At first, It seemed like one city was enough for him. He lived up to his dreams. Even the lowliest of citizens was cared for. Even the sickest were healed. The people rejoiced at his rule. He served them faithfully and thoroughly. But soon he became aware of cities beyond his own, and their unprotected citizens. Corruption was not an isolated problem. For months he debated what to do. I watched when he reached his decision,

It was a dark, stormy night, illuminated by the occasional flashes of lightning over the stone houses. Ozymandias paced back and forth in his room, muttering to himself.

“Nononono, that's a bad idea. But if I could just…”

Then he stopped and looked at the storm. As if mesmerized, he stepped onto the balcony and let the rain wash over him. He looked into the stormy night, and seemed to see something beyond the vision of mortals.

“Somewhere out there” he whispered “There is a little boy, crying over the grave of his mother. And I didn’t stop it.”

He abruptly turned around, and woke up every single one of his generals and officers.

“Prepare the army,” he said “We march tomorrow”

—--------------------------------------------------

They struck in the dead of the next night, a thousand blades plunging into the tender flesh of the sleeping city. It was over in an instant.

The king of this city was as weak as the former king of Wuking. I watched as he blundered and blustered. The end result was the same. The blood of kings watered the dusty flagstones. Ozymandias tended to the citizens of this city, Graveheart, as well. But the fires of his ambition had been ignited and would not be denied. The stage was set, and finally, Ozymandias could dance.

Only months later, the next city fell. Then the next. Then the next. I watched with faint horror as the one I had blessed spread such carnage. But he was true to his word. The people loved him for what he did. He was worshiped, and a church was established in his name. The church of the king of kings, or emperor as it came to be called.

Soon, half the cities of the world had fallen to him. By this point, the remaining cities had banded together, joining armies and resources. I watched them scurry around frantically in a desperate attempt to stop Ozymandias. And it worked. That day, the battle of Actium, Ozymandias was forced to retreat. He raged and the opposing general, Anthony Marked, laughed from the hastily constructed walls of Actium.

Ozymandias was furious, and in his rage, he lashed out at a servant. I matched from up high. She entered his chambers and timidly approached him,

“My lord. Would you like a drink?”

Ozymandias snapped. It was his highest creed to protect the lowest of them, but at that moment he lost all control. His rage boiled over, rage from his defeat, rage from his failure to protect, and above all the underlying madness that had accompanied him since his mother's death. With a roar, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the hard stone floor. Then again. And again. And again. To me, every wet thud of flesh striking stone was the cracking of his path. The destruction of his purpose. He came too hunched over the pulped body of the innocent women who had just tried to help him. He stared at it for a long while. Then with all the calm of the grave, he stated

“She suffered. My life is forfeit”

He slowly walked out of his room into the rainy night. He came to the edge of his balcony and the edge of the cliff it resided on. Below churned the endless waves of the sea. He stepped up on the railing and paused, turning his head into the rain.

“I've been here before” he whispered “This is where it all went wrong. This cursed rain.”

He no longer basked in the rain, but rather opposed it. No longer did he let it freely run down him, he fought it.

“I WILL NOT BE DECEIVED!”

In a flash, he stepped down.

“I will not throw away what has been sacrificed for this. Peace WILL BE ACHIEVED.” the mad glint in his eye grew,

“At all costs” he whispered.

The next day he crowned himself with the Crown of Laurel. A symbol of peace, he said, to remind him who he was. A destroyer.

Sitting on that golden throne, crowned in a crown of laurel, he addressed his people,

“Sacrifices must be made. I shall break the world, and you shall help. Time will immortalize us as those who conquered the world. All for the greater good,”

He began to use innocents as meat shields and slaves as workers. The alliance of kings was pressed harder and harder. Then on a rainy night, they buckled. Ozymandias led the charge, and I watched as he broke the front lines and charged. The battle was chaotic and I watched as brother killed brother and man killed man. Blood mixed with mud and the howls of the dying joined the pitter-patter of the steady rain. On that bloody night, Ozymandias found Anthony. He lashed out with a mighty blow, but Anthony was a ghost slipping through Ozymandias’s every attempt.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Stop this madness!” Anthony called “Why must you kill us?”

“For the people!” Ozymandias howled “So that no one may die an unjust death”

“Listen to yourself” Anthony growled back “You have murdered, you have enslaved, you have lied!”

“For the greater good!”

“WHOSE GREATER GOOD!” Anthony roared “LOOK AROUND YOU! YOU ARE KILLING THOSE YOU PROMISED TO SAVE!”

Ozymandias hesitated, taking in the dead and dying surrounding them, and Anthony, seeing the opportunity lashed out in a brutal cut that severed Ozymandias's eye. Ozymandias roared in agony and threw himself upon Anthony. A desperate clashing of blades rang through the air. Anthony fought well, for I guided his sword. I guided his steps and I guided his will. But in the end, he was no match for Ozymandias, bearer of the Laurel crown. He fell in a spray of blood, and the night seemed to quiet. All that was left was Ozymandias, locked in a silent battle with the rain that had accompanied him for so long.

Victorious.

Emperor of the known world.

—------------------------------------------------

He at long last achieved his goal, but alas, the journey had taken too much from him. His path was shattered and his will broken. The last shreds of his ability to see a way forward had been taken from him alongside his eye. I watched as he descended further and further into madness and depravity as the shreds of his once-noble path were used as weapons of deceit and horror. It pained me to see him so. So broken. One day he stood at the highest peak of his opulent abode, staring into the distance. A young soldier came up to him, stars in his eyes. He hesitantly spoke,

“What do you see milord?”

Ozymandias was silent for a measure,

“Death” he finally whispered, “It haunts me. I should have died. But here I stand.”

He finally looked at the young soldier.

“Come here” He motioned.

The young soldier joined him on the tip of the tower.

“Do you see it?” Ozymandias questioned.

The young man looked hard and deep. Trying to pierce the veil that obscured all. He failed, as had most that had tried.

“No” he replied dejectedly”

“Would you like to?” Ozymandias continued, voice slipping into a deadly whisper.

For the first time, the young soldier began to look nervous,

“I” he swallowed “I would my lord”

Ozymandias leaned close,

“Tell me what it's like'' he whispered.

With one smooth motion, he gently, almost reverently pushed the young man off the parapet.

He watched with fascination as the young man fell, screaming to his death, and I watched Ozymandias with sadness.

The next day it rained.

Gentle drops washed the faces of those that embraced it, and eroded the wills of those that resisted it. Ozymandias was restless. He could feel something was wrong. Suddenly, he looked up,

“My destiny,” he muttered “Lies in that rain”

He took a step towards the balcony. Then another. Then another. Soon he stood at the edge, shivering as the cold fingers of death wrapped around him. He looked down into the crashing seas, remembering the last time he had been here. When he had almost jumped. For a time he stood, silently fighting the rain, sinking into the empty grasp of madness and death rising to embrace him. The doors opened behind him with a near-silent squeal. Ozymandias heard it all the same. It was the ones he had once considered friends, brothers. The ones that had fought alongside him since the beginning.

He looked at them, remaining eye clearer than it had been in years,

“So you have come”

Brucet, the one Ozymandias had once considered a brother, stepped forward,

“You have fallen Ozymandias,” he said sadly “We will stand this evil no more.”

“Evil?”

“Yes, Ozymandias. Evil. You have become who you swore to destroy. I regret that it has to come to this. But your reign is over.”

Ozymandias stared at them sadly for a minute, then madness once again filled his single eye,

“I am Ozymandias, the mad emperor, bearer of the Laurel crown and I will suffer no traitors”

They rushed at him and I guided their movements, making their every step a little faster, their every attack a little faster. Ozymandias was better. His blade was unsheathed, and he was among them, a fox loose among the hens. Even with my guidance, they were not his match. Even the broken fragments of his path were enough. One by one, they fell. The founders of resistance, the forefathers of freedom. All to the blade of the mad tyrant. At last, all that was left was Brucet, and Ozymandias. Brucet charged, for no more words were needed. Ozymandias charged, for no challenge could be left unmet. They met in the center blade against blade, brother versus brother, surrounded by the bodies of those they had once fought beside. Ozymandias pushed Brucet back, blow by crushing blow. In the end, Brucet trembled, back to that endless drop, Ozymandias looming over him, blade in hand.

“Tell me what death is like, Brucet”

“Come find out for yourself!”

Ozymandias swung, but the rain he had fought for so long could not be denied. He slipped, and Brucet pulled them both over the edge. Ozymandias roared in rage, plunging his blade deep into Brucet’s heart. Brucet only smiled,

“It's ok my brother. Soon it will all be over. Soon it will all be over…”

They hit the water with a muted splash.

The world seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as I gathered the paths of Ozymandias and Brucet and pressed it into a pair of interlocked stars. Fighting and meeting for eternity.

Ozymandias, the mad emperor, bearer of the laurel crown, He Who Conquered the World was dead.

He was born in the rain and so there did he die.

His sins washed away by the gentle shower…