Ever Lord

In the Hall of Record, the lights burned low.

The Librarian’s many eyes darted around the shadows, searching for signs of movement. There were none. The Quill-servants had all returned to their cells, the doors shut tightly. It was only the Librarian now, with their pile of scrolls, books, papers, letters, documents, rolls of pens, and stacks of ink vials.

Completing their circuit, the eyes of the Librarian landed once more on the single letter that had occupied their thoughts for the whole evening. A single letter, written and sealed with a special mark; the one mark the Librarian held in any kind of esteem.

In the distance, the Darklin’ Hour rang. The Fiveworlders called it Eve’nbell. Such a silly name for the coming of darkness.

For the first time in…was it years? Certainly not. Months at least, but years? Well, it was possible, but still…when was the last time the Librarian had crawled out from behind their desk? What had they done? That’s right, they had been looking for a lost Quill-servant, to administer punishment for his — or was it hers? — laxity in their duties. They had found the poor thing huddled in a ditch on the outskirts of the inner Palace, pressed against the Palace Walls and begging for mercy. Poor thing.

For the thousands of citizens of the Empire of Ever and Always, the day ended the same way it had for over ten centuries.

In the tallest tower of the Palace of Ever and Always, there hung six bells. The pedigree and history of each was enough to fill whole volumes in the palaces archives, and they had a language all their own; ringing out not only the time, but important events throughout the long days of the Ever Empire. There was a ring for morning prayers, for midday mass, for the departure and arrival of the Ever Lord, and many more besides.

Now, the bells ring a warning, a caution to all that night had officially fallen on the First and greatest of the Five Worlds. The sound reached outwards, searching for every crack and corner, filling the ancient stone with its vibrations. It was said that the tolling of the Six Bells could reach across the Velvet. When the Six Bells rang, the whole Empire took notice.

At the bells’ reverberations, shadows which had for the better part of the evening crept across the stonework in a steady pace now filled the corners of the countless pathways and crosswalks that wound across the ground like eager snakes.

It was the first of two rings. The first was to alert the Empire that the second ring was soon to come. To many, it was the Empire’s way of stretching and yawning before blowing out the candle.

A Foreword by Lady Euphonia Winscort

This is the Eleventh volume of my dramatic retelling of the rise and fall of the Empire of Ever and Always, covering the first generation of the Era of Heiritance: the discovery of the Five Heirs and the events that resulted from their investiture.

I was enamored of the Empire of Ever and Always from a young age, specifically when first viewing “The Great Exodus” by the famous Uumphoun painter Koothoonu. Whether zey used three canvases because, as it is argued, zey were commanded by zer patron, or because zey could not capture the grandeur of the spectacle in one canvas alone, I do not care to speculate. What I can say is, as a young child, I was enraptured by both the size of the Imperial vessels depicted, and the remarkable scale of the enterprise.

I remember being fascinated by the prow of the lead ship. (Any who have seen the original painting in its place at the Garm Museum of Ancient Art will know which vessel I mean; Koothoonu’s masterful handling of color and shade make it perfectly clear which of the three largest ships is in the foreground) Whether Koothoonu painted a specific vessel or from memory is open to debate, but as a child I could not escape the horribly sad face of the foremost figurehead. Its gaze was steady, but offset, giving it the air of one who has seen everything they have ever cared about collapse into nothing, a face of unbearable sadness.