In the deepest of night, when the corpses of the Empire lie in their coffins and the undead find peace in the purity of the Earth, who do we hear tapping feet in our caverns?

Ah, that's it. The city caverns hear the footfalls of one Aros Riahl, who claims deserved acknowledgement in his daring feats to the ears of... but crickets and drudges.

If it was revenge you sought for the hundreds of hoplite lives we claimed against the North in your streets, I'm afraid they fell far from the mark.

The gift of Strategy, once of the Malevolent, and now of the Hegemonist - we will show it to you.

I am,
Tyrant Elene Arcan-Tetzauh


Penned by my hand on Closday, the 23rd of Lanosian, in the year 505 MA.