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[!] To the supply lines of the Firewatch and its allies, letters are stowed among the rations, addressed to no particular man or woman. It bears the royal insignia of Aegrothond and its whole. Further contextual reading allows the reader to grasp the purpose of the letter – an address to the common man, to those at the front, and those who prepare for war. To You, I write to inform you that the naval front gathers and proceeds as planned. I shall not elaborate on the details, but know that I am thankful. Without the help of you, this would not be so. What is a city, my friend? Perhaps it is a flame, and a leader is its keeper. To tend to the flames is to offer light and hope to kith and kin. By the fire may a candle be rekindled, and the cold be warmed. Fire perhaps is one of our greatest gifts. I write to you to tell you of the False Flame. These Inferi are forever doomed to a cycle of treachery. They live with meat-sweet hunger, craving all that they are denied, and readily betray each other for a grasp at power. All that they are is stolen from another, and so they can hold no power, and never truly create anything. They do not truly understand how to keep fire, for they cannot learn to keep anything - only take. I have been to their realm, and I have fought against them before. To the many, Aegrothond and its lands are known as a place of Sea Elves. Our mastery hails from the shipwright Eleron Sylvaeri - the last true High Prince of Malinor, and my ancestor. It is a legacy few grasp: the legacy of The Firstborn. Now it is a legacy of far many more Elves. It is a great Flame, to which many lives seek respite, and it is known not as Aegrothond, nor as Siramenor. It is now and forever only Elvenesse - and much as the Flame, Elvenesse prevails. Once I was a child of Light and Soulflame. Once I was a soldier, Praetor, Annilir, Prince - but in this moment now I am a keeper of fire. I have learned to forge the fallen star. I have uncovered the meaning of our soul’s flame, and the secret was never in its taking. Ride to the shores of Almenor, to the Elven South, for the woodlands will welcome your steeds. Sail to the bay, for your vessels are welcome. Take up your blade and flint. Champion not the flame of the Beast, but the flame in your soul. As for those who seek me - call me Flameborne. -Before the Gods of Wood and Stone: Fëanor Sylvaeri [!] A simpler notice, attached, but not addressed to any Descendant, distributed only to Korvassa. Judging by its contents, it is suited not to any prince or leader, but to any Inferi. You who bear False Flame, I tell you now. You know not the meaning of Fire, nor the Sword, yet you chase both. I know the secret of the Hammer, and I know the secret of the First Blade, and so I say that you are doomed to serpentine consumption: an ouroboros, the self devouring serpent, for you cannot understand anything but internal strife. I know that many of you were once Descendants, and I say you cannot fool anyone. Wear as many trinkets as you like. Every single ‘prince’ which rises from your ranks is doomed to be usurped, for that is the logic by which you live. Not a single prince among you was original, and every single one is similarly doomed to be felled. Send as many chained things as you wish. I will break them all. Long live the Free. Long live the Descendants of Man. Sea Prince of Caras Aegrothond, Prince of the Crown of Elvenesse. Bearer of the Crown of Storms, Keeper of the Arm of Aeriel. Descendant of the Firstborn Son of Malin. Flameborne.
