When we came to the islands of Hawaii, we aquamancers gratefully promised to serve the Elders. And for centuries, we did, serving them as they made their first awkward, plodding steps into the unknown, aiding them in building their great colony fleet, taming the sea for them to sail upon, fighting for them in the great war against the necromancers, in which so many of us were killed, conquering our fears of foreign mages, allying with the geomancers of the Vol'kiss, creating a great fleet that turned Hawaii into a trade empire, and even attempting, despite our knowledge of its impossibility, to willfully join our magic to Geomancy, when we knew that magic was not rational, not willful, but a triumph of the subconscious, a welling up of the dark powers within us.
But by then, our arrangement had changed. At first, we were the messengers of the rulers; but, controlling the news which reached the rulers as we did, the assistants gradually became the rulers. So it goes always in the tide of history, washing down the old as if on the trough of a wave, and raising up the new as if on a crest.
So when expansion slowed to a crawl, the people became dissatisfied, and it took even the great Colony Fleet and the bold Serpent Riders months to cross from one edge of our empire to another, and the council of elders was unaware of it all, we were empowered to take action. So we did. The council of elders was noble and intelligent, but, made immortal by the dust that unleashed the rushing fountains of magic within us, they were frozen and paralyzed by the past. Memory is like water in a jar; it pours in and in and in, and if the jar refuses to grow bigger, it overflows. Such happened with the council. They were fit to govern one tiny speck in the middle of an ocean, which to them was endless, but they could not adapt to rule an empire.
So we devised a plan, and once devised, it was easy to plant within the thoughts of the council. We remained behind the scenes; for try as they might, the people could never willingly serve those who used their whole beings, those who had learned to unleash their wills from their bodies.
The plan was simple. It made sense. It appealed to the council. The empire would be divided into provinces; five at first, but more could be added as needed. It seemed obvious to the council, just as we wanted it to, that these provinces should be ruled by councils of their own. And, in their old age and fear of the outside, they all refused to go forth to lead the councils. Instead, convinced of our unwavering loyalty, they appointed us to pick the council members. At last, we could pick those who we judged truly fit to rule. And if we should judge wrongly by some unhappy chance, why, the five Tamers who we convinced the Concil to appoint to each local council could handle things.
Some men who love power, though thankfully those men were rare in Hawaii, and were easily convinced to go far away across the sea, are suspicious of their advisors. They are convinced that all men long to rule. They should not be suspicious of us; in their shortsightedness, they do not realize that the men on the throne never rule. It is the ones behind it who do.