“[The top of the page is ripped off]...the blue city mustn’t fall, no matter the cost, and neither must its king. This world, this war–should ever we live to fight it again–cannot exist without his vision, his strength, his benevolence. I see the declining trend, losses at every end, scattered troops, waning morale. I don’t foresee a world we win today, nor tomorrow, no matter what avenue we take. But the day after, and then again thereafter, perchance it’s not so absurd. Yet if I wish for such a day to pass, to keep abide the forces which so cow us, then I can no longer sit aside. Should that day come to pass, should I see the city begin to wilt or falter, I will stow it away, safe within the bosom of Atlas’s creation. Beneath the tower where it all began, in locus where Atlas first rose from his great slumber, I shall place a sealed entrance, a door grander than all constructs palatial, one which will open upon one condition only–at moribund of each of the kings of old–mislaying the king of sorrow. Should such a time come to pass, I will know the world is ready once again, and I will allow the warriors of such a time to march forth to the blue city to learn for all the truth of man. [the rest of the page is ripped off]”

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