Golden Halls of Corruption

My journey began a long, long time ago before even the savage tribes that the tall and charismatic Yellow Emperor merged walked in name...a long-long time ago.  If I were to tell you where my journey truly began you would either disbelieve me and call me a liar or believe me and go mad like those that wander the Endless Wilds.  So I shall simply say that it was not through any desire of my own, but rather the product of an ancient curse that still stretches this soul and burns these weary limbs.

And so I walk through this age, this Cycle, and record everything for those that come at the end to archive

At the dawn of the end play with the creaking machines around me reawakening I stand now upon the crest of the unforgiving Daemon Mounts and peer down at the sprawling Imperial Kingdom: it is as great as the mighty machine that grinds the wheat of man against the stone of the Icy Wastes, but as eventually the cogs of a machine grow tired and the rust slows the movements down the Imperial Kingdom has its days numbered.

It is late summer in the Kingdom and, as opposed the extremes of the Icy Wastes and the Endless Wilds, it has been a moderate season.  The farmers say that the approaching winter is expected to be a mild one with light snow touching only those parts of the land that touch these mounts while the pastures nearer the ocean should be embraced in early morning mists and the eerie red fogs that roll in from the Blood Ocean.  Despite this I hear that the storms have been great out at sea and the City of Aur's harbor has suffered greater than normal losses, even further denting their thwarted attempts to venture seaward.  Even so my old eyes see farmers bundling hay and storing corn and fishermen salting their catches and saving their gold to last them through the coming winter; is it the season or the approaching Hordes...I do not know, but big changes are coming...

I remember what those that now walk the lands were not alive to have witnessed: I remember an age without the Imperial Kingdom and I recall seeing the great Yellow Emperor combine warring tribes of savages into a cohesive whole based upon tales, hope...and fear.  Using his voice more than his blade he melded the differences and focused the hate of those under his sickly yellow limbs against those that were not.  It is ironic that the wolf that is about to consume the sheep was in fact birthed by that sheep: this alienation of the Yellow Emperor forged the Hordes, as few things combine tribes of savages better than a common enemy.  The Yellow Emperor gave them this.

The more I see of the ages and the lives of men, the more I see the short-term mistakes--that some call solutions--turn upon those that unleash them and devour all that they ever created.

What most don't realize is that the Yellow Emperor also gave the tribes the gift--blessing and curse--of money fashioned from the gold found in the hills near the Passage.  If anyone wonders why the City of Aur--which was originally called Grasse d'Aur or "Fields of Gold"--sprung up it was not the fact that the Passage had been chosen to be built there, but because gold was found during the early days of the Kingdom in these little known hills and fish in the nearby ocean.  From there it was a logical move by the Yellow Emperor--always one for great tales--to deify the mysterious Passage around a religion that he believed would end internal strife.  It was also a logical progression for that religion to be named after the reason for the city: gold...aur.

Over the centuries I have witnessed man walk the road of progress and I have noted that it is not at an even pace: through the blood of the tribal days man had been content to merely survive, but now that the Imperial Kingdom was formed he sprinted forward forming councils and castles, roads and farms, giving names and titles, and writings words, wisdoms, and capturing ancient spells upon parchment made many moons away in distant villages.

Truly, that was a grand time to be Emperor, but...of course...there was no Emperor: he had vanished--not even I know of the truth here--and the Families had usurped his power, placed a puppet king his place, and begun to corrupt his vision for the land.  Initially their intentions were noble, or so many believed, but over the centuries the progress of the Imperial Kingdom halted in favor of stagnant wealth and greed that comes with the luxuries all being brought to the castle you live in and the paranoia that others self-imprisoned in their own castles will try to take it away from you.

I once slept in the chambers of one of the Families' ladies and saw luxuries of magick and sensuality in such realms of decadence that they corrode the souls and numb the hearts of those the indulge in them past any point of return.  Once you have kissed the incubus and tasted the Moin'oir spices...  The atrocities that the nobles perform in their hidden chambers in the name of entertainment makes even me pause and make mention of this corruption in my words.

When a man has everything to loose, he will do anything...absolutely anything to keep it.

In a way I am the only free man in this world: I have nothing, nothing to loose, and all the time in the world to loose it.

I have sat and meditated in the incense filled Grand Temple of Aur atop the corroded and windswept Passage and been counseled by the obscenely wealthy priests that rot there: what mockery they portray of the gods when they walk the isles swinging the burning laucrisious petals that they pick from the wild shores of the Great River.  They quote words written by fat men like themselves in their Bauxe Aur--or "Book of Gold"--with a pompous air that tells of no concern for the progression of man beyond the future food that will find its way into their corrupt bellies.

And, as the dazzling light of the open Passage pours down upon the City of Aur it merely serves as the illumination for all this religious deceit that was originally founded for a nobler purpose by the Yellow Emperor.  Those at the top of the church are not there because of morals and the loss of religious sway is compensated for by the wealth and political influence that this gives to them--now released from their vows...--but I see so much misdirection at the lower ranks.  The lowliest in the church are often there for their beliefs, which have now been shown in the light of the Passage to be questionable, and turn as bitterly and hopelessly against that which they once stood for as those that they once served do.  They begin to see the lavish palaces of their superiors with very...very different eyes now.

Walking the streets of the City of Aur one walks with trepidation, as mobs have taken to brutal displays of their rebellion against the Kindgom, the Church, or both.  Some have even taken to worship of the strange Far Worlders, some have come to believe in the violent faith of the Hordes, and others have come to revisit older religions, trade with demons, and even become nighttime cannibals as the Tribes of Midnight in the distant Jungles.  Old magicks have begun to resurface, and martial law has been declared by the King so that the Families can perform any acts they wish to in the name of "peace".

The royal response has been to discard, through numerous bribes of the Temple, to reinstate it and place royal power behind its tainted name.  All "acts against the Kingdom" have been declared treason and fully armed soldiers patrol the streets of the City arresting and maiming as they see fit to keep the peace.  This is far from what they are doing: the loss in man-power weakens the defenses against the Hordes and strengthens the bitter hatred of the public against the corrupt and misguided ruling class.

But, in these golden halls of corruption there are a few jewels that shine with their purity; I once met the young boy of the Seventh Family walking amidst the Hordes.  The rippling moving magicks wrought into his royal tattoos--the nexus mardi--showed a leader of men: the Dragon, the Jewel, and the Sword.  The Dragon across his back looked at me as it soared over the lands that this boy will one day rule, as the Jewel of destiny shone in the place of the sun and the Sword of change lay in his hand.  I see justice and mercy, order and progress, and--most of all--greatness in the actions of this last surviving member of the Noir Family.

Also, from the failings of the Imperial Soldiers to hold back the bloody advance of the haggard Hordes has walked the Survivors of Lanchier.  A lanky group of peasants with more honor and a greater taste of glory than the entire golden court will ever have, as they band together to fight an enemy far superior to themselves with weapons that were meant to cultivate the earth and nurture life, not shed blood.  These peasant hero's have banded with the few surviving Imperial Border Guards and are fighting the barbarians with tactics of attrition.  They will desert cities, poison wells, burn crops, and plant tainted meat on the tables while peppering them with arrows, laying bear traps, and leaving magickal trigger spells to explode and evaporate the enemy.

From these two drops of light in a dark and chaotic world I see the slim future of the Imperial Kingdom and the, possibly even--dare I say it--the birth of something greater.

--Anonymous Monk