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Somewhere out there, the Ascetic is waiting. Waiting, and drawing his plans.
Not so long ago, the knowledge that he had a plan, a real plan, would have brought you some comfort. Anything, you thought at the time, would be better than a wild drive towards anarchy. Now that you know his plan, the brute simplicity of it, you're not so sure.
If anything, it can hardly be called a plan – kill the Emperor, and relish in the chaos that follows. That simplicity is a strength. Until the sorcerer is caught – killed – you won't be able to rest, to let down your guard or even to stray too far from the Emperor. If the Ascetic really is watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike, you can't give him a single second of weakness.
You don't take on this vigil out of any particular love for the Emperor, or for the regime he leads, but because of the land itself. The Ascetic was right about that part – to slay a beast, you cut off its head. If the Emperor should die suddenly, the following infighting would tear the land apart.
And that, you cannot accept or allow.