Eternal
Before you prepare to get some rest for the night, Quintus hands you an old small worn book.
“What’s this?” you ask.
“Something I thought maybe you might find interesting. It’s the old journal of Matriarch Brenda, first ruler of Nalin and your fellow Eternal.” Quintus answers.
When you handle the book, the spine cracks and some of the pages nearly come falling out.
“Yeah, be careful, as you might imagine it’s very old and sadly missing quite a few pages already. For centuries nobody even knew she kept one, but this was found about three hundred years ago when the builders were tearing down her old home to make room for the new senate forum. Such a loss really, tearing down the home of a woman who did so much for this country. I can tell you one thing, had I been alive during those days, I would’ve made every effort to keep the house as an important historical site.”
“So who had this before you?”
“Oh several people. Mostly collectors that didn’t really do anything with it save not really keeping good care of it. For a while I do believe it was actually lost, but eventually it popped up again and found its way into that museum run by the Mols. Finally through a mutually beneficial deal I acquired the book from that family.”
“I see, well I’m not sure if I feel comfortable reading something that was Brenda’s private thoughts.”
“Oh. Well, you can just put it on that table over there if you feel that way. Just thought maybe you’d be interested in it. No harm done. Anyway goodnight.” Quintus says and leaves the room.
You begin to settle down for sleep, but find you that you can’t. You are tired, but not sleepy, probably because you’ve been sleeping for the past five hundred years!
You explore the room a bit, but there isn’t anything much of interest that’s going to keep you occupied, well except Brenda’s journal. It probably seems silly, but in your mind Brenda hasn’t been dead for centuries. In your mind, the last time you saw her was only a few years ago and reading her journal would be an invasion of her privacy.
However Brenda has been dead for centuries and under the circumstances you can’t help, but be a little interested.
“Apologies Brenda, but I fear my curiosity has gotten the better of me.” You say and start flipping through the journal trying to be a careful as you can since last time it nearly fell apart in your hands.
Really it seems like the journal shouldn’t even be handled anymore, it’s missing more than a few pages and the writing has faded as well. For all Quintus’ claims of respecting historical items of the old Empire, he hasn’t even bothered to put the loose pages back in proper order. Still, you manage to make out some of it.
One entry in particular stands out for you mainly because you get the best sense of Brenda’s frustration of her situation, but then realizing that she has to do something about it.
Entry 51
Sometimes I wonder why I even keep this stupid thing. I think I had some weird idea that someone needed to keep a record of events after the cataclysm. Still don’t know what caused it, nobody does. In another two hundred years is anyone even going to care?
Chaos hasn’t completely overtaken Nalin, but I need to keep some sort of order. I don’t want to use extreme measures, but it’s getting to the point where I’m going to have no choice. They aren’t bad people, they’re just panicking and scared more than anything else. It’s understandable, I am too.
I know who wouldn’t be scared, that paragon of Eternalhood. The Emperor’s Weapon of Terrible Justice or whatever it is they used to call him. Can’t remember all the nics and titles he had. If he were here, he’d probably already be rebuilding the Empire. Alas, I have heard no word of him or much word of anything past Quala really and it’s been months. I can only believe he must be dead along with millions of others. Warrick too, though I shed no tears for his passing. It was his bumbling that resulted in my husband’s death.
It would seem I am the last of the Eternals. It is a strange sad thing being the last of something. Everyone looks to me like I’m supposed to solve this problem with the snap of a finger, but I’m just one woman even if everyone somehow believes I’m this superior being just because I’m an Eternal.
I honestly wish I wasn’t most of the time. I certainly don’t feel any more powerful or smarter because of it and nowadays I feel like I’m got a huge target on my back and I have to constantly look over my shoulder because some idiot thinks I’m being a repressive tyrant. People either hate me, fear me, worship me, or a combination of all three.
What the hell do these people want? I’m doing the best I fucking can! Not only am I trying to maintain civilization and order in these dark days, I’m also trying to keep some semblance of the Empire alive. We can’t just abandon our way of life because of a terrible disaster.
Or maybe I’m just holding on to something that I know because I’ve lost everything else. I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.
Starting tomorrow, I’m going to make some major changes. I’m not even sure what exactly, but changes are going to be made if only so civilization and order can go on and damn what the people think. History can be the final judge.
I just wish Roldan was here.
“I wish you all were here.” You say to yourself and close the book.
“What’s this?” you ask.
“Something I thought maybe you might find interesting. It’s the old journal of Matriarch Brenda, first ruler of Nalin and your fellow Eternal.” Quintus answers.
When you handle the book, the spine cracks and some of the pages nearly come falling out.
“Yeah, be careful, as you might imagine it’s very old and sadly missing quite a few pages already. For centuries nobody even knew she kept one, but this was found about three hundred years ago when the builders were tearing down her old home to make room for the new senate forum. Such a loss really, tearing down the home of a woman who did so much for this country. I can tell you one thing, had I been alive during those days, I would’ve made every effort to keep the house as an important historical site.”
“So who had this before you?”
“Oh several people. Mostly collectors that didn’t really do anything with it save not really keeping good care of it. For a while I do believe it was actually lost, but eventually it popped up again and found its way into that museum run by the Mols. Finally through a mutually beneficial deal I acquired the book from that family.”
“I see, well I’m not sure if I feel comfortable reading something that was Brenda’s private thoughts.”
“Oh. Well, you can just put it on that table over there if you feel that way. Just thought maybe you’d be interested in it. No harm done. Anyway goodnight.” Quintus says and leaves the room.
You begin to settle down for sleep, but find you that you can’t. You are tired, but not sleepy, probably because you’ve been sleeping for the past five hundred years!
You explore the room a bit, but there isn’t anything much of interest that’s going to keep you occupied, well except Brenda’s journal. It probably seems silly, but in your mind Brenda hasn’t been dead for centuries. In your mind, the last time you saw her was only a few years ago and reading her journal would be an invasion of her privacy.
However Brenda has been dead for centuries and under the circumstances you can’t help, but be a little interested.
“Apologies Brenda, but I fear my curiosity has gotten the better of me.” You say and start flipping through the journal trying to be a careful as you can since last time it nearly fell apart in your hands.
Really it seems like the journal shouldn’t even be handled anymore, it’s missing more than a few pages and the writing has faded as well. For all Quintus’ claims of respecting historical items of the old Empire, he hasn’t even bothered to put the loose pages back in proper order. Still, you manage to make out some of it.
One entry in particular stands out for you mainly because you get the best sense of Brenda’s frustration of her situation, but then realizing that she has to do something about it.
Entry 51
Sometimes I wonder why I even keep this stupid thing. I think I had some weird idea that someone needed to keep a record of events after the cataclysm. Still don’t know what caused it, nobody does. In another two hundred years is anyone even going to care?
Chaos hasn’t completely overtaken Nalin, but I need to keep some sort of order. I don’t want to use extreme measures, but it’s getting to the point where I’m going to have no choice. They aren’t bad people, they’re just panicking and scared more than anything else. It’s understandable, I am too.
I know who wouldn’t be scared, that paragon of Eternalhood. The Emperor’s Weapon of Terrible Justice or whatever it is they used to call him. Can’t remember all the nics and titles he had. If he were here, he’d probably already be rebuilding the Empire. Alas, I have heard no word of him or much word of anything past Quala really and it’s been months. I can only believe he must be dead along with millions of others. Warrick too, though I shed no tears for his passing. It was his bumbling that resulted in my husband’s death.
It would seem I am the last of the Eternals. It is a strange sad thing being the last of something. Everyone looks to me like I’m supposed to solve this problem with the snap of a finger, but I’m just one woman even if everyone somehow believes I’m this superior being just because I’m an Eternal.
I honestly wish I wasn’t most of the time. I certainly don’t feel any more powerful or smarter because of it and nowadays I feel like I’m got a huge target on my back and I have to constantly look over my shoulder because some idiot thinks I’m being a repressive tyrant. People either hate me, fear me, worship me, or a combination of all three.
What the hell do these people want? I’m doing the best I fucking can! Not only am I trying to maintain civilization and order in these dark days, I’m also trying to keep some semblance of the Empire alive. We can’t just abandon our way of life because of a terrible disaster.
Or maybe I’m just holding on to something that I know because I’ve lost everything else. I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.
Starting tomorrow, I’m going to make some major changes. I’m not even sure what exactly, but changes are going to be made if only so civilization and order can go on and damn what the people think. History can be the final judge.
I just wish Roldan was here.
“I wish you all were here.” You say to yourself and close the book.