An emperor is always a crowned fool in this land. This is no different in the case of Norum Veltermeist.
Veltermeist alone has seen the glory of his vintage empire melted down to red pools of bubbling humiliation. If an emperor is meant to serve his people then why are his offerings so vile? His lady has done more good, and she is practically a mute.
I wander the aching streets of Omolah and feel the revolution. The cracks are overflowing with the stuff, and he doesn't even realise. He is too busy making deals with deities and other sky-borne fiends. Veltermeist's sheer vanity shields his eyes with its rosy tints and abrasive peripherals.
I feel great pity for this city. As I beg on the street, homeless, I realise the people are just as powerless and uncertain as I am. What will become of this land that even the beggar pities?
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