NationStates Jolt Archive

It had been three days since the Imperial Heir had been given official summons to appear in the grand assembly hall on the lower floors of the Citadel (the great tower in the center of New Freeport, Capital of New Haven on the planet New Haven). The Praetorian Guard had finally had enough waiting and decided that it was time to see if Alaric Newman was to be their Imperator or not.

There was only one way to determine this: Alaric had to grasp the True Sword of the Imperator without it rejecting him. If he could do just that, he would be proclaimed Imperator and the reign of his mother and ruler during the Great Interregnum, Imperatrix Sara Newman, would come to an end.

Of course, the Newman Dynasty banked on the success of its youngest heir. He had assumed duties of the state by age 8, graduated from the Naval Academy at age 10 and had completed his training as a guest of the Special Forces by age 14. His overall rank in the military was just below that of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and served as liaison between the Special Forces and Navy. With such trust in the Imperial Heir, it was decided that the leaders of New Haven's many allies would be invited to witness the Coronation ceremony. If worse came to worse, at least New Haven's allies would only see the Newman Dynasty collapse in an orgy of blood and dismemberment.

On the assembly floor, many of New Haven's elites gathered in their respective seats on the floor as well as in the balcony overlooking the floor. Senators, Consuls, Generals, Admirals, even private citizens, gathered to witness the ceremony. Painters, sculptors and photographers all gathered in the positions they felt would best capture the moment on their respective medium. A priest from the temple of the major gods in the New Haven pantheon assembled around the central platform. The central platform held the Imperial Throne, and on it lay the Imperator's Crown and the True Sword of the Imperium (which had been moved there the night before using a system of ropes and pulleys to put it into position with the hilt angled upward so that the Imperial Heir may grab it).

The former Imperatrix, having only been forced out of her position the night before, sat in the front row amongst the Senators as the new Ambassador to the Hermes Alliance (filling the position held by the Imperial Heir prior to his coronation notice). The Imperatrix was now 52, but she didn't look a day over 22. She was both sad, but relieved that her time as Imperatrix was over. Lately, her rule was unpopular and the public demanded a strong Imperator... one like her father, or even greater than him. She also quietly dreaded the outcome if her son could not grasp the sword... but there was no backing out now. If he backed out, the dynasty was dead... if he failed to complete the coronation ceremony, the dynasty was dead... There was no where to go but forward, for their sake and the sake of the Imperium.

The Bryn Shanderan king sat in his assigned seat, a healthy buzz being kept strong by nursing a bottle with a black lable. He hated these kinds of things, but had to attend regardless. Either way, he expected to see some fireworks. Worse came to worse, he could always take the sword himself, he figured. After all, when you can kick the ass of the god that made the thing, picking up his toys shouldn't be hard, right?

With what attendance was probably going to assemble, the ceremony began to get underway.

"Princeps Iuventutis, step forward and claim the Imperium!" The Priest Representative of Ares called out from the central platform. At that moment, two large doors leading into the chamber creaked and began to open slowly, revealing the Princeps Iuventutis. He wore gold-plated armor with red trim, a red cape with gold trim bearing the crest of the Newman family, a red sash with a gold star flanked on either side with olive branches, and the sword he wore since his commission as a Naval Officer at age 8. It was the Armor of the Imperator, only to be worn by an Imperator, Imperatrix or the Princeps Iuventutis just prior to ascending to the throne... to be caught wearing even an article of it without being either of the three was punishable by immediate death.

As the Princeps Iuventutis walked down the aisle, a few people began to notice the light coming from the windows beginning to dim. A few Praetorian Guardsman overseeing the ceremony from the scaffolding above at the level of windows peering into the chamber saw what appeared to be the beginnings of an eclipse of the New Haven system's star... but the moon of New Haven was clearly visible nearby in the shape of a bright, silver crescent in the late afternoon sky. It was an impossible feat, yet it appeared to be happening!

"Look! The star is being eclipsed!" A frightened Praetorian called out, panic spreading amongst the crowd as the Princeps Iuventutis kept walking... an interruption now would cause the entire ceremony to be restarted... and possibly be interpreted as a dishonoring of the Imperium itself! The Praetorian Prefect, George Maxwell, began to suspect that the gods did not approve of another Newman taking the throne. "If anything happens during that ceremony, it will be my duty as a servant of the gods to destroy the Newman Dynasty!" he thought to himself.

Halfway down the aisle, the yellow star was now halfway through its eclipse and darkening still... faster than any natural eclipse by leaps and bounds! The room began to darken dramatically as the Princeps Iuventutis reached the podium, the star now almost gone. The Pleiades began to appear long before they were supposed to be seen in the night sky, a sight only seen during the best eclipses of the star! Many were now convinced it was an act of the gods, some believing that it was a sign of good, others as a sign of a coming apocalypse. The only thing keeping the whole thing erupting into complete pandemonium was the realization that if things did turn out to be fine, anyone seen panicking would probably be dealt with in a harsh manner.

Outside the Citadel of New Freeport, the sky was now full of stars... New Haven's star was now completely eclipsed by some unknown force and of unknown intention. Communications from across the planet indicated the effect to be planet-wide, with many municipalities indicating civil disturbances occurring at extraordinary rates.

Despite this, the Imperial Heir kneeled before the Priest of Ares, a man who looked no older than 45, but who had been the Head Priest of Ares for over 300 years! The priest recited a few incantations and placed the gold olive-branch crown on Alaric's head as the young Imperial Heir silently prayed to the gods. As soon as the crown was firmly placed on his head, the priest stepped aside and returned to his position amongst the other priests as the Imperial Heir returned to his feet and looked at the hilt of the True Sword of the Imperator. The golden grip of the falcata seemed to call for him to grasp it, a call that he felt he had to answer.

Without hesitation, he reached his fingers through gap between the grip and hand guard, his skin nearly touching the warm metal. He gripped down as the crowd gasped, everyone expecting the sword to fling itself away in rejection. However, the Imperial Heir maintained his grip just as the earth beneath the Citadel began to shake... softly at first, but as he began to draw the sword, the shaking intensified... nothing too serious, but enough to knock decorations down and frighten the assembled spectators (at least those inhabiting the Imperium).

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The Imperial Heir, despite being clearly visible in the center of the chamber, was no longer at the ceremony. Instead, he now stood in a grassy field amongst rolling hills. There was no sun in the sky, but it was bright and warm... a very pleasing feeling.

"It has been sometime since we have spoken, Imperator," a loud, booming voice said behind Alaric. He immediately turned to see a man in golden robes, carrying a kithara, and carrying a bow and arrow on his back. "It has been almost three thousand years since I last talked to an Imperator of your people."

"Do you know me?" Alaric asked, unsure of who the man was or what was going on.

"I know a great deal of things, Imperator," The man said as walked slightly closer to Alaric. "Despite the fact your people still worship the gods, it would seem the Imperial Line has only just regained its abilities... including those beyond just being able to hold what your people have called the True Sword of the Imperium since I last talked to an Imperator."

"You know of this sword?" Alaric asked as he looked down at the falcata he still gripped in his hand, but the scabbard was now firmly attached to his belt as if he had been wearing it since he arrived.

"Know of it? I am the one who imbibed it with the majority of its powers and asked Hephaestus to forge it for me!" The man said as if it should have been obvious the entire time. "Are you telling me the Imperial Line has forgotten about the true power and nature of this sword?" Alaric nodded as the god scoffed. "No wonder you guys have lost a fair number of your major wars in years past... Of course, it makes what victories your people have achieved even sweeter, as they came without our assistance."

"Who are you exactly?" Alaric asked.

"I am known by many names," the man said. "Your people know me by Apollo, but your people used to revere me as Deus Sol Invictus."

"The Undefeated Sun God?" Alaric said, half-believing what he was hearing. "That name is a myth from the legends that survived the impact! It is only spoke of in few academic circles, but only as a historical curiosity!"

"Well, believe it or not, but I am the real deal, kid," Apollo spoke. "And that mere trinket you carry is the Sol Indulges (Invoked Sun), a source of great power for those worthy enough to possess it and invoke its true power... and not just the power I have imbibed into it..."

"What do you mean?" Imperator Alaric asked.

"Well, for almost three thousand years, the Imperators who have been able to wield it have only been able to tap into the powers necessary to protect the Imperial Line... powers known even to you, such as the ability to smash through normal armor and weapons as well as some enchanted items. Those powers were imbibed into it by Ares so that an Imperator may deal out brutal amounts of damage to an opponent."

"What other powers were imbibed into the sword?" Alaric asked inquisitively, committing everything to memory while he was still present.

"Hermes has blessed the sword with the ability to grant its wielder great speed and endurance, as well as the ability to commune with the gods once the wielder is strong enough... by speaking with me know, you have proven to be strong enough to unlock these abilities, as well as the others."

"Poseidon has bestowed the power for the wielder to tame and easily control the horses the wielder rides upon, but only while the wielder rides the horse. Note the latter part and know it well... your life may depend on it."

"Athena has bestowed the power to grant a swordsmanship bonus to the wielder as long as the wielder does not consciously call out the powers that Ares bestowed upon the sword. You may either fight a mindless battle through shear force, or fight through ability and honor... its your choice, but remember: while consciously choosing which powers to draw upon, you will draw from neither for a short period of time."

"How long a period of time?" The young Imperator asked,

"A few seconds, but more than enough to get you killed," Apollo noted. "Let's continue."

"Finally, you will be able to consciously call upon the power I have imbibed into the sword. This power is only limited to your own ability to withstand it and manage it. With this power comes the ability to invoke the power of stars and the hellish fires they are made of. While you wear this sword, you are invulnerable to that effect. However, the people around you are not... be careful around your own people, and especially around the ones you care about. If the sword is ever shattered, however, you may call upon the heat to reforge the sword back to its original state... but it will leave you vulnerable until it has finished."

"Finally, young Imperator... know this and heed these words carefully: Never waiver in your hunger for victory... you will never wield that sword again and end your Dynasty outright if you lose the conviction to defeat not only your own enemies, but the enemies of your Imperium."

"Farewell, young Imperator... I hope to speak to you again sometime soon... and tell King Nightbane he needs to return his calls."
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While time had seemingly proceeded at normal speed in the realm of the gods, it had slowed down to a figurative snail's pace. As he continued to draw the sword, the earthquakes got more and more intense. Finally, the Praetorian Prefect had finally had enough of the show, as he was finally convinced that the Newman Dynasty had to be exterminated.

"For the gods!" The Praetorian Prefect called out as he quickly pulled his sword and charged the podium, passing the priests and priestesses before they could stop him. As he reached the Imperial Heir and swung his falcata down upon the Imperial Heir's skull, the resistance he expected to meet cleaving the young man's head into two pieces wasn't there. His sword struck the ground as the earthshaking stopped and the star once again shined brightly again as if someone had flipped a switch.

Before he could react to the sudden change in condition, the Praetorian Prefect felt a sudden crashing blow through his shoulder and deep into his chest, splitting his heart into two pieces and leaving him in immediate shock. He shook as he turned his head to see his attacker, meeting the Imperator's face as he wore a blank expression on his face.

"Y-y-you bas-s-tard!" The Praetorian Prefect said as the Imperator forcefully retracted his sword from the man's chest, instantly killing him and staining the podium bright red as the former Prefect's blood gusted out like a burst waterbed. The Imperator grabbed his cape with one hand, and while holding the Sol Indulges, cleaned the blade of the blood and then returned it to the scabbard on his belt.

"At this time, I would like to ask anyone else that if they have a problem with my becoming Imperator that they may only have this opportunity to say it before I feel enough great personal dishonor to hack them to pieces," The new Imperator said as the crowd gawked at him with their mouths wide open at the spectacle before them. What the Imperator had not realized that he no longer wore the gold olive-branch laurel crown that was placed on his head, but instead wore the ancient Star Crown of the Imperium... an ancient relic of similar myth and lore as the Sol Indulges itself.