Private Tales Of Sorcery

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Gerra

The Emperor
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In room of the golden pond in Ragash, Gerra awaited Medja. She was a sorceress who had risen high in his court in a short time, rivaling even Ava Gilleth's magics. The shimmering reflection of the pond caught the gold leafing of the walls and shone their reflection upon the ceiling. Gerra watched the rippling reflection as awaited the sorceress' arrival and pondered how the meeting might go. She was ambitious. Perhaps the most ambitious of all his courtiers. He wondered how far she aspired to climb... and to what end.
 
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This room again. Why was this always the go-to when it came to meetings among Imperial commanders in Ragash? It seemed like it had only been a short while ago that Ashuanar had requested to gather in this very same spot. Now Gerra had done the same. Hopefully a kidnapping and rebellion plot wouldn't follow this one...

Regardless, Gerra was her emperor and had given her the opportunity to participate - even thrive - as a member of his court. Her attendance was mandatory and she would not argue the stage the half-giant had chosen to set. It was a beautiful room, after all, one that she had been relieved had survived the Eternum's assault of her home. Still, she wondered what he might want to discuss. Perhaps he had finally begun to recognize her efficacy?

The courtier arrived punctually in the Room of the Golden Pond as listless and silent as ever, floating several inches above the ground via her magic. A white, silken dress replaced her usual attire, though some bandages and earthen bangles still remained in strategic places, both for fashion and as a means of remaining aloft.

"Good day, my liege. To what do I owe the honor of your summons?" She asked professionally. She did not often play her usual games with Gerra. The fiery king had earned some degree of her respect, and thus a certain level of straightforwardness.
 
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The emperor turned toward the sound of her voice. He raised an eyebrow. No giant hands of clay today.

“Lady Medja,” he rumbled, voice a fathomless bass, rich as black volcanic soil. “In a short time you have made yourself known throughout my court. They speak of you as a woman of cunning and power. And I have witnessed the truth of it for myself.”

His features were impassive and austere, like chiseled stone, but his eyes gazed intensely at her, filled with the fires of curiosity.

“It pleases me to see a Ragashan so willing to serve the interests of the empire. I worried after Ninagal that you would be embittered by defeat, but I believe common foes have bound us together. The Eternum lurks ever still beyond our borders, you witnessed their work at Salitra. Tell me, how would you deal with the threat of necromancy?”
 
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Such a brutish fellow, yet such a pleasing voice. High praise from the Emperor of Amol-Kalit, as well. So then, recognition after all. She bowed her head as he spoke his commendations.
"You honor me, my Lord."

He spoke of Ragash's interests, the battle of Ninagal, and the ever looming threat of undeath. All were things that she had considered before. The last of these was something Gerra himself had been plagued by on multiple recent occasions...now he was seeking an answer to the ever-present thorn in his side.

"Common foes and common interests, your Greatness. This world needs a proper...subduing. It is far too chaotic as it stands now." She pondered over her nails as she spoke. She hadn't had the time to bring them to the proper level of refinement she usually liked to keep them in as of late. "The Eternum, and indeed all necromancy, is an incarnate form of this chaos. All chaos can be made to kneel to order."

She paused, then focused on the Emperor. This was a topic she had researched thoroughly. While the necromantic magics themselves escaped her, manipulating the Eternum was not.
"It simply depends on how you wish to deal with the problem...would you see them annihilated? Or brought to heel?"
 
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“Not all chaos is to be reviled. Necromancers have their uses. I would not see them hunted. Persecution would make them far worse a threat.”

He stroked his chin, staring off into the reflected golden light on the pond.

“What of uniting them, forming our own cabal of necromancers? Could you do it?”
 
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"That is a sentiment we share, Lord Gerra." She replied. Though she left the comment vague, she didn't care whether or not the Eternum was hunted to extinction. No, it was his comment on chaos she agreed with. Absolute chaos was abhorrent, to be sure, but absolute order was boring. Controlled chaos was what she preferred, even thrived in.

"I myself am no necromancer, my emperor, but no feat of manipulation is beyond me." She smiled, ever eager to gloat. "Turning even a necromantic cult inwards upon itself is feasible. Creating our own would not go without repercussions, however..."

She let the weight of her words hang in the air. Necromancy was considered a dark art by most, even in Amol-Kalit
What would Gerra's subjects think if he were to openly, even secretly endorse such a thing?
 
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Amol-Kalit is not Elbion. Ausar is the god of the dead among the hundreds. If all is done in worship of him, then there could be little outcry. So long as tombs are left undisturbed. Raising the dead of our enemies seems appropriate. No?”

The emperor examined his fingernails.
 
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Gerra's gesture mirrored Medja's own. Hmph, so casual, yet such an incredible undertaking. She was unsure of whether he was that confident in her, or himself.

"Selling such a belief to the masses would be...doable. We would need to keep the policy of raising only Amol-Kalit's enemies strict, if we are to prevent backlash, however."
 
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“Yes, they must be kept in line. Do you feel up to such a task, or should I see if one of Sparhawk’s understudies is available?”

His molten gaze flicked up to watch her, like the golden stare of a lounging lion.
 
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Well now he was just being obvious, making plays at her pride. He seemed to be well aware of her intense dislike of the Vizier of Ships, that much was clear. As ever, subtly wasn't exactly his specialty.
'Understudies'...don't insult me.
Her gaze narrowed on her half-giant lord.

"I am certain you know from experience by now that I am more than capable of this undertaking. If you wish it, it shall be, my Lord." Her expression was stoic, unfaltering. Her confidence was no front; she was certain that she was the correct choice for this.
 
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"I do wish it," he smiled toothlessly. "I am appointing you to a new position. Vizier of Eyes. Ava's old post. In addition to this cult of necromancers, you will maintain the networks of spies and ensure that the Empire is aware of what goes on within and without. You are answerable only to me and the Captain of the Immortals. Perhaps in time we can have more than one such sorcerous cult."
 
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Medja's face portrayed naught but a serene grace in response to this impromptu promotion, but beneath the skin she ran wild with thoughts and feelings of smug self-satisfaction. This was all that she had worked for thus far, and everything she needed to be take her vengeance upon the absentee "viziers" that had once populated the Emperor's court. Ava would now answer to Medja instead of the other way around, and she would not be forgiving of her failures. Maho would no longer be able to speak down to her as though he had any sort of right to. Even the quiet Achates would suffer for her crime of neglect...perhaps the latter two could be replaced as well.

While she very much desire to outwardly express her joy over this event, centuries of practiced etiquette did not betray her emotions whatsoever. Instead, she gave Gerra a slight, surprised raise of her brows and bowed humbly.
"You honor me, God-Emperor. You shall not regret this decision."
 
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