When I was a boy, I was taught to revere legends.
Not legends like immortal, supernatural beings. Legends of flesh and blood. Legends of mankind.
Look at any culture around the world, and you will find legends revered as far back as history will take you.
For Klironomea it is a simple affair. The most recent 'legend' is that of Harald the Second and his forefathers, the Barracks-Kings of Klironomea. When the Barracks-Kings were nought but children swaddled in the crib, they revered the baseborn Prince Loukas Stagmore, who desperately tried to do right by the people who had been crushed under the tyranny of his family. Prince Loukas would have revered the Black Prince, Magnarius Ælfwyne, the first and last ruler of all five lost kingdoms of the north who was forced to lead his people into Klironomea to protect them when the horse-lords first spilled south. When Magnarius was alive the Klironomeans hadn't even returned to Klironomea yet, but still the trail of legends stretches back further, and so he looked to the great monarchs of the Skraeling house Doregern as his group of reverence. I believe you get the gist of what I'm trying to say.
My point is this; every generation has its great heroes and villains, and to a man they all look back upon the greats from the century before their own for inspiration. They all look to the past for guidance, to look for what they should emulate. They crave the approval of men long since dead when they should have been looking forwards at what they could achieve with their own ideas, their own drive.
That is the fundamental flaw with most rulers. They want so desperately to be revered in history just as they revered others, and as a result they are utterly incapable of seeing their plans to fruition because they're too preoccupied with wondering whether or not the generations to come will disdain their name for the actions they took in enacting their plans. If one worries about what the future will think of one then the dream is as good as dead as soon as one attempts to start. You can't worry about that sort of menial thing.
In a stroke of irony you are almost certain to be remembered for a thousand years if you care not for being remembered as 'kind' or 'good'. What matter is it whether you are loved or despised once you are buried? Be you remembered as an Angel or a daemon, you will still be remembered. Those who wished to enact their goals without dirtying their hands are consigned to be forgotten, remembered only in extreme circumstances. Men like Magnarius Ælfwyne and Prince Loukas are merely the exceptions that prove the rule.
So, is it better to be remembered for completing your actions no matter the cost or forgotten for failing to see them through whilst maintaining your conscience? The former of course, but there is a third option that is better still.
To enact all of your goals, to see every plan through to fruition and every monument built to completion, and yet still ensure you are forgotten? That's true success. Not the vanity of those who wish to be remembered for doing good, not the callousness of those who care not how they act, but the middle ground that ensures your name will be buried in history. I learned that at a very young age from the spymaster of our now-departed King Aered. Aered was a weak man, and I used that to my advantage. People will not remember me for the humiliations I thrust upon him, however. They will only remember that he was humiliated. Our house has grown far, far stronger under my leadership, and so long as you and your sister continue to follow my lead it will continue to do so when I'm gone.
No, I do not wish for fame. In fact when I die I would rather no-one remember me at all.
Are you listening to me, Aerna? I need you to stop playing with your sword at tourneys, to stop spending more time thinking up snide comments you think are clever, and to start learning what it means to lead. Your distant cousin, Lord Tyros, will be leading our armies. I'm sending you to act as his second-in-command.
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An Angel Called Eternity
FantasyThis story is also being posted on RoyalRoad.com On the western shores of Kliskorios, a King sits without an heir. With his three children unwilling to allow each other to sit upon the throne, and a realm unable to decide the legal successor, the Ki...