______
/\_____\
_\ \__/_/_
/\_\ \_____\ FROM THE DESK OF THE GRAND CRUSADER
\ \ \/ / / / Sir Benedicto Silverain
\ \/ /\/ /
\/_/\/_/

Let this be read plainly.

The Nazedha Empire stirs once again beneath old drums, old madness, and old filth. Qepim Shipbreaker, son of Baelak Shipbreaker, at last you have cast aside all lingering pretence and claimed openly what you were already laboring toward in secret: your father's legacy, your father's hubris, and your father's allegiance to the Faceless One. Now, with Oria Karthi-Shipbreaker at your side and Corruption's blessing crowning your banners, the Nazedha Empire declares itself reborn.

So be it.

Enorian has seen the work of Shipbreakers before. We remember the invasion. We remember the smoke upon the water. We remember the dead. We remember the sons and daughters stolen from loving parents by Nazedhan ambition and blood-mad conquest. There is no novelty here, only an old evil clawing its way back into the light under the delusion of destiny.

Let there be no confusion from this hour onward. The Hammer of Dawn and the Intrepid Order of Slyphe, the Dauntless, condemn the Nazedha Empire, its new Emperor and Empress, and all who rally themselves beneath the chant of Lanu Du. They are not a people risen into glory. They are carrion draped in ceremony and sacrilege and sent back out upon the waves.

And to 'Emperor' Qepim Shipbreaker in particular, hear me well.

Your father led the fleet that took my son from me. You have chosen not to flee that inheritance, but to crown yourself with it. You have made yourself heir - not merely to his name - but to his debt. I swore long ago that the line of Shipbreaker would answer in blood for blood, and I do not speak idle vows.

If you come for Enorian, I will meet you.

If you come to our waters, I will find you.

If you raise your banners against the Dawn, I will tear them down with my own hand.

An eye for an eye, Shipbreaker. Your father took my son.

Your life is mine to claim.

Let every free city, every protectorate, every shoreman, sailor, and soul still possessed of reason understand what rises now upon the sea. The Nazedha are not a distant memory. They are a present threat. Treat them accordingly.

Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 21st of Ivolnos, in the year 18 AC.