Cry For War

Prologue

Long ago, reliance and balance were what made the kingdoms of Askr and Embla thrive. Maintenance of the gates, the ritual to open and close the pathways to infinite other worlds through the Outrealms. That was what had brought both the empire and kingdom together. However, with the passage of time, tensions grew. War waged, ravaging the alliance and the territories resting on the border. For each country, the other's name was blackened.

This was an accepted truth in Embla. Their emperor had openly encouraged such a strike, the very blood within him screaming in desperation for violence. From the refusal to close the gates, to use the Outrealms for his secondary intentions, to destroy and conquer worlds, rather than to help them as he once had, to the abandonment of his son and imprisonment of his second wife. The emperor knew his place in this world, and to extend Embla and leave a powerful, imperial continent behind for his heiress.

Perhaps, that was why he was allowing the young princess to clutch his hand so tightly, delicate fingers curling around his much larger ones. The pair, which were all that remained of the royal family, stood in the rain, forced to remain composed despite the grieving of the townspeople. Veronica would likely not remember this day as she grew older, the departure of the first empress, the funeral in which the empire had to accept what they had lost. The war had only just begun, and their second in command had already been savagely ripped away from them, and from Veronica, a mother she would be deprived.

Even now, his entire body yearned today unleash the trapped fury of their ancestors, the dragon deity and Thrasir, but he could not leave the side of the future ruler. She was small, a reminder of the frailty his people had to accept. Regardless of how powerful the empire became, never would they be able to escape the reality that they lacked the physical prowess that allowed Askr's forces to thrive, even in the face of magic of the highest caliber. Even their king had joined them in battle, a hot-headed leader wielding the axe, Glitnir, cutting down the empress before he and his army laid waste to the land, equalizing the damage the fortresses and other militant structures that stood in their way. They would likely be raiding the capital within weeks, but first, they had to grieve, to let go of what they'd lost.

"Father..?" piped up the quiet voice of the princess, her gaze lifting from the open casket to meet the solemn, contemplative expression of the emperor. She, unlike her father, had her childlike innocence painted on her face, her heart worn upon her sleeve. It was a fault in the eyes of her father, like a disease that would plague her as she grew older. It was better for her not to form such attachments at all, to make things less painful when her very being turned against her. "Quiet, Veronica..." he ushered in return, keeping his tone as flat as he could manage. There was no time for him to be sorrowful, to show empathy toward his own child.

Silence reigned, even as they made their journey back to the safety of the castle walls, where the brewing storm could not reach them. He admittedly wasn't the most patient of men, even if he held himself as a composed mage. For now, he could only sit at the foot of his heir's bed, clasping a book in his hands. Veronica nestled herself against her father's side, even as he spoke so softly to her. How he hated himself for this, that soon he would have to distance himself from the child that depended on him. "Veronica... You must promise me something."

The princess looked up at the imperial emperor, unable to see through the father she had known. Had she been older, perhaps she would have been able to see how sunken in his face had become, the sullen look in his eyes. She was too young for what he would soon be putting her through, and her father knew this well. He hated himself increasingly more for it. "Yes, father..?" she spoke with naïve innocence. She was so hushed, nearly to the point of a whisper.

"Promise me that when I'm gone, that you will carry on the legacy of our people. That you will follow through on your duties... even then," he proposed, placing his hand upon the word he had stopped on, right in the midst of her bedtime story. "They will rely on you, Veronica, and I trust that you will uphold the glory that is our Empire." By the time he had finished speaking, his child had already dozed off, still lightly clutching his cape as though she were no more than an infant. All the emperor could do was let out a softened sigh, knowing well how little time he still had to leave his impression before the curse took hold. He had to distance himself, for her sake... even if it brought her such immense harm.

A moment in his life he would likely regret, another grain of sand in the hourglass. It meant very little now, it would likely be over for him sooner than he thought. All he could do now was wait...