[img]http://th01.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/f/2012/284/f/6/loc_muinne_by_rinarvell-d5hiylb.jpg[/img]

Time for reminiscing had passed a long time ago. Men's hatred for those different than them was nothing new, but the newfound resistance of those that sought to end it was. People were beginning to realize that their neighbors of different races were not something to be feared, but to be seen as friends and brothers. That was a time to look forward to. But change was slow and reluctant, with people stuck in their superstitious ways of hatred and disgust. 

Emhyr was a pioneer to this new world. Time was passing everyone by, and, in his eyes, those that sought to spend their time squabbling over hostile lands with those that knew how to help them were a waste of time: Fools of the worst sort. Fools that had no place in his empire. He would do well to take the North, and make such fools disappear.

He was human, of course, and by that manner, he did have a fear of the unknown. He knew that elves and dwarves were different, and confusingly so. But to fear them because of that was laughable. They had their uses, and their skills. All did in the paradise that he envisioned his empire to be. Of course, it would not happen in a day. It probably wouldn't even happen in a hundred years. But it would happen. He promised to the skies that it would.

He stepped out of his war tent, looking every bit the Emperor that he was. His guard fell immediately into position around him, and the various counselors and aides that he had selected to join him, waiting nearby, were immediately at attention. Each one of these hated his guts. Each one loved him dearly. He he wasn't sure anymore. He pretended that the latter was true, while believing and acting upon the former. It was how he had remained alive for so long in such an elevated position.

Beware of a king's love, and bask in his hatred, they had said.

They were fools too, he thought with a small growl. Looking over his immense army as they crossed the Yaruga indicated this. In this world, might was right. As he had the most might, he was obviously right. The time for peace with the north was over. They were in turmoil over what his agents had been doing, and they, too blinded with their own greed, had refused to see the truth that was staring in their faces. They were all fools, and he had no time for fools. A new age was coming, and it would not wait for such backsliders as Foltest and the like to catch up. They would change and bend the knee, or they would fall in battle.

Emhyr had little taste for battle however. The logistics were tiring, the tactics were boring, and the fighting too gruesome for his delicate tastes, but he did see that it was quite useful, and allowed his commanders to engage in all of this, reaping the rewards himself. It was an efficient way of making a living.

"How long will it take, General?" He asked in a low voice, so that only the general could hear him. He was referring to, of course, his army's crossing of the Yaruga. It was a comparatively shallow and slow moving beast, but one that was difficult to cross over with more than 50,000 men, food and supplies for them, and etc.

"The end of the day should see us ready to move forward, my lord," The General said confidently. It was good time, Emhyr thought, but he couldn't let them think that.

"We don't have a day. Riders already left to warn the kings of our impending attack. We don't have a day. I want us ready to march by midday, general," He wagged his finger in the face of the large bearded man," Midday."