Dithering bureaucrats,


It is with the greatest pleasure that we have extended you a boon this day. Your city streets remain shrouded within His Darkness, the monuments to your divine cast down and idols to boundless potential and the promise of Hashan made manifest within your walls.


The resolve of your Imperiate crumbles. Well and good to grandstand about War and battle, but as she has discovered, it is a far cry from those forged in the crucible of Conflict. While you wrote poems and sing-alongs about your so-called heroic war efforts during the Black Wave, we stood upon the battlefield. While you held hands and mourned, we honed our blades, our minds, and our tenacity. You have never been ready to face true soldiers, Cyrene. You demonstrated this with your butchery of children and homeless, and you have done nothing in this war to change our minds.


Our terms stand. Perhaps in the Darkness we have granted you, you will find the clarity to accept them. Should you do so, this war will end. You have proven that your Imperiate lacks the stomach and the drive to see it through.


Ever,


Mezghar Al'Jafri


Seneschal

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Daedalan, in the year 846 AF.