State of the Realm
The cult really believed Brandis would return. It was possible. Who knew what foul pacts he made that would allow him to become corporeal again. Ariadne’s mother probably knew, but she took the information to the grave. Ariadne had her tomes, but they were vast and reading through them seemed to be a chore. She was just one woman and I kept her very busy from day to day. Whatever dark bargains Brandis had made were mostly a mystery for now. The power was probably tempting, but whatever Brandis did required the lives of people to empower him, and not in the civilized way.
The soul lived on, so Brandis was probably out there in some form. Hopefully he was some entities’ servant. Somewhere in the Astral he was in chains serving drinks to a djinn or something. The thought gave me joy. There was a very real chance that he was just biding his time and building his strength for a rematch. Maybe he was on the other side of the portal just waiting for his chance to plunge the world back into terror. The possibilities were endless in a world where there were various means to power and I wasn’t interested in find out what way he would try to return. I just knew he would try and I would need to be ready.
What was it with these power hungry tyrants? They were never content. You could give them land, riches, titles and they would still sell their souls for more power. Some people just wanted to do good works for others and get nary a spot of recognition, but these psychos needed parades, and statues, and testaments to their legacy. They didn’t care who their stepped on in their ascension, and even their loyalist subjects were expendable.
The people he killed? Ariadne said their souls were bound to what being, or beings, Brandis made deals with. From what I could tell he didn’t hide this from his loyalists, but his propaganda was great, and they thought it was a noble reward. Pity that everyone we released after Brandis fell held no such belief, but fanatic cultists will jump through any hoops to keep believing lies. They considered dying for their master acceptable while harming their neighbors. It was ludicrous, but I wasn’t interested in rehabilitating every cultists. Sometimes an infection just needed to be burnt away.
The country, the world, was a much worse place with him in it. He was constantly pressing on the borders of his neighbors with his profane hordes. He promised all the beaten down races spoils from his conquests, but he only ever rewarded them enough to keep them loyal and impoverished. He destroyed the land with magic and good old fashion industry to feed his many wars. And he kept his people sheltered and ignorant. That was probably the most egregious crime. If anyone ever questioned Brandis’ propagandists would just shout louder and that person would be disappeared.
After he was beaten, many of the disaffected retreated back to whatever they called homes. Caves, or hovels, or rocks. They blamed everything but Brandis for their condition. I tried to offer them better lives, and some took the opportunity, but others were so caught up in the promises he had made them, and distrust for how they had been treated in the past, that they chose to return to their old ways. It was disappointing, but I understood.
Of course, there were the ones actually committed to his cause. They had benefited from his megalomania and were reluctant to give it up. Most of them were powerful families that recoiled, but didn’t buckle when Brandis fell. I could have systematically destroyed them, but they are so entrenched that to wipe them out and start over would mean the total collapse of society. A romantic notion, to start over, but a foolish one. If basic infrastructure collapsed thousands would starve, the sick would not have even the meager access to healing they did, and the nation would have devolved into petty warlords. Some evil was necessary just to keep everything running.
They supported me to my face, but I knew most of them were still loyal to Brandis. Still striving for the return of their dark master and they believed their loyalty would purchase them favor. Between them and August I didn’t know which was worse. Former cultists who were loyal to their old master, or an old friend who was hellbent on overthrowing me with mercenaries. The bastard couldn’t even wage a proper war. They were both familiar devils. August hurt though. He had been a brother. These cultists were just chaff that needed to be separated to the wheat could be used.
It was probably because he knew he would lose that he didn’t try a direct approach. His lands had belonged to Brandis too, but August’s part was much smaller. It was squirreled away beyond a range of mountains that offered it protection. At the time we decided it was fair because his lands were barely touched by Brandis’ madness. They were fertile, pastoral, and mostly pleasant and safe. They were also on a peninsula and his many ports provided him with trade and prosperity. Little did I know his ambitious would not be sated.
My lands, though more space in total, were recovering. Most of it was full of dangers, and whoever I employed was focused on protecting my people and reclaiming those territories from monsters and making them safe again for simple people to conduct an honest days work without having to worry about the next raid, or becoming some necromancer’s plaything.
My days consisted mostly of politicking, but occasionally some strange threat came to my attention. My blood would feel the clarion call to adventure, but I would have to remind myself of my new responsibilities and hire some else to take care of it. It was disheartening, but seeing the realm heal was rewarding. Hearing the laughter of children, or conversation in the market, or just sitting alone on my balcony listening to the return of natural sounds instead of screams and moans was refreshing.
Those early months were the hardest, and thankfully I didn’t have to contend with August’s bullshit. He was consolidating his realm at the time too. There was a foul stench in the air and everyone was so miserable. I often wondered why evil insisted on being so ugly and vile. I was a fan of dark colors and a wicked aesthetic too, but blood and suffering were not things to adorn your home with. Every street had some malady, every spot of land a curse. Step by step the tide of iniquity receded thanks to the hard work of people who just wanted better lives free of martial law and misinformation.
My mind drifted to this wayward woman somewhere in my kingdom at the thought of lies.
