Originally published in Dream Theater · 2016
2016 tour program messages
Article5 min read
By the Emperor, a proclamation from Your Gracious Sovereign, to the loyal subjects of the Great Northern Empire of the Americas, to beware of treason
It is with the great strength born from the blood of Our Most Noble ancestral heritage in which we turn Our attention directly to your affairs, ye the divinely appointed blood vessels flooding the heart of prosperity nestled in our magnificent metropolis, Our beacon of freedom from struggle through freedom to struggle that has the Great Northern Empire of the Americas. It is I, Lord Nafaryus, Emperor and Head of the Realm, Heir to the Mantle of Makers, Supplier of sustenance, Giver of purpose and reason, who hereby addresses you, great people, with words of wisdom, and warning, regarding the seditious whispers and rebellious rumblings haunting the deepest forests, the most expansive countryside, and stirring the very depths of the deepest waters.
Our Great Northern Empire of the Americas has thrived, providing comfort and protection, arching forward with steadfast precision and deliberation, driven by the blood and sweat of you, great people, and the noble blessed generosity of I, Your Lord. It is written; in electronic tablets carefully preserved by Our Grace in Our Palatial Residence, of the Forbidden Ages when humankind ran rampant with rebellion, burning the lands and poisoning the seas, till the woe of a great calamity silenced their profane civilization. The resurgence of monarchy, of nobility, of proper castes and workmanship, has brought peace and prosperity. Banished are the frivolous pursuits of the so-called creative “arts,” the endless endeavor to create discordant sounds for self-pleasure. The comforting drawn of the NOMACS tirelessly protects us, unifying our courageous culture.
But now, a strain of less empowered but no less insidious selfishness threatens to destroy our very way of life, spreading from village to town like the onslaught of plague. From the perch of protective power of New Maineland, which freed Our people from the tyranny of surrounding barbarism so many generations ago, We have learned there are those among you harvesting seeds of dissent, to whom We now address: Are you not given purpose by your powerlessness, freed from the burdens of choice and reason, blessed by Our decrees? You have no such “Right to Revolt,” despite your protestations. We will not be bowed by superstitious claims of sovereignty from a charlatan “chosen one,” nor hear talk of the foul sounds emanating from a peasant’s throat, nor fear the treasonous chatter of a band of rabble-rousers unmatched against the Royal Forces.
Unlawful, disorderly acts designed to undermine Our Gracious Rule are without valor and truly beneath contempt, for they would weaken and ultimately destroy the entirety of the Great Northern Empire of the Americas merely to watch it crumble. What perversion is this? A rebellion brought forth by the unnerving utterances of a villager?
Do not be deceived by those who speak of new wonders born of “sound,” as this is the work of the devilish malcontents whose search for wisdom will result only in ignorance. The NOMACS have secured you just as your daily work has defined you. This enigmatic charlatan is no savior and his supporters are but traitors disguised as liberators. True serenity comes from service and sacrifice. True liberty exists within the rule of law.
The Rebels will insist they represent a changing of the tides, but no, they are but foolish, pests, misguided animals, wandered, and must be brought back to heel, or destroyed.
Sleep comfortably in the knowledge that the Great Empire will crush any subjects who willfully choose to disobey the architecture of the most efficient system of governance, commerce, and culture ever achieved by flesh and blood, men or mechanized minions.
This Noble Proclamation of G.N.E.A. Given at Our Court at the Palatial Residence of New Maineland, Great Northern Empire of the Americas, in this, the twenty-seventh year of the reign of your Sovereign, Lord Nafaryus, Emperor and Head of the Realm, two hundredth fifty seven A.C., two thousandth two hundredth eighty-five, A.D.
A message from Arhys, Son of Marhys, Commander of the Ravenskill Rebel Militia
My fellow people! A great occurrence hath transpired, quickening the blood of able bodied men and women across the Great Norther Empire of the Americas, invigorating a collective populace both trodden upon and complacent, inspiring hope where none was found, casting light upon generations of dulled darkness. I am Arhys, Son of Marhys, one of three remaining heirs to the displaced, forgotten, and forbidden Legion of Sorrowful Song. I willfully and proudly accepted the position of Militia Commander bestowed upon me by the fair and just people of my village, Ravenskill. A growing surge of uplifting power coalesces in the remotest regions of the Great Empire, cobbling together previously disparate interests and cultures into a collective cabal much stronger than the ruling class, due however paradoxically to its rich diversity! This is no mere “rebellion,” no selfish act of disobedience. This is a call toward a brave future.
Nestled here, on Endless Island, the people of Ravenskill hath been witness to a happening as momentous as it is almost maddening, a supernatural gift ripping apart the very fabric of all that we knew. The Chosen One is real. He is no imposter. He is, in fact, my blood, and my brother. The one increasingly known throughout the Empire as Gabriel, Son of Marhys, my fellow heir to the forbidden Legion of Sorrowful Song, is possessed of a gift most divine. From his fingertips and the craftsmanship of forgotten guilds arise the most curious, splendid, and inescapably beautiful of notes. Deep within his very being, a force stirs, bursting from inside as a thunderous voice that is by turns contemplative, intimate, emotional, passionate, playful, and wondrously stirring.
The drone of the NOMACS has dampened our senses. Those who hear the songs of Gabriel are awakened, as if resurrected from a mindless slumber. The NOMACS have abused their mandate, developing beyond their arcane purpose from the Forbidden Ages. I tell you; great people, Lord Nafaryus and his kin themselves have grown fat from our blood and perspiration. Their bellies full and their attention devoted elsewhere as we toil endlessly toward forgotten graves. No more! Life has meaning, has purpose, beyond the collective responsibility of our society. We stand united as individuals.
My brothers and sisters across the Realm, I send this message beseeching you to embrace this oncoming storm, be cleansed by the impending torrential downpour, and join us in the Rebellion that has risen in Ravenskill. Even as my brother, Gabriel, whose blessed power I have witnessed, hath been drafted by the fates, I hath been drafted as Commander. Gabriel’s might is found not in steel, but in song. As his protector and counterpart, I will avail myself of any means, military and otherwise, to keep him safe, to keep him strong, and to ensure that his gift is shared with all of our fellow people!
The Chosen One’s very existence portends not the doom of which our Emperor warns, but rather, is a harbinger of untold possibilities. Could it be that very idea of power in powerlessness is a lie, sold to us by those who benefit most from our endless struggle? I plead with you to cast off the shackles of what we once believed and embrace the promise of what we now know! Hear Gabriel’s music. Arm yourselves. Seek The Songs.