IX.
Of Stone & Tears
[From “The Chronicle of Kings”]
...Having sent messengers on foot, hoof and wing, it was on the ninth day of that month, in the year 1213 of the Empire’s founding, Duke Tanric marshalled his forces and led his column toward the seat of the Clerical Council - long may it stand by the will of the gods. The planned assault was to come from three sides with armies led by Leofric, bolstered by mercenaries travelling from the blessed city of Ferra, to arrive by sea to the west, those of Dragomir to circumvent the Duke’s own ancestral seat of Lokstad and press in from the east - having enlisted further men to the cause from his fellow tribesmen from the Lyrrian hills - while Tanric would lead his knights on horseback and assault from the south.
A day of blood was at hand and many reports of storms and ill-omens came from all corners of the Empire…[Fragment]
[under the] guidance of Councillor Cleric Leriak, His Imperial Majesty Erlend (called Pretender those unenlightened to the teachings of the Blessed Council) believing that the Duke would move to reclaim his ancestral lands, secured his armies in the newly reinstated imperial capital, Lokstad. As such, when word of the course of the Duke Leofric reached Erlend’s ear and reports of Tanric’s contingent brought news of bypassing the North Road to enter the on the southern reaches of the Emperor’s demense, forces were quickly divided to ensure the security of the Duke’s true goal - the Council’s chambers themselves.
[Leriak - At the dawn of the ninth cycle, at the height of the sacred tower of the Council]:
Hear the choirs of malefic devils on the wind – something arcane stirs in the pool of this reality…
In all his pomp and glory, man comes to disassemble a bastion far surpassing his own understanding. Such almighty insolence, such uncompared arrogance, such absurd presumption to think that he could fell this towering oak of stone and tears. Does he not know that this place was a conduit to things far greater than his pitiful mammalian brain could grasp, for ages long before the towers were raised upon the natural citadel, many lifetimes before the raising of the Council’s seat to this place? I now stand as a conduit, myself. A channel through which those servants of the Great Serpent work their will on this pitiful scrap of land - for all its unknown wonders and countless treasures, this world is as nothing to Him - Set-Nakt-Heh!
[Duke Tanric]:
‘Neath Citadel’s shadow we stand!
Now we shall see a last reverie
Blood’s revelry in the tumult of packed flesh
Here we attest – behold the death
Of those cloaked in the robes of the Dark!
[Leriak - (atop the citadel of the council)]:
Darkness – it’s coming,
The pool is as blood:
Each ripple a tide that will wash away
This fool upstart
With such presumption.
Release the bonds
And devour the light of the day!
[Dragomir - General of Duke Tanric’s forces]:
Rise up, lock shields and advance!
Embrace the pain – Bellum Dea reigns!
Her form glimpsed grinning with bloodlight in her eyes
[Duke Tanric]:
Let this sacrifice be of their lives
Bathed in their blood I shall reclaim what is mine!
Go – push onwards, though in mud sinking
The light of their fires the dead illumine
Advance!
[Dragomir - in the throes of Leriak’s ensorcellment]:
Hark - the whisper
Doubt assaults me:
This war is not mine!
The Serpent wakes within….
[Leriak]:
Mired in ignorance, they have no concept of for they have not yet tasted true Fear. What has thusfar been manifest is but a precursor, for
Dusk is but a shadow of Night….
[Duke Tanric]:
No - it cannot be!
To what treachery have I now succumbed?
Overrun - we are undone
Is this how the end’s to come?!
[Leriak]:
I see the bleeding face of gods
Writhing on the spit of my disdain
The boughs of the Blood-oak bend!
Yet still the Serpent reigns!
[Duke Tanric]:
Though all around me they die,
I yet live! Face me, foul demon!
[Leriak]:
This is my triumph!
Feel now, (how the shadow burns!)
[Tanric]:
Loathsome Fate! If this was thine altar,
I would wrench each pitiful morsel of strength
To see it broken in two;
If this was Thy name, curses would rain
To leave smouldering ruin from lips
Ignited to black hatred’s flame.
How can you profess to fulfill His will when the Predator’s eye
Is cold at the time of the kill?!
[Chants from the quorum of the Clerical Council echo as annihilation spreads before the Citadel]:
Serpentis deus rex in eternum invictus
[The Chronicle]: That day the Gods made their will known. Though there was no clear victor on the field, the Godssword shone brightly in the carnage spewed forth from the Blessed Citadel, cutting down all who stood upon that bloody patch of earth as with a flaming blade of unfathomable magnitude. Yet, what became of the erstwhile Duke Tanric, it was not known. Some rambled about ghostly hooves that came to the Exiled’s aid but were, no doubt, the voices of those demented from witnessing first hand the power of the True Gods. The power which decided the fate of the Empire and ensured that the Blessed Tower remained unbreached.
