It is Morning, and I am Emperor

  77th Day of Spring

  777 Karloman’s Peace

  My name is Sergious Olearius Sulla, Karloman. It is morning and I am emperor. I have been emperor for, well, what feels like all my life. That isn’t true, obviously, as I did experience a period, however brief, where I was not sovereign. I ascended the throne, through no fault of my own, at the age of six years. I did so unintentionally and entirely as a result of the manipulations of others. I am now seventy-two years old and I have been emperor for sixty-six years.

  My name is Sergious Olearius Sulla, Karloman, it is morning, I am emperor, and someone is knocking at my door.

  My empire is vast. So vast that I, and I suspect no one else for that matter, has ever set eyes upon all of it. Three-thousand miles separate the western border of my empire from the eastern. Entitled nobles and various adventuring parties continue to this day to lead expeditions and fight wars in order to push that border even further east. They do so, regardless of the fact that I have not asked them to and have not once expressed a desire to increase the amount of land for which I must be responsible.

  Yet, they push onwards, nonetheless.

  Identifying our northern and southern borders is more complicated, and the various bureaucrats and cartographers of my empire constantly disagree on that issue. The mainland or continental portion of my empire has a clearly defined set of borders, with our northern lands ending where the Frozen Wastes begin and the southern portions ending at the coastline. Had my predecessors been satisfied with the occupation of the continent, there would be nothing for the cartographers to bicker about.

  Unfortunately, they had not been.

  We have sailed to and colonised distant lands in the south, as well as various formerly independent island nations, both in the south and the north. Indigenous peoples in both southern landmasses we have occupied regularly push against the burgeoning reach of my empire. Those lands are expansive enough that the previous generations' understanding of the size of our world has been seriously rebutted. Only a few centuries ago, we believed we had pacified all the inhabitable parts of this world. That was a seriously unproven boast. Thus, where exactly our borders lie, I cannot tell you.

  I sigh. They are knocking at my door again.

  Ignoring for a moment the ambiguity regarding the borders of my empire, it is otherwise very well partitioned and organised. My realm is divided into many different regions, each containing prefectures. Those prefectures are comprised of commanderies, and commanderies in turn are comprised of marquisettes. Finally, these marquisettes are made up of counties, the smallest unit of land to which we attach titles. There are, of course, other smaller divisions and designations of land, such as nobles’ private estates, but these are untitled lands and infer no additional rights to the bearer. Thus, there is a clear hierarchy through which the empire is governed, all answering to the throne here, in our capital city of Pavia.

  Perhaps it would help to map out the empire so that you may understand the geography of my lands and the various challenges that this presents. On the continental west bank of my empire is the Dragon’s Coast Region, named for the ocean to its west and the “Dragon Warriors” who reside there. A collection of peoples who claim their ancestors were famed dragon hunters, slaying great winged beasts of legend, something they refuse to treat as anything other than absolute truth.

  It is typically unwise to argue this claim with the Dragon Warriors, as they do not take kindly to pointing out that the fabled trophies of dragon bones, scales, and fangs that are meant to litter their lands, all seem to have disappeared. Regardless of their fanciful beliefs, the region has produced some of the empire's most militarily talented and disciplined warriors. So, it is best to leave them to their tall tales.

  Bordering the Dragon Coast is the Peaks Region, defined by the two great mountain ranges that run through the land. Initially running parallel to one another in the northeast, they eventually diverge, each heading in its own direction. The southern range stretches over a thousand miles from its northeastern origin to the south of the Dragon’s Coast, while the northern range is only half that length, forking into two stems as it cuts into the middle of the region.

  They are beautiful, those mountains. I haven’t seen them up close in over twenty years. Dear Gods, I do miss the Merchant’s Rebellion. Not the war or bloodshed. I never had a taste for such things but being on campaign, marching the length of my nation at the head of my armies, seeing the beauty of the landscape, sharing in the camaraderie of the soldiers—that I miss dearly.

  Had I been a younger man, this current war might have allowed me to travel and savour my lands again. Sadly, I am seventy-two years old now, and I must limit my time in the saddle.

  The Peaks Region borders three of the empire’s oldest regions on its eastern side. In the north is the aptly named Northern Region. It is an expansive, highly forested region with a mountain range of its own at its top. Those white peaks, sometimes called the ‘World’s Jaw’, form a natural barrier that separates the empire from the savages of the Frozen Wastes to the far north. Bordering the southern reaches of the Peaks Region is Silesia, famed for being the second most prosperous region in the empire. Between Silesia and the Northern Region is, of course, the Central Region, the heart of my empire hosting this here fine city of Pavia, but we will come back to my home later.

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  To the east of the Northern Region is Vaugedguard, a stern, cold region of sterner and colder people, full of thick forests and rolling hills. Vaugedguard separates the eastern flank of my empire from the Frozen Wastes. However, unlike the Northern Region, Vaugedguard does not possess the natural barrier of a mountain range to protect it from the savages who regularly attempt to pillage and raid.

  I can still remember the bitter chill of the air there, almost as if the land itself remains on edge at all times. Despite the danger, those lands always made me feel like excitement was just around the corner. It must be twenty years since I last gazed out at the empty expanse to the north and wondered what lay beyond.

  East of the Central Region and south of Vaugedguard is Vilnius, south of Vilnius and east of Silesia is Anatolia. South of Vaugedguard and bordering both Vilnius and Anatolia is Galati. Vilnius, Anatolia, and Galati are essentially breadbasket regions for the empire, possessing extensive lush fields perfect for cultivation. They are typically beautiful places if you're satisfied with the mundane standard interpretation of the idea.

  Travel further east of Galati and you reach the eastern frontier regions where nobles fight, unrequitedly, in my name, to conquer new lands. The lands beyond are known as the Endless Steppes and are home to an unusual breed of horn-headed humans known as the Mino Peoples. And that concludes the continental portion of my empire. As I have said, though, my lands expand beyond the continent.

  Honestly, I am seventy-two years old. Can they not wait until I have roused before banging my door down every morning? It is hard enough to keep my thoughts together without the constant knocking ringing in my ears.

  Where was I?

  Oh yes, the non-continental portion of my empire. I have only ever left the continent on one occasion in life, so you will have to forgive some vagary or inaccuracy in my account.

  To the north of the Peaks Region are the Broken Isles. A collection of three large islands, alongside some smaller landmasses, famed and named after its native inhabitants' inability to unionise even when they faced total annihilation at the hands of an imperial invasion. They are united now, of course, in service to the empire and, as a result, to me. Though they do still squabble among themselves even to this day and I suspect they will for time immemorial.

  A group of smaller islands to the south of the Peaks Region, known as the Lesser Region, has also been incorporated into my rule, as has the Edena Isle, a very large island to the south of Silesia.

  Two larger landmasses lie to the south, beyond the Teared Sea, which may both be continental in size and have been named the Harsh Region and Adana. The Harsh Region, the more westerly of the two, residing south of the Dragon Coast, expands both southward and westward. An endless foliage characterises it, a feature the scholars are calling “a jungle,” which may go on for thousands of miles.

  Naturally, the discovery of such a lush feature in lands beyond the empire’s domain has caused quite a stir among the religious community, but that is an issue best left to the theologians.

  Adana, south of Anatolia and Galati, on the other hand, is a more desolate place, or so I am told. Far less greenery and far more sand and dirt spanning into the southeast. The Teared Sea separates the two southern landmasses, which grows in width the further south you go, and we have no idea where it ends. What we do know for sure, is that the sea is far larger than we believed it to be when I was young and that the further we push, the more previously unknown civilisations we encounter and the more wars we fight.

  This also naturally increases the number of uncomfortable questions the faith must answer.

  Although, I suppose it’s not entirely correct to consider Adana a separate landmass from the continent, as an eastern land bridge of mountainous territory connecting the far reaches of Galati to Adana was discovered about fifty years ago and is now home to five cities. They call it the Gatehouse Region.

  And that is the entirety of my empire’s geography.

  A few further facts. We formally recognise forty-eight prefectures, one hundred and ninety-three commanderies, six hundred and one marquisettes, and so many thousands of counties I forget the exact number. Additionally, the two southern landmasses, the Harsh Region and Adana, are ruled as independent principalities, as is the Edena Isle. We don’t actually have princes as such; instead, it is the role of the emperor to appoint members of the royal family to such posts. Not that I ever really had much say in those decisions, and those appointed are often rivals whom I have had to watch closely.

  We have granted city status to one hundred and forty-seven locations, and the last census estimated the imperial population to be just below two hundred million people.

  And I am responsible for every one of them.

  My name is Sergious Olearius Sulla, Karloman. It is morning, and I am emperor, my empire has lasted for seven hundred and seventy-seven years. I have been its emperor for the last sixty-six years. And now it appears the whole damned thing is about to collapse.

  Oh, for the Gods’ sake, “Come in!” I shout, unable to ignore the banging any longer. Honestly, if I had my time again, I’d have abdicated.

  Today is going to be a long day.

  The Grand Commandant is dead, not that he will be missed, and my armies are without formal command. This, as far as the royal court is concerned, is not a good thing. They're not wrong in thinking that; we have a crisis on our hands after all, and good leadership is needed, but a vacancy is also an opportunity. One I have carefully prepared to seize upon. Yet, the political gamesmanship of my realm is fraught with peril, and one can never be certain of success.

  I am due to begin the day's affairs and prepare for the afternoon’s session in Curia. It is to assist in my preparations and ready me for the day that my servants are still knocking at my door.

  “I said come in!” I shout again, straining my voice this time.

  Yet, what irks me more than the headache of knowing I have to politic my way through the day is the knowledge that such foolishness is still happening despite the crisis we face. This self-proclaimed “Archbishop” Reubke’s rebellion is spreading and has infected almost every corner of the continent and possibly even beyond.

  He has defeated the imperial army in the north and, as far as everyone needs to know, successfully assassinated Grand Commandant Mauricius Lucaenus. The empire needs to respond quickly, or before we know it, the entire foundation upon which it is built will have been eroded by the heretical nonsense that man has been spouting.

  I sigh again. My name is Sergious Olearius Sulla, Karloman, it is morning, I am emperor, and I am just going to have to answer the door myself, aren't I?