Auteur/autrice : Cyril Pasteau

The headache just wouldn’t go. Most of the time, I’d find it impossible to work on these annals. If I’d just relax and daydream for a while, a comforting torpor would settle in, and I’d had visions. Wine-induced visions, I understood that much. I saw the ancient past, a younger, unbroken world, and I witnessed…

Every few months, another envoy from the Lion Kings would demand our unconditional submission. The wives of the Fomorian would ambush the diplomat after he’d say his piece, and keep him for their own nefarious ends. An apoplectic Tuan would raise his arms to the sky every now and then, shake his old head and…

I was drunk. I had failed to spot the signs and portents. For the last few weeks, an eagle had perched atop Rath Chimbalth, surveying the kingdom. I knew this was no ordinary eagle, but I never reacted, even when it glided into the room and sat on my lectern. Numbed, I proceeded to read…

– By the time I leave this camp, the invasion of your land shall have begun. Your strange homes shall burn to ashes, your cattle shall feed our lions and your women shall beget slaves to our best warriors. The Reign of Discipline begins now. When you feel ready to be subsumed by the power…

– STOP PESTERING ME. I WILL DEAL WITH THIS MATTER IN NO TIME. ALL ABOARD THE FOMOSHIP! A few months have passed. It is now winter of the first year of the ascension wars. What happened? – 10 provinces, total income 568 gold/month, research 34 rp/month. That’s what Turmoil 1 / Sloth 3 / Cold…