My Dear Ing,

It’s his fault, I know this for certain. You will not receive this letter in time; that’s for certain too. And I lament what pain this might cause you, and your people. It cannot be helped. You were foolish to believe him.

I suspect that by now war has erupted at your western border. I am sure I will hear of it in the coming days. It happened quickly, didn’t it? You are not strong enough to take this on alone.

You will expect me to come to your aid. Instead, I give you this:

Let your country fall.

Do you remember when I told you, under the orange harvest moon, that the age of the world was shifting? You should have heeded me. These new mages want little more than to help us depose of the current… structures. You know, the type which force us to bow our heads down to shamans and heroes. Why have you chosen to stay subjugated and tender?

I suppose that you will think to write me back and tell me that my own people are next, that this army will not stop when they raze the last fields in the east. He told you that, I’m sure. He asked for you to stand proud and tall against these new, wicked beings. Avarice, he called it. Yes, he came to me too.

But the ones he vapidly warns against have kept their promises to me, as they would have for you. Just yesterday I was gifted a sword which, with little more coaxing than a passing whim, snatches the air straight from the lungs of whomever stands before me. Your anachronistic hermit would have you recite optimistic prayers before trusting you with such power.

It’s a shame, really. Your father would have been wiser. You should have listened to your friends, not some haggard recluse who comes barreling down the mountains, unwashed, to spread a gossip of fear.

I suggest you come beg my mercy. Take what time you need. When your herds become languid and their meat comes tough and stringy, when the ergotism poisons your grain and your wells produce sour, rotten water, I will bargain for your life. My dungeons are prettier than the Semqeri ones. At least, in this way, I can keep the spirit of my promise to your father alive.  

I will spare no such pity for that man who stole your ear. 

Sincerely,

Anghkar