Where Foresight and Reflection Meet

[Luxury 1083]

Spoiler

 

 

 

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By the time the missive was published, the former Primarch was carriage-bound out of the Crownlands. A rough draft was taken, along with her personal effects: stacks of research scrawled over parchment, experimental enchantments, her favorite whiskey. . . The carriage sped along, rocking over an uneven road. Rhae'lin set aside the travel case containing more sensitive documentation and pulled the draft from her satchel. The dissolution decree had been necessary, though she spared a few reflective moments for the faces she'd come to know during her tenure. Not a single soul expected the College to last - the very first conversation she shared with the Liason, grim as it were, played on repeat in her mind;

 

". . .We are tolerated now, but there is no guarantee that the descendants of the Crown will maintain such favor."

 

She was too keenly aware of the aging Tiberias I, and his oncoming lineage which would gain his mantle. The Imperial College of Magic was fated to fall from the onset, certainly, but she knew better than to choose complacency. The sorceress always seemed to know better, born of a lineage that always knew better. Held themselves high above the common rabble. And so in their wake she endeavored to uphold Arcane practice, but under Imperial authority - requiring a balance which could never truly be struck. At least not without strong liquor, compartmentalization bordering on insanity, and the slow erosion of oneself in the process. While she could be lauded an expert at this level of façade, it was perhaps too cruel to expect of her colleagues.

 

Through the carriage window, the Crownlands receded behind her. This had become a familiar pattern; Convenient evidence, theological justification, decisive intervention, total destruction. The recent incident merely compressed the timeline. In any case, these events always served to remind where Home was - where she was soon to return to.