The Crown of Treason

Prologue

Our heroes come

They sing their song

Our heroes go

But never they fall

Dominions rise

for the time they're given

'till kings fall

out of memories livin

In the underworld so dark

The fade is given blood to swallow

An offer given for by had so stark

for memories of mighty deeds

the shroud they wallow

Who will find the secret

of the living idea

for him cry the dead

under the living tree

Him they bring

to a throne of stone

a throne of gold

and a brigde of bone

of deeds so bold

they ward of death

Who can beat his cold hand

best not quail

for he is a god
should he prevail

Applause, my audience, applause. Applause, dear mortals.

You came to see to action?

Please forgive me that little strip of poetry.

Allow me to introduce myself.

I'm a man of speciale interests and tastes.

My name is Ergodix.

For those who know me, please don't grovel in the dirt.
There's always the few who haven't gotten the message yet.
For those who don't know me, again, I am Ergodix, god of stories. Does it ring a bell?

In your world, you probably know me as 'History'. Or some might know me by my other name, Anancy, or maybe even some other obscure name I've used before. I wan't you to know, whatever, names are so fluctuating, the point is the story. What's the point of a name if you don't know the story? What's they point of a story if you don't get the gist of it? I sometimes listen to the name, Ergodix, and if you want to call me something else, I might listen as well.

I am the lord of stories. Yes, yes, yes. I am the god of everything you call 'fiction' as well as all that 'non-fiction' bogus.

You understood me correctly.

ALL stories, written or not, they belong to me. That's my job. I read them, or more correctly I understand them, it is really a matter of semantics. You can't really read an unwritten story, you have to have seen them, or heard them. Even when I'm not always there, I have seen it. Because I am everywhere I need to be.

That. Is. My. job.

I take note!

You could say I work in the Hall of the Dead, the archives. To keep the records of all the stories, the gods have me, good old Ergodix, with his big mouth. That's why I'm so good at telling stories.

Now, I also have a hobby.

Don't laugh, you mortals, don't laught. I have a very very ironic sense of humor.

Of course gods have hobbies.
We have an eternity to do whatever we want and the cosmic powers to get it done.
Do you have any idea how boring it gets when you don't have a hobby? Even with all the work we are supposed to get done.

Anyway, my hobby is: "The judgement of heroes". I like that. Heroes make for good stories en good stories inspire people en children to do their best.

That's what I love to see. People who go for it. But rrrrrrreeally go for it. People who keep going for it when all the odds are against them. People who keep going when they 0-5 behind in a stadium full of fans. People who keep going when they're surrounded by a thousand spears, when they have their back against the wall. People who keep going when the whole world is falling apart. Those are the stories I keep in my personal account.
That's why I exist, Ergodix.

Now summon me: Ergodix! ERGODIX! ER-GOD-IX!

Thank you!

Today I would like to tell you a story about a special man. A man who's story starts in the ruïnes of the Aventinian Empire.

The empire that ruled for a thousand years of the the Cyan Sea. From the bellies of their dragonships the Aventinians had established dominance over the valleys of Daiterra to the steppes of Terruskië, to the Golf of Arthus, to the deserts of Thesiris.

Aventine, rulers of the lands and rulers of the seas.

Long after their fall...

Three hundred years after the apocalyptic volcanic eruption that obliderated their fleet and army, like puppets from a wooden map.

That's where we are going.

To the times of when the Khanat of Hassans' Keep had dominion of ver the Cyan Sea.

The times when the Kingdom of Daiterra tries to bring unity on the continent it is named after.

The times of the Crown of Treason and the Throne of Heroes.

Our story starts in Schildenburg, where an alliance of disgruntled nobles who call themselves 'The Golden Cirkel' has just captured the king.