THE EMPEROR OF AZURAS

[FOOB 86]

15 hours ago, Chuuwys said:

Morbid yet amused is the Elsaner of Iryalen's laughter, handing over the decree to the Eliheiuhii.

"Did they have to actually forge your signature to this? Even when they proclaim victory they must lie about their alliances to do so."

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@VenomKNight

 

 

 

The Eltaliyna peeks on over and snorts at the poorly forged signature. "This 's givin' flashbacks te 'Sir Nalinor'" Clearly, she finds it hillarious.

[LuckyD 141]

What had it been now, twenty years?

 

A speck of time in the grand scheme of things, one might suppose. After all, at the end of the day, all Relad was happened to be a man who moved to Norland after being a serf for a while. He had faith, he supposed, and good friends alongside him. Still, he had grown more and more reclusive in recent years, more and more did the Orison fall into deep prayer as if seeking answers that he would simply never be given.

 

It was a strange how the Allfadir had kept so silent, as if He never truly was there at all. The Paragons, too, no longer answered him verbally as they once did. Perhaps he had been told all he needed to be, perhaps he truly never managed to atone for his forced actions, or perhaps he simply couldn't believe he was worthy anymore.

 

A new age under Imperial Rule. Azuras had been under the Empire in all regions he had lived in since he arrived here, so this was no great change. He did wonder if now may finally be the time to ask for a parcel of land, not to rule as a lord, or to build a great fortress of stone upon, but to have erected a Clan Hall where he and his family may finally have what was once lost.

 

His eyes close, his mind shifts to the face of Lorena once more as he ponders aloud;

 

"...I wonder if you would recall, Miss Senna, asking if they work me harder than even you were. I think, now, that I had been working myself that hard. I only hope you may forgive me, from your place wherever you lay, for taking so long to understand."

 

Relad was now fifty six years old. A third the way through his life, if all went well, and still had never truly accomplished much in his own eyes. He would never be a grand king, never feel responsible or worthy to hold high position in his Faith again, and never would he accomplish the great feat that Hadrian had today.

 

Perhaps that was okay. Not all people are important in those ways. He mattered to those who needed him to matter, he was loved by those who he loved, and loved by some who he was unaware felt in that way.

 

Truly, so far, this life of struggle had not been such a bad one.

 

"...I hope you look down at our farm when we finally own a place of our own again and visit, even as only the wind, or the light of the sun. I know you will stop by, Miss Senna, and be happy for a moment. I hope I may finally be happy then, too." Whispered he, before once more opening the door to the Clan Hall he had recently needed to move out of. A new home. A fresh view. Somewhere different, perhaps. Somewhere warmer, or colder, or higher, or lower. Wherever it is, his homestead will be under the eye of Hadrian's Empire, and with that gaze the Once-Serf would hope that the honor of Imperials he had known survived the true threat to any Empire:

 

A lack of expansion.

 

Woe to thee, so say all Elders, to those who turn brother against brother. The Orison is glad to see an age of bloodshed ended. He never assumed the Empire would lose, anyway, as it was a logistic impossibility for their enemies to win. A candle lit for the Dwarves, out of respect for their willingness to fight for their beliefs and stubborn ideals.

 

The Dragon has it's Horde, now. The Orison only hopes his family might enjoy working the dirt beside the mound of wealth, unaccosted.

[SpicyBats0 97]

50 minutes ago, LuckyD said:

What had it been now, twenty years?

 

A speck of time in the grand scheme of things, one might suppose. After all, at the end of the day, all Relad was happened to be a man who moved to Norland after being a serf for a while. He had faith, he supposed, and good friends alongside him. Still, he had grown more and more reclusive in recent years, more and more did the Orison fall into deep prayer as if seeking answers that he would simply never be given.

 

It was a strange how the Allfadir had kept so silent, as if He never truly was there at all. The Paragons, too, no longer answered him verbally as they once did. Perhaps he had been told all he needed to be, perhaps he truly never managed to atone for his forced actions, or perhaps he simply couldn't believe he was worthy anymore.

 

A new age under Imperial Rule. Azuras had been under the Empire in all regions he had lived in since he arrived here, so this was no great change. He did wonder if now may finally be the time to ask for a parcel of land, not to rule as a lord, or to build a great fortress of stone upon, but to have erected a Clan Hall where he and his family may finally have what was once lost.

 

His eyes close, his mind shifts to the face of Lorena once more as he ponders aloud;

 

"...I wonder if you would recall, Miss Senna, asking if they work me harder than even you were. I think, now, that I had been working myself that hard. I only hope you may forgive me, from your place wherever you lay, for taking so long to understand."

 

Relad was now fifty six years old. A third the way through his life, if all went well, and still had never truly accomplished much in his own eyes. He would never be a grand king, never feel responsible or worthy to hold high position in his Faith again, and never would he accomplish the great feat that Hadrian had today.

 

Perhaps that was okay. Not all people are important in those ways. He mattered to those who needed him to matter, he was loved by those who he loved, and loved by some who he was unaware felt in that way.

 

Truly, so far, this life of struggle had not been such a bad one.

 

"...I hope you look down at our farm when we finally own a place of our own again and visit, even as only the wind, or the light of the sun. I know you will stop by, Miss Senna, and be happy for a moment. I hope I may finally be happy then, too." Whispered he, before once more opening the door to the Clan Hall he had recently needed to move out of. A new home. A fresh view. Somewhere different, perhaps. Somewhere warmer, or colder, or higher, or lower. Wherever it is, his homestead will be under the eye of Hadrian's Empire, and with that gaze the Once-Serf would hope that the honor of Imperials he had known survived the true threat to any Empire:

 

A lack of expansion.

 

Woe to thee, so say all Elders, to those who turn brother against brother. The Orison is glad to see an age of bloodshed ended. He never assumed the Empire would lose, anyway, as it was a logistic impossibility for their enemies to win. A candle lit for the Dwarves, out of respect for their willingness to fight for their beliefs and stubborn ideals.

 

The Dragon has it's Horde, now. The Orison only hopes his family might enjoy working the dirt beside the mound of wealth, unaccosted.

Revekka sat with her knees bundled up against her chest, draped beneath a thick blue quilt. The missive lay open within the pages of her journal, which rested open on her thighs, the paper folded and unfolded several times. 

So, the war was finally over. And the victor owned the claw that once shoved her brother into the dirt and forced him to watch the woman he loved die. 

"...Ave Imperium, indeed..." Spoke she with a bitter note on her tongue.

The two children under her care slept just down the hall, quiet and peaceful. She wondered briefly what this meant for the future. For hers and for theirs. Would it mean anything at all? The world had a way of seeping in no matter how well sealed the walls were. All she hoped was that whatever lay beyond the horizon, it meant good lives for them.

Relad snored from beyond the wall in front of her. She stared at the grooves in the wood, as though she could see through to where he slept. At least he was closer now. Safer. She couldn't help but wonder how he felt. Would it anger him to know the Empire claimed victory? He hadn't said. Maybe he never would. 

And it was not in her nature to pry.

 

"I wonder what you'd think." She said, the person she meant to address laying cold somewhere unseen.

Her journal pages sat blank. Had been for years now. She hadn't penned a single entry since...

 

The book snapped shut around the missive, still blooming slightly as other papers sat between other pages. This one just another in a collection of things that meant her life and the lives of those around her was shifting once again. 

There wasn't much to say. Just the silence of a snuffed candle and the shift of a body moving to rest despite the aura of uncertainty clouding the air.

[Nathaniel Maxwell 66]

"With certainty, it is now more safe in Aevos than it is here.  The "Emperor" and his spawn will refuse to see past themselves, and Good will never again be allowed to Triumph.  I fear there is nothing left that I could save.", the Tigerasi Aelkos looked to his arms, seeing the thin lines of silver peak from beneath his pelt. . .

[sergisala 3451]

And when Alexander Galbraith beheld the majesty of the Empire, he wept—for there was nothing left to conquer. "Ave Imperium." he proclaimed, his voice resounding with imperial pride.

[craneia 232]

An emerald gaze scans the missive, calico brows raised as the last signature is read. With a shake of her head, a murmuring; "Faux, surely. Nalinor's handwriting is much worse than that."