Sorry to contradict you dear but my fatalism skills are a bit

lacking at the moment. As I recall, I cursed you with Poverty, my

most-punishing curse, which does nothing more than make you

pay a lot more for the whine, erm... that is wine, you seem so

fond of.

Like Almea, attacking you was not my purpose. I was busy doing

something important.

Written by my hand on the 21st of Ilmarael, in the year 1125.