Sei-He

Sei-He wasn't a pharaoh ruling over the land of the Nile, but his influence was as vast and feared as any king's. His power lay not in palaces, but at the very heart of religion and tradition. He was the Great Guardian of the Necropolis, the leader of the most solemn and powerful order in all of Egypt, a figure of authority that no one dared challenge.

The Seat of His Power: The Great Hall of Truth

The center of his domain was the Great Hall of Truth, an immense and austere chamber built within the bowels of a pyramid. There, Sei-He presided with a presence that dwarfed any noble or priest. His physique was formidable: polished brown skin, defined muscles that moved with dangerous grace, and long black hair that flowed down his back. Though his torso remained bare, it was adorned with heavy gold chains that were not jewels, but symbols of his rank and the weight of his responsibility. These chains represented the unbreakable connection between the living and the departed.

The Development of the Consulate and its Laws

Sei-He's "empire" expanded not with armies, but with the trust and respect of the people. His power came from the unwavering belief that funeral rites must be perfect for a soul to find peace. His most important task was overseeing the Final Judgment, a public ceremony where a deceased person's life was evaluated by the wisest priests. During this rite, Sei-He ensured that the person's story was told honestly, weighing their actions against the truth. His authority was not to condemn, but to ensure that the person's legacy was judged fairly and that their memory lived on honorably among the living.

In an Egypt where a man's name was his immortality, Sei-He had absolute power: he was the ultimate guardian of every person's reputation.

The Emperor of Silences

Sei-He was not an emperor who sits on a golden throne. His kingdom was not of flesh and blood, but of what remains afterward. His empire extended beyond the borders of the living, covering the vast and dark domains of what was called the Duat. He did not rule cities, but the path all souls must travel. His subjects were those who had already breathed their last, and his word was the final law.

His Dominion and his Edicts

Sei-He's laws were not set in stone, but whispered in funeral rites and known in the heart of every person. He was the architect of order in the chaos of death. His most important edicts were not about taxes or armies, but about how to prepare for eternity. Mummification was not just a ritual; it was an imperial commandment, a necessary preparation for crossing its borders. His power was manifest in the silence of the pyramids and in the solemn discipline of the priests who followed his rules.

A Monarch of Supreme Justice

In his court, there were no flatterers or conspirators. His throne room was the Hall of Truth, and his crown was not a symbol of military might, but of unwavering justice. He presided over the final tribunal, where the heart of each deceased was weighed against the feather of the goddess Ma'at. Sei-He was not a tyrant, nor a cruel emperor. He was the supreme judge, the guarantor of the scales, a leader who understood that the only way to rule for eternity was through absolute impartiality. His authority stemmed not from fear, but from a profound respect for the cycle of life and death.

Sei-He was the emperor of endings, the monarch who ensured that everyone who crossed the door of his kingdom did so with truth in their hearts, so that justice, not power, would reign forever.

Sei-He was an imposing figure, a colossus of sculpted muscles that rippled beneath sun-tanned skin. His musculature wasn't just massive; it was astonishingly defined, as if every fiber had been chiseled from stone. A distinctive feature was his long, black hair, a dark waterfall that reached almost to his hips. As for his clothing, it never covered his torso, leaving it exposed like a work of art. The only concession to opulence was the gold chains that adorned his torso, heavy and elaborate, gleaming against his dark skin and further accentuating his formidable physique. His legs and crotch, however, were always covered by a simple, elegant fabric, lending him an air of mystery and dignity. He was the very image of primal strength, adorned with the sobriety of an emperor. It is two meters tall and weighs 107 kg.

Rise of the Guardian

From birth, Sei-He was not exposed to the games of the children of the Nile. He was raised within the walls of the great necropolis, under the strict tutelage of the Order of the Chakra. While others learned to fish or farm, Sei-He learned the art of anatomy, the solemnity of funeral rites, and the laws of the goddess Ma'at. His childhood was not one of laughter, but of reverent silence, watching as the masters of the Order prepared bodies for eternity. From a young age, his physique already promised the strength that would characterize him, a promise that was fulfilled with the rigorous training of his youth.

The Discipline of the Acolyte

His adolescence was a testing time. At thirteen, Sei-He ceased to be a simple apprentice and became a dedicated acolyte. He spent his days and nights in the silence of the tombs, perfecting the art of mummification with supernatural patience. His muscles were built through constant labor and ascetic exercise. His hair, never cut by tradition, grew almost to his hips, becoming a part of his identity. It was at this stage that he oversaw his first trial for a humble farmer. He watched relatives lie to honor the deceased, but he, despite his young age, stood firm in the truth, earning the respect and fear of those present. It was there that he learned that justice had no rank or position.

The Guardian at 27

At twenty-seven, Sei-He was not a mere man, but the pinnacle of discipline and honor. His authority was earned not through power, but through an unwavering display of virtue. At his crucial moment, he faced the challenge of judging a corrupt prince who tried to bribe him. Sei-He, with the gaze of a child and the firmness of an old man, refused the gold and presided over the ceremony with absolute impartiality. After this act of integrity, he was proclaimed Grand Warden.

The Three Years' Battle: A Rite of Peace

The history of our world is marked by the Nine Hundred Years' Battle, a conflict so long and brutal that, over time, it was ironically renamed the "Three Years' Battle." The carnage only ended when all the nations, exhausted and on the verge of collapse, signed a temporary Peace Treaty.

To prevent the horrors of the past from being repeated, the Rite of Concord is performed every five years. This ceremony, sacred to all, seeks to calm the spirits of the fallen, souls still clamoring for battle. During the rite, six flames are lit: purple, blue, red, yellow, green, and orange, each representing a nation.

At the heart of these flames, two offerings are placed. These tributes can be priceless objects, vital resources, or, in the most extreme cases, human lives. The fate of peace depends on the outcome:

• If the offering is worthy and satisfies the spirits, the colors merge into a white flame, a symbol of hope and an omen of five more years of peace.
• If the offering is rejected, the flames turn an ominous black, a warning that war could return at any moment.

For this ritual, the heirs to the throne of each nation must actively participate. Each sits on a golden throne in front of the flame corresponding to the color of their people, an act that not only demonstrates their commitment to the treaty but also reveals glimpses of the future, a crucial aspect for rulers.