Mayhaps I should spare some verses

For the lore behind these savage curses.

(Some of you maybe sharp as a butter knife).

And, having not lived a life,

Not toiled under the sun and ran from strife,

May be ignorant of provincial troubles.

It falls on me to burst such bubbles,

I shall proceed to do so on the double!

Verlia may be the City of Dreams,

Yet it is naught but the layer of cream,

All is seldom what it seems.

Its influence may run far and wide,

But in the Provinces much filth hides,

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With many tricks to take fools on rides.

In Samara still does civilisation hold,

South of the marsh the law does fold,

The meek must bow to the strong and bold,

Only the cities may offer respite.

The Cities are Beacons of Light,

Where Law holds true and Justice is right,

The people may seek succour.

In the Provinces do occur,

Depredations of red colour,

Tyrannies of the highest order.

And right on the border,

Lie naught but sorrow and murder,

For we face the Wilds and the Tribes.

Animals may accept no bribes,

They may be immune to mockery and jibes,

Yet this does not render them honest.

Just as cuckoos prey on strangers' nests,

And heretics do fail Heaven's tests,

So absolute are their evils.

In such state of Dreams and Devils,

Place of both jade and jewels,

Does this story lie.

Facts must not make thee cry,

For water is wet and earth is dry,

Truth shall prevail.