Augustus Octavius, Emperor of Lenoria and third of his name, sighed at the reports in front of him. The “Incursion at the Beach,” as it was being called, was a definite blow to both his existing power base and his thoughts of expansion. What little the public knew about it caused the people’s faith in his leadership to be weakened drastically. The inordinate response was driven by the revelation that his brother had fallen to corruption. And they still hadn’t managed to catch him. He crumpled the papers on his desk as his aide cautiously asked,

“Your Majesty? Is there something I can assist with?”

Augustus leaned back in his chair, his hand reaching for his eyes in a vain attempt to wipe away the pain. He replied,

“No Cadrian. It’s just the same as always. Skirmishes on the borders, unrest in the populace, and now…” he waved at the papers in front of him,

“And now, an uprising in the south. The Duchy of Laurenceburg is trying to break away…” he said the next with a twist of disdain, “…declaring their independence.”

His aide, picking up on his mood, cautiously replied,

“Surely, they know that even if they succeed they will quickly fall to their neighbors. The strength of an empire is exactly that… being an empire. By separating, they are divorcing themselves from the perceived shield of invincibility that Lenoria represents. We stand firm, as a single monolith. A small region divorced from that would be pounced upon by opportunistic predators.”

The emperor nodded, all points that he had considered. He followed up with, “apparently what is self-evident to many is obscure to the leader of this rebellion. It’s being spearheaded by Laurence himself, fool that he is.”

His aide stroked his chin in thought, then bluntly said, “Ah, well in that case it’s understandable. By nearly every measure he is assessed to be quite the idiot. Surely he realizes that in a decade or two Lenoria’s power will blossom.” The aide turned to the newly commissioned family portrait. The old one with the Emperor’s brother standing next to him had been taken away and burned.

“Quite,” the emperor responded. He shoved the papers away from him for a moment and levied his entire attention on the aide. Cadrian paled under the weight of his regard as Augustus said, “How goes the preparation for the memorial?”

His aide nervously gulped before continuing, “by all accounts, splendidly. It’s been several weeks since the attack and all bodies have been recovered and purified of corruption. Several of the noble families have even offered to help…”.”

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The emperor said, “No, this attack was on my family. The Imperial family takes care of its own.”

“But surely the empress can find better use of her time, she’s been there for weeks,” the aide began.

Augustus fixed him with such a level stare that the aide blanched.

His aide continued, “yes, the general populace has been inflamed by the blatant attack on your majesty and family. There have been calls to levy additional forces against the sea folk in retaliation. The nobles, being more aware of the situation, have proposed restrictive fines and tariffs.”

The emperor scoffed, “the measures would be useless. The income we receive by allowing the Sea Folk access to our dungeons far offset the loss of life that occurred. And they were hardly party to the attack, they suffered losses of their own.”

His aide continued, “Yes sire, but perception being what it is…”

Perception was what he was counting on, thought the Emperor as he looked at the splendid portrait of his family. The new artist was truly skilled and had really captured his grief perfectly.

Augustus drummed his fingers on the table in thought. Finally, he told the aide, “go ahead and meet with the sea folk ambassador. Let him know that publicly the fines and tariffs will increase. Also let him know that privately they will receive increased dungeon delving slots in some of our more remote areas. That should satisfy everyone.”

“As you will, sire.” The aide bowed and left the office.

The emperor just sat for a moment, gathering his thoughts. His eyes glanced around the room, taking in the opulence his position afforded him. Heavy gold inlay touched every crevice that it could be fit into. Paintings from antiquity hung upon the walls, their contents and subject matter obscured by passing time. He brushed a fleck of imagined dust from his desk. Even this, his desk was made of mana-wood from the elven forests; given some three hundred years prior.

A rising tide of anger threatened to surge forth. He gritted his teeth in the privacy of his room and restrained himself from shouting. His thoughts raced at the injustice of it all. He thought,

What’s the point if I can’t protect my family?

His thoughts lingered on his daughter. His lucky girl, the shining jewel of his eye. He glared at his daughter’s image. His musings then shifted to the face of her attacker,

What’s the point if corruption can take my own brother??

As his anger increased in depth and measure, the surrounding area began to tremble from the pressure of his will. A faint whisper seemed to come to his ears, as if reaching from distant shores. Whenever he let his emotions get the better of him, as he grew more powerful, the whispers became clearer.

Finally wresting control over himself, he entered a meditative state, calming his mind. The whispers began to fade and before completely disappearing Augustus offered a brief response,

“Not today, Corruption. The emperor does not yield.”

The whisper faded to nothing, and the Emperor looked back up at the painting. He murmurs to himself absentmindedly, “I do not yield, not for any reason.”