Tale of a Hedonistic wizard-Chapter 404: Earl Atkin

The festival of Divinelyte was a grand celebration that took place each year from the 24th to the 27th of December.

It was a time of joy and reverence when the people of Malmure Pasture and indeed much of the known world came together to honour the Luminescent God Dhastyes.

Legend held that it was during these days, in the depths of winter, that Dhastyes had first graced the mortal realm with his presence, bringing light and hope to a world shrouded in darkness.

For four days and nights, the fief of Malmure Pasture would be transformed. The normally peaceful pastures and quiet villages would come alive with music, dance, and feasting. Colourful banners bearing the symbol of Dhastyes—a radiant sun emerging from behind a snowcapped mountain—would flutter in the crisp winter air.

The scent of roasting meats, mulled wine, and sweet pastries would fill the streets, mingling with the smoke from countless bonfires lit to ward off the winter chill.

In the town square, a great evergreen tree would be erected, its branches adorned with hundreds of glowing crystals, each said to represent a blessing bestowed by Dhastyes.

Children would gather around the tree, their eyes wide with wonder as they listened to the elders recount the tales of the god’s first appearance in the mortal realm.

The festival was not merely a time of merrymaking, however. It was also a period of deep spiritual significance.

In the Church of the Great God Dhastyes, priests and priestesses would lead the faithful in solemn prayers and rituals, giving thanks for the blessings of the past year and seeking divine guidance for the year to come.

The highlight of the festival was the Ceremony of Light, held on the night of the 26th.

As the sun set, every household in Malmure Pasture would extinguish their hearth fires. Then, in a procession led by the high priest, a torch lit from the eternal flame in the central temple would be carried through the streets. From this sacred flame, each family would relight their hearth, symbolizing the renewal of Dhastyes’ blessing upon their home.

Yet even as the people of Malmure Pasture prepared for these joyous celebrations, a shadow loomed over the land.

In the castle of Laevyes, within a modest estate befitting a minor noble, a gathering of grave importance was taking place.

In a sparsely decorated hall, Earl Atkin, a man in his late forties, sat surrounded by a small group of trusted advisors and supporters.

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The Earl’s face was lined with worry, his once-proud posture now slightly stooped under the weight of years of secrecy and suppressed ambition.

One of his confidants, a shrewd-looking man with greying temples, leaned forward, his voice low but intense. "My lord," he said, "if the crown system was introduced to bring forth a rightful successor, then you have been gravely wronged. You must raise your voice, my Lord.

The time for silence has passed."

Earl Atkin remained silent, his mind racing as he considered the implications of what was being suggested.

The crown system, a recent innovation in the realm’s governance, had been implemented with the stated goal of ensuring a fair and just succession to the throne.

No longer would the crown pass automatically from parent to eldest child.

Instead, a council of nobles and religious leaders would evaluate potential heirs based on their merits, character, and ability to rule. It had been set up for more than a few months and had been in operation for a while now.

For most of the nobility, this change had been met with a mixture of apprehension and cautious optimism. But for Earl Atkin, it had awakened long-buried hopes and rekindled old resentments.

Atkin’s birth had been a closely guarded secret, known only to a handful of trusted individuals. He was, in fact, the illegitimate son of the previous emperor, born to a noblewoman who had caught the emperor’s eye.

The empress, upon discovering her husband’s infidelity, had been consumed by a rage that knew no bounds. Unable to bear the thought of her husband’s betrayal, she had orchestrated a sinister plot. Atkin’s mother was silently eliminated, her death disguised as a tragic accident. It was a fate that young Atkin had narrowly escaped.

In the chaos following his mother’s death, the infant Atkin had been spirited away from the capital by loyal retainers. They had fled under the cover of night, always one step ahead of the empress’s assassins. For years, they had lived in hiding, moving from place to place, never staying long enough to attract attention.

As Atkin grew, so too did his understanding of his true heritage and the circumstances that had robbed him of his birthright. Where once there had been confusion and fear, a slow-burning anger took root. He vowed that one day, he would return and claim what was rightfully his.

With patience and cunning, Atkin had worked his way up from a nameless refugee to his current position as Earl. Each step of the way had been calculated, each alliance forged with an eye toward his ultimate goal. He had built a network of supporters and accumulated wealth and influence, all while keeping his true identity hidden from those who might seek to eliminate him.

Now, with the introduction of the crown system, Atkin saw his chance to finally strike at the heart of the imperial family that had destroyed his mother and denied him his birthright. But he knew that he would need more than just his claim to royal blood to succeed. He needed something that would capture the imagination of the people, something that would make his voice heard throughout the empire.

Now, with the introduction of the crown system, Atkin saw it as an opportunity.

Yet, even as these thoughts swirled through his mind, Atkin was acutely aware of the dangers.

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To reveal his true identity would be to invite the wrath of the current imperial family.

The empress who had ordered his mother’s death, her children—his half-siblings—now held the reins of power. Would they not see him as a threat to be eliminated?