To the Officers of the Argent Legion,

What is owed to a Father who swallows His children in order to muster the strength to run?
What is owed to a Father who hides Himself from that which He creates and holds hostage?
What is owed to a Father who demands loyalty in exchange for dust?

Bloodloch gives you no answer. We do not justify ourselves to slaves. Continue to wear your devotion like chain, and tether yourself to your Father and the fate He decided for you. Your words bear no weight upon our minds, nor our breast. They were ash before you wrote them.

The Celestine's death will be the slaughter that births a new world, it will be chaos, it will be glorious! Here, upon the
battleground of defiance, we stake our claim. We seize control of our own fate. We know no greater than ourselves.

Tyrant of the Sanguine Fist,

X. Seirath

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 6th of Chakros, in the year 511 MA.