Hence an age, I wast mortal—naught but a trifling sorcerer, suckling from the teat of my philosophical and intellectual betters—claiming no great wisdom for myself. The name I bore then is now as dust: lost and forgotten, scattered to the winds.
By some great feat of will I wrested my fate from the stars and omens, preparing for me a place among the timeless heroes of yore. 'Twas no small undertaking; I delved therefore, secrets ancient and profane, all to deliver myself to the blessings of thaumaturgic might which hath bore the fruit of my imperial designs. Ere my contemporaries, I had discovered the greedy secret of immortality: the divine solvency against the debt incurred by reaping time itself.
Anon I am the Mage-Emperor who is called Oudebrax. My empire of Urkorre is the mightiest ever seen in this realm. My progress wast slow, methodical; our claims of land were the minute shifts of centuries, not months. My loyal corps of theocrat-magi and I travelled thus, to bear witness to the needs of those lands which would become mine own. 'Twas not by force in which we annexed these places, but by bonds of gratitude and simple coercion.
Conquest is never bloodless, bereft of a miracle, but like a succulent fruit borne of no vine—my empire's ascension is the haunted seeming of that lofty ideal. We hath supped on the gifts of men and gods alike, their worship, offerings, and sacrifices. Thus; though I have eaten well, my appetite grows yet greater still.
A thousand years ago, I ascended to this throne.
In my long life, I hath made countless enemies and friends. Yet alone, am I, at the zenith of my strength, cloistered in the vast walls of mine ever-shifting palace of crystal and bones. The dressings of my throne; at times, seem as bondage.
An unsettling sense grips me; looming like a spirit, not unlike the sense of standing at the precipice of some great unknown whose shape is only hinted at by the long shadows it casts.
Though 'tis that many secrets are known to me, even the future-sight gifted by my advanced divinatory art, I cannot grasp the elusive worry that erodes my confidence.
And 'tis so that, in the wake of one thousand years, I am anxious.
So as to diverge from my predecessors, those emperors lost to the Long Night, my own empire's size is modest, having grown slowly over the age. We hath yet to be stretched beyond our bounds. We hath but encased a single, great, inland sea with our borders.
Our economy thrives, our military might is unapproachable, our philosopher-sorcerers go on to advise great foreign kings, and the loyalty of my corps of apprentice archmagi is unimpeachable.
'Tis there, amongst them, I place myself. In the great hall of my palace of crystals and bones, I am enthroned, seated high on a dais before my theocrat apprentices, whilst they titter on about matters of state as I listen on, keeping my silence.
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