#irovetti

I made a silly gif rotoscoped from this.

And it is a mere illusion, of course, no matter how finely crafted. No architect worth a copper piece would put a window the size of a wall into what should be the most secure room in the palace. But for a brief moment, I can at least forget what has replaced this vision outside, and find solace under the false light of burnished gold. The king in yellow, on his gossamer strings.

Behind me, stand the last of my loyal, those not taken from me by plague, by fear, or by self-interest. Vilamor Koth, barely healed from his stand against the tides of Kanto at the gates of my palace. Avinash Jurrg, my last loyal general, who has sworn to stand by me until the end. A scattering of other guards, the last remnant of once mighty armies. A shadow of a shadow, indeed.

“You who would stand by my side,” I hear myself utter, as I cease my gazing at a lost vision and turn to face those who failed me. “Know that today, a great nation dies, reduced to rubble by the actions of monsters who would claim themselves to be men.”

Under the faceless masks of the Pitax Wardens, I can see nothing; less than nothing. Yet I know that half of them are recent recruits; people pressed into service after the destruction of the Royal Guardians. How many of them know no emotion but despair, hidden in their fearful armor? A hundred stories, that will end today in futility…

“The enemy thunders upon our gates, promising vengeance upon their foes and plunder to sate their thirst. Only death awaits us outside these walls. There shall be no escape from our fate.”

I know you’re there, you know. Couldn't look away from the last stages of your play? I’m not even sure when you started using your puppet strings. Was it when I laid hands upon your sword? When I rose to rule in the aftermath of a tide of blood? When I began to sack my own cities in search of allies reprehensible? Which actions were my own?

“But in our last hour, we shall have one last opportunity. Our greatest foes, the foul king of Kanto and his minions, will enter this castle, bereft of all other allies. They must, for that which they greatly desires shall be lost otherwise!

Tonight, my companions, we shall find ourselves in the Outer Planes, and receive our final judgments. But in the name of our fallen country, for Pitax’s sake, we shall not enter there alone!”

With my final declaration, I lift the Rod of Razors to the painted sky above us, and receive the roar of my army in return, tattered and weak though it may be.