The Fall of the Republic
Founded in the early days of the Second Immortal Epoch, the citadel of Spinesreach commands a provenance unmatched by any city on Sapience still standing today. This storied history, while tumultuous and turbulent over the years, has always retained a singular constant: Artifice reigns eternal, and the will of Severn is absolute.
In the modern era, Spinesreach cast aside their affiliation with the Ankyrean legacy in favour of an experiment in democracy, forming a Republic founded on classical ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity. While the Republic prospered, Severn remained content to allow this dalliance – a fancy, derived from the free will He Himself opposed in the ancient past – to continue.
Following the Second War of Night and the grand ylem larceny orchestrated by the Spireans, war and infighting cast Spinesreach into turmoil. Promises to the Sun Drinker, Whose assent had so recently been acquired to rechristen the Lion as the Dragon of the North, were broken. The ignoble seizure, torture, and ultimate death visited upon Holbrook Hought by Duiran went unavenged. Heads were buried in the sand, extracting themselves only to plead aid from Severn and Tanixalthas.
In Arios of the Year 506, after a lengthy sojourn in Her Plane of Kal Keleru, the skies split asunder with the return of Sky Dreaming, exploding back into the Prime Material amidst an incandescent storm of anger. As the First Dragon bellowed Her outrage at broken promises, the squalling tempest parted and the silhouette of Severn was thrown into sharp relief as He stood atop the tallest of the renowned Spires.
Silver then veiled the firmament with the wakening of Bamathis. The Warlord patrolled the ramparts of His fortress near the Yggdrasil as He lavished praise on the Minotaur God for His efforts as Spymaster. Following this proclamation, Strife released Severn from His oaths, setting Him free to, in the Warlord’s words, “work as You will.” Vanishing back into His keep, Bamathis watched on as Severn made His first move.
“Democracy has failed, as I have long known it would.” His voice came with its typically subtle susurrations. And in that moment, Spinesreach was transformed.
The roar of the First Dragon echoed soon after, booming across Creation with Her accession to the position of Spirean Patron. Losing no time, Severn worked as He is wont to do, seizing for Himself the position of Ard-Dhasani and dissolving the Republic in one fell swoop. The Chair and Senate and Secretariat are no more; in their place the Regent and Viceroys rule on behalf of Spinesreach’s twin Gods as representatives of the theocracy that was established in all but name so long before living memory.
Instructing His city on the new order, Severn’s command was and is simple: if you do not like it, rise up and overthrow Me.
And thus begins a new age for the Dragon of the North, the citadel blessed by Pride and guided by Artifice. Tasked to rediscover their Ankyrean legacy as paradigms of science, art, culture, devotion, magic, and guile, soon, the Conclaves will be born again.
Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 19th of Arios, in the year 506 MA.
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