LINESII- Into the Darkness- Part III

Orders soon. Very busy with College ending within the next few weeks.
 
Umm, I was just looking at the maps from past updates and saw some seperate cradle with the Outlanders and Yathai. What is up with that? Did contact with the cradle get lost? Was contact even made?
 
It was a separate cradle of civilization that no longer has PC nations. There have been several of those- Aithea (Presently a Satrapy of Syracia), Guangfei, and Trinlin have also existed as 'islands' of civilization at various points in the past.
 
Somewhere in the heart of Old Gorin​

The steel in his hands was cold, the edge of it biting into him slightly as he pushed it deeper. Warm breath glided across his cheek, but it grew slower and slower. He could feel a tingle now, creeping across the tips of his fingers, the cold feeling of his hand banished by the warm liquid leaking down the blade. It sent shivers up his spine as he looked away from those dulling eyes, down to the red dying his hands. The red always reminded him of squashed grapes, and always made him hungry. With a sickening jolt backwards he removed the short knife from its stomach and watched it crimple, a puppet with its strings cut. He watched the eyes slowly close until only half of them were visible. Most of the time that’s how it was after he was done. He kneeled down before the mass and then gathered a bunch of its clothing in his hand, wiping off the blood from the knife, slowly, deliberately. Then he rummaged through the clothing to find a little satchel full of jingling coins. He took it. He then examined the hands, taking the rings. It was once a man, but a man it was no more.

He rose with a grunt, his stomach was sore. It had put up a struggle. He slipped the knife back into the folds of his robes and then stepped over the mass. He made sure to avoid the dye, as it pooled out around the body. It wouldn’t be found for quite some time if at all. People died all the time now in these dark alleyways. Shifting and shuffling of shoe soles against rock echoed against the walls that made this makeshift prison that they called a city. The man who was with him was nervous. He could she the man watching for others around the corner, making sure they would not be disturbed.

“Basu have you finished?” the man peeked around the corner “oh… boy… shouldn’t we hide the body Basu?”
“If you looked here you would find a man robbed and stabbed, and that’s if you looked here” Basu smiled “come, I hear they have captured some one for me to play with”


Basu had entered through a trap door in a local tavern only moments ago. Now he traveled through dark, dimly lit tunnels. He had to bend down most of the way, which frustrated him immensely, soon he would have release. He was glad to have his guide with him, else he would have been lost through the maze of tunnels. Eventually the tunnel line opened up into a dingy cellar. Only a single torch lit the room, its light flickering and casting an array of shadows that lent an even darker tone to the dungeon like place. A man sat in the center of the room, bound with many ropes, sweat and fear dripping from him. Around him stood 2 others, clad in creaking black leather armor, an assortment of weapons hanging from their hips. In the right corner of the room stood a rickety table covered in a dirty cloth. Set out on the cloth were a number of gleaming sharp tools like rows of gruesome teeth.
“Sek” Basu said quietly as he moved toward the table, seemingly ignoring the trembling man “leave me”
The two guards silently obeyed, leaving the same way Basu had entered. All that could be heard now was the dull clinking of metal against metal.
“I am going to torture you” Basu stated clearly as he picked up a small knife and spun it in his hand, approaching the man from his right “until you tell me the location of the Croyodon forces”
“I do not know I swear it please!” came the trembling voice. They always lied. All these insufferable bags of flesh
“You know and you will tell me” Basu now stood in front of the man, still twirling the knife, its silver reflecting light brightly, almost hypnotizing “I like simplicity. They always give me these tools. Tools I do not need. I just need my knife, do you see?”
“Please I don’t know!” he cried again. More lies that only further enraged Basu, but he did not show it.
“You are lying, I understand this but I must have this information. Do you know why?” Basu leaned down till he was eye level with the man “Dula commands it. I must do his bidding. For he, and only he can give salvation to men such as me. I who have sinned so… But in his name my friend. And when I reach his golden bridge and cross it he shall welcome me with open arms! I will be home, away from all these lying fools. Dula knows friend, he knows all and I will carry out his will”
The fire burned now within him, he knew his mission was a righteous one. He would be rewarded ten fold for what he would accomplish here. He laughed, the fire in him burning harder, spewing forth great bouts of laughter as he circled the man. Only the righteous would survive.
“Let us begin” Basu said quietly, his booming laughs finally settling themselves as his knife moved slowly, steadily towards its righteous mission. The mans screams would not deter Basu, his lies and pleading would not sway his conviction. Dula was with him.




The cold night air whipped across his face as he exited the tunnel, made all the colder by the blood dripping off of his body. A look of frustration marred his face, twisting it in a crooked mask. Basu was not pleased. The man had not given him much. He was to hasty, to excited during his work. He had pushed to hard and the man had died. A foolish mistake but a mistake none the less. All he found out were a handful of locations of insignificant garrisons. Town militias Bah! He thought to himself, cursing under his breath. Perhaps the man did not know much as he had said before. How vexing.
Basu looked his side, seeing the guards at the entrance to the tunnel, both staring at him with fear in their eyes. They saw the blood covering his body, smeared across his mouth. He narrowed his eyes on them. They did not look very trust worthy, but the General had sent them. Why did they insist on staring at me! What are they thinking? Probably that I’m to dangerous to live they mean to kill me! Mistrust gripped him as his hand moved to the knife hidden in the folds of his clothes
“What are you two staring at?” he glared at them. They do not answer, it must be true! Without another word he moved to action, unsheathing his knife and immediately jamming it in the neck of the guard to his right. He could see the shock and surprise as well as hear the ring of steel as the other guard drew his sword. He would not get the chance as Basu’s hand snaked out and grabbed the guard’s hand before he could draw the sword. He shoved the blade back in its sheath and then slide his foot forward, hooking it behind the guard’s knee and pulling back, sending the guard off balance. His other hand immediately came up and circled the guard’s throat as he slammed him to the ground in under a minute. The guard struggled to free himself but he could not, he simply thrashed uselessly. Basu’s teeth grinded together as he stared down at the man, seeing his fear and panic, his limbs thrashing wildly which only aided in the man’s death. Slowly and silently he stopped struggling until finally he was still. Such exhilaration. Basu stared down at it, its eyes still wide open but empty now.
“Basu! What is this!” someone cried from behind him. He immediately spun up and around, snagging the guards sword as he rose, but quickly stopped when he recognized the person.
“High priest…” he said respectfully, lowering the blade and bowing deeply.
“What did you do! These men, why are they did? Why did you strangle him!” shouted the High priest
“They… I heard them sir, they were plotting to kill me!” a note of panic rose in Basu’s voice. Had he imagined it again. They way they looked at him, they must have meant to kill him!
“They were my personal guards Basu! Why would they wish to kill you!”
“Sir.. I… I saw it in their eyes! they wished to kill me I know it is so!”
“Enough Basu, this must stop, you have killed so many, do you distrust everyone now?” The High Priest moved towards Basu, his eyes piercing Basu “do you distrust me?”
“Of course not sir!” Basu cried and flung himself onto his knees, averting his eyes “I only… I got carried away sir, my deepest apologies but I would never distrust you. I live only to serve Dula”
“I know my son, rise” came the soft voice of the High Priest. Basu rose in response, guilt painting his face. The High Priest made a few hand movements and out of the darkness came four servants and two more guards “clean up this mess, and then go inside, there will be a body there as well. Now then, Basu tell me, what have you learnt from the heathen”


OOC: Old Gorin refers to the area currently under control by Croyodon.
 
The Pivotal Moment​

“History moves in cycles, periods of conservative and liberal thought…” –Historian Arthur M. Schlesinger

“No other Emperor had ever accumulated so much personal power, and so much wealth as did Diankang…” –The Twelfth Lord of Taishan

The sixty-four years of Emperor Diankang’s reign rank still as one of the greatest reigns in the history of Imperial Guangfei. Diankang was solely responsible for educating more people in his time than any other ruler in the world before him. Millions of individuals were affected by his programs, especially in the rural regions. The system of prefectural and county schools complemented the already existing institutions in the cities and villages, and threw open the gates of education.

Innovation and technological changes would always come slowly in the countryside, as individuals whose lives are based on agriculture would be ill-prone towards change. But as literacy rates shot up to as much as fifty percent in some provinces, agricultural knowledge was able to disseminate and spread much more quickly. Some of the oldest publications meant for mass production found in Guangfei are farming almanacs, with topics as varied from preferable types of fertilizer to what to do with excess crops.

The cities and towns were likewise transformed. As roads and canals were built, trade and commerce took up with urban centers coming to dominate their local regions as areas of trade activity. The commercial classes, wealthy off trade and industry, were for the most part permitted to invest significant amounts of capital into land. Yet for the vast majority of these so-called family enterprises, their profits were plowed back into their respective fields. Their sons would learn the time-honored classics; some would perhaps join the ranks of officialdom and enter as members of the literati, but that path was not the path chosen by many.

The literati, far from their intense dislike towards trade, began to actively engage in it. Many of the most prominent, if not the most conservative, of the literati families entered into alliances of both blood and business to the “stench of money.” Many of the so-called rags to riches legends emerged from this time period, with one Zhou Lienbao making a massive fortune in land in the southern Wanbei region.

The ethnic or cultural minorities deserve mention. The latest arrivals into Guangfei under Diankang were thousands of Hiutu who chose to leave their country after it was annexed by Rozan. Initially unaccustomed to life within Guangfei, the Hiutu were able to carve for themselves a very comfortable niche in Wanbei province. They proved to be competent wine brewers, perhaps brewing the first icewines in history, and served as both commercial middlemen as well as a first line of military defense. The Alatians, informally divided into Alatians and the so-called Buguanese, did well. Many of them lived within the Empire Proper and serve throughout numerous positions. In Buguan itself, many of these individuals have turned towards the profitable raising of livestock. The most significant of the minorities is that of the inhabitants of Qingdao. Although Qingdao and her people were mostly Oneist, mostly following the Way of the One, they were shown to be some of the most productive and loyal of the Empire’s citizens. While they lacked the sheer commercial guile that was seen as the defining traits of Honchei, Guangzhou and the western cities, they proved to be well adapted towards the shifting trade winds.

Diankang, at the height of his reign, was almost universally popular with one exception. The conservative elements of both the bureaucracy and the great nobility disliked him. It was partially due to his policies, and mostly due to the fact it was Diankang. In a strain of political though of Imperial Guangfei, the Emperor was supposed to act as the living symbol of Guangfei’s history and heritage. A position of prestige and splendor where its current occupant would not interfere in government was what that strain of thought desired for the Emperor. That had reigned for the last thousand years and more with a few exceptions. Emperors had reigned, but not essentially ruled over Guangfei.

That was not what Diankang advocated. Instead of a passive relationship between the bureaucracy and the Monarch, he threw his full energies towards directing an active interaction. The allegations of some historians who state that the domestic arm of Diankang’s earth-shaking Righteous Vision was nothing more than a naked grab for power may seem to be valid. After all, through educating hundreds of thousands, if not millions, individuals, he widened the base from which officials could be selected from. As such, many of the newer officials owed everything they had to the Monarchy and its policies. Most of them would not turn their backs on the family and friends they had who were left behind.

The powerbase for Diankang, and what he hoped would be the powerbase of a stronger monarchy would thus be found in the urban dwellers, the small-time farmers, the great mercantile classes, the gentry, the ethnic minorities, and in the ranks of the “new men” within the bureaucracy.

Outside of Guangfei, hundreds if not thousands of Imperial scholars were occupied teaching in more than five Kingdoms. From the cultural and intellectual exchanges in Rajkutra, to the lecture halls within Trinlin, Diankang’s policy of Righteous Vision was advocated for and discussed. The dream of a mutually prosperous relationship between Guangfei and her southern neighbors, the dream of peace was fought for in the minds of the young.

Zhu Yanhuang
The History of Imperial Guangfei: Volume III
From Sanctus Tutela to Righteous Vision

****************************************​

This so-called Righteous Vision is anything but altruistic.

I know it to be a grab for power by the Monarchy. It has happened before, most recently under Zhang. Emperor Zhang held great power, derived from the sheer loyalty of the military classes, and nearly subverted the welfare of the State. Tens of thousands of Guangfei’s sons and fathers were thrown away for the benefit of Valin strength. Never again shall an Emperor be so powerful. Diankang is unassailable; he is adored by almost every social strata in the Empire. We can only wait for his inevitable demise, Heaven forgive us for our prayers.

Diankang may have convinced nearly everyone, from the young schoolchild to the southerners that Righteous Vision will bring about peace and prosperity. I know it to not be the truth. He seeks, and has almost done so, to completely sideline the bureaucracy. We are the check and balance upon the Imperial Throne, we have maintained the security of Imperial Guangfei for more than a millennium. Emperors come and go, but we are forever; we are the men behind the throne and regalia who labor for an Emperor’s legacy. Liu Hongyang, the Crown Prince, is no better. If any, he plans to implement much more change.

We have no choice but to move. The Monarchy must not have absolute power.

Empire Eternal!
 
As recorded in Out of the Darkness, Book Twenty Two, Fair Lands and Foul

Sabin: I know that I cannot long survive my own body. Though I have long served this Council and directed that most horrifying of efforts, that time must come to an end. I must, like my forefathers, step into the shadows of history and give my place to another. I will seek the pastoral ways of the mountains and trouble myself no more with politics. But to do so, I must see another take my seat. And so I call to this Council: Is there any here who shall stand for election to the seat of Revered?

Laudla: I will stand.

Paunil: Then I must, too.

Sabin: Shall any more stand for the seat of Revered?

Council: Let us hear the views of these ones before we should choose any more.

Sabin: Thus it shall be that the speechmakers shall speak, and these ones shall be Paunil and Laudla. Who will speak first?

Laudla: I would be pleased to.

Sabin: Proceed then, and utter no falsehood.

Laudla: If we could but have peace for a decade, then we would make this land the most beautiful, these people the richest, these cities the grandest in all the world. But even a decade is beyond our reach. We must face the truth, however awful it may be. There will be no peace. There will only be death and ruin, a bitter struggle to the end, and even should we win it, we will be so depleted that it will take us centuries to return to any semblance of what came before.

And so it is with good reason that we ask ourselves, is it even worth fighting? Why should we fight on endlessly? If we win, most of us will be dead anyway. If we lose, perhaps all of us will be dead.

To this, the common reply is that our enemy is relentless, and desires nothing less than the dismantling of civilization itself. I have my doubts. That anyone could hold such hypocrisy in their minds and accept it as truth seems suspect. It is not inconceivable that this is all a massive machination of the Citadel. Perhaps we are merely pawns in their greatest game.

And yet... Suppose we submit to the invaders. If we should turn, what then? These invaders are not all-powerful. There are many men who will eventually face the invader, even if they might be lethargic now. When they are threatened, they will fight as they never did when we alone were. And if we should be under the banner of the invader then, then we would fall to the arms of the west rather than that of the east. Neither prospect delights me.

The truth is that no matter which side we are on, we shall fall. Either we shall fall to the invader now, or fall to the civilized world later and be reviled for our treachery as well.

It does not matter which path we choose. Listen! We are Kelia. It is hard to remember what that meant. We ourselves are not centuries old, we do not remember the golden age. But the new era is something we all know of – the flowering of thought and art and music. To subjugate ourselves now is to throw aside all that. To bend to the will of this invader, to watch our nation be slowly dismantled by it, to see our culture subsumed in a catastrophic struggle for the end of civilization itself...

I refuse to be a pawn, I refuse to put myself in bondage, I refuse to let myself be thrown under the boot of an invader! My life is not so very dear as that. I will not betray my land to save it. If death should be on either side, then I would rather walk towards it with honor than avoid it for a few more moments. And if I should die, then I will have died in the pursuit of all that is Kelian!

Sabin: Many thanks be unto thee, Laudla, for giving yourself so wholly to the ideals of the Path. Paunil – do you still find Laudla’s views to be distasteful, enough so that you shall oppose her in election?

Paunil: Yes.

Sabin: Then speak, and utter no falsehood.

Paunil: Foes to the east! Foes to the north! And possibly foes to the west, cloaked in the guise of friendship! Kelios has not seen a darker age in our history since the first coming of the Tsayans, before we understood them for what they were. It is the cruelest fate in the world. That we, who were so viciously torn apart by plague, then by invasion, should face yet another invasion, and of an utterly different kind – ironic, terrible, and almost as if the gods themselves have turned against us.

I could stand here for a hundred days and list the many ways our people have been wronged. But that is a futile exercise. We will not fix the problems of the present by listing those of the past. We are in this situation now, and we must end it.

We are told that fighting will be futile, and that not fighting will also be futile. We are told that there is no hope. We are told that we will surely die, so we should at least strive to die well.

I reject this! I reject all supposition that we must give ourselves to war! The choice is not between tempered steel and velvet; we needn’t adhere to one path entirely. And we certainly do not need to risk all on the idea that somehow we are doomed.

The idea of charging out to meet the foe is certainly a romantic notion, fit for any novel. But no matter what you are outside this hall, within you are not novelists, you are not poets – you are the representatives of all Kelia, charged with defending them and preserving their way of life. What is fit for a romance is not fit for a government.

Let there be no gallant last stand. Let it never come to that. Fight we shall, but we shall fight with sense and honor. We shall make them pay for every inch of ground they take; we shall make life hellish for them in every pass, on every mountain; we shall give them no quarter for as long as they live on our soil! But we will not send out men to die to save Syracia, who would have betrayed us but for these invaders. We will protect them as we can, yes, but we will not fight all or nothing; we will not intertwine our fates with that of the Syracians so closely.

And as for the future? We have reconciled with the Tsayans, and if we are to be intelligent, then we shall continue to do so. No enemy remains an enemy forevermore. Let us do unto these Easterners as we have done unto the northerners, and fight them until we may offer forgiveness and friendship.

Sabin: Council! You have heard the arguments of either side. But these need not be the only choices. Perhaps another waits in this room who would wish to stand against them both! Then come forth!

...Though my eyes are old, I can say with certainty that none wish to stand against these for the position of Revered. I trust you have attended their speeches with strong interest, for the times we face are dark indeed.

We shall vote! All those in favor of Laudla, raise your hand!...

Very well. All those in favor of Paunil, raise your hand!...

Thus the election is decided, and thus is the direction of our land and people decided. Let it be known that by three hundred and ninety four votes to two hundred and eight, the esteemed Paunil has been chosen to lead. May his days be blessed, and may he walk the Paths – both of Swords and Daggers and of Flowers – with care.


OOC: Trying some different formats here. Hope you like it.
 
The Assemblum of Neaveritas graciously acknowledges the accession of Revered Paunil. We have tasked Metaxenes, Host-Lord and Protostratikrator of the Veritasan Legioni, to represent our support for the will of the Council of Kallamas.

We shall stand in Kelios as long as it can be protected.
 
June 14, 2069 AD, New Baltimore, United States of America

The thin, short man entered the info-bar, shot a wary glance around to make sure he wasn't walking into some seedy hangout, and approached the counter. Two translucent holoscreens popped up in front of him.

Hello sir! What can I help you with today?

"I'll take 2 scoops of Garcia, intravenous, and a ginger ale, liquid."

Thank you sir. Will that be all?

"For the moment." Some of the patrons shot him annoyed looks as the automated machines behind the counter whirred to life in a synchronized, electronic manner. By the look of them they weren't used to drinking their 'drinks' anymore. The man took a stool at the counter, tapped absent-mindedly a couple times, and scratched his nose. He wore a white armband with a red cross, marking him as one of the old-fashioned biomedics, as opposed to a chemomedic or a synth dealer. It made sense; the man was starting to go gray...so he was probably in his mid to late seventies.

The whirring soon stopped, and a tray slid down the counter with a square package and a glass of fizzing liquid on top. A smaller holoscreen popped up to resolve the bill.

Thank you sir. Your bill comes to 72.35.

"Accepted. Do you have information services?"

Thank you for requesting Petraeus Green Tavern Information Services. Two or three-dimensional view?

"Two dimensional."

The Comprehensive Information Security Act of 2045 requires public internet providers to request certain information from their customers. Is this usage for business, personal, or entertainment purposes?

The man actually thought about this for some time, which was unusual. After a few seconds, he replied. "Personal."

Your queries will be monitored for security purposes.

A vast array of welcome screens popped up in real space, as the man looked like one of those anti-brainarray types. Some of the older generations were resistant to even the most popular body modifications. Go figure...weird old geezers. But even the oldies knew how to interact with the static portions of the internet.

Swiftly navigating to one of the more prestigious internet search providers, he opted for a voice session, and tweaked the parameters. This automated voice was the robotic sounding female as opposed to the male.

Welcome. Please tell me something about your query, and I'll see what I can find.

"Bring up information directories regarding NESing." He pronounced it "nessing."

Are you referring to the 20th century Nintendo console, or the multiplayer roleplaying game?

"The latter."

In quick succession, the results began to list themselves. The old linear list was long out of fashion, so results were organized by an amalgamated formula analyzing volume of information, searcher satisfaction, traffic volume, and relevance to the specific query.

As the information self-organized and began playing little voice-clips or streaming video, the man sipped his drink thoughtfully, and painlessly injected the Garcia into his bloodstream. He smiled as a prolonged sensation of chocolate and cherries washed over the taste centers in his brain. It was a nostalgic flavor, popular in the early 21st century, so it had been transferred over when the IV packs were first marketed.

Finally he settled on the Encyclopedia Nessica, a community-edited info-page styled after the old paper encyclopedias. They chose the "rich historical-sounding male voice" for their prompter.

"So," the man prompted to the page, "know anything about LINESII?"

Several digital pages flipped to an illustrated entry.

LINESII was a classic-style turn-based NES, following the 'random map cradle' format. It is regarded as a pioneer of that style, serving as a model for countless iterations of random map and 'veiled' or 'shadowed' NESes, both in the first community and after the major expansions.

A few diagrams appeared, listing player personae and notable stylistic choices, while the narrative voice continued.

LINESII is also notable as the first NES to fully progress, without an accelerated or artificial pace, (citation disputed) from the ancient age to a period equating Earth's modern ages in technological development. While critics attacked unrealistic technological gains or feats achieved by certain players, the moderator was known for deflecting such concerns by refusing to equate update events with unbiased historical fact, a trend that would later manifest itself in second generation interactive games. (see Legendarium Effect)

"Hmm." The cherry-induced euphoria was starting to wear down, and the man needed specific answers. "I wonder what happened after..." he muttered to himself. "Provide detailed timeline," he ordered the page.

LINESII began in the mid 2000's, and continued with significant interruptions until the middle of 2016, when the Vancouver Incident caused the...

"Session over," the man said curtly. Waving away the bill request with a word, he walked out of the bar, leaving the scattered mix of info-leeching patrons in his wake.
 
I'll make a point of not living in Vancouver in 2016, so we can make it a few more decades. ;) We've been going for 1/3 of a decade already.
 
LOL, I was reading through all of LittleBoot's posts and got to the end of LINESII Part 2 and then Jal posted that statement.:lol: I was always wondering why Part 2 has so few updates for it, I thought it was spamming plus the end of the massive war that occured for most of it. Guess not.:lol:
 
Fickle Times​
“Great men are not created by their times. Great men create their times.” –Emperor Yi-Ga prior to his attempt to construct cyborg-penguin statuettes

“We have outlawed the Shalamari. The genocide shall begin momentarily.” –Attributed to the infamous Toghol-Advisor of Gerberia
​

It was marvelous.

If a nation was to be judged by the character of her intellectual institutions, Guangfei had come a long way. From being the punch-lines of Valin scholars for centuries, the Valins now had a sense of grudging respect towards the Imperial Universities. The pinnacle of education, the Imperial Universities were located in five cities: Hon Chei, Qingdao, Shangei, Wanbei, and of course Guanzhong.

Guanzhong, always Guanzhong; it was here that the most prestigious university in the known world was located. The Imperial University of Guangfei was a series of lovely terraced buildings on the outskirts of the Imperial District. Boasting perhaps the most diverse and detailed curriculum outside of the legendary Citadel, her students studied mathematics to Tinuraji theology. Students of more than twelve Kingdoms and Republics attended those hallowed halls. They would prove to be the cream of the crop.

The old elites bemoaned the so-called deterioration of The University, but new times had long dawned upon the world. The old empires of Gorin, Khemri and Veritas had all but faded away, their successor states twisted and maligned beyond recognition. The Swades had lost their country and the Lengels of old were but unworthy heirs of the great horse nomads. It would soon be Guangfei’s turn to face the turn of history as cracks would appear upon the edifice of the Bureaucratic-Imperial regime.

Ten thousand soldiers marched out of Guanzhong in their finest dress uniforms. They would cross the Dadong Range, enter Qingdao, and board ships. These ships would dispatch them to faraway lands, defending a country by the order of their Emperor. For their lives would ensure that Guangfei’s subjects would not suffer; it was essentially considered a suicide mission.

They would serve to be Guangfei’s new vanguard into world affairs. His Majesty had one thing correct in his policies, Guangfei can no longer afford to sit idly in our blessed isolation. Doing so will only doom us as it did to Veritas of old. Regardless of what happens, Guangfei must embrace the world. We do not seek to be the hegemonic beast of the world, but only that of the kindly and strong uncle. That army would show to all our will and strength.

I know that my Emperor will watch them leave. I know my Emperor will pray for their safe return as well as their success. My Emperor desires what is best Imperial Guangfei. My Emperor is perhaps the greatest man to have ever walked the earth. He is as close to Divinity as humanly possible. He will liberate us all and lead us to the light. But I will not stand for it.

Tinura show mercy upon my soul. May the All Compassionate forgive my sins. ​

A lone rider galloped at full speed into the Imperial Palace. Within minutes, his message was known. The message, melodramatically spoken, would end a chapter of Imperial Guangfei’s history.

“The Emperor is dead!”

I could hardly contain my joy, ill-taste as it were. For years, I had secretly prayed to the Heavens for Diankang’s death. A quick glance at my so called co-conspirators revealed their opinions.

The Duke of Nanti, the man I desire to place upon the Imperial Throne, seemed to consider my jubilation in bad taste. That was unimportant, he would serve as an essentially placeholder as the Emperor of Guangfei. His blood did not have the Valinophilic tendencies as those of his grandfather, Liu Ming, the House of Zhang, the Valin-lover.

More importantly was the opinion of my counter-part, Tang Lijian. While I command the respect and power of the Left Establishment, Tang’s cooperation would be necessary at Court before any actions could be committed.

“Diankang the Great is truly dead then? Without any doubts of his survival?”

I laughed and nodded. Tang was loyal to a fault. His supposed personal worth and integrity forbade him from betraying the Emperor while he was still alive. However, once the Emperor was dead, everything was now possible.

“Then His Majesty’s body will be returning shortly to Guanzhong?”

“The Emperor is returning to Guanzhong. However, he is traveling separately from the Prince. This is our opportune moment to strike.”

There was a slight moment of hesitation. Nanti spoke up:

“To strike now would be most un-filial. The Prince is accompanying the Emperor on his final return to Guanzhong. To begin my reign with such a treacherous deed is ominous.”

I dismissed his concern with a simple wave.

“The Prince is traveling separately from the Emperor. It is then settled no? We shall arrest the Prince and imprison him indefinitely. We will call for a convening of the Majestic Court, and there push for an agnatic succession. Now, let us celebrate the triumph of Classical Imperial Guangfei!”

I popped upon a bottle of the finest Thousand Year’s Wine and poured it widely.

An imperial entourage is ambushed and seized as they descend the Dadong Mountains. A single member of the group watches as the others disappears into the distance. He turns and makes for the nearest village.
 
Info requested, PM sent. Orders delay on reply.
 
...Am I confused or something? Weren't orders due like, way back at the beginning of June?
 
OOC: I'll be back on Thursday and finish my various stories I hope.
 
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