Monument Builder
It occured to Nokly, in the few poetic moments he had to himself, that he had spent his life building monuments.
His younger years had been dedicated to the making of monuments of his own stupidity, from his own poetry to how he treated the light of his life.
He had only left that phase briefly and haltingly, having only just broken free before that year.
Absently, Nokly touched his scar. Looking out through his office window at his daughter Yenyna playing out in the yard always made him feel as though he was closer to his father in some infathomable way, knowing that his child led her life in some way incomprehensible to him.
In some ways, Yenyna was the living monument to his ancestors, flourishing in the way that the black granite of loss that were his first true monument never could. And never should, because those stones were the memory of those lost. Their legacy should be free to change, but never their memory.
It was that legacy that led to the next monument a hair under a decade later, dedicated to the brotherhood between the nations of the Dual Crown and the Khemetri. The details of that, however, were quickly overshadowed by the meeting in the shade of the black granite.
Next came the creation of a monument to the Ochruhr's arrogance, being reduced from Ochruhr's former glory to bare mountains. While in hindsight the humiliation had only been temporary, it had felt real and true in the moment.
Then came the green room, a justification of the monumental spending on science that had occupied his free time. Where the black granite had spiritually healed those in its presence, the green room physically healed those basking in its light, like his daughter and her friends.
Now he was in the middle of the greatest war ever fought, the march of his armies like titans bestriding the earth. What monument would he build in its wake?
Bah. The time for poetry was in his younger years. He had work to do.