Caremus of Mithar was a legendary sculptor, painter and poet. He sculpted war monuments,  the 12 statues of the imperial summer palace's gardens and was assigned to follow the  imperial legions to record their deeds during the Madano war, so that their deeds would  forever live in poems. He held the title of Imperial Hero of the Arts and was known  throughout Vaelia.
For the anniversary of Anava's 25th year as Empress he was commissioned to sculpt a  statue of her likeness which would be exposed in Vaezonja, the imperial capital.
Caremus was, however, maddeningly in love with the Empress and the task made him so  nervous that it drove him to drink endlessly. He spent almost all of his considerable  fortune to fund the quarrying of an 18 foot tall slab of marble and to have it shipped  to his studio in Vaezonja, for fear of the finished work being damaged during  transportation.
His struggle with wine did not extinguish his burning genius, however, and he set out  create his masterpiece. His ultimate work. His key to immortality.
He was permitted to have private sessions with the Empress where she would pose, still  as a mountain, as he sketched out everything he would need. Every feature. Every  dimension. Every detail. She inquired multiple times if he needed additional funding but  he refused any assistance. This would be entirely his own doing.
She quite enjoyed these sessions, they were a brief respite from all the vitriolic  politics of the empire and discussing the arts with a figure as legendary as Caremus of  Mithar brought her legitimate joy. The Emperor, however, was not so enthused with the  idea.
Garaseth was a spiteful, jealous man. The blood of the First Emperor did not run through  his veins and was merely wed to the Empress so that she could bear children. She would  live on for decades after his passing. His name would be but a footnote in history. The  resentment over this fact drove him to be cruel, wrathful and paranoid about his legacy.
Caremus slaved away for three years on the statue. It consumed him. No more would he  discuss philosophy and art with his peers in Vaezonja's gardens. No more would he dine  with high society and assure future patronage. No more would he visit his family's goat  farm in Mithar. By the end of the statue's completion, his incessant drinking, reclusion  and stubbornness about declining funds left him destitute.
The statue was a brilliant work. It depicted the Empress in her purest form, standing in  the nude, an imposing, regal look upon her face. He wanted to capture her timelessness,  her impeccability. There were no perverse intentions, to him, only the Empress mattered,  and that would be the only thing he sculpts. She had agreed to this and believed it to be a bold work, ones that would be discussed until the end of time. He had broken with convention before, but  this would be his ultimate statement.
The day of the anniversary came, but the Empress was visiting Komei to discuss the terms of the peace agreement that would end 17 years of savage warfare over the Madano strait. The war was largely a pointless affair, a bloody stalemate that resulted in nothing but the deaths of countless men and insignificant subsequent trade treaties.
Caremus pleaded not to unveil the statue until the return of the Empress, but the Emperor ordered it for the day's festivities. Too much money was spent in preparing this event, in a time where the empire's treasury was feeling the dire effects of protracted warfare.
The reaction of the crowd was loud. Many whispers were heard, but they were largely drowned out by the cheers. Some people wept at the beauty of this 17 foot tall masterpiece, some kneeled down to it, most simply chanted for Caremus.
Garaseth was seething. His wife, in the nude, for the entire Empire to see. What blasphemy! What an insult to the First Emperor! All this gold spent for this? What was going on in these sessions? Did this low-born dog covet his wife? Surely he did!
The Emperor had trouble breathing, his rage taking over his entire body he barked at his guard to seize Caremus. The people protested briefly but were quickly subdued when some of them met the point of the soldiers' spears.
Tomorrow, Caremus of Mithar would die.
The sky was grey and it was unseasonably cold for a spring day. Caremus was tied to a post in the middle of the massive Vaezonja city square, his work, covered with a large cloth, facing him. A tall man in a steel mask stood infront of him, staring with utter detachment. Members of the Vaelic Order were often used as executioners for crimes deemed heretical. It was a task unfit for them, but they believed it served a purpose. It helped show new members what it is to kill in the name of the Emperor.
"Caremus of Mithar" the lanky figure bellowed, "For blasphemous representation of a descendant of the First Emperor, for conspiring against the Emperor, for inciting a riot within the Imperial Capital and for fraudulent use of the Empire's gold, you are sentenced to death by spearing."
Caremus was stoic, his knew his time had come and seemed resigned to his fate. That is, however, until soldiers started taking hammers to the statue. His anguished cries reverbated throughout the city as he cursed the soldiers destroying what he had spent his last three years masterfully crafting with the deepest of devotions. His spiteful stammerings came to an end when spears pierced his lower abdomen, a punishment devised to let the victim bleed out slowly.
Caremus, in his final moments, pondered his fate.
Executed as a traitor.
Impoverished.
His greatest work destroyed.
And the Empress nowhere to be found.