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Dearest, good friend whose life I have saved and more importantly you mine. You taught me to give up my hunt for revenging the past and to embrace building a future. For that I am grateful.

You impressed upon me a love of the divine France. Yet France was never a king; she is above such earthly edifices. France is an idea, which grows like a lone kernel into a cornucopia of freedoms. Divine providence is at work.

The last fruit of a withered vine dies; long live the Republic born in his passing. When we tire of a feast, when the ideas and company are stale-spent, a fresh turn of the soil brings a new sewing of the crop. A harvest only comes after the plowman and the reaper. Would you have instead a Capetian idiot like Henry on the throne of Charlemagne? Preposterous.

Serve our storied land in new ways. Denounce slavery; come lead our Assembly. The idea of France summons patriots. The folly of monarchy is spent like the ashes of a hearth. Warm the home with fraternity. Do not try to find a living tree in the residue.

I await your surrender of arms,

The Seer


   Cutlass Campaign Event

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The Seer? Hah! -- Chronicler Mike (posted: 3/4/2019) 
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