No strings to divine, no plans designed. beauty must sercome to the fate we all share; for the almighty gardener, with holy words whilome did create walls of earth and most-high a space. To the outside his earth sprang a prideful pink rose. arisen in full torns. spranging to the second height. Unlikely to remain a morning star. Now here goes the Neplfim race. In dark shadows they pray. in thin body’s they question? Where did we come from? Who is god? Mortal men the first question was answered, as for the second, well that question should say, tell me Gods real name?
In the land divided by two races a great war engulfed an empire of nine nations and during that heat of battle. A crown rested in human blood. A warrior King and Two queens, and a would be king clash to win the blood-stained crown. This crown lay before the feet of a child, dressed in a white costume, a would be king holds her neck; panting for her life the child cries before she dies, “Deos Fortiorlbus Adesse…” her faint voice perishes, a silver blade opens across her thin throat, gilded in her royal blood the blade targets above to divine Sol in ritual sacrifice. Victorious and Crowned atop the altar of his enemy’s corpses. the would be king exhales his last breath with a cry, “I, the would-be-king, just wanted to be a king!” Seeking perfect freedom this would be king went searching for power. The road he found led him to the pillars of madness.
Crown prince Domichian has found love with the handsome prince Paul the son of the duke of the West. Their love was an easy one but a secret to all living inside the walls of his home the imperial palace: the house of whispers. Friends since childhood the boys truely believed their love would last for ever. With only his pravite guards to witness the two agreed to marry. Being the crown prince at just 13 years old, domichian, gained a weathly position next to his mother the queen. he stood as the second rishest person in the imperial palace. Domichian always payed his 12 rays of light, a little nickname, well, almost to well. He sold all his stately crowns, jewelry, rings of his office, his clothing even his shoes to rise the money for them. domichian understood how much a secert costed in the house of whispers. He, would give it all for his lover paul and bestfriend. For only a day the two princes lived out their fantasty as if husband and wife. 3 months into their serect relationship and while the palace spelt, domichian, payed each of his guards 100 gold piesces. A soldiers 2 year salivary. With the guards payed and the palace commanded to “stay in” the two meet again. They slept in each other arms for the first time and dreamed of the day they can show the world their happiess. Sadly, the sun would rise and the two would have return to their normal lives as friends. Fearing the end was near Domichian took paul down a serect Tunnel. The gurads refused to follow. The gave a simple warning, “you may not come out the same on the other side the same.” With the guards taking there leave the two lovers held hands in the dark and kissed each others neck good morning. The pair were free to show their love in the dark. While they were nearing the end of the tunnel something terrifying happen. the boys witnessed the commander and chief of the Army in the embrace of domichians mother and over heard the commander speak of killing her step father for her. domichian and paul remain hidden. keeping the secret the two agree to one day use it against the queen. They would darw it out like a sword for the portection of their love. They both entered the game of power. Sadly when the time came to make his love known to the world. Paul’s father the duke of the West rebels against the queen in favor of domichian right to the throne. Causing domichian to come into conflict with the one person he dare not cross on the battle field the Queen his mother. A burtal dictator queen. She ruled with an iorn hand over her nation and family. Their was no room for rebellion in her empire.
They tell me she is the first, the first women to seize power in her own right. The first to unite nine warring kingdoms of the world into one Universal Empire. The first to bring the Aryan races and the disgraced Poeple of the Sun my kin together. For one single ideal; the continuation of Her royal majesties prefect Freedom. The happiness of my mother was the single most important virtue in the empire and I Domichian was her promised King. The next to seat upon her incomparable Golden Throne.
Her Golden Throne, endures as the universal source to which flowed out the only freedom this open-air prison of a world had to offer: it remains unchallenged in its display of the privilege and earthly autonomy of the sovereign who seat upon it. Granting blissful self-determination until the day the eternal slumber came for them; unique among the various one hundred city states, principalities, grand duchies, dukedoms and minor empires who desired to rival its supremacy. Domineering to behold when witnessed for the first time; as you enter the throne room which is strengthened up by six colossal columns, embellishing over three hundred years of elapsed dynasty’s; which presented the observer with incomparable splendor of the eras; painted ceiling panels of pitiless deities and world restorer kings flushed above; the floors were inlaid in intricate patterns; overwhelming the eyes, the blood pumping sound of trumpets hailing the coming of the sovereign stun the ear drums with divinity. Leaving you in a heart pounding haze of anticipation. The thick scents of honey oils and blossoming violet Hortense floras subdue the dreadful odor of the imperial court. Freeing the noise to bask in refreshing air pouring in from the city through three gilded open arch ways. The archaic flare of the imperial Sun guards as they stride up the velvet stairs to the Golden throne cut a supurve picture in the mind; Their unsympathetic eyes and callous hands grip the hall in fear. They are the authoritarian sledgehammers of the Queen-Empress. The throne itself was made of solid gold brought in from all over the empire. The most gold traveling in from the south along the gold road. The largest gold mines within just 15 miles from the Welthauptstdt Neapel capital.
****(Old writing and ideas i had)****
“Your skin will be as fair as the white snow upon the palace ground. Your newly born eyes will be bluer then the deepest oceans. Your Arisch name will bend the knees of all who hear it; the greatest of any King. I will give to you a grand Empire. My son your reach will be far and wade. To the wild shores of Sweden, to the far reaches and beyond and across the white desert samds of the south. Glory be your sword my future Aryan king. To my love, my earthy king, Abschied, Abschied! May our pitiless Gods greet youre soft lips with wine and honey.”
Just weeks away before my birth she would in high praise, before the royal court proclaim: “When our son and lawful heir is born to us and is presented to you all in royal fashion. I shall name him Alvin 1th, the first of his name to honor the new future he will represent.” She said. It was an intoxicating time for all around the Nine Nation Empire celebrated my long-awaited birth. Bedazzling street fairs and public declareorans of loyally to the crown infested the hearts of every Aryan town and every Aryan city-sate. Witty stage plays, and the best swordsmen held toreorments to win the queens favor to guard my person. Clenched in their wild fever the Aryan peoples gave into illusions of a 1000-years of Arisch reign. Yet, their bright futures, their glorious fair-skin utopia where all the men are lean, tall and blonde with water blue eyes and the woman stood noble and obedient.
they so haplessly prayed for it; they so demanded it. So too did my mother to the shock of all. But the gods of this world are cruel and give no favor to anyone let alone a Queen.
“Schwarzer, SCHWARZER!’’ a round faced woman with a round shaped body sprang through the halls of the palace sracming Schwarer! I can almost picture her large ass falling on her pox face as she stubbed about in fear. The bitter woman is my cousin the duchess of the low country’s she was not alone in her fear however. the whole imperial court panicked like rats looking for a way out of a maze. Bitter shouting echoed form one end of the palace to the other. Starting from the imperial bedchamber down and away through the steel gates leading out of the capital city and beyond, Schwarzer! Black! was my skin was blacker then bears cave. My mother fixed her shaken eyes on me, “Nein!” She screamed. I can still remember the heat of her rage as she ordered me away. Though I have the queen’s complexion (the old nobility) my mother’s kin. It was not the clad of the new Aryan monarchy. The new masters of the world. Up until this point my mother had played the game of politics cleverly like an old horse-master; however, the horse was not always willing to be mounted; She had to clutch the harness tiet to survive. Just before the sun would set upon the realm, I would be heaved off to perish alone. The crumpled pieces of the queen’s abandon child-hood palace would be my cemetery. From the wound to the streets with in just a few hours of my birth. But I would not die. I will survive
When I rummage through forbidden books sencoed by the empire with only a petty candle to aid my strained eyes. I can see that and obsession for conquest in a man can bring about momentous change in a country. Looming splendidly large around me lay millions of pages of unread human history. Set aside first by two dominating great houses in the empire: The Gossier’s and the now ruling House of Wiesenburg’s. Only the most learned of men and those with power may read the tales of long died royal secrets. Dusty old broken books and faded out cow-skin scrolls are still tightly tuoked away in what seems to be hundreds of rows of iron shelfs for few have the power to read them; several phohisfoes believe locked away within the imperial library lay the answers to what the future may foretell, but our insecure 9-nation crown depens such man unworthy. Lost golden ages and mythical peoples and their unbelfable lives, and nation building men, and those even greater with the fire for perfect freedom remain silent to this day: but now their lives are known to me ingnting my own passion for change and perfect freedom. I have found that each golden-era within my Nine Nation Empire advances form the devotion and righteous passion of some single individual: Sun-king Hadrian 1st was a legendary man; who founded the kingdom of Neapels. Stabilizing the war-torn country for nearly 300 years after his death; High king Lothar, a man of great energy. He was the first none royal to seize the great throne for himself in 1777. Ending a long bloody civil war that saw five noble houses contest for the throne; and now it would seem my mother Hortense von Wiesenburg is the next to change her country.
Powerful Arisch nobles and imperial senators of the day, have wisely declared, Hortense of the ruling house of Wiesenburg, the first Queen-Regent of the great kingdom of Neapels. In Years past, she seized the wheels of power in her own right in a world promised to men. Unhindered by the weakness of her sex or age. She triumphs as the first color sovereign to unite the warring kingdoms of the world into one Universal Empire. The first arbitrator to connect the Arisch nations and the disgraced Niederer Abel people, her kin together. For one single ideal, the continuation of her royal majesties perfect Freedom. Altogether these great men and women have pushed their eras into the great pages of my empires history. And I swear before all these terrific books that my history will need aninter new wing of shelfs for my deeds will set the world anew and bring about a golden age that would last 1000 years.
The smoky thickness of a dreary fog bleached away softly as a vast grassland of slaughtered soldiers lay beneath my leather boots. Their empty eyes glare directly at me; spoiled and ravaged as the dirt underneath them. I gave into their lifeless eyes against my own and I felt a great sigh of relief. These are not my grand soldiers. But as I gaze for a moment to long I begin to feel their bitter chill against my cheeks, but the touch felt familiar, like the cold embrace of my hands to my face. They were my cousins, my brothers, my countrymen and now their worthless lives are all gone because of me.
My right shoulder felt locked and strained. A painful jolt shot up my wrist; grasped tight within my bloody fist I held a little girls neck. Her fair-skin turned pale matching her wedding dress. She looked just like me? the same black eyes with a pitiless stare. Like the wolf- my family’s symbol of power. I gently release her among the blood-sea of my enemies and begin searching the bodies for the icon promised to me since birth. Cold blood stained my hands, as I ran my fingers across their withered faces. Their icy blood to the touch didn’t feel like flowing of water but like the pouring of an artist’s dye against the skin. A great wall of fog concealed my path as I stumble knee-deep in human waste. Pausing my search, I see, Towering trees threading the low edges of the great mist. The trees were a common green found on oak trees, yet at a distance these trees appeared sinister, “ it’s the world of endless greens, bumpy hills and uneven terrain, of ghostly unexplored blankets of thick fog caverns. Hiden Death bellies of jagged waterfalls, nature-built avenues to secret dear groves, and the long forget home of the she-wolf with the golden hair.” my icon must be there: in the Black Forest?
The icon I slipped blood for in this forsaken limbo-wilderness of mine is so familiar to me. I dare claim I was born with it nestled softly around my golden curls. By the will of my people, they, anointed, its forging as a gift, 12 solar rays of Divine Sol’s light into a symbol of power on earth. Yet, the icon altered crimson by cleansing in a sea of blood: Arisch Blood. Rare Diamonds, gems that glow all kinds of purple rested on each beam of light. The biggest lay on top outshining the gems vivacity in superu gold. The crowning top that finally brings this icon piece together is the divine right flowing through my veins. my heart turns dull without it, like a holy prior without his high gods to worship.
Out in the misty adyss I hear the breeze shatter against the tall oak trees. a voice seems to be calling to me: the black forest? No, this honey voice is my mistress, because I have only known women to wield power. she must be the one calling to me now; she was with me as I rode out to meet my enemies near the beach-head. Her voice is the wave of the desert ocean, clashing against the empires shore. The colliding force of a true soldier bashing heated steel with his own, I marvel at her golden gleam, her imperial symbol of regal power is unmatched: she is the Red Crown. In there i will find it.
Could my crown really be in that dense jungle? I stood motionless at the opening of the black forest where the fog thinned-out, “Deos Fortiorlbus Adesse, I am ready.” yet, I, can’t move my legs, I’m frozen! “Divine sol?” with all the lost I suffered, I thrust my weight back and forth until the bones in my body tensed up, locking up my knees tight as if iron ropes seized my body, to what end will this take me?
I must listen for her, devotedly now, I must hear my coaxing mistress. The crackling of my dry tongue whips around my parched lips as the trickle air of the black forest in front of me bathes me in the aromas of this vast wildness. Releasing my nose of the lingering smell of death. Distracting, my black darting eyes from the endless sea of bodies behind me. Numerous, Tall brisk tree leaves and aged old wooden bark ease my mind off the fury of the days battles. And so, I stood there like a stone at the mouth of the black forest finally giving into this endless wait. I flex my body again only to feel the burning tug of some divine will keeping me here to this spot. What am I to do? Who will I see come to me, Divine Sol? And then I hear it, the sounds, and chords of a musician’s violin. Soaking my joyful ears with divine love for its promise of perfect freedom. There can only be one artist to play these harmonies. One artist to hum these tunes: My icon is here.
I watch closely the stillness of the forest as the bonds that caged me drew me now to the center of the wood. I only took a few steps beyond the mouth before I saw her. The great she-wolf with the golden hair entering the woods. Her breathe rapidly escapes her slacked-mouthed jaws. Her strides appeared heavy and feeble unlike her natural fierce proud strides of days past: she gave out a great howl. Swaying the trees in the black forest as if forecasting the coming of a destructive storm and when the trees could flutter in the wind no longer they all bent to the golden she-wolf I nearly bend the knee myself. Yet, unbelievable to my eyes the wolf collapsed just feet away but not before crying tears of scarlet drops of essence from her yellow eyes, staining her golden hair, ’til the gleam in her own eyes shaded dead-red.
Trickling in against the crowns of trees flew down flawless clouds of flaxen light. Eclipsing where it lay in a blanket of blessed beauty. I nearly dashed for its company. This shine burned brighter than the radiance of Divine Sol himself. And when the brilliance of that light faded, and I could caress the cold steel of my icon. The persona of my mistress came to me and favored my hands…
Book 2 – act 1
Her Imperial Princess Famke Caesar Marshall had away of being two-face like her older brother the Emperor: they shared the same desires to rule the world. Famke in her own right dreamed of one day taking the throne; to be Famke Marshal Empress of earth. In her own way she often tested the very limit’s of her brothers power. Abusing her household servants and having one army general shot in a dinner hall. Her best past time centered on her imperial brother Caleb who did not want the throne; she tormented him for that reason…
The year was 2048 when the greatest military superpower in world history undertake a profound change. From the outside his highness seemed a normal 8-year-old boy during his time in the spot light as a member of americas first imperial family. However, as the first two years of his brother’s reign were coming to a close Caleb felt something was wrong; He felt his life was in danger. After the emperor named his successor to be his older sister the walls around him began to creep on him. No longer could he adventure out with his school friends without violent protest. No longer could he speak to his brother in private. Their relationship was a weak one. The emperor saw no desire for the throne within him so he payed him little to no attention. Nor was his family any closer to him. Nevertheless, It was the autumn season in the third year of the emperors reign that things would change for Caleb completely. Turning nine years old without much of a fuss he fell into a deep depression. His only outlet of the darkness was his cousins son; prince David. They would have a lasting friendship. when they were not out hunting for ravens to shoot. Caleb would be forced to attend on his sister as she played her role as heir. Caleb remained helpless as the imperial guards and his own family refused to believe the torments his older sister put him through. So when a ambushes General took an interest in the now 10-year-old boy nothing could prevent the beginning of the end for all Celabs enemies.
His first victim would be his tyrannical sister: In the year five of the emperors reign a traitor general of the imperial American army potted againt his master. General Moses schemed to create a regime change when it appeared the American Emperor was going insane. With the emperor’s successor was now dead the general looked to kaleb as the next heir. He had little choice for a few months later the emperor would kill his best friend with his own hands. The emperors whole famliy would be next. In moses mind the army generals both in Europe and at home would follow. He needed a replacement but kaleb was not old enough to take his place. The general fled to Europe until the time came.
The imperial Prince was now 12 years old and fit the generals ideal age to in sure his survival. Her highness was 12 years old when she was crown prince and even then was seen as ready to take the throne. Kaleb knew the only way to survive is to ascend the throne. Mose wanted to collect on his debt for removing his sister for him and approached him once again. A wolf in sheep clothing was roaming the palace grounds and Celab would end up being the perfect prey. But it would be another 3 years before the general could use the boy as a would be puppet King. Caleb was officially announced to be dead and a traitor during the generals absence. But with the help of his fellow army commanders he was in secret taken some months ago from a home in the capital. General moses would have to groom his new emperor in a concentration camp cell…
When I dip my pen within my ink I start the invocation of the god Thoth, or Djehuty, in the form of an ibis bird. The Patron god of writing, wisdom and knowledge.