My Ladies and Lords, my Kings and Queens, my nobles and my gentry, to all I send this plea:
I demand the arrest and delivery of Lord Azrael.
Also known as High-tower, Shadow-call, Paramour to Eliac, and many others.
His eyes are the blue of your breath in the winter.
His hair is the gleam of the darkest, free waves.
He is tall and well-muscled. The weaker minded among you would call him, perhaps, handsome.
If he is returned to me, those who would hold and protect and shield him my wrath will not be harmed; neither will he be. He has recently attempted to escape Sedition through unlawful means.
I do not fear him.
I do not desire him.
I do not know him.
I do not want to know him.
He will be delivered to the blunt of the Law!
Is that clear?
I cry now, I cry Favor; as Water alone can do. I cry Favor, and I demand his arrest.
And to you, you low-winded pig, you smatter of mud on my window-sill; if you come near her again, if you speak to her again, or if you stand where you stood two nights ago without my consent, I will castrate you with the rustiest nails Arbados can yield me.
My favor is removed, hereby, from Lord Azrael.
He is to retain his nobility, as I am a woman of honor; but my favor is removed him.
Let you make of that what you will.
Aqe Vale
Eliac
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