The Signs We Missed

Ironhand 5504, The Eternal Palace

Emperor Thazmug had only been crowned Emperor a week ago. He was considered quite young to ascend to the Eternal Throne at only 55 years of age, but his supporters claimed it gave him more time to make an impact. The main events were finally over, and the coronation wasn't to take place until the sandstorms passed, so this left with him with a conundrum.

He had nothing to do.

He had finished the required reading assigned to him by the Voice of Ancestors. He had greeted all the guards of the palace. He spoke to the Head Chef, Head Gardener, and even his servants.

Finding himself wandering the library once again, he stopped to speak with the Head Scribe once more.

"Your Majesty, good to see you again! Is there something I can help you with?" The Scribe asked, bowing.

Thazmug stroked his beard. "Perhaps. I've bit of a problem. With the sandstorm seems I've got nothing but time on my hands."

The scribe looked thoughtful. "There is... one scroll. I had hoped you could have ruled for some time before reading it, but we have some time."

"Oh? What's it about?"

"Neptis. The God of War."

Thazmug was interested but also amused. "The blessed War God? What's it about? Her bawdy tavern songs?"

The scribe's face fell, and he looked grim. "Far from it. First hand accounts of the Second War."

Thazmug's face fell. "What is it really about, Head Scribe?"

"You better come with me."