To Win An Empire

[Mouse]

I wonder, if things were different, would I still be standing here?

If the stars were painted black, and not red, would I be standing here?

A nobody. A nameless face in the crowd. A Knight, disgraced and meant to be left for dead, and now?

Now, I rule.

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A folder, left open in the Magistrate's study. A scarcely furnished, dimly lit room with only a single bed pushed to the corner, a writing desk, and a table where empty glasses and spilled wine still lingers. A quill, halfway coated in ink, lays overlapping the parchment where the folder laid open, a message to someone who perhaps didn't exist. A message to nobody, it would seem?

A simple message, easy to convey; Amidst the ravings of a thousand words, her plans for the election, her ideals for Osrona, her own personal worries and concerns.. A step by step plan, and the first page now marked with thick, black text. While the rest of the book contains a million words per page, this one contains scarce few.

Step One, Waning Crescent: Win Osrona

I did it, Father. I wonder if you're proud, yet?

Tanya Volkova

[Mouse]

With nary a few words, a spark is born.

With barely a push, a flame ignites.

With only a wave of my hand, a fire burns hot.

And now, we wait for the inferno.

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That folder, once left open to a message to nobody important, finds its way left open again. Cast to the side as if in a hurry, pages ripped out as letters were sent and messages cast throughout the Kingdom, throughout Esshar. The page is stained with remnants of old wine, and the culprit is clear, a thousand empty bottles stacked in the corner of a room. The person writing clearly has a problem, or has developed one in a short time.

This time, the writing on the page contains a bit more of a sloppy prose, a bit of ink blotted where the quill could not find the proper word to begin. Instead of a letter, this is more of a question, one that has been asked multiple times over the course of the last few pages..

This page is no different, it seems.
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Step Two, Waning Gibbous: A Spark, A Flame, A Fire

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We all agree on one thing. In the name of progress, nothing is too much.

Will you still welcome me home, Father? In my efforts to rid myself of past sins, have I committed more atrocities in the process?

-

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

Will I be welcome home, when all is said and done?

-

Tanya Volkova

[Mouse]

And like that, the inferno rages

Footsteps into tomorrow, boots on the ground

The Machine marches forwards, and it does not stop for anyone

I wonder, only, what if I fall behind?


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The folder now lies open to a very specific page. All around it are blueprints and mechanical instructions for all sorts of wonderful and exotic devices, all of them involving magitech far beyond post people's understanding. All around it are countless bottles of empty wine, many of them imported and expensive, half of them shattered in a corner. Now surrounding it are small collections of burned out plant matter, the remnants of a pipe that saw perhaps far too much use. The writing on this page, unlike the others, seems less manic, more thoughtful, and almost more extravagent. A letter back home, to whom?

Well, everyone knew who, now.

Step Three: The Full Moon

.

Tanya 'pyr' Volkova has a nice ring to it. Almost as nice as 'General', don't you think? Osrona is ready for them, now. For all of them.

If Dad manages to read this?

You always did say I was a good liar.