Hour of the Wolf

There were never so many books in Gower.

As a child, the first thing I held was a hatchet. As a man, the main thing I held was a battle-axe. As emperor, I hold the fate of the Cath Bruig Empire in both hands. And as the next incarnation of the Leveller, I will hold a sword. And with it, bring ruin to everything around me.

But that day is not yet here. For now, I can wander the Great Library.

My hands run over book after book, parchment after parchment. Some dry, some hard, all so fragile. I must make plans to ensure that such knowledge can be saved. The knowledge that will not aid the Leveller, but will aid the lives of men and women for the next thousand years, and, Light willing, beyond. Aisle after aisle, shelf after shelf I walk. The history here stretches back further than I can imagine. Age after age. I wonder if the nature of the world has been sighted. Whether the world will know that Connacht the Wolf will come back to feed upon the lambs.

I do not like thinking this way. It is a thought fitting of the myrkidia. Of ghols. Of even the Leveller itself, if it seeks anything more than our ruin. Yet I cannot help it.

There's no sound in here, only that of my footsteps. Of the breath of an old man. If I close my eyes, I can hear the sound to come. Screams. Bells. Roars and curses. And thus, I open them. Let me see what is now, not what is to come.

I pick up a book. A simple tale, of a knight defeating foul beasts. Beasts that pale in comparison to the real horrors of this world, but when one reads, one must start small. And I think I will enjoy it. For now, as Connacht, as emperor, I can entertain the idea of a happy ending. And with that, I start to read.

I read for a long time.