When your Master thought to usurp His Brethren through His whelped and alien Godling, you succeeded where I had failed. The Citadel and Shallam did fall, but through its fall came the Dawnspear, Targossas, a City far more unified in purpose and effective in its charge than Shallam had ever been. When the Whelp grew teeth and snapped at the heels of your Master, all of Sapience saw how strong Mhaldor truly was, for it took the masses of Sapience to turn back your wild beast. In so doing, each discovered for a reason to defend Creation on that day, and the cause of Creation claimed for itself a larger victory than it had in ages. How proud a moment it must have been for you to stand, arm in arm, with your sworn enemies! How true you showed the philosophy of Strength to be on that fated battlefield!

As for my part... when I released the Marvinogian so many years earlier, I sought to lay low the spiritual centre of the East. I sought to deal to them a blow from which they would be hard-pressed to recover. I sought to shatter their spirits and wipe the scourge of Shallam from the world forever, leaving only bitter memories and bloodstains in its wake. Instead, the Sword of Dunamis, long thought lost, made itself known to the world once more. It was the very sword that, in the hands of the Lightbringer, ended the menace of the Worldreaver forever. It is the very sword that caused Targossas to be. In attempting to end forever what I felt to be a monument to injustice, I enabled their greatest victory imaginable.

Understand, Tyrannus, that we are all tools through which Creation may be served, and through which a greater Good than you know may flourish. You have floundered about on your mountain for ages, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory time and again. But I tell you now, if you were to but take up the banner of the Bloodsworn, you could at least claim some measure of victory for the Good that you have done, despite your every attempt to the contrary.

Whatever your grievances are, they may be solved; whatever wounds you bear in the silences of your spirit, they may be healed. The problems you had with Shallam died with the City, Ruth. It is a shame that your animosity did not as well.

Sapience, it is never too late to do the right thing.



M. Corso

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Sarapin, in the year 644 AF.