Across the city of Regalia, three odd papers- all bearing the same words- could be found nailed. One was pinned to the Golden Willow's notice board. The next was hung onto the Great Oak that supported the swing near the entrance of the slums. The last flyer was stuck into the center of the throne that sat in the gazebo within the park. On the paper was a poem, written in graceful letters in Common:
Far and wide, the flames do lick
The flames of ill, the flames of sick
We of the Spirit pray off harm
In hopes that we of Faith will be spared by our God
And while our notes of voice do carry
They go unanswered whether you rich or weary
To the skies we hope
And to the ground we crawl
Our fires light in hopes to solve
A mask for one, a mask for four
A mask outside of every door
From pier to pier, estate to slum
Our skin will blister, our skin will raw
Do we flee or do we fear?
The moment of Plague has neared
Long live Regalia
Until it's final breath
Long live Regalia
Until your people have been met
-Icarus Albatross
