From the desk of

Lady  Thornlor


My dear child.

 My time is short, and I have no heirs. Of all my nieces and nephews, you have shown the greatest promise. Our family's fortunes have fallen steadily over the millennia. Gone are the glory days of the great trading fleets of Thornlor. Now, we scurry between the stars, making meager coin for meager goods.

But in you, we may find our redemption. You, my child, are our last hope to restore the family to it's rightful place among the noble trading houses. I know your cousin Bartrand has designs to getting his hands on the warrant. But the choice is mine to make while my mind is still my own.

I bequeath unto you my full fortune, what little remains.

I bequeath unto you my last remaining vessel. She is berthed at Erebus Terminal, in the Egarian Dominion. She is currently being refitted to suit her new master. Send your orders to Magos Artisan Narvak. He will prepare the ship for your arrival.

Most importantly, I bequeath unto you the warrant, granted unto our family in the days of the Emperor himself! Do not let the complaints of that fool Bartrand intimidate you. He thinks greatness is to be gained by trading food to hive worlds. The warrant grants us the authority to do more than trade grain like farmers.

Go forth, and remember:

The warrant is all.

Your doting aunt Lady Thornlor



From the desk of

Bartrand Thornlor


You brown-nosing little shit! The warrant is mine by right! I have accrued more wealth than you and my sister combined! I am clearly the better trader.

You have not heard the end of this!

Spacetoe & Son

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