Just as the minor crescent diminishes the strength of the major, so too does the shrouded lives of mer nip at the heels of human progress. Humanities ancestors once knew of them, but their existence has now faded into a mythos no longer trusted. Their stitched corpses an elaborate hoax contrived by countless unconnected, fishermen, farmers, and explorers. The daring travel deep into the strand, during the long harvest, so that they may find the truth of this world; but the daring are few. Most crowd inland cities. Perhaps to avoid floods of the short harvest, or other practical considerations of a human society. Perhaps not. There is a pervasive fear in all societies, even those separated by impossible barriers of time and space, of the darkest depths of the sea. A knowledge that just as the tides, push and pull, so do the societies of man and mer. A dance. A fear, that when the tide of human societies reaches its highest height, that there will be a pull back; and we'll all be dragged under. Yet we ride the highest tides in written memoir, and blindly forget the truths we once knew. They will drown this world, and in the interim between this world, and the next, they will rule.

There is but one chance to avert catastrophe; and that is to take extreme, swift, and destructive action to cripple and destroy their societies. To even begin we must first acknowledge their existence as a society, and to do that we must do what no man has done before. We must bring mer to man; alive.

I beg of you father, please reconsider funding the equipment I have requested. If you truly believe as I believe, then you must understand the critical nature of this request…

With Regards,

-Knight Lieutenant Hugh Colton