Apothar Mae Stern,
Forgive my tardiness in delivering this promised letter. Since last we spoke, let alone since last we met (the two events tied as one), much has transpired.
I have spared you the impassion or passion of reading misinformed or misinterpreted reforms that the Majordomo has sent into the abyss by his word and the Stele of Baz'eel, and instead write to you in hopes that we may sit for coffee and take time to rekindle your own vision for the League of White.
Something long ago drew you to the Lily of Asterabadi, and I would like to know what. So too would I like to know what has dampened those spirits of yours. I know of a man, Januarius, who fought and bled at Red Hill. He seems to hold a rooted hatred for you, Mae Stern, and I consider him a friend. It pains me to see his wounds fester into pessimism for not only yourself but the state! And perhaps it is time we nourish your name and image again.
For you are Mae Stern, and I have it in me my truest doubts you made such hard decisions in the flicker of time for malice's throng, but because of your love for Ephia's Well, and your love for the people you seek to protect. Gods strike me down if I am wrong. I am not wrong, am I, Apothar?
Let us meet soon.
Yours truly,
Edmund Lothere