Sunday, May 20, 2012

The Madrol Empire Part Two

The Madrol Empire Part 2
                Leeana removed her robe as she prepared for the hot bath. Her servants took the robe from her and added soap to the water to create a frothy, bubbly mixture. The bathroom was large and ornate. Gold tubes and fixtures were on the walls along with torches and candles. The room was perfect for the cleansing rituals of the royal. The water turned to steam at the surface and tantalized Leeana’s senses. The temperature of the room was in stark contrast to that of the outdoors. Wind howled at the walls and sent drifts of snow flying, ice struck the window but did not penetrate.
                She was an older woman, in her sixties by now, the sister of Alernus. Her son, Tailon Gaius, is now emperor, just as she wanted, just as she predicted. Her life wasn’t bad at this point, she was of the nobility. Her food was brought to her on a platter and her clothes were all laundered and presented nicely.
                Tailon assumed the position of emperor following the death of the old man, Alernus, who ruled Drahil for twenty years. His health was rapidly declining until he could no longer command power; he died in his bed at the age of sixty five. Tailon, at the tender age of twenty eight, took over Alernus’s duties. He took the job despite not wanting to. His mother, Leeana, wanted him to assume the powerful position, so she could reap the benefits and he could command the empire. He was a general during the second campaign against the barbaric nomads to the east. That was all he wanted to do, and what he was good at. He was an amazing general, commanding respect but no adoration. His theory was he didn’t want his troops to like him, but they must respect him, and that they did.
                The responsibility of the throne would have gone to the young Marcus Madrol II but he disappeared seventeen years ago, about the same time as his father’s murder. His father, Marcus Madrol I was a highly respected man. He was the hand to the king and was groomed to be the next emperor. His death was a shock, the people wept and even Leeana was present for the funeral. The pyre was stacked high with juniper with Marcus I on top. The peasants were allowed to view the funeral pyre. He was a man of the people, his motto was if you can please the populous than you can lead a country. He, however, never did lead the country, his life was ended short by an assassin. So was the fate of many of the emperors or those in line for the throne; power corrupts all, no one is immune.
                While Leeana bathes on one side of the castle, a historian writes on the other. He was hired by the Gaius dynasty to record everything about them, no detail will be left out. Neesus carefully writes using a quill and ink. He doesn’t believe in technology, he prefers to hand write his work. Neesus isn’t just a historian, he’s also an experienced investigator. He wants to delve into the mystery of the Madrol’s, who they were, how Marcus Madrol I and Alernus Madrol died, and why. I suppose it’s obvious as to how they died and for what reason, but no one has yet to find the murderers, and no one is searching. The ruling class also commands the law, they are above it. Neesus doesn’t believe that anyone is above the law, not even the royal class.
                Neesus asks himself some questions: how did Marcus Madrol II flee? Where is he now? How did he fight off his attacker? If he returns then he should be the rightful emperor. Who arranged the murder of Marcus Madrol I? Who could benefit from his death? These are all questions that Neesus wants to know the answers to. He will take it upon himself to correct the bloodline and the rightful heirs. “Now I just have to find little Marcus. Ha, little Marcus, he’s nearly a man now, if he’s even alive.” Neesus whispers to himself. He concludes his writing for the evening, Tailon will be happy with the account of his heroic exploits. Always flattering, always good. Neesus must please them or else he will end up like some of the others, the less fortunate.   

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