Americanicus I
TNPer
Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps; for he is the only animal that is struck by the difference between what things are and what they might have been. William Hazlitt.
It was about four o'clock on a bitterly cold December night when a door in the Infigo swung open to reveal a vast library, an assortment of more than three thousand books covering utterly diverse topics. The organization was not alphabetical or topical (indeed, it was almost random), and yet the Emperor seemed to know the exact location of each volume, either by experience or through sheer luck. He opened a book and sat down to read.
"Infigo" was a serious understatement in describing the huge mansion that had been contructed to house such abnormalities as twelve bedrooms coupled with fourteen baths, Velvet tapestries combining scenes of Napoleonic conquest and ancient Greek lore that adorned the walls and ceiling of the main foyer, and a three-room art gallery complete with a silver floor.
Imagine being unutterably and almost suicidally bored. The former Emperor, known officially and fonly to his supporters as Americanicus, was just that. Accustomed to the hard spring bed of his "containment center" in Dejmia, he found the deeply comforting cushions immensely aggravating; they made sleep impossible!
He had no reasonable grounds for complaint, however -- four years of confinement in the Imperial Dominion, the city-state founded to be his own miniature nation (administered by Dutch and UR politicians), would be enough for anyone, but not for him: he longed for the days even before Dejmia, when he could be called "Emperor" . . .
It was about four o'clock on a bitterly cold December night when a door in the Infigo swung open to reveal a vast library, an assortment of more than three thousand books covering utterly diverse topics. The organization was not alphabetical or topical (indeed, it was almost random), and yet the Emperor seemed to know the exact location of each volume, either by experience or through sheer luck. He opened a book and sat down to read.
"Infigo" was a serious understatement in describing the huge mansion that had been contructed to house such abnormalities as twelve bedrooms coupled with fourteen baths, Velvet tapestries combining scenes of Napoleonic conquest and ancient Greek lore that adorned the walls and ceiling of the main foyer, and a three-room art gallery complete with a silver floor.
Imagine being unutterably and almost suicidally bored. The former Emperor, known officially and fonly to his supporters as Americanicus, was just that. Accustomed to the hard spring bed of his "containment center" in Dejmia, he found the deeply comforting cushions immensely aggravating; they made sleep impossible!
He had no reasonable grounds for complaint, however -- four years of confinement in the Imperial Dominion, the city-state founded to be his own miniature nation (administered by Dutch and UR politicians), would be enough for anyone, but not for him: he longed for the days even before Dejmia, when he could be called "Emperor" . . .