T'was in the Book of Gods– Empires; Volumes of Aezelioth the Blue: The Starfall– 4:1-13… the Dragon of Primordial Blue declared:
– "Ask not what sins that you know of; beg me not mercy, for 'tis not I who unmakes you, but your own folly that shall bring ruin to Effinitia.
Lo now, for your hubris!
How your silver stars fall from the sky, and gaze upon what you have wrought.
Magic is not yours to master, you were merely gifted its potency at a higher lord's permission.
Now you shall be its victim, as did you to the Helmish, and Westman, and the Karesshi, and the Arcticonians, and the Belissarians, and numerous other oppressed peoples who fell under your iron rule.
How confidently you waved your rods and wands before them, compelled them under powers of mind and magic to your will.
But for your arrogance shall you be a leper.
Behold the Black Curse: your silver skin turned pitch, eyes boiling, ears bleeding, mind screaming!
The very magics which you wrought now transmuted into disease.
And only here in your post-hour of need do you call to me– pray to me, clinging to the phantoms of my feet carved into idols to beg salvation from the consequence of your mistake.
I have heard your prayers, Archons, and I have measured you short of reclamation.
You shall be an example to all mages that shall proceed you; look what happens to those who mistake permissiveness for weakness!
Know what becomes of he who mistook dominance for power.
Death be on you mortals who would endeavor to master magic, for I alone am its master– and not you."
Such was how the empire of Effinitia fell, and the floating silver cities that they once praised as marks of their supremacy were summarily reduced to silver-clad memorials. Even magic, the pride of all magicians, became a plague which quickly turned their most fearsome spellcasters into horrid untouchable creatures.
That was almost 4,000 years ago. Yet still man keeps building empires from the ashes of these old ruins. For after Gold and Silver ended, did we not name it next the Age of Empires in our history books? And t'was not our own Helios empire that was forged from the crucible of expansion and conquest which defined the previous age?
Luxury is the sign of prosperity, and 'tis from conquest that luxury follows. This wine for instance, was sourced from the ports of Thern, over 1,500,000 Drakefoots from here in the capital city. Belissarian wine, noted for its sweet fragrance and the taste of ripened cherries hidden in its crimson swirl. 'Tis not the mark of success that I can stand here in this ballroom watching the young lords and ladies dance while nursing this extravagant taste?
But if there was one lesson in those brimstone storybooks which my wetnurse read to me as a boy, 'tis that all luxuries eventually rot. Even silver tarnished if not polished by steady hands and while gold may never decay, a golden age shall inevitably rust away. That is why I exist.
'Tis keenly at times like this I recall my father's words, "we serve the empire;" he'd say, "and in return the empire honors us."
Such were the aphorisms of my father to speak of loyalty, duty, and honor. I feel perhaps that nothing has more defined my growth than those values which my father spoke of. As expected of a nobleman's scion, I am the unquestionable fruit of my father's trade. Thus, as I watched the lords and ladies dance for a while, I took to my role as Imperial Shade quite naturally.
From the sidelines I saw the young Duke Gwendolynn Iorhandogel Drakkennide, the one they call 'the Dragon of the West.' At the east end of the hall, there he was surrounded by the many lords of Drakkennide. All of whom wore the faces of politeness and chivalry while secretly thinking of how to overthrow this immature patriarch of the empire's strongest duchy.
Take the Earl of Jain, a gaunt man of the Drakkennide domain's eastern territory. Though he may appear a stern knight of high pedigree and achievement, beneath the veneer of knightly chivalry he siphoned a great deal of the iron trade within the duchy to his territory. No doubt a source of frustration for the young patriarch, who had his share of internal detractors from the family as well. Perhaps in the form of dynasty elders trying to check his authority, or perhaps from his second cousin Marius– the Marquess of Providentia, ruling from the city of Providence.
The leader of the Duchy's 'Marius' faction, rather aptly named. His ambition to claim successorship of Drakkennide marked Marius as an existential threat to his grace lord Gwendolynn's rule. But the political climate of the empire had made it unfeasible for the young patriarch to challenge his cousin on the field of battle. Particularly with how precarious his own family situation was. Though Marius' claim to the territory was rejected by the succession laws, he remained a thorn in lord Gwendolynn's side as more and more nobles of the duchy were backing him.
But mercifully perhaps for the duke, barons and lower nobles who came up from loyal service in Drakkennide's military held more gratitude to him than to Marius. In fact, my sources claimed that lord Gwendolynn was rapidly expanding the number of baronies in his territory, going so far as to borrow from the Ramian lenders to fund the expansion of the lower ranks. He was hoping perhaps to suppress the faction under Marius with sheer volume.
Then of course there was Apollicos and Sumelo, the Dukes of the left. Of late they seem a rather contentious group for their lack of support during the war with the Eninbal city-states.
There was also less politically inclined gossip going about as well. For instance, 'tis rumored that Earl Sanson had taken fancy to Princess Emelia of the royal family, sending her countless gifts of jewelry and gemstones from his territory. The act has put him at odds with the Marquess of Anor, Saint Ramnicus' brother Raphael. Or what about the controversies surrounding the ominous Duke of Heathcliff, lord Avlad Heathcliff, whose sadistic streak has put him in the list of "dangerous men to know?"
There was even jubilance in the atmosphere, especially among the ladies who had heard rumor that the 2nd prince might arrive. Though his health remained a testy subject, optimistic young ladies hoped to see the ethereal 'Lamb of Helios,' who was praised for his compassionate nature and kindness. Even knights who serve the crown would often feel ecstatic on the rare occasions when his majesty Idan Titanus would visit their barracks. He'd come from time to time, to thank them for their service to the royal family– often accompanied by bread and wine.
T'was as I watched the ladies swoon and saw these men of power dance and discord amongst each other for a while, I spied my own father among the royalists; the unassuming Earl Archphantom. We shared the same black hair though my father's eyes were also pitch, yet his quiet stoicism was a touch too detached for my tastes. I preferred to play a more charming character myself, someone with wit and slyness to them. It made for more malleable informants after all.
Then I heard the doorman speak once more, "Announcing the presence of Viscount Byronia!"
Few of the higher nobles even acknowledged the doorman's holler. Those with daughters attending the event quickly snatched them away and pulled them somewhat far from the young lord Georgius Byronia's path.
He was a handsome if severe man with a club-footed gait, harboring a steel-grey gaze and long, curly black hair that seemed untamable. Black Sheep Byronia– the bloodline of ruins. Rumors in local high society would say that lord Byronia inherited his father's rakish charms and terrible demeanor. Some say 'tis a hereditary disease; others whisper that his disability was the mark of a fiendish pact. They'd utter quietly of how the late lord Iohanus Byronia was dealing with shadowy devils to acquire illicit wealth. Some even pitifully suggest that young Byronia's soul had been sold to devils by his father, marked for his deformity as collateral in the pact.
His grey eyes met phantom green as our visions collided across the ballroom, yet lord Byronia quickly broke the stare to continue his waddle of shame. He had precious few playmates growing up. Before he had even come to term, the late lord had already left the household. Lord Iohanus was after all a man known for his 'freespiritedness,' to put it nicely. In more summary terms, he was someone that could never satisfy himself in the presence of a woman. Prostitutes, gambling, drugs, Iohanus was a man who moved from sin to sin as if possessed.
And along the way he broke the heart and home of his wife Amelia, once the last heir of house Heŕvenburgén, whose vast fortune was dried up completely in a matter of two and a half years under his profligacy. Perhaps the most famous scandal of the late lord Byronia was how he married another woman while already formally engaged to Amelia. The woman in question was the daughter of Duke Sylvus and she was also already set to be engaged to another Marquess of the duchy one week later. Naturally, the affair– when it came out, infuriated the high lords of Sylvus.
But in the end, Iohanus was never sentenced for his crimes– he paid no fines and served no time. For he simply fled the country. 'Tis rumored he travelled east towards the city of Cal'dir, a place known for illicit luxuries. Naturally, the now impoverished Lady Amelia had to bear the brunt of high society's judgement and vexation. All of this turned her into a rather hysterical girl. Prone to bouts of anger, jealousy, and mad fear.
T'was these works of cruel destiny which made Lord Byronia into the creature that he now appeared to be. Particularly, it manifested in his devilish charms that earned him scorn from many fathers– worried how he might steal the purity of their little girls. A not implausible outcome by Byronia's own admission.
As the ominous lord disappeared beyond the balcony door's threshold I took to summoning my own legs for a stroll. Passing pride after pride of strutting peacocks dangling their sisters and daughters like fish in a market before the other promising lords. How might I know so much about the young lord Byronia, even as far as to know his private confessions? Well, my family has always had a trade of running furtive businesses in the empire.
The unassuming Earl of Archphantom: handsome and charming enough to earn your good graces, but not attractive so as to threaten potential suitors. Elegant and articulate enough to let into your social circles, but not so competent as to drive you into a sense of inferiority. Steady enough to call on, but not so steady that you'd trust him with power. Capable, but not exceptional. The lower lords would mock him, while the higher lords fear him.
That was how any man in the know within this empire would describe my father, and that is what my family has been to the empire for generations. I had known and spoken with lord Byronia many times. He was one of my first playmates, a test in my proficiency with the human mind. Though of course, our gatherings were kept confidential and we didn't publicly associate with each other as equals.
Eventually I leaned myself on a wall beside the balcony door, and eavesdropped as naturally as the sparrow on a private conversation.
"Greetings, Prince Elihimos," there was a pause and the sound of a rehearsed formal greeting, "I, Georgius Byronia, greet the 3rd prince of the empire, his royal highness Elihimos Pendrickson Titanus, Archduke of Calia."
Ah yes, the third and youngest of the royal princes. His majesty Elihimos Titanus– talented with the sword and respected by the imperial knights, but young and frustrated by his position as last in the royal line. Though it remains hearsay for now, there were rumors that Prince Elihimos covets the throne.
The third prince's voice was prepubescent but carried the authority demanded of a prince, "Black Sheep Byronia… I know your name. You're as much a wretch as I'd heard. They say even your own mother calls you a devil's child. Tell me, to what do I owe this… greeting?"
The third prince had many shadowy escorts. Yet here on the balcony of the royal palace ballroom, he appeared to stand alone. Why?
Perhaps t'was because the third prince– unlike his second sibling, is quite a 'black sheep' himself. Her late majesty empress Esther Titanus was already of frail health after Prince Idan's birth. Particularly, t'was because of her constant fear of Idan's untimely demise.
From that, and the frequent night terrors she endured– seeing her second son die every night in her dreams had naturally driven her mind to exhaustion. By the time the third prince was on the way, she had already lost her will. Tragically, her highness Lady Esther died during the birth of Prince Elihimos– an event which marked him as an ominous child.
Although his siblings still treated him well, the 3rd prince was unmistakably the least favored of the three heirs, adding to his rumored ambitions. If he truly had dreams of seizing the crown in succession, that would mean aligning oneself with him would put them at odds with the favored crown prince. Thus, many noble lords were afraid to approach the third heir directly– outside of strictly formal reasons.
Lord Byronia answered the third prince's question, "I wish to give my services to you, such as I am."
"I have no interest in you," said the prince bluntly.
Byronia seemed indifferent to the rejection.
The prince continued, "I am not so desperate yet that I would need the likes of you in my company, Byronia. Especially not with that sly thirst in your eyes, 'tis vulgar."
"If not for my service you'll accept, then at least will you accept a gift?"
"I need no gifts Lord Byronia, I am a prince."
I could've allowed the charade to continue. Alas, I had my own duties to uphold and so– sadly, I had to end the charade.
I stepped over the threshold of the balcony door and greeted the prince with acceptable formality.
"Your royal highness Prince Elihimos. A pleasure. My name is Caleb Henry Archphantom, son of Lord Waltham Archphantom."
There came a glare from the prince and a withering cold shoulder from the viscount. The latter I expect was simply cowing his frustrations. After all, Lord Byronia was thoroughly domesticated by his mother, and would rarely employ threatening or violent action in response to a problem, despite his severe demeanor.
"Archphantom… what does a Shade like you want with me," the prince asked me guardedly.
Before I could answer Prince Elihimos' question though, Lord Byronia rose and said, "my Lords, I recommend returning to the main chamber, the emperor's speech will start soon."
And indeed, not long after did the ring of bells signal attention from the lords and ladies in the hall.
We three returned to the ballroom and watched as the emperor appeared from the top of the palace stairwell. His appearances had been getting far less frequent as time went on. Thus, the nobles were quiet and listened carefully to his words.
"Ladies, gentlemen– lords of Helios! This day marks the 2,100th anniversary of our empire's formation. For 2,100 years, our Golden Age has continued!"
All the nobles clapped their hands with appropriate fervor depending on their factional loyalties. The Dukes of the left clapped less inspired as the other nobles applauded vehemently. Ramnicus was absent so an emissary served his place at the event. Though since he cannot leave the eternal city, this was not an unexpected occurrence or interpreted as a slight.
"'Tis with great remorse that I mourn the soldiers lost during the subjugation of the northern Nebalese warlords. We shall send them off with our prayers, compensate the families who have incurred losses, and restore order to the region as soon as possible."
I glanced at Duke Avlad Heathcliff and, as suspected, saw his dark grin. I supposed that the duke would be acquiring new territory soon. The other members of the Hawk faction were similarly pleased with the emperor's words.
His majesty continued, "and I know that recently tensions have heightened at the eastern border, where Belissarian river pirates have raided our merchants. But fear not. We will not tolerate such disorder and are working in cooperation with the kingdom of Bethel to put an end to this piracy."
I could already see the nobles in the room whispering and planning for the next campaign. I predicted that in five years a vacation to Thern would be far easier than in the past. Swirling my Belissarian wine I also anticipated that its price would rise absurdly in the next year. This may be the last opportunity I'll have to enjoy it for some time.
From the side I noticed the Duke of Drakkennide seemed especially vexed to see that he would once again have to divert resources and manpower to assist the emperor's external wars.
How strange that our emperor, once called 'the kind,' who was a lover of diplomacy and mercantilism, has so recently become embroiled in the art of waging wars. Emperor Jaeden Titanus V was a lord once popularly held. He was regarded as a wise and fair ruler. Though of late, the tension in the empire affected his popularity.
Some favored his new policy of expansionism, while others feared it destabilized the existing power structure and hierarchy in the empire– particularly with the high rise in the prominence of Duke Avlad and the once antiquated Heathcliff Dynasty. Those apprehensions are made more dramatic from Avlad's reputation for tormenting his servants and subjects.
Fireworks supplied by the Royal Alchemy Tower began to burst in sprawling colors across the night's canvas, and the people applauded as imperial magicians used their tremendous power to cast silly cantrips.
The emperor ended his speech:
"Now, enjoy tonight's revelry! Rejoice, dance, and drink well. Tomorrow, we prepare for the next celebration!"
So ended the emperor's speech. I downed the last of my wine and watched as Byronia's brooding back wandered into the applauding crowd dejectedly.
Behind me, the third prince scoffed and said, "mind your own business, Shade. I do not appreciate a dog looking into his master's private affairs."
"Of course, your majesty," I bowed my head as the prince passed me by.
The night is still young, and the empire is on the cusp of its next sunrise…
There is much work left for this Shade to do.