Autumn of My Discontent

This city needs a Ubar.

I wondered how that statement would look as ink on the page, indelibly committed to the weft and weave of the scroll. It is scandalous for a magistrate of the administration to keep such sentiments, but it is true. How little administration actually gets accomplished without the firm hand, the mantle of Imperator, that a Ubar holds. At the height of his despotism, his tyrannical worst, Marlenus held the hearts and minds of the people of Ar. The world both feared him due his lust for conquest and loved him due his bold manner. That sort of loyalty to neither Home Stone nor individual is apparent any longer. Politicos and social climbers, that is what we as a body have become. Nothing, it seems, is done for the common good. A back-scratcher today is a back-biter tomorrow. Plots and machinations, little else. Though I do not condone the arson that was common at the start of this year, it at least lit a fire under the administration's ass. Men in power took note. The Delka was seen again after several years absence. I think my magistracy was a response, in part, of the administration to the presumed unhappiness in the lower castes. 'Give them an advocate,' was the answer. While I have pushed the boundaries of my elected seat, and done what I could to sue for the rights of those without a voice on the High Council, I recognize it is not enough. At best, my worst assumptions about government and politics have been resolutely confirmed.

This city needs a Ubar.

No more to the power struggle of the undeserving, the unfaithful, the foreign. Force them out. Push them aside. Put a man in the curule chair with hilt-calloused hands and the blood of Hesius coursing through his veins. Fuck the pretenders, the posers, the glad-handers and lick-spittling sycophants. We, citizens of the Empire, have had our fill of you.