LEVIATHAN: or, the Chronicle of ALEXIUS MAGNIFICAT;
being a faithful and historical record of the life, times, and reign of Golden Emperor Alexius Magnificat, first of the Empire of Serafon;
as faithfully translated from the original Seraf by John Dominicson Fletcher 325 AA.
I. The End
Many years later, as the enchanted Imperial helm was lowered onto his head in the great halls of the White Palace, surrounded by the functionaries and banners of every corner of the realm, Alexius Magnificat, the Golden Emperor, Defender of the Citizen, Sword of the Pillage, Builder of the Walls, Axe of the People, the Great, the Terrible, the Divine, the most powerful man in history, said:
"I accept the crown of the empire and its duties. I dedicate myself to the empire and its people. As I swore before you on the battlefield, so I swear before you now: I give you my life, here and now."
It is said that the Emperor here stopped the crown from being lowered onto his head and stood from the Imperial throne, surprising the guests at the coronation. With a dramatic flourish Alexius produced a great sword, diamond and beautiful—the conqueror's sword—and held it triumphantly for all to see. Even without words, his meaning was clear: a new power was beginning to emerge.
Alexius Magnificat sits in the quartz throne he built with his own hands and drinks the moment.
His hands are raised and his eyes are wide open. The sun shines on the city—his city—and fills the Plaza Ajor outside with light. It streams into the crowded hall through the great windows and paints everything white and gold. And the hall is silent, hanging to his every word.
The greatest empire the world has ever seen begins to peek from its shell.
Wary delegations from the Free Cities, meek representatives from the Protectorates, emerald-fat Guild councilors, nervous mayors of the bigger villages, proud generals and captains of the Great Army, trembling Electors of the limping remains of the Diet, even a few Pillager legations from the annexed lands, standing unsure and terrified. Love him, hate him, it doesn't matter—they all need him to live, they all cling to his hand like dogs.
Even now they look up to him, soaking up his words with bated breath. They remember their fathers as they look expectantly at their new monarch, the cowering villagers they used to be. They remember the path to greatness and glory, to the place where he stands proud and victorious today.
And they hardly remember his enemies—they've long been erased from the books.
Alexius Magnificat notices the dragging silence, unbecoming of an emperor, of a god. He smiles. Let them write this one down, he thinks.
The most powerful man in the world hesitates. He opens his mouth to speak.
And, lifting his shining diamond sword, he added: "It is finished."
The gleaming helm was lowered onto his head, the horns sounded, the delegations bowed, and the world was reborn… but we are not there yet.
It is the role of the historian to pinpoint the start and the end and to draw a line from beginning to finish, from the past to the present. The end is here. Finding the beginning is the difficult part. But all empires start from somewhere.
To us, the chroniclers and observers of history, the course of the life of the Emperor, and indeed of the empire itself, seems inevitable, predestined. To the external observer, the past is flattened by time, smoothed and polished like the pages of a book. Certainly, many people believe this perfect narrative to this day. Perhaps the Emperor himself believed it, perhaps not. Nevertheless, it is not so.
All empires start from somewhere. This empire, the first one, started in a small village in the Central Plains, on the edge of a small birch forest and bordered by a quiet river.