Kinilan Demaxx,

You refused to meet me when I attempted diplomacy, before your Degredation. You have refused to meet me any time I've challenged you. I extended a laurel, offered to face you in a contest of your choosing, that you might find our conflict more equitable. You refused this as well.

Instead, you boast of accomplishments some five centuries past, making nothing of yourself in the present. You scoff at duels, you scoff at jousts, you scoff at battles at sea, and even when we battle on these newsboards, your rhetoric is reduced to sordid gossip and self-justified mewling about persecution. Yet now you muse that we have not persecuted you hard enough. I instructed the Guild to be sporting in their challenges, little honour to be won by grinding a hapless old lunatic into the dust. You mistake my charity for fecklessness, and you have benefitted that these recent years have been busy with events of greater import.

You cling to the Guild's title as though it still fits you, but the buckles no longer fasten, the tabard frayed and moth-eaten from neglect, the honour of that accolade corroded away by self-indulgence. You were Sir Kinilan of the Wardens, knighted 5 Scarlatan 413 by Sir Meahnem Xanatov, cast from that House for pointing out its Knightly shortcomings. You reclaimed your title as Sir Kinilan of the Maldaathi, knighted decades later under Lady Istiria Dread, after starting anew. Your pedigree is not in question, Kinilan Demaxx.

Rather, we lament what you have become.

Ser Aerek Ancyrion
Knight Arbiter
But a Page at your first Accolade

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Valnuary, in the year 928 AF.