Galadriel Te'Straif,

A few weeks ago, my fellow Speaker decided it was pertinent to tell you something in front of the whole world. Today, I shall do the same:

There is no score to settle, Galadriel, once you cease fabricating one. You are owed nothing for the results of your anger. Your temper is your own. Do not lash out at those that have the will to hold you accountable for your actions. Take responsibility for these things you do of your own free will, or else redemption will forever elude you. When the offer was presented to you to seek redemption, you instead chose to invade the territory of the Light's staunch allies by way of the sacred arts of the Illuminai.

After a certain point, I'd like to think, it becomes difficult to deny that you are at the heart of your own woes. This scene plays out time and time again, no matter who it is that you try to involve as the other party. You give these institutions every excuse to seek your death or take umbrage with you in myriad ways, and then you stoicly deny that you should be treated the way your actions warrant. Eventually, you must accept that you are your own worst enemy by chasing these indulgent grudges.

This week, you chose to raid Duiran not once, but twice, in pursuit of satisfying these blind hatreds of yours. This is unacceptable. By your behavior, you continue to make an enemy not only of the Beacon's vaunted Light, but also the wrath of the Heartwood.

As the last Speaker of Duiran told you, Galadriel, you are nothing more than a lamb to the slaughter. You are worthy of no honorable combat, nor fair chase. You are owed no duel. If you wish to commit acts of war to satisfy this insipid vendetta of yours, then do not be surprised when you are treated like a criminal and raider.

For the wilds,
Speaker Iesid M.

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 12th of Midsummer, in the year 482 MA.