One thousand, nine hundred, and thirty years ago, the world was a different, but very similar place. The tendency of humans seemed to be to chase the past order of things, and maintain it. They are afraid of catastrophic change, and yet it happened, without them even knowing it.
To start, there was one more nation in the world with massive influence, Corbinith. Second, there was a clan, ancient beyond imagining, and with a shadowy influence into the events of the world, The Reapers. The history of it all really begins with the God Wars, and the immediate aftermath of Guthix. The names of the groups who fought under each god are lost to history, simpler to refer to them here as 'The followers of X'. The two of the greatest influence were however, the followers of Saradomin, and the followers of Zamorak.
Guthix came and ended the wars in 0 PG, ending an age of chaos by giving the future a fair amount of certainty. However, the groups that followed the gods continued to war, and by this time, really it was only those two groups. They warred for three decades into the new age, before finally one of them began to fracture from infighting. Ironically enough, it was the followers of Saradomin that were destroyed by infighting. The loss of a clear reason to fight (the Gods were banished by Guthix after all), caused a disintegration of their will to fight.
The followers of Zamorak on the other hand, were able to sow dissent and chaos because they ingrained a belief that Zamorak was always watching, though he was no longer amongst them. Seemingly, the world had come to belong to them, but it was at this hour, that the heroes returned; The Reapers. The Reapers were once a part of the followers of Saradomin, but split off two decades before the end of the wars, when Guthix made his first appearance, and enticed the world with his ideas. With no one left to oppose the followers of Zamorak, the balance of the world was threatened, and The Reapers existed to maintain this balance. They revealed themselves, and destroyed the followers of Zamorak, swiftly and in a single decade.
With balanced restored, they slunk back to the north, where their seat of power rested, in a city named after the God they followed. But, four centuries after these events, something unprecedented occurred; the leader chose to pass the throne to the second born. In this case it was the man otherwise known as 'Doom' but was at the time called 'Devaris' of the line of Hex. His older brother, Delrin Hex, was a sickly person, barely capable of melee combat, but with a sharp intellect, which he believed was more than enough to lead. His father however, Delrith Hex, disagreed strongly, recognizing that a clan such as The Reapers required a leader with both a strong mind, and a strong arm.
Delrith chose to pass the throne to Devaris, instead of Delrin, this single decision, coupled with a lifetime of disappointment, pushed Delrin over the edge. He summoned a demon, and asked it for power, then began to destroy the civilization of the Reapers. He could not bring himself to kill Devaris, his younger brother, and in the single moment of hesitation, lost control of his power, unleashing an unfathomable amount of corrupted runic energy. Demons possessed the dead and dying, skeletons rose from the burned, and banshees manifested from the screams of the injured. Delrin became fused with this energy, leaving him with a deep blue scar, engraved with the runes he used to cast spells, perpetually glowing in a sickly manner.
This last outburst of power did something more though, it attracted a lesser immortal, a god by any means but power, seeking that which he did not have; the power to be a true god. The emotions of Delrin at that moment were unstable, and he tore the god apart, forcing him back into the immortal realm. In this moment he decided to do something else with the immortal body parts he now possessed, he decided to give them to Devaris, as recompense. Devaris refused, but no was never an answer, Delrin amputated Devaris's right arm, at the shoulder, and 'gifted' him the right arm of an immortal. Delrin vanished after this, feeling that he had redeemed himself, he fled to the highest point of the world, to die alone.
Only he couldn't die, the runic energy locked into his body could never allow it, and thus he continued to live, in terrible agony.
In Fremenikk tradition, the body of the Emperor was to laid on a boat and set off to sea, then lit on fire with an arrow fired by the best archer in the tribe. All after a ten day mourning period, wherein which the members of the tribe would pay their respects. In this case Valhallius was massive, and only the high ranking aristocrats and noblemen would actually be able to directly pay their respects.
Currently the legions of Valhallius were engaged in heavy combat around Falador, and a decision was made to conceal the death of the Emperor from the front line troops at least until the worst of the fighting was over. It was even suggested putting off the coronation of the new Emperor until the fight was over, but the idea met with harsh resistance. And so it was ten days after the death of Emperor Bjorn, the first ceremony of coronation was conducted. After paying my respects to the dead Emperor, I had been put to the task of studying traditional Fremenikk ceremonies. The process of coronation involved two ceremonies, purification and the actual coronation.
The first ceremony, purification, of course involved bathing oneself, but in ceremonial water retrieved from the traditional Fremenikk lands. The water was to be blessed before and after use, by a priest of whatever God the individual believed in. Of course this part was purely ceremonial, the Gods had after all been banished from Gielinor, it served to honour their memory. Once this was complete, the person wore a robe woven an ancient spider gods silk (or so the legend said it was ancient spider silk) for two days. During this time, the individual was to be left alone to reflect on the events of their life.
The chamber set aside for this was a small, three metre by three metre square, with a ceiling opening to the sky, and filled with steam. At the centre of the room was a pedestal, intersected by paths from each wall of the room. Between these paths were pools of ritualistic water, their sole purpose to give the room steam. At first the humidity was stifling, but I got used to it after a few hours. Kneeling on the pedestal the world seemed to fall away, the effect of the room was startling, and every now and then I'd force myself to stand and walk around. The silence was deafening, no one seemed to want anything from me in here, the feeling completely foreign.
"I've never seen Fremenikk ceremonies before." The Saviour said, materializing on the pedestal.
"This is only part of it."
"Yes, the ceremony of purification, then the actual coronation." The Saviour said, lounging on the pedestal, "Married, and crowned Emperor in 15 days, after spending years slaughtering them in a war, that's gotta be some kinda record."
"Perhaps, all I'm concerned about at the moment, is taking down Councilman Oedipus after I get crowned Emperor."
"Good to see that you have a clear goal." The Saviour said, nodding in approval, "But I have a concern to share with you."
"Yes?"
"I haven't sensed Doom in some time, and I know a lot of immortals that could be a number to a man like him."
"There's been so much going on, I never noticed he was gone." I conceded.
"I could plausibly see Doom skipping out on a funeral," The Saviour said, rising from the pedestal, "But he wouldn't have missed your wedding, he considers you a reincarnation of myself, and we were more than friends, we were brothers."
"I'll have to go looking for him after I've dealt with Oedipus." I said, a wrenching feeling developing in my gut.
"Fair enough, but I get impatient, put it off too long, and I can make you do it." The Saviour said, his face deadly serious.
The room now felt oddly cold, despite the warm water. Doom was missing, and no doubt Oedipus was having his way with him, chills went down my spine. The rune they had implanted in my neck when I first arrived had been removed just before the wedding, so I couldn't even pass out, I just sat down on the pedestal, head in my hands, stomach dancing in knots.
"I thought you were dead."
"Impossible."
The breakout had been swift, and before long Doom was sitting in a small cottage in the wilderness. Delrin Hex, Doom's brother, was cooking something that smelled delicious. The last time Doom had seen him, he was a scrawny mage, wielding dark runic energies, now however, he looked filled out, and more mature, no longer was he the scrawny mage.
"When the runic energy exploded, it filled my body with itself, essentially I became a lightning rod." Delrin said, flipping whatever was sizzling in the pan into the air, "My body and soul became entwined with the runic flow of the world, thus so long as runes exist, I will also exist." He caught the sizzling food in the pan, and stirred it.
"That's absolutely incredible." Doom replied.
"Yes well, I imagine we've both experienced the ups and downs of immortality."
Delrin brought the sizzling pan over, and dumped it's contents onto the plate in front of Doom.
"Yes." Doom picked up the plate and began eating the food.
"Also, you have my condolences for Oryxace, he was a fine immortal."
"A few hundred years late on that one, and, he's not dead, just indisposed."
"A funny way of putting it." Delrin sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the small room.
The cottage was small, big enough really for one person to live in, and run down, most likely it had been Delrin's residence for hundreds of years. The main room, connected to the door that lead into the building, was the centre of the residence, to the right of entering was a room with a bed in it, and to the left a bathroom. To the front of entering the building, was the kitchen, or more accurately a small niche within which there was a stove and and a cupboard for assorted cooking/eating implements.
"The eye burst after banishing the gods, and Oryx aged at an accelerated rate, his body died in my arms on that day." Doom recalled, placing the plate of half eaten food on the table.
"Ah yes, but his soul was merged with an immortal object, meaning he can't truly be killed."
"Indeed, his soul went into hibernation, and sank into his bloodline, in actuality there are hundreds of descendants around today, all carrying the soul of Oryxace." Doom said, recalling his research, "I have several books of notes and observations on the subject, if you'd like to read them they're-"
Doom stopped, without the arm of Ares, he wouldn't be able to access the many pocket dimensions he used to carry various items of interest.
"I can access your pocket dimensions if you remember the approximate coordinates, one moment." Delrin held up a hand and waved it across Doom's face, then snapped his fingers, and a stack of books appeared next to the table.
"Leave it to the Hex mage to access a pocket dimension created using the power of the gods."
"The simplicity of pocket dimensions does not change whether it was created by a god, or a mortal mage." Delrin responded, picking up one of the volumes, and flipping through the pages, "But if I understand what you are saying about this phenomena about Oryxace, then plausibly we could awaken another descendant."
"Not really, if we did that, we'd have a conflicting consciousness."
"If I am understanding the notions you have made in your notes and observations, then it is more than plausible, it is doable." Delrin said, picking up another volume.
"There can only be one Oryxace." Doom replied harshly.
"So it's a moral constraint then." Delrin looked up from the books, "Oryxace is too powerful, even as an after image in the blood of his descendants to allow for more than one to be created."
"Precisely, but I haven't been able to figure out how to go about removing the fragments from the bloodline."
"I suppose that is a problem for another day, right now, you seem to be embroiled in the midst of the internal politics of Valhallius." Delrin said, continuing to read the books.
"Not as much as you think, I only helped Suiro to awaken, and I think that it's better that I'm removed from those politics all together, and in the guise that I was killed because of them." Doom replied.
"Interesting, you're trying to push Suiro to massive action, presumably to solidify his position in Valhallius."
"I suppose that is a way of looking at it, more like I know he'll be killed if he doesn't act, and my absence provides him with reason to act swiftly, and efficiently."
"So you're a catalyst then." Delrin said, flipping through another of the books.
"I guess I am."
When the door opened on the final day, I was in a rush to leave, only to find the chamber beyond terrifyingly cold. I was however eager to eat something, and largely ignored it. They brought me to a dining hall, and served me nothing but soup made from ritual water and blessed Polar Kebbit meat.
I was alone in the chamber except for a single servant standing by the door, it was rather gloomy.
"You may sit down." I said to the man, trying to make some conversation.
"It would not be proper of me sir." The man answered, his accent thickly Kandarin.
"I'd like some mealtime conversation, and I need to give some orders given for a personal matter." I said, "Please sit down."
The man reluctantly obliged, seating himself at the furthest possible chair from me. I glared at him, then pointed to the chair next to me, he looked nervous, but didn't argue. Once he was seated next to me, I let him stew in his sweat for a moment.
"So..." I said, the man gulped down hard, "Where do you hail from?"
"Ardougne sir, was' part of the 2nd Infantry regiment, 1st division."
"A former soldier then?" I said, taking a spoonful of the soup.
"Aye sir, served with distinguished service for 15 years." He was sitting rigid in his seat.
"What brings you to Valhallius?" I asked him, he froze.
After a long moment he answered, "The king of Kandarin was killed, and the King's Death nearly took us, Valhallius offered us a different option, one which we couldn't refuse."
I set the spoon down for a moment. Memories were flashing back into my mind, the rune had been removed from the back of my neck so I couldn't pass out. The servant noticed I was shaking, he looked worried.
"Your highness, I can go get someone if you need it-"
"No, I need to deal with this myself, and let me start with an apology." I looked at him, offering him my most sincere statement.
"Sir, it's not your fault." He answered, looking at me intensely for a moment.
He recoiled backward.
"I'm so sorry." I said again, feeling tears at my eyes.
"You're him...?" The man asked, quietly.
"Not anymore, and no one can know I was ever him." I told him.
"If you were him, then how did you get here?" He asked.
"It's a long story, but do not tell anyone what you have learned today, the fate of Valhallius and perhaps the world rests on it being a secret."
"I watched the king die at the claws of that monster... Those were your claws." He said, he sounded angry.
"I've trusted you with a secret, keep it, and I will reward you." I told him.
We sat in silence for a moment, he was considering what I had said. I was trying desperately not to cry. Finally after a long drawn out moment, he broke into a laugh.
"Glad to see you back from the brink, Suiro!" He saids, his accent completely gone, and his voice sounding familiar.
"Doom...?" I whispered, tears in my eyes.
"Hans actually." He said.
I broke down completely.
The chamber of the coronation was a massive cathedral, built at the exact centre of the citadel. The energy that held the self-contained city aloft was concentrated in a massive beam of energy at the centre of the building, it was beautiful. Standing, in a robe of shimmering ice coloured fabric and gold, Sia, entered through a door to the side of the massive chamber, facing directly toward the beam of light.
On the other side of the beam of light, Sterk would be entering, in a similarly designed robe.
On the altar there were laid two crowns, a subdued circle with lunar designs on it, and a large ornate crown made with gold and white steel. Valhallius had three crowns, the crown worn by the Empress, the crown worn by the Emperor, and the crown of the former Kingdom of Argo. The crown of the Empress was the former crown of the Lunar Isles, which was one of the founding tribes/kingdoms of Valhallius. The crown of the Emperor was the crown of the United Fremennikk Tribes, a United Kingdom of Fremennikk lands, and the immediate precursor to Valhallius. The last crown belonged to the far north Kingdom of Argo, and was not worn by any Fremennikk Emperor, but if the Emperor of Valhallius hailed from the lands of the Kingdom of Argo, then he would wear it, instead of the crown of the United Fremennikk Tribes.
The use of these crowns represented a unity in Valhallius, sworn by the leaders of each tribe. In essence the ultimate agreement, to one day form Valhallius as a country in Gielinor. It seemed like this was to come to pass very soon, the war had turned around, and the end seemed in sight. Sia swiftly glided across the path, which came up right next to the massive beam of energy, and turned gently toward the altar itself. The people in attendance right now were nobles and aristocrats, people who oversaw the usual administration of Valhallius, and guests invited by those the coronation would now bestow as emperor and empress.
Sterk entered her view from the other side of the pillar, and continued walking, with a stern look on his face. He had a beard, black but speckled with strains of white, and his eyes had deep wrinkles around them, the kind a man of whom had experienced great pain would bare. Approaching the altar, the priest directed both of them to kneel, and bow their heads to the power of the gods. The guests in attendance also bowed their heads, in a gesture of respect to the gods. The priest began murmuring prayers in ancient Fremennikk, and gesturing with his hands.
"...and to the holiest of all Fremennikk men, and women, we so ask thy blessing to this, their coronation." The priest finished.
He placed his hand on Sterk's shoulder and gestured for his to rise, but he didn't.
"I will not be crowned before my Empress." He said, his voice laced with authority.
Confused for a brief moment, the priest lifted his hand and placed it on Sia's shoulder, she stood to her full height to accept his blessing. After the blessing had been given, the priest picked up the crown of the former Lunar Isles, raising above his head to the full extension of his arms, he muttered more prayers and blessings. Then placed the crown on Sia's head, marking her as Empress of Valhallius. He moved to Sterk and performed a similar action. When all was complete, he spoke more prayers, and blessings, then gestured out in front of him, between the newly crowned monarchs, to two ornate thrones, sitting at the base of the pillar.
"In the eyes of the almighty, please take your rightful seats, oh righteous ones, leaders of Valhallius!" He said, loudly, so everyone could hear.
Sterk took her hand and began walking toward the thrones, she didn't argue, and walked next to him. Then they sat in the thrones, which separated them from the rest of Valhallius, directly in front of the altar, and the priest, in the eyes of the gods. After the coronation the priest was to carry out a short ceremony, honouring the new monarchs, and calling for their reign to be long.
"I've never been terribly fond of church services." Sterk said to Sia.
She was sitting on her bed, wearing nothing but her underwear, of which Sterk was trying not to stare.
"It wasn't so bad was it?" She asked.
"I'm just not quite used to all this pomp and protocol." He replied.
"You should try and get used to it, this is your life now." She responded, standing up and walking around the large room.
Her form was lean and delicate, her skin was pale. Her silver hair, even cut short, waved little in the cool summer breeze blowing in through the open window. I again attempted to look the other way, crossing my legs, and trying to think if there was anything I needed to do outside of the room.
"We are technically married now you know, it's alright if you want to look at me." Sia said, sounding almost insulted by my attempts not to stare, "Look at me!"
Bolting upright, eyes forward, I stared directly at her mostly naked body.
"There. Now describe my body." She said, crossing her arms.
"Uh-" I couldn't think about what to say.
"what do I look like?" She pressed.
I knew that my face was likely completely red right now, which only heightened my anxiety and embarrassment. Her skin was pale, not completely white, but so light, that you could've easily lost her in the snow. Her eyes were of course an icy blue colour, and her hair a silver colour, not grey or white, but shining silver. Her body was toned and fit as much as it was slim and delicate, like it could both break at the slightest touch, and withstand a hurricane. Her bust was a medium size, and her underwear was a light blue and lacy.
"Uh..." I repeated, trying to come up with words.
"Do you read a lot?" She asked.
"I've read a little bit..."
"Any romance?"
"A couple..." I answered slowly.
"Describe me like you would if this was a romance novel." She said, closing her eyes and pouting a little.
"Um alright... uh..." I thought for a second, "Your hair is like glittering forks at a fancy feast. Your skin is like freshly fallen snow, and your eyes like glasses of water."
The room was silent for a second, Sia's face was now slightly red, then she burst out laughing.
"How very poetic." She said, her voice neither filled with sarcasm or condescension, but rather a warm quality.
There was a knock at the door. Sia quickly grabbed her robe off the bed, putting it on as I walked toward the large doors. Opening them, Hans (who was disguised as a servant), was carrying a scroll. Handing it to me, he bowed, and stood, waiting for me to read it.
"What's this?" I asked him.
"Emergency summons my lord, the council is convening." Hans replied.
I unrolled the scroll;
"To all Council members concerned with the security and administration of Valhallius, an emergency council is to be formed, under direction of senior councilman Oedipus."
At the bottom it was addressed to the new leader of the Loyal Elite.
"This wasn't addressed to me, where is the one specifically meant for me?" I asked Hans.
"There isn't one, I suspect that Oedipus is planning to betray you." He replied, not bothering to use Oedipus' title.
"Then I suppose that now is the time to dissolve the council." I said, rolling the scroll back up.
"Suiro, I don't know if that's such a good idea..."
"Hans, you're in contact with the current leadership of the Loyal Elite right?" I asked him, pointing with the rolled parchment.
"Yes."
"Then I want you to mobilize their honour guard, under orders from the Emperor."
"They won't listen to the Emperor, the clans' individual honour guards report directly the leaders of the clans, not even the Emperor can supersede control of them."
"Then I want you to run back to the new Aethenous, and tell him that I need his help." I stopped, gave him a serious look, "GO! NOW RUN! We don't have much time!"
He ran out of the room, sprinting.
"What was that about?" Sia asked.
"Things are about to get bloody, Sia, I want you to go to the Loyal Elite's administrative building, and ask them to protect you, they will at least not turn down one of the current monarchs if they seek that." I told her, she seemed to understand, nodding she got up and went over to her closet.
Hastily putting on robes, I walked out of the room, and toward the council chamber, the people around the palace and in the hallways seemed surprised. When I approached the door, the guard attempted to stop me. Trying to push past him, he grabbed my arm (which elicited gasps from the servants standing around the hallway), feeling my anger rise, I grabbed his neck and threw him into the wall on the other side of the hallway. Cracking my joints a little, I looked at the other guard, he seemed very frightened. Using my robes to mask my movements, I gave him a solid punch to the centre of his face, which was exposed by his helmet. He collapsed the ground, I wiped the blood off my hand using the tabard of the unconscious guard, then opened the double doors.
"Oedipus!" I said, loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the room.
The sinister man stopped what he was saying, and grinned at me, trying to hide his boiling anger.
"I apologize for being late, I was held up in my chambers by my new wife."
A chuckle went through the men present, the women rolled their eyes.
"Now, what were we discussing?" I asked him, walking across the room, allowing the assembled members to sweat a little.
Oedipus answered as I sat down in the chair reserved for the reigning monarch, a chair which Oedipus had been sitting in just a moment ago.
"We were discussing the economic plan going forward after the war." He was hastily moving papers around, trying to conceal their contents.
Placing my hand down on the table, I caught the corner of one of the pages, and pulled it out of Oedipus' grasp. Holding it up, I read its contents. It was talking about a new power structure which could replace the monarchy in Valhallius' governance. I placed the page down on the table, and allowed the silence to sit for a moment.
"Oedipus, that's all well and good, certainly being proactive, but you know as I do, that that is not what you were just talking about." I told the man who was seated to my immediate right.
"I don't know what you mean." He replied, putting on a fake smile.
"Aethenous, what was the council discussing?" I asked, while still facing Oedipus.
"The council, which I may add, is currently being directed by Oedipus, was discussing methods by which power could be taken from the current ruling monarchy and distributed among assenting members of the council." He replied, to the shocked gasps of the present aristocrats.
"Then, Oedipus, you weren't discussing how we're going to fix Gielinor after the war?" I placed a hand on the sinister man's shoulder.
"I still don't know what you're talking about..." He slapped my hand off his shoulder, stood up and snapped his fingers.
Looking maniacally at me, he stood, halfway between laughing and murdering. One second, two seconds, nothing happened, he stood, his chest rising and falling in anticipation. He snapped his fingers again, his face slowly descending into a look of anger.
"Aethenous, Assuming that you received my message, now would be a good time." I said, turning away from Oedipus.
"I agree completely your majesty." He made a gesture to someone behind him.
Guards dressed in rune armour stepped forward out of the shadows at the corners of the room, and dropped the bodies of the guards which had been stationed around the room on the table.
"You traitor!" Oedipus yelled, "Your forces have killed Royal Guards of Valhallius.
"Actually, Oedipus." I said, "The Royal Guard of Valhallius is deployed in the fight with The King's Death right now."
"Nonsense!"
"Yes, I thought it was rather strange as well, but I checked, and the entirety of my Royal Guard was dispensed with the forces that left to counter The King's Death." Standing, I met Oedipus' eyes, "These Royal Guards are not soldiers in service of Valhallius, they were second rate mercenaries."
"Oedipus, this is over." Aethenous said, standing.
"This will never be over!" Oedipus yelled, "Sliske will have this world!"
Tired of his ranting, I stood and planted a solid punch to the left side of Oedipus' face. His limp body went flying onto the table, drool dribbling out of his mouth. Cracking my fingers a little, I sat back down in my seat as the Loyal Elite's soldiers cleared away the bodies and the traitor Oedipus.
"Now, I know that some, if not most of you assented to this attempted regicide." I allowed the assembled clan leaders to consider for a moment, "High treason carries the highest sentence in Valhallan law; death after trial. Now, if I were to execute every one of you, lest of course Aethenous, who has demonstrated his loyalty this day, then Valhallius would completely lose cohesion at a time when it needs to be united. You are all going to be imprisoned, I am going to confer with your second in commands, and if I can assure the cohesion of Valhallius without you, you will be put on trial."
One of the aristocrats raised his hand, which was shaking violently. He was a young looking fellow, the banner behind him bore a ram's skull and a pickaxe. I gestured for him to speak.
"I- I'm just a business man- I never-" The poor man was almost crying.
"What is your name, and what clan do you represent?" I asked him, allowing my voice to boom.
"My- my name is Lesner, I'm the current leader of the Ares Mining Conglomerate, for purposes of representation on the governing council." He answered, his voice was wavering.
"As I said, you will be imprisoned, and I will be conferring with your clan, you can also assume that your culpability in this treason will be investigated. If your culpability is low enough that I can reasonably allow you to live, then you will live." I stated to the quivering man, and as well to the assembled council members.
The silence was broken only by the breathing of the nervous council members.
"Soldiers of the Loyal Elite, I believe we are done here, please take these traitors to the dungeons, and deal with the rest of Oedipus' forces."
Out of the shadows of the room, soldiers dressed in rune armour, and draped with gold trimmed blue and white cloaks. Clapping their hands on the shoulders of the councilmen, they lead the traitors out of the room. sitting back in my chair, I considered my next move.
"Hans, I need two things." I was walking down the hallway on my way to my new office, "I need a scribe to take down ideas for the new constitution, and I need you to find Devarius Hex."
I had appointed my friend Hans as personal assistant, a way to keep him close. He was taking down notes, and no longer used magic to disguise his appearance. The question of course that was still rattling in my head, was how Hans was alive right now, but I felt it would've been rude to ask.
"I will assemble a search force from our intelligence service, and begin combing current news." He said, "And I'm going to have to check the available scribes."
"And one more thing." I stopped abruptly, and turned on my heel to look at him.
"Yes?" He asked, looking up from his notepad.
"How are you alive?"
"I'm not entirely sure." He replied, "I woke up in a shack somewhere in the wilderness."
Stopping for a moment, I considered his answer. It was strange to be sure, but somehow didn't seem too out of the ordinary. Hans let out a sigh, he had most likely anticipated such a reaction.
"If this means you don't think you can trust me anymore, I will leave." He handed me the notepad, and bowed.
"By gods no!" I yelled, "Of all the people in my administration, your position is the most secure."
"But why?" He seemed very confused, "For all you know, I'm a zombie minion of an enemy clan, but you're willing to trust me?"
"Regardless of how you are alive, I owe you my entire life." I replied, "Also I feel like the answer to the question of your continued life, rests in the hands of the one and only Devarius Hex."
"Fair enough I suppose." Hans replied.
"I want to establish a council to write the new constitution!" I said to Hans as I started down the large corridor.
"I thought you wanted a scribe!" Hand called out after me.
"I changed my mind, Valhallius needs to be a joint venture between all the clans!"
"I'll get right on!"
Several weeks had passed since the dissolution of the council, and now sitting in the chamber, which I was having opened to the sky, was the same set of aristocrats who had attempted to overthrow me. Some looked nervous, others were stern, like they were trying to suppress they nervousness. Lesner, the leader of the Ares Mining Conglomerate, was seated to my immediate left, sweating profusely.
"Shall I speak first, or would anyone like to say anything?" I asked the tense crowd.
"Tis not for us to argue with the Emperor." Said a rather opulent looking man seated on the left side of the rounded table.
"A little argument can be fun." I replied to him.
"Should we argue? Your majesty, if I am to understand the purpose of this council, then we must create a new constitution, and argument would only impede that." Said the representative of the Clans' Association, seated next to the opulent looking clan chief.
"What is your name?" I asked him.
"My name is Quintus, I represent the interests of the Clans' Association at this council, Your Majesty." He replied, rising and bowing.
"Well met Quintus, I have not heard that name before, how old is your Clan?"
"Your majesty, it's not really a clan..."
"Then what is it, Quintus? I need an answer."
"We're an association, a registry of all Clans with interest less in land, more in operation, or more simply put, the small clans, usually less than a thousand strong." Quintus answered.
"Under the last Emperor, all clans with members above one thousand, were guaranteed a spot on the Ruling Council." A rather large man, seated next to Quintus said, not bothering with manners.
"I am aware of the previous system."
"Then you will respect it." The man replied, crossing his arms, "Or my clan will leave Valhallius and take all its land with it."
"And what Clan do you represent?"
"The former Kingdom of Argo." The man stood, "I was its last King, Brutus of the Great Storm."
"The system will change whether you like it or not, Brutus, just whether or not you will be a part of it will not." I replied to the now angry looking man.
"You are a feeble man, with a broken mind!" Brutus yelled, "I could snap you like a twig!"
"Is that a challenge I hear?" I asked him, standing from my seat.
"I will fight you, and claim the throne of Valhallius from the weak!"
"Then I stand challenged, but I am no longer a broken man." I replied to him.
"You will crumble just the same."
The arena upon which the duel was to be fought was ancient, built in a time long past, and under the unrelenting sun of the great Kharidian desert. There were in reality, many arenas where Sterk and Brutus could have done battle, however this one was chosen in order to take both men out of there preferred environments. Sterk had fought mainly in the Northwest in his time with The King's Death, a region with a fairly temperate climate, rarely did the temperature rise beyond 23 degrees Celsius. Brutus, likewise, was from a region where the temperature rarely passed above 10 degrees, as he was the 'King' of the Argo region of Valhallius, in the far north.
The former Kingdom of Argo possessed the prestige of being the first non-Fremenikk clan to join the United Fremenikk Tribes, and had been the one to suggest it change its name to Valhallius. In many ways, Brutus possessed more authority to lead Valhallius than Sterk, however events beyond either of their control, had rocketed Sterk, then Suiro, to a position of prominence in Valhallius. Now they were to fight to a yield, the outcome of which would determine the next stage of Sterk's plans for Valhallius. Sterk knew he needed the support of the Argo region, it was an integral part of the heritage of Valhallius, and held as much, if not more, sway over the allied clans.
"The terms of the duel, are as follows!" An announcer yelled to the crowd gathered on the high walls of the arena, "Both combatants may use a single weapon of their choice. Poison, magic, teleportation, and summoning will result in an immediate forfeit. Armour is permitted, at each combatants' discretion. The fight will end when one combatant can no longer fight back, or offers a yield."
The crowd let out a roar, many here were commoners, anxious to see how their new Emperor stacked up against a well-known fighter. Sia was nestled between several guards from The Loyal Elite, dressed in a white robe, and a wide hat, her short silver hair fluttered in the dry wind. Sterk was kneeling at one side of the arena, under a canopy meant to shield him from the sun until the fight began. Brutus was likewise sitting cross legged under a similar canopy on the other side of the arena. Both were dressed for combat, Sterk in simple leather armour, and a Rune metal helmet without a visor; Brutus in armour which looked as though it had been pulled from the depths of hell.
His right shoulder was covered by a pauldron adorned with vicious spikes, armoured plating extended down from where it ended to his hand, which was covered by an equally vicious looking gauntlet. His breast plate covered his right side completely, connecting to the pauldron, but looked as though most of the left side had been blown off by a magic attack long ago. A red tabard extended out from underneath his breast plate, covering strips of metal connected by chainmail which served to protect his stomach. He wore a skirt of chainmail, and sabatons in the same style as his breastplate, his thighs were bare underneath the chainmail skirt. His helmet was a simple design, a contrast to the rest of his armour, and looked as though it had once had a visor.
All the armour had been constructed from the same purple tinted metal, though the spikes were bone white, it looked as though the armour had been through many battles. The left side of his chest was partially unprotected, and his left shoulder and arm were completely exposed, though it did not show any signs of scarring which would have been expected from an attack powerful enough to shatter armour. Half buried in the sand, and upright next to him, was a vicious looking war axe, constructed from the same metal as his armour, and with a long thick rectangular handle wrapped in leather.
In contrast, the simple leather armour Sterk was wearing had been pulled from the supplies of the mercenaries hired by Oedipus. It was worn, well used, and smelled like sweat, Sterk preferred it to something heavier because this would allow him greater agility on the battlefield. Sia had insisted he wear a metal helmet, something Sterk did not like. His weapon was a short sword made of Rune metal, it glinted blue in the sunlight, and had been forged the day before the duel especially for Sterk. He had insisted that the design be kept simple and functional, the hilt was rectangular and wrapped in leather, the pommel a small solid unpolished piece of brass. The guard, also made of brass, was an ellipse of about three inches in length, and one and a half inches in width. The blade was about one inch in width, and two and a half feet in length, with a straight double edged blade ending in a point.
Sterk felt his heart beating in his chest, this would be his first battle in months, a prospect he felt he was ready for, but still dreaded. Standing to his full height, and picking his sword out of the sand, he began walking toward the centre of the arena, Brutus did the same. After a few tense moments, they were standing no more than two metres apart.
"I've realized something, Brutus." Sterk spoke up, breaking the silence.
"And that is?"
"I don't have much of an idea of what we're fighting over. Is it the prospect that I'm the Emperor now, or that you don't wish for the system to change?" Sterk asked, putting his helmet on, and tightening the chin strap.
"My reasons are much more complex than you understand now." Brutus replied, also placing his helmet on his head.
"Brutus, I swore I wouldn't fight for frivolous reasons after everything that happened with the King's Death, please justify this fight for me." Sterk said, taking up a stance with his sword.
"I suppose you don't understand the politics of Valhallius as well as you're toted as having." Brutus responded, raising his axe.
A split second later, that same axe came flying through the air, barely missing Sterk as he sidestepped. Brutus prepped for another swing, moving across the sand floor of the arena with relative ease. Sensing that the conversation was truly over, Sterk prepared to counterattack. The axe came down again, Sterk dodged it, but hesitated in the brief moment that would have provided him with a good counterattack. Brutus slammed his unprotected shoulder into Sterk's body, sending him flying several feet, and landing on his back.
The impact knocked the wind out of Sterk, causing him to take an extra moment to return to his feet. Brutus did not take advantage of the situation, which he could have used to effectively end the fight. Catching his breath, Sterk made eye contact, then shuddered at the look in Brutus's eyes; the same look many combatants had given him many times before.
"The Emperor of Valhallius must be a fighter!" Brutus roared, his voice resonating through the arena, "So, are you one, or are you just a petty noble!?"
"I am a warrior!" Sterk replied at the same volume, though his voice lacked the same power.
"Then prove it!"
Brutus swung his axe in Sterk's direction, who prepared to block it with his sword. A split second before impact, Brutus turned the axe, so that the flat side made contact with Sterk's sword. The result sent Sterk flying again, this time he landed on his front, and rolled out of the way of another attack. The crowd was hysterical, shouts of both support and jeers rained down on both the combatants. Sterk felt his mind beginning to flash back to the various battles he had fought while brainwashed with the King's Death.
"NO!" Sterk bellowed, Brutus stopped in confusion.
Sterk's eye had begun to burn, a sensation he was ever familiar with, and one which left unchecked would result in his forfeit. Straining against the inhuman forces in his eye, Sterk stood again, left hand covering his right eye. Brutus gave him a look of increasing confusion, and in the process, lowered his guard. Sterk quickly, making two movements, the first was unbuckling the chinstrap on his helmet, and allowing it to fly off his head. The second, was to bring his sword whipping around, making impact with Brutus's side. The Blade connect with the small amount of armour still covering the left side of Brutus's chest.
In a moment of surprise, Brutus took a few stumbling steps, then fell to his knees. Sterk leapt backwards, landing agilely on the sand, and assuming a new stance. His sword had left a sizable dent in the side of Brutus's armour, however, in the process it was left with cracks crisscrossing its entire length. Those cracks did not even register in Sterk's mind.
"That sword has only a few good strikes left in it Sterk!" Brutus yelled, rising to a standing position, and hefting his axe over his shoulder.
"Just enough to defeat you!" Sterk replied, maintaining his stance.
"No, no it is not, but I see no reason to continue this duel." Brutus said, burying the head of his axe in the sand.
"Then you yield?" Sterk asked, confused.
"Aye, Valhallius doesn't need to lose anymore good warriors, and you have proved yourself just barely capable." He crossed his arms across his chest, "Long live the Emperor."