Kriegsman
Gamemaster Team
Servants rushed in and out of the bedroom in the Imperial palace: some holding towels, others cans and pots of warm or cold water. Their faces were slim, desperate, almost despairing, knowing what was about to happen.
One of the servants, a young man, almost bumped into the visitor walking through the open doorway leading into the bedroom. The servant gave him an apologetic nod before rushing away, letting the visitor walk inside.
The bedroom looks almost the same for an Emperor, be it filled with colors of both the Withmond family and the Hadrian flag. Very patriotic, it would seem. Typical for such a young man. That same young man would now lay in his large bed, surrounded by clergymen, healers, a doctor, servants, and tables filled with items to help him. But also by Lady Wisteria Burnouf, Lady Celestine Brickenden, and Vater Factorius. Several other lesser noblemen stood at the side of the room.
Matthias Joseph Withmond, the Imperator of the Attian people, was dying. His breaths were short, heavy, gasping for the oxygen he could not get. The disease had first taken his lungs, then muscles, and now it would begin to take his life.
Servants pushed away a tiny cart with towels and water, and another held a plate with healing herbs, followed by the last two healers, who looked down defeated. Their attempts did not work. The doctor continued whispering with the clergymen before he turned to the visitor.
It was Philipp, Duke of the Western Hinterlands, head of the Von Lichtenfelts family. His face was calm, covered by his stubble, brown beard. His eyes scanned the men at the bed, scanning the situation at hand. And from the servants in the hallways, he could already see that Matthias did not have long. The doctor approached him, his face looking slim, exhausted. He spoke in a whispering tone.
"Duke Von Lichtenfelts, greetings, but this situation isn't ideal. He-'' cut off by the slowly rising hand of the duke.
"Spare me the details, please," he politely said in the same tone. "I can see what is going on, doctor."
He walked passed the doctor, who only nodded in compliance.
"There is nothing else we can do. The sickness damaged his lungs and weakened his muscles. Our Emperor will be leaving us soon."
"May Mortius carry his soul to the Heavens," said the Vater in a soft tone as he gestured the symbol of Alderism above Matthias.
"Thank you for being here, Duke Philipp," said Lady Wisteria, the youngest among them, in a tone not to wake the Emperor. Though, before Philipp could answer, the lips of the Emperor moved.
"P-Philipp?" asked a weakened voice of Matthias, his eyes slowly shot open, looking around the room trying to find him. Philipp, placed a hand on his lower arm of Matthias, making them lock eyes. "I-" a heaving painful breath escaped his lips; even speaking hurt Matthias now, let alone trying to find the air to do so.
"I am here," said Philipp. They all leaned in, looking at Matthias with saddened faces. Only the Vater kept his hopes up, mumbling prayers while moving his fingers slowly. He had the last confessions of Matthias a few hours ago.
"Who is going to lead us now?" asked one of the noblemen at the side of the room. Philipp looked over his shoulder at the man dressed in green, then back at Matthias, only to look shocked as a weak hand pointed at him.
"Philipp Von Lichtenfelts. You are chosen-" Matthias his words were interrupted by a cough. A trickle of blood rolled down the side of his mouth. His lungs were giving up. "-you are chosen to lead the Attian people. Promise us, promise me, you will not repeat the same mistakes our ancestors did." His weak eyes burrowed into Philipps', who only replied.
"I shall."
"Then I shall meet my family in the Heavens," said Matthias with a weak smile as he looked at them all. "I regret nothing, everything I did was for my people. Trying to do better than my father," he spoke while breathing loudly, using his remaining air. "The Withmond line... ends... with... me. And a new age, shall... begin..."
His eyes twitched slightly, his hands went numb, and his pupils widened. Matthias Joseph Withmond, the last of the Withmond Bloodline, Imperator of the Attian people, had passed away. Silence filled the room as the people bowed their heads.
The Saint Onnodrith Cathedral bells rang, it was mid-day.
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