Great Lord Minivandian of The Great House to the East,
My tribe has foolishly squandered our supplies of bread, milk, and eggs. Wife-With-Knives-On-Her-Feet felt the tribe needed a hearty meal of Toast as made by the Gauls and perfected by Martha of Steward House to ward off the dire cold blowing in from the land of geese and hockey.
I implore your clan to ration their staples of bread and milk and eggs in the coming days. The magic elf boxes used by my tribe declare that your children shall not be attending their place of learning. The kings roads are becoming treacherous. Not from the ice from the sky but from the Fools of the lesser houses who have been dispatched on errands far too late for them to return safely. I am deeply concerned that your steeds, though noble, are not up to the task of warding the moronic hordes while gathering more bread, milk, and eggs.