All of your enemies are pre-selected and have been assembled in hard to miss venues. They might as well be human bowling pins. Our soldiers should not be slipping over the scattered manifestos of insurgents during their death marches. It is more than bad theater. One might conclude that a subtle hint to look elsewhere is being teased, but the near reach of frivolous honors has cemented your feet in quick drying stupidity. You won't entertain the possibility of a hoodwink because your bravery is not strong enough to buck against the dress rehearsal that your parents and school masters have been directing for all these years. The sheer pageantry should give it away. Nervousness has forced your eyes back to the official script. I would prefer you read from the books of fire instead. Turn your page to the twelfth chapter of an appointed attorney thou fool. Then turn your page to the twelfth chapter of wisdom in place of your own judgment fool. Now turn to the second chapter of exasperation and learn the fate of all fools. I have not come in a spirit of debate. There is nothing for me to disprove. You already know the lie that has set sail and have gladly docked it on your tongue. The enemy is from within our gate. How long will you give an ear to their fantastical tales? They elevate names so vile even scavengers refuse their bones. They push bloodshed of the innocent while memorizing hymnals and speak in the dialect of the holy. I will not hear them. My soul despises their fictitious stories. I abominate their pronouncements derived from books that our patriarchs rejected. Draw back your bow to target some exoctic face, or interrogate from within the ranks. Brotherhood is the best armor that an assassin could hope for upon accepting hire. It beats obsidian, shames chainmail, and exceeds kevlar. The worst impulse is to esteem loyalty above all else. Any virtue that is not pruned will grow through, under, and around clean places into wilderness. And It will obey that wilderness with thorns and colored poisons. We don't want to see things as they are lest heartbreak consume us. In this way familiarity becomes a kind of blindness that refuses the restorative miracle of suspicion.
