The emperor is worried: first the plague, and now the council of ministers turning against his favourite viceroy– and what of the guilds– how can one trust those who build, weave or reap? It’s time to take strong action: re-invade that northern region, imprison a merchant from Bactria or Persia, announce a horse sacrifice– or better still, a pogrom; well placed fear yields division and hate– (We’ve done it before, sir, we know how it works: just say the word, and we’ll make it so.)Comments closed
Poems about the dark times.