"I swore an oath to defend this empire." said Rajan firmly, looking at his advisor. "I have no choice, Patik. I cannot escape- I cannot become Anartin- an oathbreaker." The fifty year old Emperor closed his dark brown eyes, his worn but handsome face creasing in worry. The Emperor, the advisor and his guards stood in the majestic throne room. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.
"Sir," Patik pleaded. "You do not understand. The enemy's forces are approaching as we speak. It is no foolishness to abandon a cause when it cannot possibly be won." the thirty year old man bowed before the Emperor, touching the man's feet as a sign of respect. His simple white robes made a contrast with his ruler's dark black cloak, showing their different positions, despite their close personal relationship. His golden necklace made a clinking noise as it touched the velvet carpet.
The war had been a foolish one from the start- the Haradi Empire had been an ancient civilisation, one of majesty and greatness. Under this empire, all of humanity had progressed at a rapid speed. But it had stagnated.
The Haradis, the ruling religious class, were a minority in their own country. Rajan and Patik were aware of this, but they had normally existed in peace with the other religions, languages and nations in their country. Now they realised how much of a minority they truly were. Even other Haradis were abandoning the Empire to pledge loyalty and tolerance with the other religious classes, like the Bramatiya majority.
"We should have abandoned the jiyza tax, my lord." Patik said. "There are a lot of things we could have done to stop this, but it is too late now. You must escape- I will remain here and-"
"Take my throne?" Rajan asked politely. Patik looked like he had been slapped in the face. "Do not challenge me, Patik. You think I've become weak, don't you?"
Patik bowed even deeper. "I've seen you fight the Ancients and the Abominations. I have hunted down the nagas with you, I have seen you take a dragon's heart and sacrifice it to your father to achieve the throne. I have seen you rule over an empire that stretches across the horizon. Only a fool would think you are weak."
"THEN DO NOT BE A FOOL!" roared out Rajan, grabbing Patik and throwing him to the side. "What you did not add, I note, is that I have not done these deeds in some time. My last battle was a decade ago." Rajan chuckled wistfully.
"Why should we fight, my lord, when we have soldiers to do so for us?" Patik asked, his voice shaking in fear and tinges of anger.
"You think I do not have my own spies, Patik? I know what you had plotted against me." Rajan said, his voice now steely and booming. His sword laid down next to Patik's neck. "I will not kill you, Patik. You are my brother, and this may surprise you, but I love you. And that is the sole reason you have lived today."
He took his sword away, but kept it at hand. "Guard." he ordered. "Take Advisor Patik away. I will speak with him later. Now, inform me as to how far the rebels are from here."
"Twenty kilometres, sir." came the swift response. "We-"
"I am aware. Find me my Vimana." Rajan said. "I shall personally face the enemy today. It is time the people understand their lord is alive and fighting, and that he is not Anartin. I am the King of the Haradi, personally chosen by God." he said in Tungan, the language of the Lords and Ladies, the tongue that the Deva Yunga had supposedly given the Word of God to Harad, the founder of the dynasty, in.
Rajan began to move toward the door out, his guards lining up behind him, one carrying a silent Patik in tow. Rajan's jeweled armour clinked under his black cloak, which he threw off. The cloak would hinder his movement and only serve to make him burn up in the warm climate of the Fargan region of the Empire. No- this fight was one where he would be sure to be well armed for any-
A massive explosion around him knocked the Emperor off his feet. The castle, which had persisted and survived for centuries, now was missing bits and pieces all around it. The wall that Rajan had stood half a metre from now simply did not exist- he could see the sandy desert's ground ten metres below him now, his head nearly extending into the open air. Rajan hastily stood up- it would not be honourable to die of a fall.
He glanced behind him, seeing his guards either having fallen over or unconscious- one had fallen on his sword, and Rajan marked him off as a dead man, offering a silent prayer for him. Erahan Guptian, a young Haradi and son of another guard. Unlike many of the former Emperors, Rajan tried to keep aware of his various servants. This was often a good thing- he had been aware of Patik's plot.
But looking at the young man's dead handsome face caused a knife to twist inside his chest and Rajan winced on the inside. He would try to personally explain to the fath-
"Maharaj!" one guard yelled. "They have a dragon! The rebels have a dragon!"