“Per victoriam ad astra.


    Per victoriam domamus astra.


    Exurge Elenora. Elenora Benevolentia.


    Nam Ayla et armentum tuum.


    (Through victory to the stars.


    By victory we tame the stars.


    Arise, Eleanora. Elenora the Benevolent.


    For the Ayla and your herd.) ”


    -Chant of the Astranova.


    Imperator of uncertain Renown


    The white-gold city of Freyja rested betwixt rivers of solitude serenity, perched upon a maiden hill akin to a crown of prosperity and power; everything was orderly, planned, foreseen, accounted and maintained– everything in its place and a place for everything. A city of anyone and everyone yet a city of none.


    It''s serenity was unnatural, harnessed from ghastly silence and haunting absences of human touch; all in the city were touched by a divinity that eclipsed human understanding. The white-gold city of purity, persisted in it''s holistic ways, shielded from scorching flames of revolution and war, eternal.


    The Divine visage of the Holy Mother presided over the city; a most merciful mother to guard her children from beyond the veil. The visage was built onto a higher subsidiary mountaintop– looking over the city, like a guardian angel of ancient tales of fae and magic.


    In recent times, when The Goddess still roamed between Her herd, the white-gold city had been walled. It''s walls, welcoming yet foreboding; a paradoxically uneven existence, by the city''s standards, where everything was opulently simple. The decision, itself, inspired curiosity. But, none were too caring to care; understandable.


    Freyja had never been welcoming; more of a pleasure city than a livable one. Then again, the entirety of the Sanguine system was a pleasure system– overflowing with pleasure worlds.


    A blight on the star maps of honorable individuals. For others, an oasis of indulgent lust.


    However, whatever be it''s occupation, Sanguine was a very profitable system; Lust and indulgence had their ways of seduction– ways that would sway, even the most ardent souls. For this and more, Sanguine was infamous.


    He digresses, talks of indulgent lust bring a frown. To him, tis the city of Freyja that inspires warmth.


    Unknown to many, Frejya was– is– a very very obliging recruitment center; In the days, when the Schnee Legions were active, Frejya was always their first choice. And, how could it not be? The Magister was always welcoming to propositions of population deduction; a very amiable man.


    But now, the Schnee Legions were no more, they too had ascended. Thus, Frejya overflowed; the Magister hangs. A pity for anyother, but to him, deserved.


    Now, an upstart ruled the city; a self-styled Imperator. Bormann finds him, a great pain– a pain, that on any other day, would have been dealt with. But, alas, the Entity spared him.


    Why? He doesn''t know. Perhaps, never will. Mayhaps, tis better that way; logic and normalcy were alien to the Entity. He knew that much.


    Thus, the Imperator lives and Frejya reigns free.


    The mere thought is revolting; to think that treachery is ignored, under the visage of their Mother– it irks him. But… as it stands, he cannot interfere.


    Not yet, anyways.


    Death comes to us all, he reiterated to himself, pleased at the sobering wisdom.


    As he lay in wait for the visitor, Bormann''s thoughts took flight into myths and legends.


    It was said, that a series of tunnels and caverns, hidden all, connected Frejya to Ordin; an antithesis of Frejya.


    Where, Frejya was maidenly gold and virgin white– Ordin was sinful black and seductive red. Where, Freyja was a crown adorned atop a mountaintop– Ordin was built into a sinkhole. Where, Frejya was pious and pure– Ordin was heretic and tainted with vice. Frejya had been a recruitment center, Ordin had been one of shunning and banishment; tis was meant to strip man of all honor until the soul was drowning in vice.


    There were caves, tunnels and hidden caverns. Yes, Ordin’s hivecity could testify. But, whether they carved through the planet, from one pole to the other, none could testify. Ordin was a hive, yes, but even it''s hive-denizens could find naught but deadends; a pity, for these mystical tunnels would''ve been a sight!


    Or, at least, according to legend, they were…


    But, who knows? Most legends are oft overestimated. Mayhaps, once this land was tamed, he could do it. He''s keen on it. Very keen.


    Well, there had been a company– 150, or so, years ago that had claimed to stumble upon them; Evidence had been found, testimonials given, proofs submitted, interrogations done. However, strangely, the investigation was halted. Not by willingness, but by force– by orders. The Holy Mother disapproved of the search for these lost tunnels, claiming that the search was fueled by infallible curiosity that would bear a fruit, so vile and confounding that one ought to give up pursuit. The order was obeyed.


    The company had been sent to Lilith; apparently, there was a private audience with The Holy Mother– results of which, are still unknown.


    What was their name?... Alcion? Albion? No, no no, Illiad? No.. hmm. Wait, oh yes! It was the Company of the Albion Rose!


    A magnificent name! Even if their “discovery” had been far from credible, it was still awe-inspiring. And, perhaps, just a bit too much to his tastes. Just a tad bit.


    “I hope, that I haven''t kept you waiting,” The silkiness, and the certain feminity, to the voice sold him out; Bormann’s glace proved it true– The Frejyan Imperator, Julianos, stood before him.


    Covered in a snow white robe with blazing red accents, his hood pulled down, the traditional facemask having been foregone entirely and Bormann, for the first time- the other times he''d rather not mention-, could properly gaze upon the Imperator’s face; A boyish, if slightly feminine, face framed by silky blonde bangs of Corvusian ancestry– a fact, further supported by the chill blue eyes.


    The Imperator, suffice to say, was an easy sight. An alien sight.


    A Corvusian, so far from home. Perhaps, stranger than even the Albion Rose Company and it''s tale of the underworld. Stranger than strange, infact; Corvusian’s were ardent– stubborn– trueborn– loyal, yet here stood the Imperator. An antithesis. A case of Frejya and Ordin; humoring on any other day but suspicious on this day.


    “Lord Kommandant?” The Imperator prodded, snapping him out troubling thoughts. “I hope, you haven''t been troubled by the wait?” He reiterated.


    Bormann shook his head, “No.. no, no; not at all. The land is serene, the air is virgin and the wildlife calm. I couldn''t ask, for a better point of rest. In truth, I am glad for the lack of punctuality,”


    The Imperator winced, cracking a lopsy smile– clearly, unsure on how to interpret the words–, he spoke, “I.. I am glad? For it? I suppose, Sanguine’s jewel has that effect on souls; hardened or otherwise.” A pause, “Although, never had I expected, Sanguine''s air to be taken with such glee.. by you,”


    “I suppose not. Then again, neither did I; myself supposes, that for one to understand beauty and it''s objectivity, one needs to experience it firsthand. Word of mouth, is often unreliable,”


    “That is true; the mouth and it''s silvery words are misleading. Tis why, the mouth is a weapon of itself. Powerful but hard to control– a wild beast.”


    “A philosopher?” Bormann asked, raising an eyebrow; of course, the moron must''ve robbed the quote off of some elementary compendium of lopsided talks of wisdom– as expected of a Sanguinian, as expected of.. of him.


    “Believe it or not, I made it up; reading.. reading ain''t really for me– especially, after this Imperator business. I find it hard to catch up with scriptures and knowledge. It.. it is useless?” Julianos knelt beside him, his gaze boring holes into Bormann; he remained steadfast, every rush of warmth was ignored– he had made a divine vow and such vows are not forsaken.


    Thus, his eyes looked ever forward, never straying a look into Julianos’s eyes. For they incite… untoward memories.


    “Knowledge, Julianos, is never useless. It is the most brilliant of weapons, the most volatile of weapons and the most destructive of weapons; without knowledge and it''s nurturing, man is but a circus monkey. Man is worthless. Knowledge in his possession is his worth.” Bormann stated; The words and sermons of The Holy Mother ringing louder than ever, in his ears; “Knowledge is power,” Wiser words hath never been uttered!


    “I sense a particular judgement, within your gaze; yet, have you not indulged in the same vice that I have? Have you not taken pleasure from it? Why I can still recall it with stark clarity. You stand there, a beacon of rigidity and discipline, yet in you-” His soft hand caressed Bormann’s face, his touch lingering, “- I see judgement against me, against our mutual vice. You did that which I did and for it, there seems to be no remorse within yourself. Is this not hypocrisy?” The Imperator questioned, tilting his head; all the mannerisms of a demurely maiden. Bormann moved his hand away, not wanting to remember his revulsive vices any longer.


    Perhaps, I should have not come here at all.


    “Before I answer that, tell me something, Imperator; who was the first Imperator?”


    Julianos froze; either in confusion at the question or in shock at the smooth denial of his advances by Bormann– either way, it was clear. The man was clueless. Not entirely, unexpected but still, it brought forth a sudden burst of surprise. Bormann supposed, something within him held Julianos in a higher light than he ought to.


    “Uhh, the.. the Magister?”


    A sigh, “Julianos, are you asking or telling?”


    “Eh… umm, aski- no, no. I''m telling you, it''s the Magister?” The doubt within his words sounded so paramount, that even with the numerous assurances– even the deaf could hear the doubts within them.


    Another sigh, “Nay. It was Cromwell. Even an elementary scholar would''ve been able to answer it; such is the weight of her name,” The insults were poorly hidden; he couldn''t care less, the Imperator was unworthy of the title, unusuited to such responsibility and, frankly, Bormann could give less of a fuck about wannabe Cromwells.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Besides, everyone knows of Cromwell''s grizzly fate. Everyone.


    “The name, I believe, rings a solemn bell,”


    “Then.. then, you must remember her fate. She had defied the House; she pays for it dearly,”


    “Pay.. pays? Huh, well ain''t that interesting. Very well, I do remember it; a tale of caution, had the punishers not fallen into ashes of history. I fear, that there remains no headsman''s axe for me, any longer,” With a pause, “Certainly, not you.”


    “If nothing, your confidence is your undoing. Do not forget Imperator–” Bormann stood up, leaving the eldertree’s shade- The Imperator mirroring his movements-, “-- In every corner, in every abbey, rest Her servants; even now, when Chaos consumes the galaxy, Imperium''s- Empires- Kingdom- Solar States- Hordes, rise and fall everyday. All in Her name.” He nears the Imperator’s face, until every freckle and bump on his skin is visible, until he can feel the shuddering gusts of his breath, “Chaos may be a ladder for rats but forget not, that one day, this ladder will crumble upon the weight of your sins,”


    Bormann stalked even closer, inching his face onto the Imperators– close enough that their noses touched one another, “And, when.. when it does. I will be there,”


    Resisting a growing temptation, a temptation that had cost him much; He began to walk away, when abruptly, a hand gripped his arm; Julianos tilted his head at Bormann''s scathing look– either in confusion or mockery, he couldn''t quite care; every moment spent here in his company bore a risk and lest he forsake the last of his broken honor, he must do away with these visitations.


    Seizing the opportunity, Julianos questioned, he wanted to see Bormann falter once more, “Who is the true hypocrite here, Bormann? Me? Or you?” He whispered the last of his words into his ears.


    Bormann pulled away, “Many would say, tis me; but I beg to differ, knowledge is power and power is paramount. Knowledge and, by extension, power make certain things possible for those whom they bless, that others remain forever in scrutiny for. It is the simple truth,”


    “Huh. I see.. I see,” Julianos shrugged, seemingly allowing Bormann to walk off. Yet, his hand loosened naught.


    Bormann shook his hand off, beginning his trek back to the starliner– his ride, off world.


    As Bormann walked farther away still, Julianos called out, “You never did answer my question! The headsman is gone; so, pray tell, who shall swing the axe?”


    Bormann did not turn around, he stood frozen– as still as a festering pond– he spoke, “The Goddess be mine witness, I shall do it,”


    ______________________________________


    The Guide- chosen for him by the Holy Mother- or as he referred to him, The entity could not reside in rooms not accommodating enough for its sheer scale and tastes. It regarded them as beneath itself, clearly having grown somewhat of an ego– or, it did have one and had merely masked it under veneers of incomprehension and eldritch designs. Thus, when Ordin had been seized and Viktoria’s light filled it once more, Bormann, himself, had searched for a suitable place for the Guide’s nest.


    Why it chose the word, ‘nest’, alludes me even now.


    In the sunken city, five magisters had ruled, housed in five great spires that breached ground level, of these five– only one was suitable; other structures, no matter how architecturally profound were unworthy, simply because the Guide was far too unnaturally shaped.


    Thus, the tower of the 3rd Magister, The Tower of Solace was chosen; the highest of the five, the grandest of the five, located at the very epicenter of Ordin, from its viewports one could gleam the entirety of the city and the other towers– an undeniable position of authority and power.


    Undeniability of power was a constant artefact of revolt in his mind, he knew that it would swell the Guide''s growing ego. Undesirable was an understatement for his feelings towards the matter, however, he could not forsake Solace, no, it was far too strategic to be ignored. A better solution was devised. The Guide would not reside at the top of the tower, where one ought to feel empowered with the grace of God. Nay. The Guide shall reside a floor lower– in a dark and drabby auditorium, with but one grand window to the outside.


    An eternal reminder of it''s place in the hierarchy. Only the Mother Goddess shall ever access the highest floor, none but Her were worthy.


    The Guide’s objections were limited but they were there, glaringly obvious.


    A lack of tact that works, eternally, in Bormann''s favor.


    “Your reasoning, sound though it is, forfeits to account for mine comfort,” It had said.


    And, even more viciously than he had bitten away at the Imperator, Bormann had responded, “Thine comfort is of no concern to me; mine only concern is the Inheritor and the Empire. You will accommodate yourself in the tower, or I shall make you.”


    The entity had sounded it''s mute agreement, mellowed by his scathing tone. Perhaps, he had seen in those words a promise and not a threat; if it did, it was right. Bormann would have forced him into the tower, even if it meant to cut up it''s serpentine body into pieces. All that matters, is the Inheritor and The Holy Mother; not comforts of being borne for naught but guidance and servitude.


    A scowl formed slowly on his face. He bit it back. Bormann could not allow the foul emotions to sway him to allow them purchase upon his mind and body, not now. Perhaps, when things were quieter, he could indulge, yes. But not now. Not when, the mask of a Regent was more worthy and valuable.


    “You promise us, many things, Bormann. A Queen, An Empire Eternal, Order, Peace, Security and Power. Yet, yet.. I do not sense… truth in your words. They sound like empty lies and false promises of a dying zealot blindly loyal to a corrupt and defunct religion. Face it, Bormann. Your Goddess is dead and, even in death, I''d wager she curses your sins.” The Hologram- representing the Provisional Regent of the Astranova Alignment- spat on the ground. Murmurs of agreement rising from each corner of the Holographic council.


    Another- representing the Engelisits- spoke up in disdain, “Your Goddess. Your Mother,” He sneered, “has done nothing for us. The crown jewels- The Golden Lion Constellations grew but.. but us? We were forgotten! Viktoria was and will be a foul usurper; her power had long poisoned the fabric of our reality, to this end, I say good riddance!”


    The agreements grew, various others joining in the cacophony of heretic oracles and vainful demands, their hands soon thumping against their chests– a sign of support to secede from the Empire. Had, Viktoria, Their Eternal Mother, been here, none would have even dared to breathe in her general direction. And, now.. now that she''s gone.. they, they- these foul usurpers, dare- dare to secede?! Over his dead body!


    Suddenly, they grew silent, the holograms seemingly stuck in place, not a word nor movement coming across. For a moment, Bormann cursed the ever-decaying communication relays. That was, until, a gust of warm air against his back, alerted him to its presence. Awakened from its slumber, has he? A glance to the side, confirmed this much. It made sense now; they were afraid and revolted by the sight of the Guide. Perhaps, they yet remember Her Power and they- He gazes at the frozen men and women- they fear Her still. Good, very good.


    In a split second, some amongst the council went offline– these being, the representatives of Centurians, Nova Barons, The Emerald Accords and The Holy Constellations of Salem, amongst others whom he could not be bothered to name.


    Fear. He could see it, feel it. Fear prompted them to leave and fear forced the others to stay. They knew what it was. What the Guide represented. They knew it was a show of Her Power from beyond the bounds of her temporary grave; and, many amongst them, knew the price of treachery. A beat, and the discordant voices began again, shouting over one another, whether in stark fear or horror and revulsion at the sight of The Guide. He didn''t know. Honestly, neither, did he care.


    He could, however, make out one unanimous question, ‘what is that thing?’


    Well, maybe, not all knew or could connect the dots as to Her involvement– His honest fault to assume the contrary, not all are born with a functioning mind. Very well, he might have to indulge him.


    He signals the Guide for aid.


    The Guide roared, obliging his request, a thick oppressive silence engulfing the council. “This.. this creature is one of many across the universe. It''s– it''s birth was from the direct chaos of our Holy Mother’s disappearance. Him and his kind have but one purpose; the reinstatement of the line of House Celeste to the Jade Throne.”


    The Engelisit spoke, “One… one?! Of, of many?! How- how.. how many are.. are we speak- speaking of?”


    The Guide answered, “Enough that should you triumph over me, thine rule shall not be long– thine nights will be fraught with worry and fear. Thine Empire will burn for each day, it endured. There are enough for each soul in this universe to be shepherded in the best interests of our Holy Mother.” There was a squeak from the representative of the Engelisits and many others. Although, the Astranovan remained stoic. That one will be a problem, he spoke through glances at the Guide; it nodded it''s agreement.


    Bormann continued, taking advantage of the stunned silence, “Should you not believe that swearing fealty to the True Empire is in your best interests? There is still time to repent, to refresh your minds and souls by swearing this solemn oath. Or, would you risk eternal fires of war and misery? My Guide is one of many,” He points at the Astranovan, “Do you not fear wrath of the Queen''s Blade? Lucius and Agni, yet live, they have not yet perished and if they have, we know not. But, ask yourselves… Would you risk this? Risk facing their merciless wrath or- or.. would you swear fealty to The Goddess, right here, right now?”


    The rest in the council, looked afraid and thoughtful- self preservation triumphs, always, in face of ardent risk. Shit, he spoke too quickly; The Astranovan looked.. apathetic. The Engelisit disconnected at that moment. An understandable reaction and one meaning that no submission would come from talks of politics and diplomacy. Engelisit’s will not bow until they are broken. Very well; he shall gladly indulge them.


    Another moment and the Astranovan spoke, “Your attempts at swaying me are futile,”


    “Are they? Or, do you simply wish to get better terms by false acts of bravado? Either way, even you should consider the odds,”


    “I have, Bormann and unlike others,” Sparing a glaring glance at the empty spots, “I shall never be swayed by a deviant and his unnatural pet. Do not forget, I and only I hold Calypso, were it my wish, this galaxy and all others would burn in the name of the True Goddess, Elenora,”


    The Guide interrupted, “Then, why does it not?”


    This prompted a sigh, annoyance and self-disappointment coloring it, “Unfortunately, no matter how desperately, I wish to have you and your deviant master burnt at the stake; I cannot. Not until Her Light sheds upon us, not until Her Divine Will is done.”


    Intrigued, The Guide neared the Hologram, “Who''s will?”


    “Elenora’s,” Abruptly, the Hologram fizzled out. In the blink of an eye, the others followed in tandem.


    The Guide hummed in alien curiosity, “The leylines have been cut off,”


    “Cut off?” Bormann questioned, taken aback. How the fuck, did that happen? The leylines couldn''t be cut off, not unless someone destroyed the– oh. Oh Viktoria. What has the bastard done?!


    “By your face, I believe thineself has realised the bleakness of the situation,”


    Bormann paced through the room, glancing ever so often at the fearsome figure of The Guide. “He means to cut us off. He.. he believes we might be in cohorts with either Lucius or Agni. That bloody fool,”


    “Not much of a fool. It is wise, we would have done the same,” That was right, he– they would have done the same as the Engelisit did. Making the entire galaxy blind and deaf would work in everyone''s favor– well, that would depend on one''s own experience and self determination.


    “There is wisdom, yes. But… I fear that if- if Lucius or, by misfortune, Agni yet live. Then, then, we shall have no way of ascertaining neither their progress nor their intent,” He sighed, rubbing his face, “I do not know, which is worse… that I fear their survival or that I pray for their return,”


    “Either leads to much chaos. I have seen it. I can feel it.” The Guide shuddered, exhaling loudly, before retreating back into the enveloping darkness of the grand hall. It''s body meshing into the darkness like a forbidden shadow of a great demon. Though, Bormann had much to converse with him, The Guide clearly was uninterested. Either that, or, he wished to ruminate upon the events unfolding before their eyes.


    He exhaled. Worry would come later, he would have ample time; first, he''d rather prepare for the arrival of the Inheritor, The Crown Princess– was she the crown princess? Or, was she the Empress?


    That will have to wait, he decided. Better to prepare for her imminent arrival than to ruminate upon baseless thoughts and past times.