The Emperor: Xerxes Mallan

emperor-borderHe is the one that sits upon the Enkindled Seat. He with words that sets the world ablaze. His blood is fire, and his soul is eternal. His eyes are crimson. He is Xerxes Mallan, the thirteenth Emperor of the Dragon Empire. He is eternal.

As all of the Emperors, he was born a babe. But the moment he sat upon the Enkindled Seat he ascended his humanity. His words became one with all of the Emperors before him. Is he divine? No. No, that is too simple of an answer, an easy explanation that fits cleanly onto our tongues.  He – and by that I of course mean all of the Emperors, past, present and future – possess a spark of the cosmos. A slither, a portion, a shard, a piece. And this makes him beyond the definition of both man and god, greater and less than both.

He is the Emperor. He with the emblazoned eyes, with the blood of fire and the heart of dragons. His name means “lord over heroes” and is it not fitting for the Emperor to consort with great men? He does not use messengers or mere soldiers. He sends men with the heart and valor to uphold nations. They are not his equal – no man on this earth could even dream of that – but they are his stalwart allies.

Who but our Emperor could conceive a world in which the Elves and the Dwarves are joined? Who but our Emperor could take the Blue Dragon to tame the wilds of Drakkenhall? Who but our Emperor could hold off the mad hordes of the Orc Lord? To temper an alliance with the Crusader? To keep the Demons in check? Who but our Emperor could conceive these things?

None! No man, before or after, could have accomplished any of these things. Long may he last. Eternally may he preserve!

Praise him! Praise him! Praise him!

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