The Death of the Abbas
Seventeenth day of January, 1100 A.F.
The Quinodite Senator was slain in broad daylight by Frederick Charenten, after that gentleman was party to a grievous personal insult against his house and family. I was a witness to both the insult and the killing and I admit freely that I took no action to defend the Abbas of the White Monks, so great was my own outrage at the base slander he had made against the royal house of Albion and her people.
When the Abbas was pronounced dead I challenged Frederick to a duel in protest at the unlawful (if entirely reasonable) act. Frederick declined my invitation. Notable court representatives of Albion offered the view that as the killing occurred away from ‘their’ Albion (in a pocket ‘game reality’), they had no right to investigate the matter to any real extent.
Seeking if nothing else, to preserve the body of our dead countryman from the attentions of his enemies, I made a second challenge with the intention of securing possession of the Abbas’ mortal remains. On this occasion my counterpart, Carrot McYokel of Caledonia, was happy to fight for courage and honour. In the engagement that followed I was fortunate to overcome a skilled adversary deserving of praise and respect. As good as his word, Carrot McYokel ceded possession of those remains he had claimed for Caledonia.
The conclusion of this matter is as follows, the Abbas is dead, slain for a grievous insult delivered in the hearing of a man of action rather than mere words. I have won possession of the corpse and no Dragon shall have the mortal remains for any purpose whatsoever. The body will be disposed of in a respectful manner and I suggest that the matter be allowed to rest, no honour is gained by showing disrespect to the dead, as indeed the Abbas himself discovered to his eternal and lasting disadvantage.
For the last, no countryman of mine may fall (however misguided) in the service of Caer Glas, but that I mark the passing with a kind thought and gentle word:
Of the Abbas I say this, he was a man unafraid to speak the truth as he saw it. For a fellow of advanced years he was brave and courageous even to the point of reckless disregard for his own safety. In his own way he loved Caer Glas and the people spawned by that land, he dreamed of freedom and desired justice. Perhaps he desired too much and dreamed too long, at the last I believe his mind ranged further than our reality. Desire can poison the soul, as surely for an academic as the betrayal of young love spurned. Wherever your soul ranges Abbas, I hope you find your justice and the dreams that haunted you in life.