, thin-lipped smiles, contemptuous yet cringing?

You needn't look far, Overseer. But in case the message is not received, perhaps I shall gift you a mirror. Rest assured, the letter it will arrive in shall be blank.

Too many words are wasted on you as it is.

-Taelle Starling

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Valnuary, in the year 967 AF.