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IV. Imperator's Cause of Death
4-1
I dreamed that the Imperator's statue stood before the Worldbearing altar,
Her gaze level with that of the god's.
Then, blood gushed out from the statue's orifices,
And the people, in cheers and elation, washed their hands in that golden blood.
The tyrant's life will end with violent death.
None will weep,
And all will cheer as her statue topples.
She will die before the dawn comes.[1]
… A vengeful aristocrat,
One whose title was stripped by the Imperator,
thus spoke.
4-2
We cannot agree with your excessive deeds.
You have imprisoned Tribios's split selves,
Demanding that divine authority regress into the ruler's mouthpiece.
We will reveal your future with the prophecy
And tell in truth…
Your crusade will indeed be a smooth path.
Yet in the same breath we see omens of your death,
A demise in an absolute, pure darkness.
Even so, please excuse us, as our eyes…
Continue to be drawn to your crown's flames…
… “Dux Fatorum”?
We don't exactly hate that name.[2]
… In the name of Janusopolis's priestess,
Holy Maiden, and oracle
Thus spoke
The Imperator's “Dux Fatorum.”
4-3
Allow me to remind you:
Your life is now on a countdown with the fall of “Law,”
And you will become “Law.”
I must confirm: Is our deal still going strong?
Is the future I promised you
More satisfying than the future in the prophecy?
Ah. You are as resolute as always.
Good! As ever!
This prison of gods, Amphoreus,
And all mundane and average worlds
Need someone like you, a daring ruler.
Let us end this despicable extrapolation together.[3]
… Amphoreus's “Theoros,”
The Imperator's co-conspirator,
Lycurgus,
thus spoke.
4-4
The Imperator “betrayed” the Flame-Chase Alliance,
And I was the sinner who paved the way for her achievements,
Like how a deep-sea fish cannot escape the tides' push and pull.
I granted her an end fitting for a tyrant.
Her dying smile
Gazed towards my tear-swelled eyes.
She commanded me to wash away all sins and filth
And return a blinding dawn to the holy city.
She commanded me to set up stones and monuments
In lightless sea beds to commemorate our friends.
But who will remember her achievements?
I will. I will rest with her in a lonely song.[4]
… Helekra, the last heir of the “Ocean,”
Who played music on the waves alone,
Spoke thus.
4-5
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