Andrea,

You spoke of years of service without any sort of compensation, or of
titles of recognition. You spoke of loyalty, hard work, dedication.
You spoke of many things.

You prove nothing.

You see, Andrea, our way is a cause. It is greater than titles, larger
than rewards or even recognition. These things are minor, often only
temporary as we all succumb to the inevitable consequences of time.

Yet, one must ask, if this is truth, then why do we serve the Pantheon?

If this is our miserable fate, then why do we enslave ourselves to a
goal that we've no proof is even obtainable? Why do we place ourselves
upon strings, with which to dance for our Divine Puppeteers?

The answer is faith. Faith that our actions mean something, that we
mere mortals can turn a wheel that shall one day open the floodgates
to the purification of Aetherius. That one day, magick shall become a
thing of the past, and that those who have dedicated their lives to
proving that life without magick is a life worth living shall be
honored for the sacrifices they gave.

You speak of work, but your mere decades are meaningless in the face
of time. In the end, either your will breaks, and you succumb to the
weakness, or you do not. In the end, your failure distegrates any
value that your achievements possessed.

Know this. What matters is the choice you make tomorrow, not whether
you were praised today. If your actions have weight, then all that
matters is that they did, not whether they brought the recognition of
others. Such things are inconsequential, and were this the purpose of
our mission, then the very core of our faith would be a fragile thing.

It is clear to me, Andrea, that for all the sweat and blood you gave,
you did not understand the purpose that we serve. For this, I pity
you.

Draven Acerbus


Penned by my hand on the 15th of Bellum, in the year 592 AD.