Hyperion's Ascension - Rise of The Emperor

+ + AUTHORISING BROADCAST + +
+ + AUTHORISATION RECEIVED + +
+ + INITIATING BROADCAST - SOURCE: IMPERIAL PALACE, NOVA TERRA + +

Hyperion stood before the Nova Terran throne; his hands at his back in military parade rest, and his usual military uniform abandoned.  In its place he wore an elegantly crafted red-trimmed black tunic and pants, with sleeves covering what was visible of his arms and black combat boots completing his look.

"People of the Nova Terran Empire, and the Galaxy at large, I greet you.  I am Hyperion, son of Krios VI, Crown-Prince of the Nova Terran Empire."  His voice was steady, but his blue eyes were hard, steel replacing the once ever present warmth one might find therein.  "I come before you this day with tidings.  As many of you will now know, my Father - the late Emperor - has died.  This news is yet fresh, and I understand that many of you, most of you, may be wondering what this means: Not just for the Empire and its Vassals, but the Galaxy at large.  For that reason, I have decided to speak to you all directly, and dispel any remaining speculation."

The camera zoomed in closer, focusing on the Crown-Prince's face, and the hard lines of his jaw: The indications of it being clenched, the tension of the veins in his neck, the palpable signs of both grief and - no doubt - rage.  Despite these things his voice remained calm, though a harsh edge managed to wind its way throughout; a ruthlessness and steel that had not been there before.  "My father was not assassinated by dissidents, as some have postulated, nor was he slain by a foreign nation - for who could ever hope to so fully penetrate Imperial defences?  No, neither dissidents nor a foreign nation was involved in this tragedy."

The Prince said nothing, but thudding footsteps could be heard.  A moment later, a battered, bruised, and bleeding Nova Terran was brought into view as the camera zoomed out.  The man appeared to be shackled by something around his neck, which glowed faintly.  It was connected to chains, which led to the armoured hands of two Fefing females whose eyes glowed faintly with psionic energy.  Flanking them were two Nova Terran Knights: Taller than usual, at nearly nine feet by estimate, and attired in gold plate highlighted by red cloth.  The prisoner was forced to his knees next to Hyperion, who paid no heed to him.

"My father was the victim of a power far darker and far less simple than a traitor or foreign actor.  He was victim to an enigmatic foe we of the Empire had never faced, and many in the Galaxy refuse to acknowledge.  He was victim to a threat that no amount of shields, walls, or guardians could ever conceive of: Servants of the Shroud's Darkest beings.  An agent of the Umbral Vanguard, who long ago surrendered his mortality in service with the forces no person should ever surrender to."  The Crown-Prince drew his hand from behind his back, and lifted a Nova Terran sword, finally turning to the prisoner.

He ignited the energy blanket upon the blade in a crackle of red plasma and reached out, removing the gag around the prisoner's mouth.  "State your name," he said simply.

The prisoner spat at him.  He screamed a moment later, eyes rolling back into his head as if some impossible pain had taken him over.  Behind him, one of the Fefings smiled in satisfaction.

"State your name," Hyperion said again.

"Javos," the man rasped, "Javos Y'Rlien."

"Did you kill Emperor Krios VI?"  The Crown-Prince asked in the same calm voice.

"Yes.  For the glory of the Vanguard!"

Hyperion watched him quietly, a vein in his temple standing out as his expression turned harder, and colder.  "To what end?"

"To appease the Dark Gods!  To bring ruin to your false Empire!  For Chaos to flow, and the wonder of the Five to--!"

His words died when he did, for it was at that moment that the Crown-Prince cut off his head in one smooth, fluid motion: Cauterising the wound in the same action and leaving the headless corpse to loll in its chains.  Hyperion stared at the corpse a while longer, his jaw locked in a rictus of suppressed fury, before he remembered himself.  He deactivated the energy blanket upon the sword and placed it once more behind his back, resuming parade rest.

"Evidence will be distributed freely across the Galactic 'Net to prove the actions of this man, which were recorded both my Imperial Intelligence and interstellar news networks."  He took a pause then, as if considering his next words, before turning.  The camera followed him, zooming in as the Crown-Prince slowly ascended the stairs of the dais to where the Nova Terran throne sat; a gilded masterwork topped with an eagle, perched as if to shelter the throne's resident.  Its shadow, thanks to the lighting of the massive throne room, had two heads.

"The Emperor is dead," Hyperion said, voice picked up by the camera.

He turned, and eased himself purposefully into the seat.

"LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!"  The throne room's occupants roared.

"Hyperion is dead."  The Emperor said harshly.  "I have slain him, for he was too weak to defend his Father, too gentle to protect his people.  Hyperion is no longer.  Henceforth, and for all my days, I will take no name - for I am more than a man, I am the Empire itself.  I am justice, and glory, and the honour of Nova Terra and all its Vassals made manifest.  I no longer have nor deserve the luxury of being simply a man."  He crossed one leg over the other, and settled back into the throne.  "From this day, I am The Emperor, and no less."

"FOR THE EMPEROR!"  The throne roomed chorused.

"As my first act, I have decided to ratify a new organisation to ensure this tragedy is never repeated, and those seduced by these dark powers are forever thwarted.  I have officially declared the formation of His Most Holy Orders of The Imperial Inquisition.  These Inquisitors will hunt down those that cavort with the Dark Powers, malevolent manifestations of the Shroud, and any alien race that threatens Nova Terra or its vassals and territories."

The Emperor waited one more beat.

"All Battlefleets save Arcadia are to mobilise immediately.  They will move on the Umbral Vanguard's forces and obliterate them.  Utterly.  Any nations that intercede in this endeavour will be summarily destroyed alongside them.  All Imperial Navy forces will work with any nation that desires to lend its aid.  The Vanguard dies this day."  He looked around the Throne room, and lifted his hands.  A Laurel Wreath materialised there, and he placed it upon his brow; forged from gold.

"Let it be said for now, and for all days, the truth of my actions."

As one, the throne room's occupants roared, one final time.

"THE EMPEROR PROTECTS!"

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+ + CONNECTION LOST + +