Chamberlain Roleplays: The Death of Phantaria
The Library of Chateau Saffalore
He sat in the vaulted antechamber of the once great library of Chateau Saffalore. Even here the books, chronicling the rise and fall of the empires of Dwilight, and scrolls of the many letters and notes sent between nobles over the years. The battles to establish the republic and its systematic failures and ruin. The book keeping slowly diminished following the reign of Maloudi, his cramped notes the last of Terran's times. Where were they all now he wondered. Duke Pablo, Lady Aurea, black LaPointe and brave Lord Lux, he even found himself thinking of that strange rat featured woman, Kwa Comacho.
The librarian had called upon him as the roof had failed and a veritable deluge had washed through the archives obliterating the histories. It didn't matter. Terran's memory was just that, a memory. He knew he was spending too much time alone with only his own thoughts and the occasional missive from Harim Belios to divert him. He thought more of the past and less of the future than had ever been the case before. he lingered on Terran with less and less thought of Phantaria. His mother had always chastened him for spending too long with his own thoughts. "Life is for the living, not regrets and reflections on things that cannot be changed" - She had had much to contend with herself, yet she had managed her own fate and lived a comfortable life back in Dale.
Dale, it was the place he had always struggled to leave, even his beloved twin sister was not incentive enough for him to stay. Catherine had stayed of course, and had done well for herself it would seem distinguishing herself in war as the Marshal of the army. Kristina, his youngest sister, a woman who he barely claimed to know, was a Countess and a High Priestess to boot. His mother wrote to him of them both with great pride. They fought for his homeland. Terran had been his choice, his adopted home, Phantaria had been the continuation of a set of ideals that now seemed consigned to a nobler time. He was Margrave of a ruin, refugees sheltered in broken buildings, the great bazaar was now a group of street hawkers. He remembered vividly the first days he had set foot in this city, the pride and wonder he had felt as he walked down the promenades of the central square. Colonnades and statues of the great leaders were adorned in the parks.
Now it was a city of shadows and squalor, his initial efforts to restore the city had been met with cautious approval by the natives, but they knew as well as he that it would take many years and a much larger coffer than he possessed to see the restoration of even a quarter of the land mass and structures. The few merchant ships came and went as ghostly giants in the bay of the city. He remembered as a youth working the shipping lines, trying to make money to support his family. It was then that he had first gazed in wonder at the minarets of the chateau and seen the bustle of the city. It was those images and that memory he wanted to have, the grand days of Old Terran not the degradation of the city as she now stooped under the weight of cloudy skies.
Through the broken wall of the library he could see the sea, the white sails of the merchant vessels full of promise as they approached the bay. Perhaps today he would set out again, look to the horizons. Perhaps he would go home for a time.
He rolled the scroll before him and gave it to the librarian:
"It is complete Aaron," he pressed a gold coin into the hand of the librarian and left.
Aaron looked at the scroll, 'Reflections on Phantaria by Hadrian Chamberlain'.
The Margrave had been working on this opus for many weeks, unscrewing the cap, Aaron removed it from its case, unfurling a single crisp sheet of paper with but two words:
'We tried'
