To the Glutton of Anjyarr

[XKyber]

[!] The following is sent out to all across Eden through noticeboards, with the original copy being sent to the Palace in Al-Khadir. The original copy of the letter was sent to Al-Khadir in a small box, accompanied by a fork, spoon, and a knife - perfect utensils for eating a meal [!]

THIS DAY
SAINTSDAY 32, STARFALL, 1558
To the Glutton of Anjyarr
​

To the Glutton of Anjyarr, Sig'Vyl Al-Buthara,

You speak of Kape Roth as though it was your claim to make. As though it were yours. As if it were something stolen from your lands - taken without your knowledge in the dead of night, ripped from your grasp unwillingly. Yet, as is common for those who seek the ill of Eden, for those threats who remain internally and externally, this too, is a lie.

You have abandoned the Kape. You left it to rot, to be picked apart by criminals, scavengers and monsters, by those who valued it more than your leaders ever did. Now, after decades of the land having finally been liberated by the Azari'cill, do you come crawling and grasping at something that was never yours to begin. A ruler does not inherit land through nostalgia. They earn it, or take it. You have done neither.

The Kape, as the Dominion's close Filo, Fynenar Aey'flir reminded you, is Corithiel's. It is ours because we have made it so. It is ours because your people cast it aside, and we reclaimed it. In your correspondence, you emphasized the virtue of wisdom, and as our gift to you, we will impart it: A leader who rules only for their own selfish perversions, is a leader who does not rule for long. You would provocate in the name of conquest at your people's expense, and seek outward expansion rather than turning inward, reflecting upon your own faults and your people's needs. We of the Dominion place a great importance on our education, and consider ourselves life long students of history, knowing all too well how it repeats itself. It was not long ago that we recall the removal of one Sultana, and a subsequent desire to see her captured, replaced by a man after his own ambitions. It should not surprise us now, then, that the same ambition seeks to impose itself on the rest of the world.

Despite all, the Dominion is generous, and its ideals are far above the base passions of conquest and lusts for power. If Anjyarr truly desires Kape Roth, then you may bargain for it. Not because you have a claim, but because you have none. We invite you to join us in the neutral land of the Hadrian Empire, who we extend our thanks and gratitude towards for their invitation, at the meeting formerly planned to discuss this negotiation with tact, wisdom, and maturity. Or, if you do not like this arrangement and proposal, if you find our asks are too steep, then you may do as your ancestors did before you - turn away, pretend it never mattered, and leave Kape Roth in the hands of those who have the strength of Dragons; in the hands of those who have shown themselves capable to hold it.

Signed,
Varyian Theris
Ia'Cilmeri of the Dominion of Corithiel,
Therri'cill of the Enlightened Kingdom of Luminion,
Guardian of Purity,
Warden of Corithiel,
Theri of the Glade of the Dragons
​

 

[SiegV2]

[!] The flames still dance in Sig'Vyl’s palm as the last remnants of the letter turn to ash, the embers reflecting in his purple eyes. He breathes deep, steadying his rage, not to quell it, but to sharpen it. Like a blade upon a whetstone.

"Then let it be known," he mutters, his voice low, yet carrying the weight of a storm on the horizon. "Kape Roth is Anjyarr’s by right. It was, it is, and it shall be."

The High Elves of Corithiel, those preening, self-righteous serpents, had overstepped. They shrouded themselves in diplomacy, not out of honor, but because deceit was their true craft. Scheming and manipulation, that was their trade. Not governance, not strength. They weaved their webs and called it wisdom, but Sig’Vyl saw through their veils.

His fingers tighten, flames coiling around his knuckles like restless vipers.

"They beckon me to their table, not to negotiate, but to ensnare. They mistake my patience for weakness. My silence for surrender."

A slow smirk tugs at his lips, cruel and knowing.

"Let them whisper their lies. Let them weave their schemes. But they will find no willing listener in me, nor in Karl von Lichtenfelts, my student." He paused a moment, hesitant, perhaps he even considered Karl a friend? "Now Steward of the Hadrian Empire. I will see to it that their poisoned tongues find no ear to corrupt."

He exhales, the air thick with the scent of burnt parchment. A smirk tugs at his lips, cruel and knowing.

"Let them rot in isolation. Let their cries for allies fall on deaf ears. The Dominion fancies itself a power? Let us see how mighty it stands when the world turns its back on them."

His voice drops to a whisper, yet it carries the weight of a death sentence.

"Roast them? Oh, I will do more than that." He said as he rallied his servants to prepare for the trip to Adelsburg, making sure to bring the cutlery along as a gift for the fat Hadrian treasurer Herr Friedrich, the only true glutton in Eden.

 

[SiegV2]