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View character profile for: V'veenarrekh Tuttakkarrv
God Has Landed
A High Guardsman walked into the room, standing below the dais. He eyed the assembly quietly, then boomed:
"His Imperial Majesty, Crown of the True Empire, Lord of the World and Son of Gods, the Emperor."
V'veenarrekh stood slowly, along with the rest of the court. The shuffle of garments and robes subsided quickly and all the gathered waited for the Emperor to grace them with his presence.
A soft, slow clicking drifted out from one of the hallways behind the throne, steadily increasing in volume, coming closer. The Emperor.
His golden armour, glistening in the pale morning light, studded with a great many gems that reflected the dawn as if they were the Sun itself, fitted him perfectly, as did the suit he had worn the day before, and the one before that. Each day would bring a new garment for His Imperial Majesty to present himself in. Today he was the icon of the Gods himself, presented in all the glory an Empire could muster.
The Emperor strode forth and turned at the dais, scaling the painted steps to the throne. He ran a hand along the armrest and seated himself comfortably. The hall was quiet. He leaned forth, his eyes glistening as if they were stars, a smile spreading softly across his lips.
"We have been blessed." The Emperor's voice rang out, its childish pitch piercing the silence of the room. The advisers, as was custom, knelt before the throne in rows. This they could only do once the Emperor had spoken for the first time that day. This, too, was custom.
"We have been blessed." The child in such glamorous garments exclaimed again, drilling forth his point. "My friends, is it not true that great Chariots, studded with the gems of a thousand worlds, roaring with the fury of a thousand oceans, flying in the stars like a thousand winged ships, have appeared in the sky above us?"
"It is true." The assembly responded.
"And is it not true that such Chariots, in the glory of a thousand Suns, should be driven by none other than the Gods?"
"It is true." The assembly agreed.
"And is it not true that as they appeared so fittingly in this time of war above us, 'tis a sign that we are of the righteous cause, and victory, granted by the Gods themselves, should be ours?"
"It is true." The assembly chorused.
"And is it not true," His Imperial Majesty's voice thundered, "that the Gods, by gracing us with their presence and blessing us with their sight, prove in this way that I am no other than the Son of the Gods?"
"It is true." The assembly exclaimed. The Emperor leaned back, regarding them all contentedly. He flicked his wrist at the Prophet, who stood, bowing first to the Emperor, then to the Throne, and finally nodding at the gathered advisers.
"My Liege," he began, his baritone voice dwarfing in volume and power the young, high voice of the Emperor, "all that you have so rightly said is true. It is a blessing from the Gods and, most certainly, from You, that the Gods should descend upon us in so turbulent a time. It is a sign," the Prophet paused to take a breath, "that You shall reign supreme, bringing the True Empire to the light of glory it deserves." He paused.
The Emperor leaned forward once again. "And, dear Prophet, let me tell you what will happen now." His smile widened. "The Gods themselves shall come down onto this good land and they shall smite our enemies as one smites the bugs under one's feet. With their blessing, I shall reign supreme. I know this, for I am the Son of the Gods."
The Emperor eyed the assembly silently. Then he said, "Is that not true?"
"It is true." V'veenarrekh rumbled with the rest.
The Prophet knelt down once again, and the Emperor motioned to the advisers.
"What say you?" He queried. V'veenarrekh stood slowly, his golden robes dull and simple in comparison to the glamour of His Imperial Majesty. He bowed low to the Emperor, lower to the throne, then turned to those seated around him and bowed once more. He straightened, and spoke softly.
"All that the Prophet has so rightly said is true, My Supreme Liege. I propose we greet the Gods with a banquet of vast splendour, so as to properly exhibit our appreciation for their mercy."
The Emperor nodded.
"So it shall be."