Cry aloud your rejection of the grace of the Gods O Kinsarmar. Hurry
your women and children from the keep of your fortress and pay homage to
your Gods. Though you kneel crippled, bloody faced and defiant before
the might of the empire awaiting the shackles of imperial oppression,
the Empire will not place them upon you. Your dignity has been taken in
place of your freedom as an ample substitute.

The Empire has taken your mortal possessions and your blood in
recompense for your slight upon her and although your magickal wares
remain your own, by my life, maggots will feast on your rotting
carcasses as they lay faced down in the icy wastes of the north once
again if they are not released before the empire's strength is gathered
for this conquest.

For now however, rejoice O Kinsarmar, for danger has passed over you
once again, and your freedom remains to keep you warm at night.

In darkness,
Lord Sparda Gazali

Penned by my hand on the 4th of Ultio, in the year 464 AD.