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All was as it had always been.

There was an order to things, an order which did not change. Each had a place.

At the head of them all, on a throne adorned with the carved heads of rams, he sat. The world was at his feet, under his control. Even the eagle returned to his gloved hand at his command.

They called him the Father of the World. Everywhere they went, his image could be seen; his was a spectacularly visible authority. His face, timeless and unaging, gazed out upon the four corners of the world.  Those born under his rule would grow up, labour for his empire, grow old and die under his steady gaze. Their children would do the same, and their children after them.

They had demanded stability, and he had provided it.

He was the Emperor, and his sun would never set.

All was as it had always been.

© Kari Fay

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