How the Promenade in Immortalis Becomes a Stage for Ridiculous Authority

In the perpetual dusk of Morrigan Deep, where the two suns cling eternally to the horizon, the promenades of villages like Khepriarth and Sapari serve as grim theatres for the farcical exercise of power. These open spaces, lined with crumbling facades and the occasional flickering torch, draw crowds not for leisure but for the absurd spectacles of authority gone awry. Lords and counts, those petty enforcers of feudal whim, strut upon them as if their edicts carry the weight of Irkalla itself, yet their displays reveal only incompetence wrapped in pompous ritual.

Consider Khepriarth, where a shipment of top hats, tainted with plague-bearing fleas, sparked chaos. The Lord of Khepriarth, convinced of his gentlemanly acumen, decreed a ‘bee test’ in the town hall: true gentlemen would remain seated and gloved amid a swarm. No one received the memo, doors were locked, the key mislaid, and the survivors emerged to find their wives festering. The men, displeased at the prospect of infection, buried the living and the hats alike in a communal pit. Complaints ascended the chain to Count Tepes, then to Theaten, but the promenade outside bore silent witness to the lord’s ridiculous assertion of control, his theory reduced to muffled screams beneath the soil.

Sapari offers an even richer tableau. The new harbour master, a jobsworth dispatched after his predecessor’s vanishing, faced a phantom pirate armada. He anchored ships into an impenetrable wall, only for polarity-reversed anchors to crush the fleet into wreckage. Wood vanished in the confusion, complaints flowed to Tepes and Theaten, and the promenade along the Getsug Sea edge became a stage for sodden debris and futile posturing. Rumours swirled of a grinning horse, but authority’s display remained the true farce, lords trading letters while their domain splintered.

These promenades, exposed to the unchanging dusk, amplify the Immortalis world’s core absurdity: power wielded not through might but through delusion. Lords invoke tests and walls, convinced of their dominion, yet their rituals collapse into plague, wreckage, and burial. The true authority, the Immortalis like Theaten and Nicolas, observes from afar, their interventions unnecessary amid such self-inflicted ruin. The promenade endures, a neutral stage where ridiculous authority plays to an indifferent audience, the eternal suns casting long shadows over the farce below.

Immortalis Book One August 2026