To my King and my God, the Lord Dimwit Flathead the Ever-Subtle:
Swiftly the winds blow to me the blessed news of your eternal and sweeping mercy. Truly Quendor counts itself amongst the most lucky of all worlds to have none other than your Holiness and Beneficence as its sovereign lord. Even in my most distant and frigid northern retreat, made ever worse, my Lord, by its distance from you, even in these grey mountains the sounds of your royal summons bring life to the very snow and ice. Truly, your word, my Lord, can do all things: the ancient Westlands break their fast on Antharian granola at your whim. The malodorous surmin smells as roses at your decree. My Lord, no mighty steed, no magical spell, nor even the shortest route across the magnificent mountains that bear your name can return me to your side as quickly as my heart would beg. Your servant in grateful humility,
Delbor of Gurth
To Loowit Flathead:
Statue of Dimwit annoyance to residents at Fublio. Stop. Annoyance revealed by
Megaboz at dedication banquet. Stop. Dimwit dead. Stop. Brothers and sisters all
dead. Stop. You king. Stop. Empire to collapse in 94 years. Stop. Come quickly.
Delbor, son of Mumbar, son of Goobar, for the Regents of Quendor.
|SOURCE(S): Spellbreaker (trading cards), A History of Quendor|