Chapter 54: Dishevel in The Imperial Halls
Year 0003, I-III Month: The Imperium
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The Eastern Continent In Turmoil!
Governed by the avarice of man, mass famines and wars had embroiled the easternmost half of the continent. The unruly lords and ladies who had allied themselves with the Great Evil had turned their dominions upside down, their ambition blinding them to the suffering of their own people.
Where thriving kingdoms once stood proudly, now only ruins remained—testament to mankind's folly when corrupted by both greed and power. The emboldened men of evil, taking advantage of their lords' and ladies' foolishness, had allowed darkness to consume their hearts. The flames of their malice burned through half the continental east, leaving naught but ash and sorrow in their wake.
Massive migrations drove the innocent westward toward the eastern center of the continent, where peace still prevailed and war had not yet cast its shadow. These were the survivors, the blameless souls who sought only to escape the madness that destroyed their homes and slaughtered their kin.
Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, attempted the perilous journey. The fortunate few who arrived at the borders of the eastern central kingdoms found themselves facing new hostility—the kingdoms beyond had begun barring entry to their lands.
What had begun as mere border skirmishes evolved into outright war. The eastern central kingdoms could not risk their own destruction; their economies and farmlands had already suffered severe damage from the initial waves of refugees. Their resources would not last through the coming winter if the situation spiraled further out of control.
Initially, they had accepted multitudes of displaced peoples, opening their hearts and homes to those in need. But as their own situation began to deteriorate—granaries emptying faster than they could be filled, disease spreading through overcrowded settlements, and civil unrest growing among their own citizens—they could no longer permit the flood of humanity to continue unchecked.
"If we cannot control this now," a grim-faced lord had declared at an emergency council, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the oak table, "then all of the east shall fall, and it will kill everyone—our people and theirs alike."
Some feared the chaos would spread westward to the central continent. Yet this seemed implausible to those who understood the geography of Arkanus. At the continent's heart stood the previous regional capital, and running north to south were formidable mountain ranges that divided the land into two distinct halves. These mountains emanated from the Great Caldera of Arkanus, spreading outward like the gnarled fingers of a giant's hand.
These mountains were treacherous beyond measure. Countless beasts had laid claim to the rocky heights and hidden valleys, creating territories no man dared to trespass. And in the Great Caldera itself, where no human had ever ventured and returned alive, sat the throne of dragons—ancient, terrible creatures who would certainly not allow mere humans to violate their domain. If refugees, driven by desperate madness, attempted to cross these lands, the beasts under draconic rule would surely descend from their territories and lay waste to what remained of the eastern continent.
The mountain range served as a formidable natural buffer that few considered possible to breach. Before one even reached the foothills, two massive rivers ran through the central east and central west—mighty waterways that effectively divided the continent into three distinct subcontinents: the west, the central, and the east.
Even if the refugees somehow gained control of the entire east, they would still face the challenge of crossing the great river that marked its western boundary. And it seemed unlikely that those who dwelled in the central east and central west would remain passive while their borders were threatened.
"They would slaughter them before they could even reach our shores," whispered an advisor to her lady, who nodded solemnly in agreement.
So before calamity could further ravage the east, the kingdoms resolved to make their stand—to halt the tide of refugees and the corruption that seemed to follow in their wake. If they failed, all of Arkanus might be overrun by zealots of the Great Evil, with dark forces marching freely across lands once blessed by the dying light of the Great Evil.
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The Imperial Capital's Grand Assembly
Elsewhere in the grand imperial city of Elms-Arkanus, the Grand Assembly had commenced. Various lords, nobles, and persons of influence had arrived a month prior, their entourages barely swelled the city's population and filled only its high class inns and lodging houses to capacity. The city buzzed with gossip about the troubles in the east and speculation about the Empire's response.
In the center of the Great Imperial Hall sat a towering and imposing man. His mere presence commanded respect, an aura of authority radiating from him like heat from a forge. This was Emperor Janus Cornwall I, whom legends claimed was the reincarnation of a god—the prophesied savior of all peoples of Elms and the sovereign who currently reigned over three-quarters of the continent.
He needed only to bring the easternmost half of the eastern continent under his heel to complete the unification he had begun years ago. The gathered nobles hoped he would do just that, as their kingdoms back home faced invasion not by foreign armies but by their own desperate countrymen from the ravaged east.
Those kingdoms could no longer care for the flood of humanity breaching their borders. They had accepted as many refugees as their resources allowed, yet still they came. Current food reserves would dwindle to nothing before the month's end, and if that happened, everything east of the great river would truly descend into chaos.
The lords whose dominions bordered the other half of the eastern continent wore expressions of grim foreboding as messengers arrived one after another, delivering dire reports from their beleaguered kingdoms. Some lords and ladies shouted commands to their vassals, completely forgetting the decorum expected in the Emperor's presence. Others, whose lands had not yet felt the refugee crisis directly, shivered at the thought that soon the borders of the new eastern line would fall, and they would be next.
Meanwhile, those whose interests extended only to themselves remained calm and disinterested in the plight of the "lesser lords." They had already secured their houses' future in distant safe havens, places where they could exile their entire households until the day the east was reclaimed and they could once again assume their thrones without risk to their precious lives.
Emperor Janus observed his many vassals and allies bickering amongst themselves, shouting profanities and engaging in childish disputes. They acted nothing like the nobility they claimed to be, forgetting the royal and noble blood that supposedly flowed through their veins. Instead of dignity and leadership, they displayed the behavior of spoiled, entitled brats throwing tantrums in someone else's home.
This display, though distasteful, served Janus well. It provided a clear view of what these lords and ladies were truly made of when faced with crisis. He could ascertain for himself the mettle of those who had sworn fealty or allegiance to him.
With penetrating eyes the color of burnished steel, he studied their expressions—fear, fright, anguish, and anger—as they absorbed the troubling news from their dominions. He listened to their pitiful woes and worries as they barked orders at their vassals and messengers.
It fascinated him to witness men and women losing their composure over matters that, in the grand scheme of existence, were ultimately fleeting concerns they couldn't carry to their graves. The scene reminded him of the chaos of the battlefield, though here it was merely cowardly and despicable aristocrats fighting over spilled wine rather than soldiers battling for their lives and spilling their blood for their kingdom.
On another side of the grand hall sat lords who remained quiet, their faces masks of confidence despite the surrounding turmoil. It seemed they had long ago secured their escape routes, planning to abandon their people to whatever fate befell them. "Cowards," Janus thought, his contempt for them growing with each passing moment.
Yet amidst the disgraceful display, Janus noticed one lord who carried himself with a dignity fitting his position and lineage. He was a baron who, despite being visibly troubled by the news from his dominion, maintained a calm and composed demeanor.
This man possessed the regal bearing of a veteran soldier who had walked through hell and returned tempered rather than broken. An aura of natural authority surrounded him, commanding respect in a way none of the other nobles present could achieve. He embodied the virtues that nobility was meant to represent: chivalry, honor, bravery, and duty.
The baron gave commands to his messengers calmly, without spittle flying from his lips or profanities poisoning the air. His instructions to the regents left in charge of his lands were clear, concise, and focused on protecting the people rather than preserving wealth or power.
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Losing Heads
Janus had endured enough of the disgraceful chaos unfolding before his throne. With a sidelong glance, he caught the eye of his Grand Advisor standing beside him. The advisor, an elderly man with a long silver beard and eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of kings, immediately recognized the Emperor's annoyance.
It was his cue to restore order among these squabbling children. With a slight bow of understanding toward the Emperor, the Grand Advisor stepped forward. He gathered magical energy into his vocal cords, drawing power from the ancient runes embedded in the marble floor beneath him, and unleashed a command that shook the very foundations of the hall.
"**ENOUGH!!!**"
Such power resided in his voice that some of the weaker lords and ladies clutched their ears as blood began to trickle between their fingers. Others swayed on their feet, suddenly dizzy and nauseated as the magical resonance disrupted their sense of balance, making the world spin violently around them.
Those with greater foresight or magical sensitivity had already covered their ears with protective enchantments, anticipating the advisor's intervention. Yet even their magical shields crumbled under the force of his voice, the protective spells shattering like glass struck by a hammer. The magical backlash surprised even these more prepared nobles, though they suffered less than their unprepared peers, spared from permanent hearing damage.
"**THE EMPEROR HAS SEEN ENOUGH OF HOW YOU EASTERN LORDS CONDUCT YOURSELVES IN HIS PRESENCE!**" the Grand Advisor continued, his voice still amplified but modulated now to prevent further injury. "**IT DISGUSTS ME TO WITNESS HOW YOU BEHAVE AMONGST YOURSELVES WHILE STANDING BEFORE YOUR SOVEREIGN!**"
The Great Hall fell into absolute silence, save for the whimpering of those still recovering from the magical assault on their senses.
"**IT IS NO WONDER THAT THE EAST LIES IN TURMOIL! IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU—EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU—WHO HAVE MADE IT SO! YOU STAND IN YOUR EMPEROR'S PRESENCE, AND THIS IS HOW YOU COMPORT YOURSELVES?**"
The advisor's eyes swept across the assembly, fixing each noble with a gaze that promised judgment.
"**SURELY YOU ARE ALL DESERVING OF IMMEDIATE BEHEADING, LEST THIS GRAND ASSEMBLY FAIL TO PROGRESS! YOUR WOES BACK HOME WOULD CONTINUE UNCHECKED WHILE YOUR HEADLESS BODIES FEED THE PALACE CROWS!**"
Several nobles paled visibly, their hands rising unconsciously to their throats.
"**WE SHALL TAKE THIS BEHAVIOR INTO ACCOUNT WHEN CONSIDERING THE AID TO BE GRANTED TO YOU AND THE PEOPLE OF THE EAST.**"
The advisor paused, letting the threat sink in before continuing with even greater vehemence.
"**AND FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DARED TO SAVE YOUR HOUSES FIRST, ABANDONING THE ENTIRETY OF YOUR DOMINIONS TO RUIN—YOU SHALL BE HANGED OUTSIDE THESE PALACE WALLS BEFORE THE SUN SETS! YOUR HOUSES WILL BE ABOLISHED AND STRIPPED OF THEIR TITLES!**"
He pointed a long, bony finger at the group of calm nobles who had secured their own escape routes.
"**YOU ARE A DAMN SHAME! A BUNCH OF SPINELESS COWARDS! AND FOR OUR SO-CALLED ALLIES WHO HAVE SHOWN SUCH DISRESPECT—CONSIDER YOURSELVES EXPELLED FROM THIS GRAND ASSEMBLY!**"
The advisor's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper that somehow carried to every corner of the hall.
"**I IMPLORE YOU TO RETURN TO YOUR DOMINIONS AND SOLVE YOUR ISSUES YOURSELVES, FOR YOU HAVE LOST THE RESPECT THE EMPIRE HAD GRANTED YOU! HOW DARE YOU SIT HERE IN COMFORT IN THE EMPEROR'S HOME AND ACT LIKE SPOILED LITTLE BRATS!**"
Drawing himself up to his full height, the Grand Advisor delivered his final pronouncement.
"**THAT WILL BE ALL! YOU ARE DISMISSED FROM THE EMPEROR'S PRESENCE, AS HE MUST NOW RECONSIDER HOW TO DEAL WITH SUCH UNWORTHY VASSALS!**"
When the lords and ladies heard these words, panic erupted throughout the hall. They fell to their knees, pleading for the Emperor to retract the orders, offering greater tributes and oaths of eternal loyalty. But their desperate appeals only fueled Janus's disgust.
In a rare display of anger, the Emperor released his overwhelming aura—a manifestation of divine power that legends claimed he inherited from his celestial ancestor. The pressure of his presence filled the Imperial Hall like an invisible flood, suffocating everyone inside. Noble faces turned red, then purple, as they struggled for breath under the weight of his displeasure.
Imperial guards, clad in gleaming silver armor adorned with the imperial crest, stormed into the hall. Each lord and lady present was escorted—some more forcibly than others—out to the courtyard. There, they would witness the execution of those who had planned to abandon their people, a harsh example of imperial justice.
The Captain of the Imperial Guard already held the list of those sentenced to death, the parchment bearing the Emperor's seal in blood-red wax.
As for Baron Severus Freek, Lord of the eastern central market town known as The Hold, he received a different treatment. Guards escorted him away from the main group, leading him back toward the Imperial Hall. He had been summoned to return to the Emperor's presence.
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An Emperor's Decree
Janus had been greatly impressed by the baron's composed nature in the face of crisis. It reminded him of a friend he had known a millennium ago, when he was not yet Emperor but a warrior fighting to unite the fractured lands.
When Severus heard of his special summons, dread filled his heart. He assumed he would be the first to die for the collective sins of the eastern lords—a sacrificial pawn whose execution would satisfy the Emperor's wrath and perhaps spare some of his colleagues. It seemed that someone had maneuvered to place him at the front of the line for the executioner's blade.
But what Severus imagined differed greatly from what awaited him.
Several minutes later, the baron found himself once again in the Grand Imperial Hall. The Emperor sat upon his throne, his massive arms resting on the ornately carved armrests, his chin propped thoughtfully on one fist as he studied the man before him.
Emperor Janus was every bit the figure of legend that tales described. Towering and imposing, he radiated the regal aura of a true king. Those who believed he carried divine blood within him would find no evidence to the contrary in his bearing or the subtle glow that seemed to emanate from his skin when the light caught him at certain angles.
Severus could only kneel, bowing his head to the marble floor, awaiting the sword that would separate it from his shoulders.
But as minutes passed in silence, no blade fell upon his neck. Had he misunderstood his purpose here? The baron was about to raise his head when Emperor Janus finally spoke, his voice deep and resonant like distant thunder.
"Impressive," the Emperor began, "a man of your character shouldn't remain a mere baron of such a tiny hold."
Severus remained motionless, unsure if he had heard correctly.
"You have every quality that defines what nobility should be," Janus continued. "You possess the gravitas required to earn genuine respect, and although you were not born of noble blood, you embody what every nobleman should aspire to become—a veteran soldier, a loyal knight to his lord."
The Emperor leaned forward slightly, his penetrating gaze fixed on the top of the baron's bowed head.
"Tell me, Baron, what do you believe is the price of me keeping your head attached to your shoulders? Is it gracious of me to spare you while your colleagues roll their heads upon my Imperial Palace grounds? Or should I take yours as well?" A pause, heavy with meaning. "The answer is yours; you may speak."
This unexpected question stunned Severus. It seemed a test of his character—would he side with the condemned lords and protest their executions, or would he accept his survival when so many others would die? He remained kneeling, head bowed, as he carefully considered his response.
When at last he spoke, his voice was clear and unwavering, despite the gravity of the moment.
"My Emperor, I am but a humble servant to my lord, who has shown me great kindness over many years. I was once a poor boy with nothing but dreams, who became a soldier in his King's army. Through loyal service, I was made a knight and eventually granted a noble title and lands to administer in my King's name."
Severus paused, ordering his thoughts before continuing.
"My King grows old now, stricken with an illness that is death itself knocking upon his royal chambers. No longer able to perform his administrative duties, he entrusted me with a small portion of his kingdom to rule in his stead and to serve his people as he can no longer do."
The baron's voice softened with genuine emotion.
"I know not why he favors me above even his own flesh and blood. Perhaps that explains why he sent me here rather than his heir—he feared his incompetent son would greatly offend Your Majesty. Instead, he dispatched me as his envoy, granting me authority to speak for him and entrusting me with the people's welfare."
A flicker of understanding crossed Severus's face.
"I now see why—with his aged wisdom, he must have foreseen the events that transpired hours ago. Had he sent his son instead, the prince would surely be among those whose heads are destined to roll today."
The baron took a deep breath before concluding.
"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty, I have but one wish: to serve the people entrusted to me by my King. But if you deem it necessary, I will gladly lay my head upon the block alongside my colleagues. You have every right to demand it, and I would not protest, for I am a soldier first and a lord second. My duty is to serve my kingdom to the best of my abilities, and now your Empire above all else."
His voice dropped to a near whisper, yet remained steady.
"But please, I beg Your Imperial Majesty to find it within your heart to save our eastern continent from the rot and plague that consumes it. My life is but a small sacrifice if it helps save the many."
Severus finished his declaration with fervor and honesty that couldn't be questioned. Having said his piece, he awaited whatever fate the Emperor decided for him.
Janus studied the man still kneeling before him, noting that despite the dire circumstances, Severus showed no fear. Unlike so many others who had stood before the imperial throne, there were no trembling hands, no quavering voice, no beads of nervous sweat upon his brow. Instead, he demonstrated a calm acceptance of whatever judgment would be pronounced—a rare quality that reminded the Emperor of the warriors with whom he had once shared battlefield glory.
Such a man represented an invaluable asset to the Empire's future prosperity and survival. Men of Severus's caliber were a dying breed, increasingly replaced by self-serving sycophants who placed personal gain above duty and honor.
After a moment's consideration, Emperor Janus made his decision.
"A splendid answer!" he proclaimed, his voice filled with approval. "By your demonstrated loyalty, I, Janus Cornwall the First, as your Emperor and your King's Emperor, hereby elevate your status to Earl of the Empire of Elms-Arkanus."
Severus remained motionless, stunned by this unexpected turn.
"You shall now have dominion over territories thrice the size of your current holdings. Your name and those of your bloodline shall be etched into the empire's historical records for all time."
"Your lands will also have reduced tax or tribute whichever you prefer of 5%, increasing only by 1% by the first 10 years, and at the succeeding 5 years another 1% until such time it would reach the maximum limit of 10%. It shall remain as such for perpetuity until the last of your blood line no longer exists!"
The Emperor's voice took on a more personal tone.
"Raise your children to the standard I have found in you, Earl Severus Freek, Lord of the Eastern Market, henceforth to be known as 'Severus Hold'."
A smile, rare and brief, crossed the Emperor's face.
"You may rise now and carry word to your dying king of what has been discussed between us. Tell him that his Emperor, the Grand Protector and Guardian of the Empire, is grateful for his long and continued service to the empire and its people."
Rising to his full imposing height (of 15 feet), Janus made a solemn declaration that echoed throughout the hall:
"I hereby proclaim that I shall save the Eastern Continent from the rot and plague that consumes it! This I swear by the blood of my ancestors and by the throne I have built with my own hands alongside my people!"
When Severus heard these words, he felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Hope, which had been a distant memory in recent months, suddenly blazed anew within his chest.
"I thank you, Your Royal Highness, for your kindness and the strength you will bestow upon us, your loyal subjects," he said, rising slowly to his feet. "I shall depart with all haste to deliver your proclamation to my King, that he might know of the good fortune that awaits our troubled lands."
Janus nodded with satisfaction at the man before him. He presented Severus with an imperial seal of approval—a document bearing the Emperor's personal insignia that detailed all that had been discussed and decided. Accompanying this was a ceremonial sword, its hilt encrusted with gems that represented the provinces of the Empire. This blade symbolized that Severus now carried the full backing of the Emperor and his vast imperial resources in the fight against the Great Evil consuming the east.
As the newly elevated Earl departed, Emperor Janus turned his attention to the maps spread across a table nearby. The time for observation had ended; now would begin the campaign to reunite the fractured eastern lands under imperial protection—and to crush the malevolent forces that threatened all of Arkanus.