A warm and humid breeze blew through the iron bars in the window of the chamber, carrying with it the fetid odor of the ricelands to the south. The disagreeable warmth and odor woke Remun from his afternoon nap and he sat upright upon his sleeping mat. Woven dumur reeds crinkled under what little weight his slender body carried as he stretched his arms out and twisted himself around to crack his back. Beads of sweat had formed upon his brow and moistened his greasy mane of thick black hair, indicating it would be too warm to go back to sleep. Unfortunate; as the days continued to get warmer and more humid, Remun had planned to sleep during the warmest parts of the day and commit the more comfortable evenings to reading and study. But if the days continued to be this warm and warmer still, it would be too hot to comfortably sleep or read. With trained discipline, he squelched a twinge of disappointment with this detestable heat. He then crossed his legs and held his arms outward, touching his palms with only his ring fingers - as instructed in the B'zuri manuals - and began to meditate.

After some time in meditation, Remun returned to the world refreshed and acclimated to the heat of midday. He rose from his spartan sleeping accommodations and made his way to the window where he peered through the three thick iron bars embedded into the window's stone blocks and surveyed the outside world. Through the iron bars, Remun had a commanding view of the city of Nyssos. A forest of chiseled spires rose into a hazy yellow-orange sky capped in flattened cupolas of bronze. Smaller minarets rose skyward as well, sprouting from the lower patios and balconies of the primary towers. Banners of purple cloth bridged the distance between several spires and minarets, casting strategically-placed shade on the streets, gardens, and plazas below. At the very base of the spires around him, the streets ran on raised plazas above a winding maze of canals flowing with brown, muddy water where small rafts constructed from tightly-woven dumur reeds paddled along. And far below him, at the base of the spire Remun occupied, the terraces of the palace overflowed with lush, inflorescent plantlife. Looking at Remun's immediate surroundings, one might think he were locked within some castle's dungeon, but indeed, Remun's chamber was situated at the top of a minaret of the palace of the mighty Sashul Davorgada. And given his rude accommodations and his lowly appearance, one would scarcely be inclined to believe that Remun could possibly be a son of the terrible Davorgada, an heir to the entire Salished Dominion.

But that is precisely who Remun was.

There had been a time when Remun himself could not believe or accept his lot in this world. The iron bars through which he peered, eroded down to a taper at their bases, bore testimony to that. During his first year locked in this tower, Remun had tried to file the iron bars down with bits of steel, stone, or anything remotely hard that he could scrape away at the bars with. For an entire month during that first dark year, Remun spent every waking hour grinding away at the iron bars with the aim of removing them and casting himself through the window to a death that would release him from the awfulness of his existence and end his captivity.

Remun's confinement was borne of the paranoia and cold-bloodedness of his own father - the Sashul. Knowing the history of his own dynasty, Davorgada knew the tales of the Sashuls Esur I and II, and his own great-grandfather Tiomad IV - all of whom were claimed to have been assassinated at the order of their own sons that they might assume control of the empire. Recognizing the threat of patricide by his sons, but wanting to preserve his lineage at the same time, Davorgada elected to imprison his own sons until his death. Remun and his elder brother Idrim were imprisoned when they were only boys - the time at which Davorgada first feared his sons might try to murder him. That had been nearly ten years ago, and Remun had not once seen his father, his brother, or anyone else during these long years of imprisonment.

Other men would have lost their sanity many years ago, but Remun had developed a novel means of coping with this fate. With an elder brother who would take control of the empire before him should his father pass and Idrim likely electing to keep him locked away in his chamber, Remun accepted long ago that he would likely never leave this tower alive. But though he was to spend the rest of his life locked away, Remun could still roam Azoth through the words of the books he so voraciously read. Remun had successfully petitioned the guards who delivered his meals to bring a tome or scroll every other day from the palace's extensive library. And over the years, Remun had read a thousand texts from across the known world and beyond.

With no other means of occupying his time, Remun knew a great deal about nearly any subject one might possibly imagine. From his study, Remun had become an expert on the history of Azoth and its numerous nations and peoples; he had taught himself to read and speak Drathan and Nyr'khol. With great difficulty, Remun had read the esoteric scrolls of the monastic B'zuri and taught himself their arts of meditation. He had read a hundred treatises on ancient wars and compared the teachings of dozens of holy texts from the [i]Qayu[/i] to the [i]Twenty-Seven Hidden Precepts[/i]. There was one passage in particular from the latter text that had left an impression with Remun: [i]From wisdom comes power[/i]. Truly Remun had devoted his life to that particular teaching.

Remun departed from the window back to his bedroll and the pile of tomes and scrolls laid on the hewn stone floor beside it, he dragged his bedroll over into the sunlight for the best reading illumination and took one book off the top of the pile. It was a thin book of vellum bound to a cover of thick leather, with "Treatise on the Arshadar Rebellion of the Year of the Setting Sun 7,992" written in Drathan glyphs on the cover. Remun was very excited when his guard delivered this book to him yesterday along with his nightly meal, and he had read much of it through the night until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. Remun found that historical tomes dealing with the history of the Salished Empire written by Salished scholars were riddled with favorable bias to the Empire. Foreign perspectives offered a more even-handed account of the Empire's history, but the librarians must have refused to keep such books because his guards seldom brought them to him. But this text must have slipped by, as few of the librarians were likely to be able to read Drathan. Remun eagerly opened the stiff velum pages and resumed reading.

[i]...By that time Sashul Davorgada of Nyssos had been notified by his spymasters that Lord Laryss Vissaban had sent missives to Archmagister Khalul. In these pieces of correspondence, Lord Vissaban had pledged allegiance to the Congress of Masters in return for support of his rebellion. The gravity of the situation was now abundantly clear to the Sashul; this was not just another upstart lord wishing to abandon the ailing Salished Dominion. Lord Vissaban was a stake being driven into the heart of the Rainlands by the Congress. Should Lord Vissaban's rebellion have come to fruition, the Salished Empire would have been cut in half, isolating the less populous western half of the empire from Nyssos. The Drathan Union would then be in the perfect position to march up the Shelf of Vorgul, retake Zar Salis, and more. Sebir Tul would pose little obstacle for an invasion from the Ashlands, and so the entire western half of the Salished Empire would have easily fallen. Sashul Davorgada therefore understood that if Lord Vissaban's revolt was not immediately put down, it would be the death of his empire.[/i]

[i]The Sashul moved immediately to quash the alliance between Lord Vissaban and Khalul the Magnificent. A small force was sent under command of Vizier Izadrun to fortify Zar Salis and the Shelf of Vorgul while the Sashul and the bulk of the Salished host marched on Arshadar. Sashul Davorgada immediately began a siege in which he unleashed a savage volley of burning boulders against the very walls he had ordered fortified six years prior. On the 17th day of the fifth moon of 7,992, Archmagister Khalul's mercenary army of Ashenriders had bypassed Liandry and Sebir Tul in an attempt to break the siege. The Sashul's army suffered heavy losses from the initial charge, and may have broken were it not for the timely intervention of the Sashul's own mercenary contingent of Xiangese. The Battle of the 17th ended in Salished victory, but only just, and a daunting siege of the hardened citadel remained...[/i]

Remun was interrupted from his reading when he heard footsteps echoing up the stairway just beyond his locked door. He glanced out the window, still early afternoon; his guards were not due to deliver his dinner for hours yet. This was peculiar indeed. Perhaps his guard had finally found that copy of [i]The History of the Dead Hive[/i]. Remun took note of his stopping place and shut his book before making his way to the door. On the other side of the door, Remun could hear several people talking in hushed whispers while a guard fumbled with a jingling keyring.

The door opened, revealing Remun's typical guard opening the door for a cadre of warriors clad in the ornate plate and lamellar armor of the Sashul's Guard. The stone-faced warriors parted to make way, for behind them was a man dressed a silken robe of blue with a white, beaded sash slung across his breast - the sort of garb one usually only saw worn by palace courtiers. He had aged considerably in ten years time; his nappy, braided beard had faded from the jet black he remembered to a silvery gray, and his gaunt, sharp cheeks had sunken even further inward, but Remun still recognized this man as Irssun of Tehre, one of his father's spymasters and advisors.

"Remun," the worry-wizened man croaked, "look how you have grown. It has been so long since I have seen your face. Do you remember who I am?"

"I-Irssun," Remun recognize in a near whisper. In his solitude, Remun very seldom spoke at all. It had been weeks since he had last uttered a single word, and the sound of his voice felt foreign and unwelcome in his own throat. "Yes, I remember you."

"Before I utter another word, I wish to express my deepest sorrow for what you have had to endure for these many years. If I had one grain of sand for every time I pleaded with your father to release you and your brother from imprisonment, they would outnumber the sands of the Erg." Remun could see Irssun's lips tremble before the next words left his mouth. "I never wanted this for you... but your father was incorrigible..."

[i]Was[/i]? Could this be...?

"My father is dead." Remun concluded. Irssun nodded in tacit confirmation.

"Your father passed away in his sleep in the evening. He had been in failing health for years now."

"I see." Remun acknowledged, his words mouthed out listlessly and his voice devoid of any feeling. "I presume therefore you have come to release Idrim and I from our imprisonment, now that my father has passed."

Even the stoic Sashul's Guard exchanged glances with one another as Irssun paused to find the most delicate way of explaining the situation to Remun.

"I forgot that you have had no way of knowing... your brother Idrim is dead as well." Remun had no words for Irssun. He blinked, dumbfounded.

"Idrim took his own life five years ago, he..." Irssun once again paused to find the correct words. "He took a post from his bed and scraped it to a point against the floor and with it pierced his heart. This is why we could not allow you to have any furniture during your imprisonment, not even a proper bed. We could not loose you, Remun. Please understand."

"Then [i]I[/i] am Sashul." This time the very words in his throat felt alien, threatening to choke him as he tried to pronounce them. Just an hour ago, Remun awoke in his chamber like any common criminal, unaware he was the Sashul of the entirety of the Salished Empire. It was a day he had convinced himself would never come. This had to be a dream, or perhaps a nightmare.

"Yes. In accordance with the ancient laws of the Saliszi and Mardok, you are become Sashul of the Salished Empire. But for now you must do precisely what I say. There will be a day for coronation and pageantry, and all the formalities will be adhered to in due time. But you must understand, Sashul, that these are extremely trying times for the Dominion. No one must know that you are the son of the Sashul and more importantly, no one must know that your father has perished. We must proceed with caution, and you must come with me."

Remun felt he had little other choice than do as Irssun asked. And so, after almost ten years of imprisonment, Remun stepped out of his chamber and descended the winding stairway down the tower as the Emperor of the Salished Dominion.