It was said, in the dark days when the Zhraakyn forged the Empire of the Halfmoon Throne out of the ruins of the old Aquila dynasties, that many things were forgotten. And more than forgotten – lies replaced fact, fantasy replaced history, until nobody knew the truth of anything that had happened beyond the scope of living memory.

This was partly just the standard practice of a new power structure, of history being written by the victor.

Partly, however, it was said that in the devastation left behind in the wake of the God-King known as Three, dangers yet lurked in the data. The cold mind of the machine could never truly be destroyed, but nor could it be trusted, lest it rise back up to reclaim its dominion over humanity.

And since the vast majority of knowledge and information dwelt with the machine, the reformation exacted a terrible and necessary toll.

They said, in the casting-away and the re-weaving of the tapestry of human civilisation, that only the oldest and the mightiest threads endured. That the blood of ancient kings who strode the stars in the earliest days of the Wild Empire yet lingered in the Zhraaki bloodlines of Eternal Aquilar. Tales were told of a direct line of descent that had survived all the upheaval of the Wild Empire and the reformation, generation following generation from the lost prehistory of vanished Earth itself … and of a great king of human legend who had ruled in a golden age, bearing a sword granted to him by the Divine Right of God and the Fweig that was His greatest and most dreadful servant.

And they said that one day, in the hour of humanity’s greatest need, the king would rise once again from that ancient bloodline. That he would take up his long-lost sword, claim his rightful place, and lead his people to freedom, safety, salvation, and a new golden age in a world restored by the pure power of faith.

But then, they also said that the Halfmoon Empire was founded on a myth created out of sweaty primate chaos by a shadow organisation of alien sociologists, and perpetuated by a royal dynasty fabricated in special cloning plants under the palace of His Divine Urmajesty Peter Hálfnið.

So what did they know, frankly?