Cyrene, you are fallen. Your people are sunk in apathy, your lives are sunk in lies. You speak of new ideals, wonderful ideals, but your lusts for power and wealth consume your souls. With one hand you write a document about peace and culture, you write of how you will work against those who urn their ends by sword and shackle, and with the other hand you slip a velvet dagger into the heart of an innocent. No more will I sit by and witness, I depart now to find some home that will not so greatly condemn themselves by their own words. If your ideals did not align with mine then I would understand, but that you espouse ideals so close to mine, but then call out those who reference them as if they are the ones going against the city's code, I find you to be nothing but mirrors of the other cities, clinging to an identity you no longer uphold, so you might use it to gain power on the world stage. Be well, and I hope you learn to announce yourselves as you are, not as you would pretend to be.

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Chronos, in the year 861 AF.