Geo-Politics Progression An Imperial Missive To The Empire

Discussion in 'Progression Events' started by MonMarty, Mar 9, 2021.

  1. MonMarty

    MonMarty Thotdodger Staff Member Server Owner

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    A letter from the desk of the Emperor, copies sent out to all the major printing houses across the federal states of the Empire, to each Noble Estate, and to all heads of State of both sovereign and suzerain existence both within and outside of the Empire.

    It is with a sense of melancholy that our mind is brought to wander, wandering back to a time of the past in tranquil Anglia where all matters of state and warfare seem to far away, mere glimpses of the tragedies of loss translated in the numerous statues dedicated to the unknown soldier, or the roadside shrine which holds a candle in memory to our ruling giants of centuries old. We are reminded of a tale in youth, a spring in blossom with the sweet scent of the apple orchards carried far beyond the golden hills of Axenfoort, lighting up even the darkest and dampest corners of the Cathedral, now so tragically wounded by the Anglian Mist events of recent years.

    We are reminded, in specific, of a tale of four friends. After years of commitments made, and parents who would chorale unruly children together for a sense of peace and belonging, four boys had reached the prime streak of their boyishness, an unruly naughty period in their lives where all that excited was resistance and recalcitration against the established order of adulthood, and the cyclical nature of life in the countryside. Too frequent were those lush golden hills, dancing in the wind like fair maidens in summer solstice, the scene of such impetuous acts of puberty, much to the chagrin of the farmhands and farmers alike.

    Four friends trotted the fields, wading their ways through the golden wheat, leaving behind channels in the crop like the cobblers of the great cities in Dragenthal, or the jungle scouts of Daenshore, pathing the way for others to come and extending an ever growing network of lines in orderly or disorderly manner. The intent was to draw upon the hills crude symbols of mockery, so that with the morning heralds, the townsfolk would be greeted by an all too unwanted sight.

    It is even in the safest corners of the Empire that danger may be afoot however, as unbeknownst to the four friends, the cattle fields of the neighboring farmer had not been properly locked during the night, and one foul tempered Black Bull had escaped, wading into that same field. It is often that we sit, safely in our gilded halls of marble and tempered steel that the outside world once so hostile to those first entrepid Velheim explorers feels far away. But all too often are we reminded of the immediate threat that may appear on our front-door entirely uninvited, and even less so expected.

    So too did the four friends encounter this Black Bull, which many would know to have a temperament worse than an insulted Orc, or an Altalar whose servant has misplaced a precious heirloom. It would take nothing but the blink of an eye for the Black Bull to charge, with intent to kill, those young souls who had so much left to live for in the world created for them by the Spirit. As with a shark in a school of defenseless fish, they had only but one option, to scatter, to separate, and to fend for themselves. It was here, that the fourth of four stumbled over a rake left behind in the field, and was caught in the sights of this Black Horror.

    Without so much a thought of hesitation, the other three pivoted and chose to combine their efforts, raising the morale of the fourth, and steeling their resolve in the face of such great adversity. With cooperation and hardship, the four managed to evade the Black Bull, and help their fallen friend up to safety, in time before the Waarders appeared on their horses, cattle-men capable of handling the Black Bull back to its pen where it belonged. Reflecting on this tale, we should count ourselves lucky, for without it, this Empire might not have an Emperor and three Princes.

    Similarly, we are reminded of the saying of the Qadir, our allies in Al-Alus and Mooriyye, - 'No Soul left behind'. To preserve their culture and society and indeed their very future and identity, the Qadir have made death obsolete among them, and preserve the wisdom and thoughts of the past, so they may be carried flawlessly into the future. Their union in defiance of death and loss of self, serves as an inspiration to make these contemporary declarations to the future of the Empire's integrity.

    The Empire's territories are integral. For each square foot of territory, Human blood has spilled in the name of the Spirit and the Fatherland and the Crown. As the Qadir say 'No Soul left behind', so too should the Empire adopt 'No Land left behind'. Though politics within the Empire demand a diminished interest in the far flung territories of other continents, filled with local issues and contradictions as they may be, the Empire's integrity is one that the Spirit demands indivisible, and without compromise. The word of the Spirit demands that the lands united under the Crown of Humanity should only ever expand, and that the very thought of diminishing territories of the Empire, is one that should drive any statesman or soldier to wish to throw themselves onto the sword until the matter is rectified by whatever means necessary.

    It is both with melancholy to the past, and conviction for the future, that we re-iterate the words met by the Spirit in conclave. The Empire shall leave 'No Lands left behind'. We shall never shrink. Never diminish. Never waver. We may have the review to find history speak of civilizations of millennia past, but our civilization will face the test of time. There shall be no archeologist discovering the first bones of an Ailor, or brush the dust from a Qadir bronzework cog, or showcase a collection of Orc tusks after extinction has claimed them all. Our Empire shall not descend to the debasement of identity that has claimed so many others, and we shall not compromise or concede on what is rightfully ours by birthright and because the Spirit willed it.
     
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  2. Mad_Gadfly

    Mad_Gadfly ◢◤

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    “¡Gloria a nuestro Mesías, San Alejandro, defensor de Daenshore!” - Florence Amaya.
     
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