I will take no head of the Kith'vahni, Drakenta. All I ask is three
things.

An apology for the city not allowing me to leave before re-enemying.

A waiver of my current enemy status or a refund of the 7000 gold I paid
for the privilege of being ambushed.

A meal. The guard who slew me in the Archive, a mage. I did not catch
her name, but she has fire in her. I want her.

I'll honor her as my people do, and remember her valor as I do so. But
no raid nor beheading nor bloodshed beyond that need come of it. All
cities have problems communicating. It is understandable.

Harker

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Naturalis, in the year 443 AD.