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Memoirs On A Withered Diarchy

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Muriel stood in the square of Haelun'or, as the sun had fallen for the last time on the so-called "Diarchy".


A voice echoed in his mind, "What is to come of the Children of Silver?", He dismissed the thought, glancing about the now quiet city reflecting on the future and the past.


Thinking of his ancestors and the Silver State's path to greatness once more. None had wished for the day’s events to transpire, and yet he had been thrown like many others into the gears of a machine which turned. A machine which had demanded that the legacy of Haelun’or be restored. 




Across the city, now cloaked in darkness, the once grand chair of the tyrant had been shattered. Sullas, Uradir, Iyathir, Astore and many more who had led the Blessed Elves required not the trappings of a King. The city had grown decadent, forgotten the ways of old... But this was a new beginning. A new dawn from which the ways of old could be remembered, and the Blessed Republic which had guided their people for decades could be restored. No longer would the mali’thill be victims of the whims of those who styled themselves as Royalty. 




So too had fallen the vain iconography of leaders who praised themselves so loudly that they had forgotten their role as servants of Larihei. So enamored by their own image — they had forgotten to listen to the words of Astore who founded their great state, Sullas who set it on its path, Uradir who had brought it to greatness, and the many others who had followed to toil as Sohaer: Leader by Teaching. 


"Tyranny? Despotism? Ignoring the Will of the Children of Silver? This was not the way that Sullas had intended it" the voice returned to Muriel's head. 


In the seeds of chaos, hope is found. In the ashes of the Diarchy, a new Silver Age was to dawn.


To no one in particular Muriel stated plainly “Ay’Azorella. The mali’thill shall not forget the sacrifice of the Golden one”.

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Da’ve looks to Muriel with a flushed expression, jotting something down in his diary: ”Day 25: I fear for the Uradir’s mental well-being. Every day he seems to perform this ritual of... talking to himself.” He briefly glanced up towards Muriel, who was indeed speaking to no-one in particular. ”I wonder if he remembers he objected to my dear cousin’s decision regarding his marriage. The man rubs me the wrong way.” He concluded his diary entry, fleeing from the square.

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