Epistle from Heid
I, Vlendam Heid, son of Anisim Heid, son of Modya Bohm, dictate this letter to professional typist Kimsta Vicked, who uses only the finest Zhugo-brand mecha-typographs. It was delivered by Trekhom-based Mori Couriers.
May you have the wisdom and calm to face your coming end. I send this in hopes it can help you prepare for whatever end may befall you. While I accept not all who are exposed to my writings and speeches shall interpret them as I would desire, it does not surprise me that some radicals claim the name of this movement I inspired and pervert it to ends inimical to my intentions, and to what I believe any good citizen of this world, man or dwarf, would support.
There is, in the frigid north of Drakr, a dwarf woman named Grandis Komanov whom I cannot in good faith call a philosopher. Rather she is, if I may use a pejorative term, a spiritual leader. One of Komanov’s adherents came to me this evening and in a most vulgar fashion bragged of what one of his peers would be doing in your city of Flint. I believe he thought I would show him approval, but his intentions—and moreover his enthusiasm for the methods—repulsed me.
Komanov has taken the volumes of writing I have produced, condensed them to a simple aphorism “Prepare for the end,” and then encouraged an interpretation that more closely resembles “Make things end.” You may not be familiar with my nation’s old history of monsters in the frozen wastes, but we are always putting up with zealots who derive worldly power by preying on the beliefs of those seeking spiritual power from these long-perished entities. Komanov continues this tradition, but appears much more invested in the fiction she has produced.
In short, my visitor this night claims a group of Komanov’s followers— who alas have several days’ head start on this letter—head now to Flint with the intention of disrupting your peace summit and causing a great tide of mayhem and death. They think peace between your two nations will forestall a doomsday they greatly desire.
I feigned interest in my visitor’s claims, and elicited two pieces of information you might value. First, the leader of this group is Grundun Zubov who is not known to me. Second, they have hired a crack marksman for reasons I can only guess, one Kvarti Gorbatiy. His name kindled some recognition, and I pored through old correspondence to find a letter he had written me a few months past. Unless his demeanor has greatly changed in the intervening time, I suspect his involvement is mercenary and not philosophically aligned with Komanov’s radicalism.
While I assume you will pursue actions to obviate any disaster they intend, I entreat you first to prepare yourself that your best efforts may fail and that you might perish in undertaking your duty. Nevertheless, I wish you success.