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The Legacy of Man


argonian
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The Legacy of Man

 

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((credit to mullraugh))
"For you were made from dust, and to dust you shall return."


Emperor Philip I Frederick once ruled over the greatest empire the world had ever seen. Although he inherited unexpectedly through a brief period of chaos, its name being “The Year of Four Emperors” offering a clue as to why, under his firm and steady hand the great Empire continued to prosper, and perhaps even reached its zenith. An early rebellion deftly handled appeared to settle the Empire into a great degree of stability and prosperity. The ruby of the Imperial Crown, Johannesburg, boomed with business, and between its walls lived more people than any city could boast for centuries before. But even that number was dwarfed by the vast masses of people who came from far and wide to visit the city, to trade, to entertain themselves, and commonly, to pay homage to the great Emperor.

 

Surrounding the city were in equal parts awe-inspiring and imposing walls, over twenty metres high and six metres thick. Punctuated in regular intervals by watchtowers, soldiers of what were among the strongest, most unified, and largest legions the world had ever seen stood watch. Even in the man’s final days, after many of his vassals had defected, a force of over 27,000 rallied to his defence in the Battle of the Goldfields. In short, his city was magnificent, and his army superb.

 

The man himself was also truly powerful in a way we wouldn’t recognise today. He shared his power with no legislature or judiciary; laws were written by his decree and in court he was often Judge, Jury and Executioner. Even the Church was under his complete control; when he deposed and murdered a High Pontiff, neither the clergy nor his other subjects dared speak out against him. When he boiled King Andrik of Haense to death in a bath of milk, after the man’s own vassals handed him over, Philip showed the total power he held over even his greatest of subjects.

 

But he wasn’t hated as a tyrant either. In fact, he was much beloved by the majority of his people. Never expected to inherit, he personally led armies in his youth, offering speeches to the men before battle and winning their favours and loyalty. A handsome young man with a gift for oration, he easily won over everyone from his courtiers to his officers to the lowliest of peasants. 

 

In short, he was one of the most powerful men the world had ever seen, with vast domains and armies, heavy coffers, and the adoration of his people. He had everything any man could possibly want.

 

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Johannesburg in her prime

 

Yet, less than ten years later, with the last of his armies being shattered at the Goldfields of Lorraine and a coalition bearing down upon his capital, the once great Emperor would take his life in a final most spectacular yet horrific act: he blew his own city, the peerless Johannesburg, and everyone left in it to smithereens. When the dust settled, nothing remained of his great Empire, once unparalleled, besides the crumbling and frozen ruins of that theretofore magnificent city, and a memory.

 

The ruins have long since been abandoned, no longer attracting even the most seldom of visitors, and the memory grows ever fainter. How many people reading have even heard of Emperor Philip? How many will still remember him in centuries’ time? The proud autocrat has no statue or tombstone remaining; his legacy has been reduced to naught but ever shorter and sparser mentions in history books. And in time, these too will fade away, as even history forgets him.

 

The only thing that remains of him to this day, and shall remain forever, is his immortal soul. But God cares not for how powerful, or wealthy, or beloved a man was in life. None of those things mattered the moment he met his maker. When he died, he was surely judged by the same standards as the lowliest of his subjects. If he was damned, his privileged life will seem like less than the blink of an eye compared to the eternity of his suffering. If he was saved, the same: the luxuries he enjoyed brief and worthless compared to his heavenly reward.

 

So then, dear reader, be not proud of your wealth or your glory, your power or your wisdom, your lovers or your friends. For all these things shall fade away, given time.  Nothing you do or leave behind in this world will ever last. A man’s one and only true legacy, is his immortal soul. 

 

- Ailred.

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Ser Brandt Barclay crossed the lorraine as he nodded, mumbling prayers to Saint Tylos as usual "Truly a good piece of history and an important lesson for the soul to remain humble, for GOD truly is the only most-powerful; having kings, emperors, pontiffs and ever aenguls under his divine control and wisdom. Godan bless!" exclaimed the Barclay as he gave a thumbs up to Cardinal Ailred.

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"Excellent writing, honestly." Sir Edward Galbraith would nod as he read this, before adding his own paragraphs to Ailred's prose:

 

"The Johannian Era seems like the Golden Age of Oren, where chivalry, nobility, feudalism and absolutism reigned supreme.

 

Nowadays, knightly or noble titles don't mean much in our modern Imperial State, but it could also be argued that a man's virtue doesn't rely on his blood but on his merits as a human being, and that virtue should only rely on meritocracy and constitutionalism, and that today we are living a new Orenian Golden Age.

 

Personally, I think that the current main problem of our Commonwealth is our political system; the political parties divide us as orenians and create unnecessary problems that never existed before. 

 

However, the question of which Orenian Golden Age is better shall only be able to be answered by the historians of the future.

 

Only time shall tell and only God shall judge us all. 

 

Signed,

Sir Edward Galbraith KM JD SSE"

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3 hours ago, argonian said:

the once great Emperor would take his life in a final most spectacular yet horrific act: he blew his own city

 

Fr. Armas reads the piece in the midst of his supper, nodding along in bob-headed agreement before inhaling a crumb of rye loaf in such sharp shock that he has to slam the base of his spine into the back of his wooden chair to dislodge it from his wheezing throat.

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6 minutes ago, frill said:

 

Fr. Armas reads the piece in the midst of his supper, nodding along in bob-headed agreement before inhaling a crumb of rye loaf in such sharp shock that he has to slam the base of his spine into the back of his wooden chair to dislodge it from his wheezing throat.

Loose sexual mores prefigure the fall of all great civilisations, the cardinal theorises.

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Velu chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Johannesburg broke before the Legion. Good times there, good times. Ending was a bit abrupt."

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