Giam Alghieri, El Seguidor d’Cuccagnii et l’Ardente

Brusa now bore witness to the nascent breakdown of the three cities firsthand, an event he witnessed as a youth in inverse. The tres urbes as they were called, shuddered by the Great Crisis, were united as one finally under the resplendent ‘Ascadian League’. A project undertaken over centuries had been solidified by the outcomes of one single catastrophe that rocked the ascadian State to its core.

Brusa, now and long before being Lord Inquisitor, was the facilitator of this transition to imperial control. Once the unconscious project of his late father, Brusa, traumatized by the Great Crisis, became the cog that spun the machine of imperial oppression into further motions. It lurched ever onward into the bleakness of the coming world crushing every twitch of autonomous aspiration that manifested within even the most ‘free-thinking’ and foreign republics of Ascadia.

The Inquisition for so long has taken themselves as auspicious, feeling centrally pious for banishing the quelleres of times past to the frontiers of opprobiation, relegating the murderers of western Larii to the woodlands of Vajii. But once again had they found themselves at that very blade’s point of such opprobatory force of imperial tyranny, which slunk alike quicksilver outwards from the providentian rot that festered in empire’s rotten core. The Legio Barbarico were not the only metastasis upon the Inquisition, nor the empire they so eagerly ‘served’

Brusa’s night in the inquisitorial lodge, the time which parleyed with the subherus of the huntsmen, and the time he spent agonizing back to his office in Provvidenza. He pondered hard what he witnessed as knights, the functionaries of the state, descended to craven lunacy as they saw a chance to quell a budding ‘uprising’ in a man they deemed wicked.

Janus Hessi, Jan Vanhess, Janiet Hessen, whatever you may wish to call him, was perhaps the first to ponder a repudiation of the imperial yoke.

Brusa, of course, was too broken to recognize this as the volatile munitions of war cooked off and marred the visage of authority which he, alike all the crooked magisters in providence, wore taut over their soul’s aspirations.

Brusa was no man of grim intent, his morals were naught but pure as he alike many Inquisitors aspired wholly to use their ascendant authority for good. But they, in a pursuit of the status quo, in their appeals to the ‘way in which affairs hath been’ and the wicked proclamations of normalcy and allurances toward reliance upon pithy common sense, had thoughtlessly cranked the machine of death onward and onward into the future. I have no central piety in the way i regard Janus Hessi, no central piety in my regards of any of the seemingly ‘impious’ athwartists towards imperialism that I stand beside. We lock arms not in shared faith but in common values. We care not for the fate of ‘ascads’, we care not for the faith of ‘ascads’, we care only to unite what is truly ascadian within us all, the independence and self-governance which all aspire for when deprived of imperial delusion.

In my writings to you, Valeria, I wish to take the only ascadian who truly sympathized with me away from the slaughterhouse they worship. Your complicity in imperial opprobiation is beyond just rotten, its deluded beyond belief. While you play sword of charity in the vinelands of Corvalii the empire twists itself into an ever-grotesquer mockery of the prime mover it appeals to in charity above.

Per Piosa Pace, domina Valeria, per un futura d’ascadii

May we ever seek Cuccagnii