Lord Marshal, Sunworshipping Sycophants,

What tempest of temerity has compelled you all to trespass within the sanctum of sanguine supremacy itself? Your indignation over a "conquered dawn" speaks not of valor but of vanity, a flaring affront born from fragile ego singed by truth.

Know this: the sun you so sanctify casts no shadow here. Beneath the boundless dominion of our Hegemonist, its light falters, failing to find purchase against the sheer and unyielding force of His Domain. To claim otherwise is to clutch at that which cannot, nor will ever, be yours -or- your Lord's.

"The sun will never rise upon His Empire."


Maeve Visara
First of His Consecrated Blood

P.S.

Kindly keep your gaudy decor out of His temple. You don't see us slathering your Lord's everything with our own.

Composed at my desk on Gosday, the 22nd of Ios, in the year 8 AC.