Three cloak riders jaunt through the small town with rain assaulting them. They stop at a large temple, one of the more enormous structures in the city. Dismounting from their horses, they walk up to the temple door. The smallest of the three pounds on the heavy door till the hatch that bonds it shut is removed, and an old man dressed in white temple robes greets them.
The smallest of the three figures walks into the temple with her companions. She removes her soak cloak to reveal a collection of silver blond locks and a robe like the old man's, but with an additional white cloth blindfold to cover her eyes.
The old man asks, “What brings you here to my humble temple, sister.”
The blindfolded woman says, “We are on a quest of grave importance, Father. I am priestess Ceils of the order of Ark. I served my patron in the Scared Temple in the center island. The gentleman to my right is a Diviner from the Imperial Academy, Mage Deron Reran, and this gentleman to my left is Sir Rimes, a Protector of the 47th house. We would like you to introduce us to a family on the farmstead east of here.”
The old man asks, “Are you sure?”
Deron pushes back his wet amber hair, cleans his glasses, and answers, “Um… No! But I had been searching for them since I was their age. Thirteen years now! When I say that this is not a rash decision. Then you believe me! This child wasn’t the first on my list, but they have higher chances than most.”
The old man appears to take that in and says, “I am sorry to question your authorities. I am priest Macron of the order of Norm. And I’ll help you with the quest. Diviner Reran, do you know the house we are going to, or do you need my assistance?”
“Understandable, Father Macron. We could have caused great harm to you and this town if we had ill intentions. I know the location we seek. We want a simple introduction to limit the confusion.” Deron replies.
The old man looks at the three standing there takes another stern, deep breath, and says, “Does it need to be now? The sun only went down a couple of hours ago. Would it not be wise to give the family a chance to res …”
“No!” Sir Rime Commands, “That will put the family at great risk. We might have been followed if so ...”
“If so, then the family will be unprotected,” Macron said, understanding.
“Yes! You need to trust that the sooner we contact the child, we will secure it or confirm its illegitimacy; then, the safer this town, you, and the child's family will be. Shall we leave immediately?”
***
There he sat in chains in the dungeon of the great lord Megon of the East Turron. He wonders how many times he has been sitting in some dungeon of some great lord. He chuckles at the thought that it shouldn’t be funny, but it is.
“It always is in these cursed dungeons. Suppose yawl was wise to listen to me and let me be. Forget my petty crime! Before it’s too late. I beg you, please, release me, or all of the great East Turron will fall.”
His screams to the guards are ignored. They have long sent’s refuse to listen to a mad old man. He wonders why they never listen to him until they know who he is. Then it is too late. His words will do more harm than good at that point, but they always decide to wait. He knows the power of words. A man like him whose words can destroy nations and can create heroes. He should at least know the power of his words. At least… he wonders only if he could control this cursed power. Who knows, maybe he can do some good. There was good, wasn’t there? He asked himself…
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“How many times have you asked yourself that question, Nan? Don’t be so gloomy.” The voice that no one else but Nan can hear says those words.
So, it starts again, he thought.
“Maybe, I should cut off this tongue of mine and end this dance of ours.” He responds.
***
Lord Megon, the ruler of Talheim. He is sitting in an oak chair with a deer carved into it. The deer is the crest of his family and province. Talheim is a province in Eastern Turron, a dukedom ruled by Archduke Glendon.
The very same Glendon who sits in front of the lord at this moment. Megon never considers himself a very tactical or political person. So, when the great Archduke invites himself to visit Talheim. The first thought running through his head wasn’t how he could use this for political advantage or something like that. It was how he could stop the man from coming here. Don’t get the man wrong; Glendon is not evil or a frightening ruler. He is well-known for his generosity and nobility. It’s that Lord Megon is lazy.
“…So, isn’t that a great idea, Megon? My boy.” Glendon said, with laughter at the end.
“Your Highness, yes, it is.” Megon, who wasn’t listening to what Glendon was prating on about, nervously answered, which he would come to curse repeatedly for the rest of his life.
“So, then, Dina would be happy. She has her eye on you for a while, you know.” Glendon said.
“Um.”
“I knew talking to you, lord Megon, was the right choice. Once our houses are merged, then…” Glendon began prating on again as Megon tried to figure out; what the hell he’s just agreed to. He knew he heard the name of Dina before. It couldn’t be… Dianoia
“I’ll send over the official marriage contract letter tomorrow. How does that sound to you?”
The pieces start to line together for lord Megon to his utter terror slowly. Dianoia Glendon, only daughter of Archduke Toer Glendon, ruler of Eastern Turron.
“Um… that sound…great, your highness. I’ll review it thoroughly.” Megon says. You see, while the Archduke was praised for his deeds and honor. One can’t say that was true about his daughter, the fair lady Dianoia Glendon was heir to the dukedom, and many rumors say she gained that title by murdering her brothers and sisters.
“That sounds great, my boy,” responds the archduke as he laughs and gets up to leave. All while Megon thought of the terrible rumor surrounding his daughter. Who he might have accidentally agreed to marry?
“May Imperdom prosper, your highness.”
“May Imperdom prosper, indeed.”
***
On the first day in the 3523 years of the imperial calendar, a boy sits in a temple in a small town located in Talheim. The boy and his family, with many other spectators, listen to the old priest named Macron give mass.
“On this day of the grand founding of the Empire of the World, the Imperdom. We must not forget the work of the formless four great gods that created the world and granted the emperor his eternal authority to rule. If not for their great will, we will still be in the age of wars and darkness. As the codex teaches us…”
The old man reads long and drawn-out passages from his sacred text as the boy tries his best to pay attention. As his father often said, the formless will abandon the faithless, and the best way to show his faith is to follow and understand their will; their will is the codex. This meant he needed to listen to the priest, but there was one problem for the boy the priests were boring and confusing. He would prefer to have them continue singing and dancing that came before the sermon. Instead of the actual sermon that he is experiencing now.
Doubts, the boy had noticed that today would be a grand day for many people. Today is a day when the treacherous conspirators who planned to overthrow the king for a half-decade began to move. Today is a day when a diviner found his lost emperor, who has reincarnated throughout all of time. Today is a day when a crazy old man gets released from imprisonment for the act of public indecency.
But for a farmer boy listening to the priest's sermon, today is boring. Oh, this unexcited holiday would set history for centuries. That is the beauty of Aeron Du Dragonclaw.