With the advent of the first consul, Rohm Derrha was set on the path to its bleakest era in history. Life was relatively stable under its last king, Sicorrha the Reverent, and most people look back on this time with a sorrowful longing. The kingdom wasn’t perfect, but it was easier. It certainly was a happier, more peaceful time. There weren’t as many worries, regrets, suspicions, or doubts. Of course, the King’s People, as they affectionately called themselves, knew that it wouldn’t last. The king wasn’t getting any younger, and he had yet to produce a proper heir. He certainly had more than enough opportunities to do so, but he had the worst kind of luck. Near his end, he managed to produce one heir in spite of his failing health. He was eighty-two years old.
The young prince, Reimos Galadrium Sicorrha, was only two at the time. The mother, to this day unknown, had vanished four months after his birth, leaving him to be raised by caretakers. He grew up far from the public eye and had little exposure to the conditions of the kingdom. Meanwhile, the king’s advisor, Sathios Gwynn, took the throne as a consul while the prince was still too young to accede to the throne. He was quite effective, and he managed to change the political, military, and economic environments for the better. Of course, everything came at a cost. The safety the people now enjoyed was bought with a few personal liberties. As families became more independent and cheaper to support, trade suffered and luxuries floated further out of reach of the common man. Finally, the country’s borders grew stronger, but this required more men to leave their families, and these soldiers had to take up quarters in the homes of civilians due to lack of funds. In general, people had mixed feelings about the new consul, but he was respected for what he did. Sadly, he only lasted about seven years—enough time to make an impact on the kingdom and to make the king a distant memory. He was found stabbed in his bedchambers, a horrible grimace permanently sewn into his lifeless face. He was forty-one years old.
The second consul, Wydgeweft of Stroth, took his place quite readily. He was a revolutionary, playing toward the hearts and souls of the commoners. He gained the throne by gaining the confidence and support of several wealthy benefactors while rallying the masses against those he was unable to convince. Yet, he didn’t have as much success upon the throne. His reign was marked by an increase in civil liberties and the increased prevalence of luxuries, but the kingdom’s coffers and military might dwindled. He supported many important social causes and gave the people what they wanted—but not what they needed. What’s more, he seemed to believe that throwing money at a problem would make it go away, which was quite literally a costly mistake. The citizens of Rohm Derrha were appeased, but this five-year reign set the groundworks for long-term strife. The second consul was brought down by a stray arrow in an ill-fated military campaign. He was thirty-two years old.
The third consul, Luthios Grimstriker, was a high-ranking military officer and a wise, cautious ruler. He came to power with a simple show of arms, which quickly quelled his competition. He inherited an economy that, by all outward appearances, was faring very well. Unknown to the masses, however, the coffers were low and the previous consul had ended his reign with considerable debts. It was only a matter of time before the people themselves began to suffer, and it was during the third consul’s reign that they did. Naturally, he was blamed for this. On the bright side, no longer fettered by poor military leadership, he was poised to turn the tide of war upon the eastern and southern borders of the kingdom. However, he was quickly losing support, and the lack of funding limited his options considerably. In order to protect his people, he was forced to institute a draft, which further damaged his popularity. This was the downfall of his reign: though he was doing what was best for the kingdom, his reputation was beyond saving. Civil unrest was on the rise, and people became wary of the government. Longing for a return to what was now called the Age of the Great King, people organized mass demonstrations. Crime also rose as people decided that they were better off looking out for their own interests rather than relying on the consulate to support them. The only positive influence in the citizens’ lives that prevented a revolt was an increase in public works, which did improve the quality of living and gave the consul’s supporters a small foothold. However, all of his work was soon undone. As the people looked forward to the prince’s coming-of-age, people began to prepare the way with a great fervor. Regrettably, the prince was poisoned with a strange toxin that wracked his body and left him bleeding and writhing in pain. He lasted a week through the torture, but soon he simply gave up. He was fourteen years old.
The people were furious. Suspicions were cast upon the consul, and it did seem that he had the means and opportunity for committing the deed. It was only through grace and the last remnants of his political clout that the consul escaped conviction. However, he was asked to step down and retreat into exile. Facing a hostile kingdom and little chance of ruling effectively, he took this offer, leaving a gap in power. It was a year before this gap could be filled. The fourth consulate went throughout the kingdom and pleaded for support, offering flowery promises of a new era of government. He promised that everyone’s concerns would soon become nothing but drops in the ocean if he were to assume power. The people, desperate for a brighter future, put their faith in him. Though he did not initially have the support of key financiers and political figures, the overwhelming support of the commoners forced their hands and allowed him to accede to the throne.
The fourth consul was… a mistake. No—he was an abomination. As a historian, I try to keep my works clean of any semblance of personal opinion, but… here, I cannot abide. This was a particularly dark era of history, as the new consul ruled with a cruel, tyrannical power. I… I cannot help but give my passionate, if infantile, evaluation of his reign: I hate him. He began his reign by using up the kingdom’s coffers. Few know precisely where the money went, but one thing is certain: it did not go to the betterment of the kingdom. Some say it went to support his own lavish lifestyle, but as the fourth consul was primarily hidden from the public eye, this cannot be proven. As a result of this disappearance of wealth, the economy soon crashed. Those who lived in the cities faced unemployment, poverty, and famine. They simply couldn’t support themselves. Those who could manage to put aside their morals and ethics turned to crime, causing a sharp spike in the frequency of robberies and murder. Riots, while not common, were not unheard of during this time. After each, the citizens enjoyed a brief respite from their economic crises as goods and money entered into circulation. However, these would rarely last. As a result of the increase of crime as well as the destitution and desperation of urban citizens, a culture of distrust and suspicion arose almost overnight. Friend turned against friend, and brother turned against brother. Another major divide arose between the urban and rural citizens. As the rustic landowners found themselves unable to sell their goods cheaply in the city, they began to grow only what they needed to support themselves and their workers—if that. As such, great resentment arose from the city-dwellers, for whom food was growing scarce. The farmers resented the urban citizens because they consumed what little products went to them without giving anything back in return. Both groups turned against the upper class, as these groups lived lavishly, flaunting their wealth and living quite comfortably in spite of the depression. Trade slowed to a crawl, both because there were few who were capable of buying traded goods and because the roads had become quite treacherous. Monsters were multiplying, foreigners encroached upon the borderlands, and bandits became very active outside of the city walls. These bandits are of particular note because they are both products of this society as well as major contributors to it. They attacked trade-wagons that passed along the road, stealing their wares and killing those who could not escape or defend themselves. They supported themselves quite well for a few years, but as traders became rarer, they had to find new targets. So, instead, they began to institute raids against the minor hamlets and villages that dotted the landscape. They pillaged and looted as they pleased, instilling fear and paranoia in the villagers. The villagers wanted to flee and seek refuge within city walls, but the mere thought of setting out upon the roads paralyzed them into fearful stasis. These are all products of the fourth consul’s first act. He had many more in store.
The fourth consul, after emptying the treasury, then set about destroying the freedoms of the populace. He instituted a series of harsh laws and regulations that severely limited the populace’s quality of life. Some of these laws were deliberate, malicious attempts to punish the citizens into submission; others were nonsensical and only harmful by coincidence. In particular, he set up a military state, where common soldiers would act as lawkeepers, judges, and executioners. Though they were set upon their own families and friends, they quickly adopted the mindset of prison guards, viewing the citizens as enemies of war. This created yet another division among the people. While there were certainly many attempts to overthrow and oust the consul, most of these ended in disaster. The majority were destroyed from within, either due to spies or the culture of paranoia and mistrust that had appeared. Certainly, there were also other attempts that were crushed under the might of the military. However, there were a meager few that were left cohesive and unchecked. These had one distinct, puzzling misfortune: even if they made it deep into the consul’s stronghold, they were unable to find the consul anywhere. Even though numerous decrees were passed down and put into law, it was generally assumed that the consul no longer existed. Thus, several attempts were made to grasp the throne. These never ended well. Those who were not outright assassinated could never gather enough support to make a bid for power. As such, the fourth consul continued his reign.
The fourth consul made one final, destructive decision. Though the previous consul had made some headway into the wars on the eastern and southern fronts, the fourth consul quickly undid his work. He withdrew all forces from the eastern border, allowing the warriors from the desert kingdom of Daga to advance unhindered. Oddly, they never did. A few small groups explored the borderlands, dispatching remaining troops and annexing some land. However, despite their great military power, they did not attempt to seize the kingdom. As for the southern lands, reserve groups were left to defend the border, but these were only a third of their prior might. The soldiers returning from both fronts were put to work in the cities, maintaining some semblance of order through tyranny and bloodshed.
Throughout this, the fourth consul remained hidden. What little is known of him was recorded in the town records of certain cities that survived the onslaught of the ages. His name is recorded as Arkus Ruvarian. He was a very charismatic man who easily won his audience during his ploy for accession. His voice was strong and enthusiastic and is described as “quite memorable”. He spoke with confidence and fondness, and he exuded “an intoxicating energy”. He seemed well-groomed, fit, and healthy. He never failed to dress according to the custom of the people who he visited, which helped to endear him to the citizens. His appearance is somewhat troubling, as each city that he visited has reported him as resembling its own citizens. However, one trait is consistent across all descriptions: he was known to have a clean, straight scar extending from the skin above his lip to the beginning of his chin. For the first six years of his reign, his whereabouts were mostly unknown, and he only made occasional appearances. It is said that his entire countenance had altered from the time before his reign, and he no longer gave any pretense of his intentions.
History knew him as the most wicked, destructive oppressor of the kingdom’s past. He left a blot upon the kingdom’s reputation, one from which it would never recover. The plight of Rohm Derrha was eventually addressed by an unlikely assembly of historical figures. The events that unfolded during his sixth year on the throne—and the dark secrets that were discovered in the process—proved to be an epic tale in its own right. That, however, is another history for another time.
-Sathios Myanarch, historian of the Age of Darkness
Excerpt from “The History of Rohm Derrha, Part VII: The Fall of the Kingdom”, year 1438
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