If you have any intelligence at all, reader, you will guess what happened next. Lyddia, was, of course, the Legend Incarnate, the Promised One Foretold, the Destiny Child, etc. She ascended to her throne in Athladia one year after we had all begun our adventures together. Of course, it didn't take us a whole year to complete this quest of ours, but those obsessive prophecy priests would have nothing less than perfect adherence to the old hag's words.

Athladia was quite relieved, I can tell you, when Lyddia chose it as her capital. Lyddia can be quite diplomatic, if you will believe it. She knew that no one would like her to make Phra'laish or Sercuul her capital, since they were her home nations. So she picked one of the countries formerly belonging to her worst enemy. Clever of her. They were only too willing and no one felt that she was choosing favorites.

Her government was arranged in the months following. The Great Empire, consisting of the two main continents and the Yylerrin Islands, was quite well governed. The former kings and queens became governors. No one would have dreamed of rising against the new Empress, because they all knew the Empire would last a thousand years, with or without them.

It was quite amusing to see the faces of the rulers as they confronted Empress Lyddia and her consort, Lord Prince Dervish Worthingham Frovine Rathmonestrovo. (I'll explain in a moment) They knew by now that none of their Destiny children had taken the throne, but when they saw us all, rather than dead, flanking the throne as her allies and friends (if one could call anyone a friend of Lyddia's), they weren't quite sure what to think. They had all imagined us fighting each other with those armies they had sent us. Not fighting on the same side.

Arlian, Phil, and Arron became her seconds in command. They were to oversee the rulings of all the countries. And they were no longer countries, but provinces. Phil became a reformed character and his hair has remained a discreet shade of dark blue ever since. Arlian had her first name officially erased. Arron declared an official holiday known as Laborless Day in which anything but eating, sleeping, and pleasant amusements were banned.

Shammille and I were appointed as imperial advisors, which meant that we were to keep Lyddia from doing anything rash. A difficult job, but not a demanding one, as Lyddia did not require our advice very often at all. Basically, we took her decrees and toned them done to mortal proportions before they went out.

As for the Bane, as I said, it has thus far refused my every attempt to command its power once more. Typical. And worst of all, I am now obligated to keep the ugly thing for my descendants and all that rot. I suppose I ought to be grateful that it saved my life once.

Merick and Helena, between bouts of undying passion and immortal hatred, became the Supremely Magical Imperial Lord Mages (they came up with the title themselves and had Lyddia make it official). They were in charge of all things magical. Whenever I see them, they have new official robes that reach unimagined heights of grandeur and pomp. You might be wondering if they ever consented to marry each other. As yet, no, but it has only been five years and we are still young. I expect they might, eventually, but considering the fact that at this moment they are both on opposite continents and every time I bring up Helena's name to Merick, something in the room turns purple and explodes, I will guarantee nothing.

The Imperial Lord Consort and High Prince Dervish Worthingham Frovine Rathmonestrovo came into his own about a month after the Battle of the Kerhindamma Valley. The story has changed every time I hear it, but the original, Lyddia's version, is this:

When she was about twelve, Harridon gave Lord Dervish to her as a gift. She discovered not long after that he was a werewolf and that Harry had given it to her as a prank to see how long either of them survived. Dervish had been enchanted by some angry mage or other and no one had cared enough to change him back. When Lyddia found out, she had thought it romantic. So romantic, in fact, that she didn't even try to have him changed back to his true human form. And by then, Lord Dervish had been reduced to Dervy and serving Lyddia became his objective in life.

As an empress, however, Lyddia felt it her duty to change him back so he could rule with her. Merick did the honors. Dervish is a rather handsome person and Lyddia still adores him, even if he wears pinks more often than any male ought to. I suppose some things are too set to change. It was Phileas who started the now common phrase, you can't teach an old werewolf new habits.

I can't tell you if that crazy hag's prophecy was a real prophecy sent by some higher power. It could easily be said that if all the nations of the known world had not believed it, nothing would have come of it. I would be the king of Deth Arda or Metti or perhaps I would not exist at all. Allies and enemies and wars and treaties would have come and gone as they had always done before. Perhaps an empire would have come about, but perhaps not. No one can say. I certainly don't know. And far be it from me to predict what the next thousand years will bring.

One thing I am quite sure of, and will even go so far as to put into writing, to be condemned or justified as time goes onward, is this:

No prophetess, sane or not, could have predicted the advent of Her Supreme Majestic and Imperial Highness, the Empress Lyddia Georgianna Estella Florentina Morina Cleoria, Promised One Foretold and Legend Incarnate. Long live the Destiny Child.


Imperial Advisor Lord Prince Galen Dethmet Cardian, here concluded in the Sky Palace of Athladia, province of The Empire, in the fifth year of Empress Lyddia Cleoria's reign


This document which I have copied was discovered two years ago in an excavation of the ruins of what once was called the Sky Palace in Former Athladia. In this, the year 803 of The Cleorian Empire, I hereby swear on the memory of the First Empress that this document is an accurate copy of the original account. Thus signed:

Herald Scribe Chrilo Perandri