Deathless

Deathless Chapter One: Messenger

Chapter One: Messenger

Emperor Iepenel of the Arlenian Empire had never been so exhausted in his life. Since he'd been declared emperor seven years ago after his father was assassinated, and the Civil War of Arlenia had begun, Iepenel, a new ruler, had been forced to take up arms against his own brother, Ashmur. Suddenly, Iepenel had to shoulder the weight of ruling the entire empire. It had simply been too much for a man who'd just lost his father.

Over the past years he'd spent many a late night discussing strategy with his generals on how to combat the rebel armies, which had grown substantially since the war began. The rebels had made countless advances over the years since their original march on the city of Oronthurin, capturing it and many of the surrounding territories.

Now, seven years later, it was as if Iepenel could feel that the strength of Arlenia, nine hundred years of power and prestige, was failing. The rebels continued to wage their war against the people of Arlenia, led by Ashmur, who wanted the throne to himself.

Arlenia was falling. The rebels were gaining extensive might, and Ashmur now had a colossal army backing his claim. Soon, the mighty Imperial Battalion, which had kept the Empire safe from numerous threats over the years, both internal and external, would fall before the sheer might of the rebellion.

The Arlenian Battalion, which, at the height of its power, commanded over two hundred thousand men strong, had now diminished over the centuries, and now only a mere eighty thousand counted themselves among the Battalion.

Iepenel had enough on his plate as is. But then, late last night, he'd been woken suddenly by his steward, who informed him that Commander Rowlec, head of the Eagles, the scouting division of the Battalion, had returned, and requested to see him to deliver an urgent report.

So Iepenel had dressed quickly, and had hurried to the war room, where he'd found Rowlec standing, out of breath, in the rectangular room bathed in the eerie orange glow of a single candle.Iepenel had been annoyed at being woken so late at night. But the news Rowlec had brought had snapped him out of his stupor immediately.

"It has become impossible to die," Rowlec had stammered, fear clear in his tone. Now Rowlec was a proud, dignified man, who held his honor high above all else. He was probably one of the men you'd least expect to hold that kind of dread in his voice.

Iepenel had not known what to say. "What do you mean, 'impossible to die,' Rowlec? You're not making sense!"

"I mean, sir, no one, from an man dying from disease or a man dying from a spear in his throat, has been able to die!" Rowlec answered instantly. He then took a breath, calming himself.

"All across Arlenia, even from across the border as my spies tell me," he continued. "There have been dozens of reports that it has suddenly become unfeasible to pass into the afterlife."

"Does that mean to say that if I were to stab you with my sword right at this moment," Iepenel said, gesturing to his sword, which hung at his belt. "You would not be able to die?"

"Yes, sir, I mean exactly that!"

"I need a moment," Iepenel had muttered as he fell into one of the oaken chairs that surrounded a circular table. He pressed his palms into his forehead, and as they grew moist with perspiration, he pondered what could the sudden departure of death mean.

"I'm going to need some proof of this before I believe it," Iepenel said coldly, refusing to believe the truth. He gestured to his steward. "Come here, you."

"Yes, milord?" The old steward asked.

"You better be right, Rowlec. I don't care much for killing my subordinates without reason."