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Down With The Emperor

Another brilliant piece by Marsel-Defender, this pose, combined with the style, gave off the feel of a propaganda poster. It had been a while since I made a piece about my favorite villainous alternate timeline, so it was a good excuse to bring back The Emperor.

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Three…

Bringing his thighs parallel to the floor, the heavily muscled wolfkin kept the bar steady, racked on broad shoulders and supported by thick, powerful arms. With steady breathing, he pushed his body to rise back upwards, maintaining his control of the weight.

Four…

He allowed his mind to wander, having arrived at a rhythm. With the throne of New Oplentis firmly in his control, nobility no longer a concern, he was free to begin working towards his true designs. It had become so clear to him the day he was evolved by Volpes’s miracle, made into one of the eponymous titans of the Titan Syndicate.

Five…

The people of Crossroads were weak, in body, mind, and spirit. And this city, Oplentis, was the worst of them all, most evident in the former nobility. Descended from mages extraordinary enough to fight ancient planeswalkers on even footing, they squandered their power and prestige through centuries of in-breeding, in-fighting, and ineptitude until even their magic had begun to fail them. Not content to squander their own greatness, they brought the peasantry down with them, stifling their development. The mere thought was enough to curl his muzzle into a sneer.

His attending beaverkin servants, a titan like himself, having spotted him through the routine, gently guided the bar into the rack as he dismounted it from his shoulders. Another titan, this one a snakekin, approached with a towel, wiping and dabbing away the sweat that had begun to accumulate across his master’s naked torso, rippling and defined even through his lupine fur.

This body was strong, but the wolfkin once known as Enigma knew it could be made stronger. He would need to become an paragon for all others to follow. He could already feel his body recovering, another effect of Volpes’s serum. Though he wished to continue, begin yet another set, the footsteps marching steadily towards his training room gave him pause.

“If you are interrupting my training, it had better be urgent.”

Yet another titan, a bloodhound from the looks of them, advanced towards him. “Highness. Our guardsmen report these being spread across the city. They fear it could affect recruitment and enhancement drives.”

Pulling a leaflet out of their pouch, the hound handed it to their Emperor, who began to read it. What struck him immediately was the cover, a intimidating (he presumed) depiction of himself holding a sword over his shoulder, with the caption “Down with the Emperor” emblazoned underneath. Inside, it posed the question of whether or not his forces had free will. Though the writer had wisely opted not to reveal their identity, they accused him of brainwashing people and turning them into his servants and soldiers, compelling them to volunteer for the titan enhancement procedure.

He smiled. In another time, this might have been enough to impede him. With the city and a private army under his control, the situation was far less dangerous.

“Schedule an assembly. Let the people know that I’ll be speaking tonight. And you…” He pointed to the snakekin. “…draw me a bath. I need to be ready for my speech.”

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Come that evening, a large crowd had gathered outside the palace, sufficient to disseminate his message. Without the backing of the Magistrum, even Oplentis’s technology had fallen to decline. For a moment, the Emperor allowed himself to muse about how easy it would be to send a mass bulletin if even a tenth of these people had Communicators. And yet, these theatrics could have a power all their own by the end of the night.

“Citizens of New Oplentis. I come forward with an announcement. As many of you know, accusations have been levied against me, accusing me of brainwashing our soldiers, stealing their free will and forcing them to become titans.”

He could hear the hushed whispers of the crowd, shocked that he was already responding to the allegations. It took every ounce of willpower to suppress the grin threatening to crease his lips.

“I am here to announce that every one of these claims is the truth. Your siblings, parents, friends in the Oplentian Armed Forces and the Titan Syndicate all serve me. Their free will is mine to command, and it is my will that they be made titans.”

Gasps of shock and horror reverberated through the crowd. While the majority of the crowd remained dumbfounded by their ruler’s audacity, several members of the audience stepped forward to kneel before him. One of them, a human, spoke.

“Your will is ours, milord. Please, give us the strength to be your instruments. We wish to make our country strong.”

He stroked their cheek with the back of his hand, smirking down from on high. “Of course. I will mold you in my image. Just as I have, and will, with all the others.” Lifting his head to meet the gazes of his remaining audience, he continued. “And to the rest of you: If you take issue with my methods, I invite you to challenge me. Seize the throne for yourself. Prove that you’ve the strength to stop me.”

Those yet unaffected by his magic looked on at their brainwashed compatriots, and fled as fast as they could. The guards and soldiers did not bother to give chase, for there was no where for them to run.

This was Emperor Rabrandt’s world.