As the reign of the mad king began to crumble, rebel groups began to emerge in the ruins of the Empire. The Black Knights, comprised mostly from the second sons of the aristocratic houses, were the most successful at moving a new political power forward. With an eye towards pure equality and the access to funds and weapons, the Black Knights succeeded in overthrowing the mad king. Ultimately, these efforts would be too late and their ideology not powerful enough to overcome millennia of entrenched hegemony. The land tore apart. The leader of the Black Knights, Frayoton of house E'Quomin, left a letter for his mother who had taught him the earliest tenets of the Black Knight ideology. She would perish in the fires, unable to save herself from the choices she made. The remainder of the Black Knights would go on to worship her as a martyr in the third age.
My dearest mother,
It is with little regret that I begin this letter to you. Perhaps I will find regret along the way. I know you and father supported the king. I understand that you felt you would find power on the far side of the Empire’s resurrection. I cannot see your choices as anything but self-serving.
I write to you, should you not know what the king has done, what evils he has released into the world. You have chosen to remain a recluse, and after the way that father treated you, I cannot and will not place blame at your feet for this choice. You did as well as you could under the circumstances you had. Marrying a second son desperate for the family crest was never your choice. But I cannot let you rot in this place without giving you the truth, that you might make one more choice and accompany me should I succeed in my endeavor.
Even now, as you read this, I and my black knights are securing the city from the ravages of the king and his madness. Soon, he will be dead. I cannot tell you how he will die, for that is hidden even from me. I will not tell you all our allies, lest this letter fall into the hands of anyone else, but I can assure you his will be an unpleasant end. He deserves it.
I wish you to know of his transgressions.
He forced witches to serve him, stole their majik, forced them to murder their own nuns. He captured Fae, stole from them their bodies, forced his witches to create new magic for him that he might be stronger than other humans. He has twisted himself, corrupted himself and his house.
He cannot be allowed to endure.
Across the Empire, his witches crush any attempt at rebellion. His consort, who will remain nameless as we pursue our vengeance, has fled. He, if he can be conceived of as a human anymore, is a coward. We have persuaded a few witches to our cause. Again, I will not list them here. But know what they have been asked to do, what they were ordered to do, is atrocious, heinous, evil. If they refused, as many did, they were tortured until they no longer existed. They became wraiths.
Mother, please know that when I set fire to the city, when I pull the walls down one by one, I do so for good reason. Our Empire, the glory of power that father so foolishly sought over uncle Dane, is rotted. We must burn the infection out and glory in a new peace, a peace where everyone, human and Fae and every creature in between, are equal and safe and afforded the opportunity to seek comfort. We cannot seek that under this king. He is madness itself. You know this. And so I beg of you, in these final moments, seek refuge. Leave the name and house of E’Quomin behind and leave the city. I know of your bravery. You once led reform yourself. Before marrying father, you were your own force with which to be reckoned; search inside yourself for that courage now. You need to get out. I cannot coach the fire that will burn through this city. I won’t. I have Crathe by my side. He is the best brother I could have asked for, and he too, implores you: get out, mother. Leave everything but that which you need. It is time for a new era, no houses, no aristocracy.
After fire, things grow anew. You taught me that. It is time.
All my love,
Frayoton
~.~
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