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The Asvelt Empire first appeared in the history books in the eighth century of Tempus Fugit.
In those days, many more countries existed than what remained in the present day, all vying for supremacy over the continent. It was said that the empire had its origins in that feudal age. Richard Heinz, a lord of one of the fiefdoms of the Kingdom of Fernest, played a pivotal role in this development. The most convincing theory was that Richard, disgusted by the political corruption of Fernest, broke away from the kingdom and established the empire. Intending to build the ideal nation, he gathered a great number of his allies, and they crossed over to the north of the continent. Unfortunately, there were not enough sources to conclusively back up this story, leading many scholars to doubt its claim. They questioned the plausibility of a man of his rank breaking away to found a whole nation.
It was, however, well-established that corruption ran rampant in the kingdom in those days. In the same period, Leonhart Varkess, later hailed as the savior of the nation, displayed his acumen for politics as the chief of staff in the royal army, and the kingdom underwent dramatic changes. This perfect alignment of time lines led to the widespread acceptance of the Richard Heinz theory.
Another popular theory proposed that the organization that predated the Holy Illuminatus Church, the Disciples of Strecia, was involved in the founding of the empire. This was mostly inspired by the name of the archbishop amongst the list of founders. However, the Holy Illuminatus Church officially denied such claims.
A great mountain range ran through the north of the continent, leaving very few areas of flat land. On top of this, the soil lacked nutrients, resulting in poor crops, and hordes of savage beasts roamed the land there. For these reasons, the land was considered hostile to human settlement.
In less than two hundred years, this barren land transformed into a country that rivaled the Kingdom of Fernest, no doubt as a result of a succession of highly capable rulers. In the current age, the vegetable known as an “earth pumpkin” was grown throughout the continent, prized for its ability to flourish even in poor soil. This improved cultivar, developed by researchers on the orders of the emperor, was but one of their many achievements too numerous to list.
One could also look at how little attention the surrounding nations paid to the empire. The high mountain range that surrounded the empire made invasion almost impossible, but importantly, no rulers showed any interest in claiming such infertile land in the first place. This allowed the empire to steadily solidify its power without becoming embroiled in any external conflicts. Additionally, each successive emperor was of peaceful temperament and abhorred war.
This era of warlords, which had seemed as though it would never end, drew to a close around Tempus Fugit 950. Growing weary of conflicts that dragged on and on, Fernest recalled its foreign-deployed soldiers. The smaller countries to the south of the continent drew up a peace treaty to ensure their survival, christening themselves the newly established United City-States of Sutherland. Though some conflicts still broke out between smaller countries, the continent settled into a state of relative peace.
This was the state of affairs in Tempus Fugit 965, when Ramza XII fell ill and died at only forty years old. He had ruled for only seven years, the shortest reign of any of the emperors. After him, his eldest son Diethelm ascended to the throne as Ramza XIII. Though only fifteen, his political acumen led the empire into an age of even greater prosperity. By the time he turned forty, the age at which his father had died, he was spoken of as the greatest of all the emperors, and people far and wide spoke of “Ramza the Good.”
It was this very same Ramza the Good who suddenly declared he would unify the continent under the imperial standard. After generations of emperors who opposed war, this came as a surprise not only to the citizens of the empire, but also to those of all the other nations. But the citizens of the empire did not harbor any doubt about the decision. There could be no fault in the judgment of Ramza the Good.
Audience Chamber at Listelein Castle in Olsted, Capital of the Asvelt Empire
These days, it was no exaggeration to call the Asvelt Empire the greatest country on the continent. The Audience Chamber, where the emperor heard from his many constituents, was lavishly decorated, a clear symbol of such power. One wall was covered entirely in elaborate carvings by the finest craftsmen, and a number of enormous paintings by famous artists hung around the room. Golden chandeliers ran across the ceiling, giving off dazzling light, and the floor was lined with a soft, bright red carpet that swallowed up the sound of even the loudest footfalls. Fixed to the wall at the very back was an azure flag with two crossed swords—the symbol of the empire, and its coat of arms.
The master of Listelein Castle, Emperor Ramza XIII, lounged upon his throne as he heard his vassal’s reports on the state of the war. To his side, Chancellor Darmès stood in his customary place as he, too, listened to the young commander’s report. General Felix von Sieger, whose talent had been recognized by Ramza from a young age, was now one of the three imperial generals. He led the most elite division of the imperial army—the Azure Knights. He was a serious and honorable young man, and good looking to boot. All the ladies of the court were charmed by him. This assortment of traits also made him wildly popular amongst the general populace.
Using a vast map spread out on the table, Felix thoroughly explained the state of the war on each front—north, central, and south. Ramza nodded from time to time, but stayed silent throughout.
“That concludes my report. With His Imperial Majesty’s permission, I wish to launch an immediate attack on Galia Fortress. Do I have your leave to proceed?” Felix asked courteously. Ramza leaned over slowly to Darmès and whispered something in the man’s ear. Felix knew the thought was improper, but he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Again?” Ramza never spoke to him directly anymore—everything passed through Darmès. When Felix had casually raised the subject with the others, he’d heard they received the same silent treatment.
Darmès nodded submissively, then turned back to Felix and answered, “His Glorious Imperial Majesty says that this is too hasty. Let us wait and see what move Fernest makes.”
“...As His Majesty commands.” Felix put his hand to his breast in a salute, took a step back and bowed deeply, then turned smartly and strode from the room.
I can’t deny there’s been something off about His Majesty these past few years... thought Felix. He was never exactly talkative, but to not even offer a single word, like he did today? His coloring was good, so I cannot think him unwell. Why, then, would he not approve the assault on Galia? I simply cannot understand it.
Felix had personally looked over Osvannes’s strategy proposal and hadn’t found anything unsatisfactory in it. They had adequate military force, and he had been informed that the soldiers’ morale was high. The only point that had bothered him was the odd report of one of their best men falling in combat to a traveling girl. But that was trivial when considering the bigger picture. There was no better time than now to launch the attack on Galia Fortress. That was why he had sought Ramza’s approval. That the usually shrewd Ramza had made such a judgment perturbed Felix deeply.
With a small sigh, Felix left the audience chamber. Darmès gave the emperor a reverential bow, and made to do the same. As they exited, the guards moved to close the great doors like a well-oiled machine, leaving only Ramza and his personal guard in the audience room. The sun had moved far to the west, casting the room in a scarlet glow.
Ramza did not move from his throne. He just sat in silence, his expression lifeless.
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