In the Book of Gods: AEZELIOTH; The Starfall, 4:1-12, the Dragon of Primordial Blue states:
– "Ask not what sins that you know of which; beg me not mercy, for it is 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 granted oversight at a higher lord's command.
Now you shall be its victim, as did you to the Helms, and Westman, and the Mahadrum, 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 Aether 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, your very magics transmuted to disease!
And only now 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 tolerance for weakness and know what becomes of one who challenges divine order.
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 spires of terror and monuments to ruin. 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, and still man keeps building empires from the ashes of old ruins. For after Gold and Silver ended, did we not name it next the Age of Empires in our history books? And was it 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 it is from conquest that luxury follows. This wine for instance, was sourced from the ports of Thern, over 50,000 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. Is it 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, it's that all luxuries eventually rot. Even silver turns tarnished if not polished by steady hands and while gold may never decay, a golden age will inevitably rust away. That is why I exist.
It's at times like this that 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 sire of my father's trade. So, 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 Jacob Cornelius Drakkennide, the one they call 'the Dragon of the West,' at the east end of the hall. Surrounded by the many lords of Drakkennide, wearing 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. He may appear a stern knight of high pedigree and achievement, but beneath the veneer of knightly chivalry, he has siphoned a great deal of the iron trade in Drakkennide to his territory. No doubt a source of frustration for the young patriarch, who has his share of internal detractors from the family as well. Perhaps in the form of elders trying to check his authority within the dynasty, 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, as it's rather aptly named. His ambition to claim successorship of Drakkennide has marked Marius as an existential threat to his grace lord Jacob's rule. But the current climate of the empire has made it unfeasible for the young patriarch to challenge his cousin on the field of battle, particularly with how precarious his own family situation is at present. Though Marius' claim to the territory was rejected by the succession laws, he remains a thorn in lord Jacob's side as more and more nobles of the duchy begin to back him.
Though mercifully perhaps for Jacob, the barons and lower nobles who came up from loyal service in Drakkennide's military have more gratitude to Jacob than Marius. In fact, my sources say that lord Jacob has been rapidly expanding the number of baronies in his territory, going as far as to borrow from the Ramian lenders to fund the expansion of the lower ranks, hoping perhaps to suppress the faction under Marius with sheer volume.
Then there is Apollicos and Sumelo, the Dukes of the left, who have of late become a rather contentious group for their lack of support in the war with the Inbal city-states. There's also less politically inclined gossip going about as well. For instance, it is rumored that Earl Sanson has taken fancy to Princess Emelia of the royal family, sending her countless gifts of jewelry and gemstones from his territory. This 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 the knights who serve the crown would often feel ecstatic on the rare occasions when Idan Titanus would visit their barracks to thank them for their service to the royal family, often accompanied by bread and wine.
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 makes 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 say that lord Byronia inherited his father's rakish charms and terrible demeanor. Some say it's a hereditary disease; others whisper that his disability is the mark of a fiendish pact. They utter quietly of how the late lord Johnathan Byronia was dealing with shadowy devils to acquire illicit wealth. Some even pitifully suggest that Georgius 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 Johnathan had already left the household. Lord Johnathan, you see, was 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, Johnathan 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 Eidolon, 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, Johnathan was never sentenced for his crimes, he paid no fines and served no time. For he simply fled the country and it's rumored that he travelled east to head to the city of Cal'dir, a place known for its 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.
See those long sleeves which lord Byronia wears as he approaches privacy from the balcony? They aren't simply for decoration. Pull them up and you'll find a long trail of scars inflicted by his mother's favorite carving knife. You can even make out the age of the cuts by how they malformed with maturity, revealing that the young lord had been enduring such a method of punishment since boyhood.
All of these made him into the creature that he now is, particularly his devilish charms which have 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. Now 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 human psychology and connection. Though of course, our gatherings were kept confidential, and we didn't publicly associate with each other.
Eventually I leaned myself on the wall beside the balcony door, and eavesdropped as naturally as the sparrow on a private conversation.
"Greetings, Prince Elijah," 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 Elijah Pendrickson Titanus, Archduke of Calia."
Ah yes, the third and youngest of the royal princes. Elijah 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's rumors that Prince Elijah 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 lame brat and 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, you ask? The reason is primarily two-fold. On one hand, 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, especially because of her constant fear of Idan's untimely demise. A not implausible fear given how he remained sickly from the start.
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 to go on. Tragically, her highness Lady Esther died during the birth of Prince Elijah, an event which marked him as an ominous child.
Although his siblings still treated him well, Prince Elijah was unmistakably the least favored of the three heirs, adding to that is his rumored ambitions. If he truly has dreams of seizing the crown in succession, that would mean aligning oneself with him would put you 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, whatever it is that I can provide."
"I have no interest in you," said the prince bluntly.
For clarity I'll tell you that Lord Byronia is only a year or two older than me, 19 or 20 years old I estimate. Meanwhile, the third prince is 14. But such age gaps are not uncommon in the upper class, I suppose.
"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, it's vulgar."
Lord Byronia continued, "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."
Ah yes, the unspoken words, 'not a princess,' but linger on the tip of the tongue. I could've allowed the charade to continue, but I had my own duties to uphold and so, sadly, I had to end this farce.
I stepped over the threshold of the balcony door and greeted the prince with acceptable formality.
"Your royal highness Prince Elijah. A pleasure. My name is Caleb Henry Archphantom, son of Lord Waltham Archphantom."
There was a glare from the prince and indifference 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 Elijah's 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 rarer 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.
"It is with great remorse that I mourn the soldiers lost during the subjugation of the northern Inbali savages. We will send them off with our prayers, compensate the families who have incurred losses, and restore order to the region as soon as possible."
And reading between the lines, the royal treasury will be sending 'rewards' to the noble vassals who contributed the most during the war. I suspect that Duke Avlad and the Heathcliff territory will be gaining even more territory soon.
"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 coming campaign. Probably, it would take no more than a year or two before Bethel falls. The Duke of Drakkennide in particular seemed vexed to see that he would once again have to divert resources to assist the emperor's wars.
How strange that the emperor once called 'the kind,' 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 and regarded as a wise and fair ruler. Though of late, the tension in the empire has affected his popularity.
Some favor his new policy of expansionism, while others fear it destabilizes the existing power structure and hierarchy in the empire– particularly with the sky-rocketing rise in the prominence of Duke Avlad and the once antiquated Heathcliff Dynasty. Those apprehensions are made even 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 in the night sky, and the people clapped as imperial magicians used their tremendous power to cast silly cantrips.
The emperor ended his speech by saying, "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.