Though called by a different name now, let us not deceive ourselves into believing that the re-founded city of Light has actually twisted far from its roots, Dawnlord. While you speak of the absence of despair and then of the perseverance that drives your forces, most of the world watches, unsurprised, as you ignore the familiar stench of apathy that festers within your servants of Creation.

You proudly tout the perception that the Dawnspear draws its strength from its purpose, yet observations proved that there was naught but ashes within the hearts of your sheep. With great amusement, I witnessed as many of your flock buried themselves deep into slumber within their personal cesspits, only digging themselves out to serve properly when the Bloodsworn's gift of an Academy sparked a renewal of the 'purpose' Targossas had seemingly sworn to.

For certain, this city of yours has no quarrel with Nature nor the mountain people of Cyrene. Yet, to claim you would stand alone in your defense of Creation is a falsehood that I believe even your ardents would have difficulty supporting when your pikemen prove otherwise. I applaud you and the Bloodsworn, however, for seeking to emulate the rule of Evil in the West by constantly striving to adapt a militaristic outlook and a religious outreach in your own organizations.

At least within Mhaldor, we are honest as to the methods we utilize to reach the heights of perfection. We offer chains of slavery to those who choose to abandon their relative freedom for service under the Seven Truths. By taking up God's will as our yoke, we work as one to carve out the land, ridding it of the leeches, the infirm, the unwilling and the weak so that it fits His image of a perfect world, one dominated by the disciplined, the honed and the strong.

Unfortunately, there are those who still continue to breed and nurture those who would sully Lord Sartan's planet with flagrant weakness and behaviours.

Therefore, as you do so rightly lament, Maynard, "these are the choices we make."

His Eternally,
Tyrannus Ruth Yuridja-Keyte

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Mayan, in the year 651 AF.