Bragon,

I do not doubt the sincerity of your desire to save your city, nor do I
doubt that it holds many happy memories for you and others. But do not
let these sentimental recollections whitewash the reality of what Ashtan
is. It is a city whose glorious monuments hide its dolorous history.

It is a city whose art galleries glorfy the deceptions laid upon its
populace by its most prominent citizens. It is a city complicit in the
murdering of uncounted children in its wretched orphanage. A city whose
law prevents any attempt to save its orphans from this vile ending. Is
this the freedom you speak of Bragon? Ashtan revels in its own
degenerate history.

Qeddwyn, you appeal to Iosyne to inspire those who inhabit her beautiful
creation, but the stunning architecture of the Parade of Zarathustra is
but the pretty facade for a city mired in the dreck of its perversions.
What have the citizens of Ashtan done with Iosyne's gift? Are the slums
of Anza street, Martin's Sorrow and the Descent part of Iosyne's
inspired creation? This is how Ashtan treats what the divine has
bequeathed them. One needs only walk through these slums to see the
wretched, doleful existence Ashtan has provided for its citizens.
Ashtan's history is the history of a state complicit in murder, greed
and oppression. Iosyne's gift has been abused by those who received it,
do they deserve the inspiration to save it?

The mansion of the dead Dowager Montaganet, not the Parade of
Zarathustra, is the symbol of Ashtan's legacy. It stands in mute
testimony to the vile nature of those who have populated Ashtan through
its long history. Its beautiful and stately architecture hide the
bloodsoaked walls and haunted corridors inside. Ashtan may have a golden
sheen, but its core is rotted and putrescent.

I have no illusions. I understand that those who I am allied with are
those who patroned that vile orphanage and who find their origins in
that pit of a city. But I cannot help the ironies of fate and the
opportunity to reduce that city to a fading memory in dusty tomes is too
great to pass over. And when I walk through the ruins of Ashtan, and
cross through the grove of trees that has reclaimed the land where De
Vermiis' putrid orphange once stood, the echo of the laughter of a
thousand thousand children will echo in my ears and I will know that the
souls of those slaughtered by Ashtan's uncaring indifference are finally
free.

Keep the memories of your city coloured golden in the naivete of your
recollections Bragon. The tears cried for Ashtan will be cried by the
complicit, by the mercenary and by the few.

Lessik Anyar

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Variach, in the year 125 MA.