"What can we say of the petty squabbles of men? They are always rooted in desire, is my learned opinion. Such was the case when the Lords' Alliance was broken…"
I am certain you have heard of the Foundation Stone. In the Castle Moongarm it stands, a massive xenolith inscribed with the heralds of each of the Lords of Men. Long ago, it was unearthed from the sea depths of the Conamura Chaos, near Nithaven, and erected there behind the throne, to remind the people of Arcadia that the Lords tamed the land so that civilization might thrive, and that Men should be free, even under the watchful eye of the High People.
But today it is cracked. A twisted groove cuts across its face, a reflection either of the irony of its existence in a time of war, or of the broken magic that once sealed the oath of the Lords to its purpose. And underneath it is the gray crown of the Lord of Arcadia, who in his zeal has raised his banner against the herald of his brothers to become a Lord no longer.
Thus Emperor Gazreth Estrise reigns in Moruin, and in Albarith, and in Ambion, and in Idania... and soon, everywhere the light of the One God Avestar shines.
The Ore Foundries of the Fulcrum burn with industry of a new kind. Machines of war, powered by numenic ore, forge lodestones to power weapons arrayed against the Emperor; Kingdom Vanis takes up the charge. But every man is an island, and the Lords of Altea fear Vanisian ambition. In the North, the Highgaard watch, standing ready.
All the while, the sermon of the Hierarch of Avestar spreads to foreign lands, his inquisitors bringing the One God's judgement upon all heathens and blasphemers.
I often wonder, recounting the deeds of the rebels against the Empire by candlelight, what darkness grew in the heart of the good Lord Estrise, to compel him to make his Decree. In his youth I knew him, a proud but just man, arrayed in golden armor emblazoned with the eagle of Arcadia on his breast. He said to me then: "No man can rule in the Mountains of Muspel, Jasper Gravenor, my friend. It is a mistake to think this way. I am but the instrument of my Lords' will, who are my equals, and the gods give us strength so that we may protect our people. What other purpose can a throne serve?"
Ah, my heart is heavy to know the answer now.
The rebels are few, but we are clever. We do not possess the forces the Emperor marshals in the fortresses of Moongarm and Maragan and Nephris. We do not wield the sorcery his mages study in the Sanctums at Dexien and Novatia. But we are everywhere. And we are waiting for our moment to strike.