To the ‘Ser’ Garland of the Knights-Lictor of the Lampwood,
You do not know me, but I know you. Your vile reputation precedes you, as I keep being reminded. I have surmised, indeed, that your disposition is not nearly as flowery as your name is. Likewise, your misdeeds are far too many to recount, although I can name one of, I am certain, many—the maiming of a lady who committed no crime other than to be repulsed by your own unsightly, porcine visage.
Nevertheless, it is time to put an end to your prancing and prattling. No longer will you hide behind honor that is not yours to claim. If you truly are a Knight as you so mindlessly claim yourself to be, then rise to the call of your peer, and fight me in single combat.
I will tolerate your presence in the Reach no longer—you are a stain on Knighthood, a hideous display of its worst qualities. The place shall be the Spire’s Arena—but I will afford you the courtesy to name the time, if only because I am eager to vindicate all those who have been wronged by your vile manners.
Eagerly awaiting your response,
Knight-Errant
