Neonatal rode solemnly at the head of the imperial procession, the subdued young Lord Aeron at his side. The boy's mother, father and brother were also joining them, bidding difficult farewells to Talheim before departing for the capital and whatever future now awaited Aeron.
Glancing over at the boy, Neonatal was struck by how much he reminded him of his own father, the late Emperor Heartline Sunbringer. The same earnest devotion to their people, the same hesitation and self-doubt. But also, the same latent courage and spirit.
"You carry yourself well in vexing times," Neonatal commented. "I know you did not seek this mantle but wear it you must for the good of all."
Aeron nodded politely, though his discomfort was plain. "I pray I can fulfill my duties with wisdom, as you have done, my lord."
Neonatal managed a thin smile. "No one is born to rule, child. Even the legendary Thorneborn had to awaken to their purpose." He gestured back towards the receding Talheim. "Look to the people, not the myths. There lies the path to greatness."
The boy contemplated this quietly. "My dreams were humble, but I won't forget where I came from. My family showed me love is the greatest power, not fear."
Neonatal regarded Aeron thoughtfully. "You are wise beyond your years. Hold close to that innocence. The throne can corrupt even the best-intentioned soul."
Approaching the ancient standing stones marking the eldritch gateway to the capital, Neonatal felt old anxieties resurfacing. But looking upon Aeron, he allowed himself a flicker of hope. The boy embodied both the virtues and flaws of his father Heartline. If Aeron's courage could mature and overcome fear, he might just steer the realms toward peace. It was a slender hope, but in Aeron, hope endured.
***
Kante shuffled through Talheim's rubble-strewn streets, observing the aftermath of the chaos and conflicts that had nearly torn the town asunder. Smoke still drifted from collapsed buildings, and wary citizens picked through damaged homes and shops.
Yet shaken as they were, the people carried on with stoic determination. No wails of despair echoed, only the resolute sounds of a community rebuilding what it could. Kante nodded in satisfaction. Talheim had weathered the storm intact.
"You almost sound proud, Nan," the spectral voice of the Formless mused beside him. "Have you developed a fondness for your little village after all?"
Kante scowled. "Don't patronize me, abomination. My words brought this ruin upon them." He kicked bitterly at a broken wheel. "But still they persevere."
The Formless chuckled. "Come now, no need for modesty! We both know you could have made things much worse if you wished." Its sly tone turned sinister. "And you will next time. After all, we have an eternity of games to play."
Shivering, Kante turned away from the spirit's inhuman gaze. "Leave me be, fiend. I take no joy in the suffering inflicted here."
"No, I suppose you don't," the Formless murmured, drifting away. "But the seeds are planted for harvests yet to come..."
Its chilling laughter echoed long after the apparition faded. Kante stared up at the stark silhouettes of the Imperial Houses now presiding over Talheim. Aeron was gone, and he wondered fearfully what innocent soul the spirit would turn its vile attentions to next. Sighing bitterly, he continued on through the rubble alone.
***
Nabon silently observed the war camps scattered across the Monkland countryside, each flying their faction's banners brazenly. He had hoped King Rue's death might unite these squabbling nobles, but sadly chaos reigned instead.
Now the kingdom was fractured with various lords and heirs vying for control. Princess Elise and her serpentine husband Mardoc had forged an alliance with the nefarious warlord Gothreg, using his forces to strike directly at the capital.
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Meanwhile, Lord Clades and his supporters struggled desperately to maintain King Rue's legacy of peace. But Clades was an old man now, weary and overmatched.
As spymaster, Nabon felt the sting of failure acutely. He should have anticipated the brutal succession crisis upon Rue's passing. Their enemies had seized the moment ruthlessly while Nabon reacted too slowly.
Gazing north, Nabon marked how carefully this haphazard war avoided breaching Talheim's territory. Aeron's Imperial Edict yet gave them all pause despite their treasonous ambitions.
The boy's awakening as Thorneborn heir made even zealots like Gothreg wary of openly defying decrees from one said to be eternal emperor reborn. For now, the chaotic factions focused their ire on each other, leaving Talheim unmolested.
But Nabon knew such restraint could not last indefinitely. Sooner or later, one of these feuding rulers would dare Aeron's wrath in their bid for power.
Only decisive action could stop the bloodshed now, but what and by whom, Nabon could not see. These bleak nights of the soul ever obscured the path ahead it seemed, even for one so used to navigating shadowed ways. He could but press onward through the gloom, hoping flickers of light still shined to illuminate the way for good souls when darkness closed in.
As Monkland descended into open war, the faithful must stand fast. Nabon only prayed their spirit held against the spreading havoc. King Rue deserved that much, at least in memory if not in reality.
***
Dianoia fumed as her father Lord Glendon formally signed away her hand to the smug Lord Megon.
"You throw your only heir to the wolves!" she accused bitterly.
But Glendon only sighed, refusing to meet her icy glare. "You left me no recourse. Your reckless ambitions would have brought ruin on us all."
Megon smiled benignly from his seat, making Dianoia's blood boil hotter. The worm had slithered his way into her father's confidence while Dianoia was preoccupied with grander schemes. Now it seemed Megon held all the leverage.
"He will rule you like a dotard doll!" Dianoia hissed to her father. But Glendon appeared resigned to Megon's authority over the merged household.
Megon rose and glided to Dianoia's side, radiating false compassion. "Come now, my dear. Our partnership will thrive, you shall see."
His cloying platitudes only deepened Dianoia's outrage, but she was trapped, neutered by Aeron's blasted Imperial Edict. All her intricate plans now lay in tatters, ruined by misplaced trust and untimely interventions.
As Megon escorted her sympathetically from the hall, Dianoia walked numbly, the enormity of her defeat crashing down upon her. She had gambled all on securing the crown, only to lose everything and wind up imprisoned in this backwater town under her smug new husband's thumb. It seemed her vaulting ambitions had vaulted her directly into obscurity.
Looking out at humble Talheim, Dianoia seethed at the knowledge she would rot here now, never to hold the power and glory she had so hungrily craved. Fate was a fickle mistress, elevating some while dashing others without rhyme or reason. For now, she must accept this bitter exile, her dreams turned to ashes forevermore.
***
Megon nodded along half-heartedly as his old friend Rurik excitedly described Talheim's rising fortunes with more trade and refugees arriving daily to escape the civil war.
"We're becoming a hub for commerce from all corners now," Rurik exclaimed. "And the influx of new citizens provides labor and skills needed for expansion."
"Yes, yes, all sounds wonderful," Megon said absently, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Ever since his marriage to Lady Dianoia, he had been walking about in a besotted daze, oblivious to matters of state.
Rurik pressed on eagerly detailing ideas for investments and partnerships, but Megon just smiled vaguely, deep in daydreams about his new wife.
"Um, will you be taking charge of all this then?" Megon interjected when Rurik finally paused for breath.
His lovesick friend didn't wait for a response, already rambling on about Dianoia's beauty, wit and charm. Megon was utterly smitten, leaving Rurik to handle the burdens of governing alone.
With a resigned sigh, Rurik nodded. "I suppose I can oversee things for the time being. You just focus on domestic bliss."
Megon clasped Rurik's shoulder gratefully, then hurried off to find Dianoia, still effusing about her loveliness.
Watching him go, Rurik shook his head ruefully. He prayed this besotted neglect of duty would pass swiftly. Megon was clearly blind to Dianoia's ruthlessness and unchecked ambition. But for now, matters of the heart eclipsed all else in Megon's mind. Rurik would manage affairs as best he could alone and hope this lovestruck daze faded before Talheim suffered for it.
***
Aeron gazed around anxiously as their procession passed through the towering onyx gates into the imperial capital. This sprawling metropolis made Talheim look like a dusty village by comparison.
People crowded the streets and canals, rushing about on inscrutable errands. Astorium had a pulsating energy that overwhelmed Aeron's provincial senses.
Approaching the crimson-hued Imperial Palace, Aeron felt only foreboding. Back in familiar Talheim, he had begun accepting his role as Thorneborn heir. But seeing the true scope of the realms he was expected to rule terrified Aeron anew.
Within the glittering Hall of Binding, he was formally presented to the four other soul-bound - Keith, Gideon, Amara, and Jasper. They regarded him with awed deference, but Aeron recoiled from their zeal. Only the shy Menadue seemed to share his uncertainties.
Try as he might, Aeron could not connect with these strange youths fated to serve him. Keith's fanatical devotion unsettled Aeron deeply, while Amara's cold intellect repulsed him. And Jasper's silent skepticism was all too familiar from the distrustful eyes of Talheim's folk.
Only Menadue saw Aeron as he truly was - a frightened boy out of his depth. He knew the others meant well, but their fervent expectations only amplified Aeron's anxieties. He wished he could simply talk to them openly, but feared shattering their faith in his mythical destiny.
The sole bright spot was reuniting with his family, who had also journeyed to the capital. But they could not shield Aeron from the suffocating pressures of court forever. His ascension approached, trailed by forces hungering to use Aeron as a figurehead for their own ends.
Looking out over the sprawling imperial city, Aeron felt afraid and alone. He would have given anything to return to simpler days back home in Talheim. Yet there could be no going back now. Destiny and throne, awaited.