Imperator: Resurrection of an Empire

The courier found Julius before sunrise.

He stood on the high platform overlooking the southern ridge, watching smoke still curl from the last of the pyres in the valley below.

His armor was half-clasped, his cloak loose against the wind.

He hadn't slept — not since the final report from Gallius had arrived the night before.

The courier didn't speak.

Just approached, bowed low, and held out the black-sealed scroll.

Julius took it without looking, cracked the wax with a thumb, and unrolled the parchment.

His eyes flicked down the Root's encoded ledger — a mix of ciphered prose, cold intelligence, and shaded glyphs that told more than any spoken report ever could.

Prisoners broken.

Courier chains confirmed.

Reserve legions identified.

High Thandor compromised.

La Morienne vulnerable.

Amaury—isolated.

And then, at the bottom — a new mark he hadn't seen before.

A simple circle.

Bisected.

Lined.

One line beneath it.

Saint Joan:

emerging influence.

Unbound charisma vector.

Target observation recommended.

Julius stared at the name for a long time.

Not the intelligence.

The name.

Joan.

He knew that name.

Not from here.

Not from the reports or the Root or the whispers of the locals.

From before.

From Earth.

From memory.

Joan of Arc.

But that name had been little more than a side note in the early versions of the game.

A non-playable legend, half-coded into the lore, referenced once or twice in flavor text.

A relic.

Yet here she was.

Alive.

Real.

Unremembered — except by him.

He rolled the scroll shut, sealing the thoughts behind a clenched jaw.

"Send word to Sabellus,"

he said to the courier.

"Delay the march three days."

The courier blinked.

"My lord?"

"The Francians are burning their own land. Let them. Let the peasants watch their homes turn to ash and ask why. Let them see their prince order fields salted and granaries broken while we wait at the threshold, offering no answer and asking no coin."

He turned, finally facing the younger man.

"We'll win them before we strike them. Fear will come after. First — doubt."

The courier bowed, then sprinted off toward the central command tent.

Julius lingered.

The cold had deepened.

It was the kind of cold that didn't belong to seasons, but to transitions.

The air between things — not winter, not spring.

The breath a blade took just before it fell.

He walked slowly back toward his quarters, scroll still in hand.

In the center pavilion, his command staff was already assembling.

Maps were being redrawn.

New foragers rerouted.

With the delay, they'd need to adjust their plans — more time for disinformation to spread, more time for the Root to sow fresh seeds in the cracks of the Francian state.

He stepped inside the tent, nodded to Sabellus, and gestured for privacy.

The other officers quickly dispersed.

Julius set the scroll between them.

Sabellus raised an eyebrow.

"A delay?"

"A recalibration."

Sabellus scanned the parchment, stopping briefly at the name Joan.

"Who is she?"

Julius didn't answer right away.

Instead, he moved to the map on the wall and pointed to the southern frontier.

Burned villages.

Empty roads.

Civilian migrations heading eastward.

"She's a possibly a problem,"

Julius said at last.

"But not a military one, at least not from the information we have so far."

Sabellus frowned.

"A priestess?"

"Worse. A symbol."

He tapped the edge of the Francian border with two fingers.

"This war was Amaury's to lose. And he's doing just that. His nobles hate him. His generals doubt him. His people… already whisper. They burn their own towns and call it strategy. But soon they'll have to admit: it's madness. And madness needs an opposite."

He turned to face Sabellus fully now.

"They'll cling to her. Not because she commands armies — but because she doesn't. She's not stained by this. Not yet. She walks with them. Eats their food. Bleeds when they do. And for that, she becomes true."

Sabellus folded his arms.

"You sound worried."

Julius smiled thinly.

"I'm always worried. That's why I win."

He moved to the edge of the war table and picked up a small iron figurine — the one used to represent wildcard factions.

It had never found a permanent home on the board.

Until now.

He placed it near La Morienne, just southeast, where rumors of her presence had started.

"Have the Root attempt to track her. But from afar. No engagement. I want to know where she goes, who she speaks to, what 'miracles' she's seen performing. If we strike her down, she becomes a martyr. If we ignore her, she becomes a myth."

He paused.

"But if we understand her… we might make her ours."

Sabellus gave a slow nod.

"And Amaury?"

Julius stepped back from the table.

"Let him burn,"

he said.

"Every home he torches is another prayer whispered for anyone but him."

He exhaled, folding his arms behind his back.

"Three days. Let the land suffer under its prince. Then we move."

That night, alone in his quarters, Julius unsealed the Root's scroll again.

He read the name one more time.

Saint Joan.

The longer he stared at it, the more a strange unease settled in him.

He had known this world in pixels once — controlled armies from a distance, reshaped nations with a mouse and a menu.

There had been lore, yes.

Depth.

But it had been code.

Backstory.

Set dressing.

Now the story bled.

And the ghosts of Earth's history whispered from within it.

He wondered — not for the first time — what else had followed them here.

What other forgotten myths had clawed their way from background noise into living flesh.

And whether they remembered him.

He closed the scroll.

"Let them have their saints,"

he murmured.

"I have war, and a purpose to find the treasure that was stolen from me."

Having passed down his orders the officers began to pass along the order to stand down at least for now.

Leaving Julius to continue ruminating over who Saint Joan could be, could this be the butterfly effect from all the changes to the world he had caused in the years since his transferance?

Was the saint a piece of the lore and back story of Francia a playable nation back when this was just a game, and if so why had she disappeared before the game actually began as a piece that could be used by the Francian crown.