I had three days before we marched. Three days to be an emperor.
Sounds dramatic when I say it like that. But that's what it was. I didn't know what was waiting at the Zha'Vareth border. I didn't know what that signal meant, or what the thing on the other side of the portal had taken from me, or if I'd come back the same person. So I made a decision — a stupid, stubborn, very human decision.
If I was going to lose myself, I was going to leave something behind that worked.
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Day one started at dawn. I didn't sleep much anyway.
Orzoth was already in the war chamber when I got there. Maps, ledgers, supply reports, trade projections — the table looked like a library had exploded. He had dark circles under his eyes. Worse than mine.
"Did you sleep?" I asked.
"Sleep is for people who don't run empires that are six days old."
Fair point.
