The Emperor From Another Empire(Discontinued)

Death of the Chosen; Birth of the Divinely Gifted

Andur, the Imperial Heartlands | 36th Century AF

The Imperial Heartland, a swathe of land from which the Empire of Ardur had come to be born in. It is here in the Imperial Heartlands where the many Emperors of Ardur, from Ardur 'The Founder' to the current Emperor, Artureos 'The Chosen,' were born and raised. It is in the Imperial Capital of Andur, where the Imperial Palace is located.

Inside the Imperial Palace, specifically the Imperial Bedchambers, where Emperor Artureos resides. After his eighty years of reigning as the sovereign of the Empire and the successor to Ardur, his body had failed him as for several months he had been bedridden, unable to govern the Empire that now falls to his son, Crowned Sword Artenos, physicians had been called all around the Empire to heal the Emperor but they have continuously stated their inability to do anything, in turn, Artureos ordered for the quick ascension of his son Artenos to the Imperial Throne while also giving him full Imperial Powers as he was the only one capable of managing the Empire.

It was like any normal day for Artureos but today, over several weeks of mental debate, he had decided that over several failed attempts at healing his ailing body, Artureos got a knife and prepared to die. He had debated in his mind whether or not he'd do such a thing but after knowing preparations for his son's ascension were completed, he was finally content with his life. He had conciliated the subjects of his ancestors' empire, pushed back the Infernal Legions, regained the loyalty of the Imperial Colonies, started what many now called the 'Scientific Revolution,' and acquired a friendship in one of the 7 Elven Kingdoms of Jedela.

Many in the Empire called him one of 'The Greatest,' emperors the Empire had ever seen but in his eyes he could've done many more things, one such thing was the redeeming of his father's image and reputation. That was the only wish he had asked of his son, to change the history that was written against his father, to write down the truth instead of laying all the evils he did and hiding and erasing any good he had done.
It was one of the rare days where his body was strong enough to move on its own, the way he wished to die was for him to lay in his bathtub, whilst taking a hot bath then for him to slit his wrists and die of blood loss. It was once his own father's way to leave the mortal plane and join Ardur in the heavens... And now it was his.

In the thirty-sixth century, five days since the recent restart of Oiran's cycle, in the personal bath chambers of the Emperor of Ardur, there lay in the tub was the body of Emperor Artureos as his blood mixed with that of the steamy water. Later in the morning, the bells of the city rang for ninety-two times, a symbol of the deceased emperor's long reign, his body was prepared for his royal funeral procession with it escorted around the Imperial Capital and the nearby cities. The procession lasted five days until finally, his body was buried in the Imperial Cemetery with thousands of onlookers watching his burial. For those of the highly educated, the Emperor's death marked the end of a millennium old era, an era of fear and death, with the recent discoveries and inventions made by the many men and women of the Empire, time would only tell until the Empire of Ardur completely 'industrialised,' yet it also gave off a melancholic feeling as with the death of Artureos means the death of the many fables and tales of heroic knights and divine heroes.

King's Landing, Westeros | 281 AC

Westeros, the far western continent of the Known World, that which inhabits the Kingdom, or kingdoms, of the Iron Throne. For nigh three centuries, the old Valyrian House of the Targaryens called the Iron Throne theirs and Westeros their domain but their reign has ended. Upon the two hundred eighty-first year after Aegon's Conquest, the House of the last Dragons of Valyria was brought down by the antlers, the fangs, the beak, the gills, and the claws of their former vassals. Fortunately for some, the last children of the Dragon have survived yet was it truly worth to continue living if your life was to be on the streets, begging for the most meager of foods and shelters.