The Speech of Lythera

Archival Context

In the year 1240 CE Ambassador Oltaff of Qet came to the Reginae of Viranue to renew the alliance and counter the threat of the expansionist Kirtothian Empire. Ambassador Oltaff was brought before Regina Lythera Eryndara Nymere and here in is a copy of the original transcription of the speech she delivered to the ambassador, a speech that brought about the taking of the daughters of Qet and formalized The Pact of Thalmyris.

You will find that most Viranuean women do not swoon at the sight of powerful warriors, nor are we swayed by baubles and pretense.

In your culture, women are shielded from the reality of war, so those who face it seem vital and alive by comparison. In Viranue, women confront death directly—as hunters, as leaders, as mothers—and thus feel no need to seek vitality in others. If a Viranuean woman admires a warrior, it is likely for his grace, intellect, or humour—not for his strength alone.

The hunt, like childbirth, is a true act of life and death—inseparable from our existence. But war is the game of men—a theatre for posturing, for killing rivals, for forcing women to choose by eliminating all other options. Understand this: women will always choose as they wish. Your war games only delay the inevitable.

Women are naturally suited to the hunt, and for as long as stories have been told, the god of the hunt has always been a woman. Our hunters are mostly women because it simply makes sense. Silence, patience, perseverance—these are the qualities of a great hunter. Yet your society places chains on women’s bodies, binding marriage and procreation to rules of obedience. You act as though men should control the natural order, as though you know better than the gods. Yet the gods, in their wisdom, gave the power of creation to women. This truth is undeniable, yet your entire nation pretends otherwise. You have built an elaborate system to mask your fear of women’s autonomy, but you are blind to how easily those chains are broken. Your wives, your daughters, your mothers—they take freedoms from you daily, and you cannot even see it.

You play at war, sending the strongest and most vital of your men to die, while the weak, the lazy, and the cowardly remain at home, accumulating wealth and power. Your women are imprisoned, and you elevate only those who demonstrate obedience to their fathers. The mothers of your nation, the mothers of your powerful, are those women best able to obey men. When these weak men and obedient women breed, their children will be weak, lazy, cowardly, and obedient.

Your noble houses teach their sons to marry pliable brides and their daughters to obey without question. Generation after generation, your greatest families weaken themselves. Obedient women raise obedient children, and obedience does not breed strength. Look at the noble houses of your kingdom. The once-great families are the weakest now because they sought docile brides for their sons. Meanwhile, those who chose strong, clever women are the ones who thrive today. If you wish to secure the future of your noble houses, you must seek women who will challenge you—who will make you and your children stronger. Anything less is the slow death of your legacy.

Take this chest of gold and jewels. I know how much your men enjoy shiny, pretty things. You hoped to gain my favour with baubles and trinkets, but I have no use for such things. You want me to give you my protection, but I do not give—I take. You may think this makes me selfish or cruel, but understand: when I take, I do so with purpose. If you give me your country, I will take it. I will take responsibility for its security. I will take your people under my care.

If you want someone who will give you something and then walk away, find a man to help you. But if you want true protection, you must offer me something worth taking. You lock your women behind walls in these massive pens you call cities, bleating away like sheep.

The Kirtothians are wolves, and you are nothing but a meal in a cage. You want me to save you? Give me your daughters. I will make them strong, and then they can save you. They will hunt and kill these Kirtothian wolves, then return home and take the best of your men as their reward.

They will mount your pretty little spears and produce a generation of strong children—a generation of hunters.

And the wolves of your world will learn fear.