Nero: A brush of lore

I thought i'd share some private sketches i got from the talented Briarsthorne on my vacation while you wait for the comic ( planning to release one page every sunday so i'll be delivering the 3 pages i do every month ).

Meanwhile, enjoy some personal lore of Emperor Nero!

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Emperor Nero sighed as he rubbed the soap bar against his rough fur. That was a task he’d usually let a king of his harem perform, as he lays back and enjoys the many attentions they were trained to provide.

Nero surprised himself missing the fallen monarchs, the way they rubbed his  toned muscles, pressing their hands firmly to cope a feel, and specially, when a king finally gives up, discarding their pride to sink their muzzles in the emperor’s hairy armpit to take in a greedy whiff of  his musk. That’s when Nero would laugh and pull the king closer to him, rewarding the behaviorwith some intimacy.

The gentle babbling of water pouring down the statues into his personal bath pulled him out of his musing. With another deep sigh, Nero leaned into the statue to let the water rinse his body. He wasn’t happy to be there.  Sure, the king’s palace bath was appropriate for the emperor, but today he couldn’t share it with his men or his kings. That was making the silence and the whiteness of the bath unbearably sterile.

The massive bear stepped out of the pool and shacked the water out of his fur “like a barbarian”, but it was one of the few pleasures he had remain that day. A couple of well dressed servants promptly stepped into the room, carrying a large, soft towel, a pair of new sandals and… togas. Six above, he loathed togas.

-“Leave it. Return to your duties.”- By general rule, Nero was very cordial to servants, but not to these ones. He knew damn well who sent those little tattletales.

The emperor dried his fur while his mind wandered absently, missing the warm company of his centurions, scholars and kings. He wasn’t very good enduring solitude, he quickly grew taciturn and sour on his own.
As he slid on his togas, Nero repressed a third sigh. He couldn’t afford doing that so often, showing weakness was a luxury he wasn’t going to afford.

Nero left the bathroom groaning softly. His fur smelled like lavender. His togas were probably pressed and stored with lavender. He reeked of it. He never understood the obsession of the noblemen to add spices to their clothes and baths, but it was a trend that was quickly spreading all over his empire.

“It will all be over soon”. It was part of the cicle.  March with an army. Siege a kingdom. Ocupy the kingdom. Stabilize and secure the kingdom. Establish the empire’s laws and theocracy. And then…
PROSPERITY.  He wasn’t involved in that part. Once a kingdom was considered safe and stable, Emperor’s Nero’s job was over. An emperor needs to delegate, and once a kingdom was safe, the rest of the council would take over. He could sit back for a bit and relax as the kingdom experienced the unnatural abundance and health The Six provided to their believers.

But he never rested. He always found plenty to do. Interview the new kingdom’s blacksmiths and hire the best ones for his army. Study the neighbor'skingdoms maps, plan the next kingdom to take down. If he was lucky and the army wasrested enough, he’d leave in a couple of weeks, leaving the kingdom in good hands.

Alas, there was no escape tonight, or the following nights. As Nero reached his bedchamber, and knocked on the door.

The reason of the evening bath, the comfortable, clean togas around his body. The lack of his needy harem of kings. Oh how he hated keeping appearances. But that was the life of an emperor when he wasn’t out conquering more land.

He entered the room, barely acknowledging the woman laying in his bed, sheets up to her waist, silken robe around her body. He sat on the edge of the bed to untie his sandals, as he greeted the woman who he shared bed.

- “High Priestess”.

The otter kept reading a long scroll under the candlelight, absently answering the emperor greeting with the same amount of enthusiasm.

-”Husband”.