Pater Draconis I,

Where hides the once proud warrior who bested all others and won my hand? Are you not Alpha Draconis, first of your Dynasty?

Where once stood the Great and Noble Champion of the Host; the greatest in all recollection, now hides behind skirt tails.

My heart swelled, as I stood in the East Towers and beheld the spectacle as you rode triumphant from the Great Campaign. Such bounty of exotics did you fetch. Your armies, to the lowest rank, reaffirmed their fealty to you that day. Your subjects lined the ramparts throwing blossoms from the rare Jujuine tree at your feet.

You've become a besotted fool, your potency leeched by your Meta trifle. Do you no longer yearn for days of Glory? Are we not Creatures of Conquest? We are not sated by erudition. That Meta witch has made you soft - not to mention the half-breed.

Your likeness is no longer destined to stand proud in the Great Hall. Your forebears spit on you.

May my sons tread on your grave.

Haridel,
Mater to Eron, Primogene