Sapience,

This week, we saw the truth of Duiran in full. They have shown us just how shallowly their convictions run.

Lord Strife bid the Theocracy not to waste His blessing, and so we did not. We struck out on the sixteenth of Chakros to bring battle to the opponents that normally give as good as they get - those we thought could match us strike for strike upon the field, given their bold words and previous performance. We sought to purge Sapience of the Varyanic relic known as the Mirror by breaking it at long last and flooding it with souls: both our own and our opponents.

Instead, Duiran cowered.

They made a bold showing for the initial mage hunt, I will give them that. But as soon as we made it clear this was not a singular engagement and they would have to lift their blades and put proof to their convictions, they huddled beneath their trees and did nothing.

Where were you, Duiran, when we wandered through Abelaas?

Where were you, Duiran, when we walked through Vintal Glade?

Where were you, Duiran, when we waltzed through Cantor's Copse?

We slew the villagers you claim dominion over, and you did nothing. You offered nothing. You were nothing. It was only when the Theocratic host came to the edge of your precious Heartwood that you stood in defense again, and that only barely. No amount of poetry or chanting or dead buffalo will wash away the shame of it: your words are nothing, your vows are nothing, your protections are nothing.

I know that you will slay me for this post. One of your powerful fighters will lift their challenge horn and summon me to some duel, as if killing me in isolation is some achievement. I state here and now: I am not afraid to die. I am not afraid to show Sapience that unlike you, I have the courage to stand for my convictions, even when it costs my life.

I find the taste of my own blood on my tongue far superior to cowardice, but it seems the Duirani feel differently.

Csethiro
Dhasan of Magic

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 17th of Chakros, in the year 12 AC.