Ah, Dysolis.

For many turnings of the seasons, you were the quintessential seeker of
a released Gaudiguch. Your dedication and stubborn individuality are to
be respected. As for myself, I freely admit that I did not think I would
be moving to Gaudiguch, until I visited the restored city and found
myself in tune with its pulse.

But you should take care with your words. Many shards of myopic sight
and wanting perspective colour and categorize Gaudiguch, but they are
merchants selling six fruits from four baskets, and cannot be bothered
with the different qualities of apples and pears. It is in our nature to
be ill defined, often to our benefit, sometimes to our peril, but to be
otherwise, we would not be at all.

You would tell us that we are displaced Serenwilders. Others preach that
we are naught but a vassal state of Magnagora, and proxy for its fights.
Internally, there was even concern that disaffected factions of New
Celest were taking root within the city. Is a cake naught but a mess of
flour and eggs? Is a sword a random collection of metals, cloths, and
leather? This is a question for the eye of the beholder, but I would say
that the eye that matters is the one that eats the cake and wields the
sword.

You, nor anyone else was removed from the city for reasons of political
opposition. If this were the case, would we benefit from the cleansing
fires of political upheaval as we do? No, it was not the opposition that
ever was at issue, but the way in which it was carried forward. In a
contest of chefs, those that compete by destroying their competitors'
platters do not benefit contest or apatite.

Remember, too, that obsessing over one sour morsel in a meal may blind
you to the great opportunities of flavor and taste that might be yours,
if only you would look past the unpalatable bite.

But I have spent enough time prattling on. I find myself rather puckish
suddenly.

Walk with your third eye open,
-Akui

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Dvarsh, in the year 267 CE.