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Azarind: End of the Ancients
Prologue: The Last Breath

Prologue: The Last Breath

Edan Tol looked up at the Elder who called out to him, pulling him from the stack of parchments and letters that amounted to his duties. “What did you say, Elder?” He asked, hoping he had heard wrong. The Elder shook his head and spoke in a grave tone, “His Divine Highness requests your presence at once. He… It is an urgent matter, my lord,” The Elder finished. “Now, I must attend to my other duties,” The old man bowed and left. Edan Tol ran a hand over his face, sighed, and left his study.

The walkway was a pleasant wind through the lush gardens and afforded a grand view at the splendor of the capitol city below. The buildings were as tall as trees, thick as mountains, and the morning sun gleamed off of the metal and glass. The cityscape spread far as the eye could see. Indeed this was the crown jewel of the empire and a monument to the Jhatgar race. In the distance, Edan Tol could see a military barge soaring out towards the horizon.

He had no time to admire the sights, much as he wished to. He was nearly at his destination. Before him was a statue of the Emperor. It was carved of marble and painted to match the man himself. While this statue was taller than the real ruler, it’s likeness was striking. Tall, fair skinned, with long blonde hair and beard. The eyes were a glowing gold. Edan Tol sidestepped the work of art, continuing on.

Ahead of him the royal chambers came into view as he rounded another corner of stone and metal. There were two visible guards standing out front, although he knew there were more about somewhere. These warriors wore bloodsteel machineplate, a fairly new invention. The machineplate enhanced the physical capabilities of it’s wearer, making them more efficient and harder to kill. The guards also wielded bloodsteel greataxes to match their uniform.

The guards saluted him and allowed him entry. The room was dimly lit by an enchanted lantern that hung from the ceiling. The windows were covered with resplendent blue drapes and the matching carpet was plush. In the center of the far wall was the royal bed and upon it lie the most powerful man in Azarind. He motioned Edan Tol closer once he had noticed him.

“Took you long enough, boy,” The old Jhatgar chuckled and shook his head, “I am not long for this world. The rot will take me by the next moon I say,” He spat. The mighty emperor had gotten old. His golden hair faded to ghostly white, skin wrinkled and darkened. His eyes, though still sharp, were sunken. One would be forgiven for thinking this to be the forefather of the young man’s visage outside.

“Well, you had a good run, old man,” Edan Tol grinned. The old emperor cackled, “I’m not gone yet, boy. I want you to take my place. Closest thing I’ve got to a son, since the tragedy four hundred years ago. Aye, you’ll do. Much better than Agas Nan.” He said with a flippancy one would expect from a jester, rather than that of a sickly, old ruler.

“Me? Be the emperor?” Edan Tol laughed. The Emperor did not. “Yes, Edan Tol. You shall succeed me, Emperor Veridan Laniss.” The Emperor’s face held no emotion and he took something from his end table. “Here, my signet. It’s yours now. I’ve already given my last words to The Council of Elders and they support the decision. Thus, you will be made emperor in the coming days.” Veridan Laniss, The Emperor, said with his final command to the boy he had raised as his own. Edan Tol could not refuse, even if he wished.

“Then I shall be.” He said. The old man smiled and spoke, “I was young and untested once, though I was much younger than you. The others will put you to the test, they will try to take advantage of this all. Make your preparations, and deal with them swiftly. That is the best advice I can give.” Veridan Laniss offered the younger Jhatgar a pat on the shoulder and leaned back into his bed. “You may return to your duties, boy. I shall rest.” The labored breathing of the old man gave away what his face did not, he was in pain.

*

The many letters on the desk were sorted into two piles. One was for those he had read, and those he had not. There was but one more. Edan Tol stroked his beard as he read the last parchment held within his grasp. It was a report of the southern garrison’s encounters with the horrific woodland beasts. The Commander, Kreeg Din, also requested more reinforcements to be sent along with their usual supplies. Seems they need more medicine as well, Edan Tol noted. He put the letter into the pile of read and drafted an order to send the fourth regiment to the Commander’s aid. The tired Marshal untied his hair, having finally finished his work.

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As he leaned back into his chair his thoughts drifted back to what the Emperor had told him earlier. Edan Tol pulled the signet out of his coat pocket. The gem was a sparkling purple with a Jhatgar carved into it. The dark metal ring of the band was made of the finest bloodsteel. This was the signet of the empire itself. In the coming days, it would be his to bear. Edan Tol did not want to be the next to rule, yet fate had decreed it be so.

He lifted the stack of opened letters and moved them into the disposal chute on the wall at the far edge of the room. With that, he was done for the day. He gathered his coat, locked the door, and left the study behind him. He passed servants, guards, and other officials. For most, the palace would be captivating, but he had eventually grown accustomed to the luxury of it. Still, he appreciated the architecture of it. It was an ancient building fashioned from a variety of stone such as marble, onyx, and quartzite. The metal beams and framing of the structure were of the highest quality steel. The stone floor was polished smooth and covered in long blue carpets that led to any facility within the palace.

Edan Tol wondered if he would have been an architect himself in another lifetime. Surely that line of work would be less of a burden. That thought would have to wait, for in front of him was an approaching woman. Not just any, either. It was the Commander of the guard, his sister, Veitra Ith. Her dark hair was still tied up and her machineplate still had signs of use, meaning she had just returned.

“Did you take care of it?” He asked. She nodded, “Yes. Admittedly they were much more well prepared than we had believed them to be,” She snarled lightly. He patted her on the shoulder, “Well, at least you did it. Any losses?” She looked over her shoulder towards the barracks and then back to her brother, “Yes, we did lose one. Marnam Ged. He was a fine soldier. The smugglers had a lightning cannon,” She answered. Edan Tol’s brow raised and he thought his hearing had failed him. “They had a what?” He blurted.

“As I said, they were prepared. Someone is helping them,” She whispered. Her assumption made sense. That was the only way a band of smugglers and thieves would be so well armed. The thought of a magic weapon in the wrong hands made him uneasy. “We shall discuss this tomorrow in my study. Less ears around then,” He whispered subtly eyeing the large meeting hall. Veitra Ith nodded and pulled him into a hug. “Rest well, brother. I am glad to be back. I certainly missed my bathtub,” She jokingly gestured to the grime on her armor. “You did well, sister. Enjoy your bath. I will see you tomorrow,” With that said the two siblings passed each other to continue onto their respective quarters.

His room was spacious with several furnishings, from the bed, to the dressers. It had everything needed to store anything he had. He had his armor already on it’s stand and next to it, he secured his handgun and put it away in the drawer. After that, he went over to his dressers. He changed into his night clothes and slipped into bed, turning the lamp off. The day weighed heavily on his eyelids, and when closed sleep washed over him.

*

Edan Tol was jolted awake by the call of his door, thunderous and shaking like a drum. He quickly shrugged off the warm embrace of his bed sheets, stepping out onto the cold floor. Outside of his doorway stood the Elder sent to fetch him yesterday. “Yes?” Edan Tol asked. The Elder sighed deeply and spoke with a reserved reverence, “The Emperor’s soul has joined the Ancestor Gods.” Edan Tol shook his head, lines of emotion crossed his face. His brows furrowed and he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. “Gods,” He said, that was all that came to him for a moment. He looked into the shining eyes of the Elder, “Allow me to get dressed,” He said and the Elder bowed.

With the door closed his thoughts began to flood over him. The man who raised him and his sister was gone from their world. Veridan Laniss. The Emperor who ruled for a millennia. With him gone the fate of the empire and it’s people were in Edan Tol’s hands now. The weight on his shoulders would be great, yet the weight on his heart was many times more.

The soon-to-be emperor had dressed himself in his grand dark blue and golden trimmed uniform. He had holstered his handgun in the dark leather strapped to his belt. Once he was ready he returned to the door. The Elder waited for him there. The old Jhatgar intended to escort him, it seemed.

There were several other Jhatgar already moving about, including guards and servants. “When did it happen?” He asked the Elder at his side. “A servant reported it to the council not long before I was sent to collect you, my lord,” He answered.

Inside the room, Veitra Ith was already in the room, along with most of The Council of Elders. His sister was sobbing over the man who raised them. He was their father, albeit not by blood. The rot had claimed his body but his spirit was now with those of the ancestors.

The Elders watched him approach. His sister turned to him, he steadied her in his arms. Seeing the tears pouring down his sister’s face the emotion within him welled up. He began to cry as well, although he would not let himself sob. He would stand strong for her and for their people. He looked to the face of his predecessor. The face of his father. He would accept the burden placed upon his shoulders.

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