First Oracle Nero son of Invictus
Gilded Gaze Senator
“The unraveling is coming. The years left, I can count on one hand. And we still haven’t thrown the best party in history.” – Nero the ‘Glam Prophet’
Rise to Power
Two centuries ago, Nero descended from the gold towers of his Firbolg Transneuroclast bloodline and vanished into the depths of the city. Born the seventh son of the Sunspell lineage (the Transneuroclast family responsible for all of the city’s memory and light enhancements) he had every tutor, every allowance, every advantage possible. And yet, he is famously a charm school dropout. He returned seven years later with golden eyes, a velvet voice, and the future burning behind his eyelids.
Enchantment school just got in the way of Nero’s true calling. On the lower plates he found music. Found drugs, found love, found Druidcraft, and somewhere between the fourth and the fifth plate, the visions began. He saw himself in power. Saw the city glimmering. Saw the end of the world coming in silence and velvet and thunder.
Then he made it happen.
Nero courted senators like lovers, dazzled the masses with pageantry, and read fortunes for every family of note. No dinner party was complete without a personal verse from the Longest Poem. His illusions stunned, his charm disarmed, and when the votes came due, Nero ascended. Senator. First Oracle. Gilded Prophet of the End.
He has held that seat ever since.
Political Reign
Nero governs like he performs, with flair, precision, and more competence than most realize.
He writes legislation. He tracks his rivals’ intention. His memory is uncanny, and his paperwork immaculate when he wants it to be. His illusions may dazzle, but his real magic lies in logistics. Planning a parade and drafting a policy aren’t so different, after all.
His spectacles sustain the city’s soul. His bureaucratic engine keeps it humming. The records he maintains span centuries, senate motions, cultural trends, spiritual doctrine, all catalogued, archived, and cross-referenced by theme and meter.
And, of course, he has seen the end.
That is the true work of the Gilded Gaze: to witness the unraveling, record it, and celebrate life before it ends. Nero believes in this with all his sequined heart.
He throws the best parades. Sponsors the grandest funerals. At every solstice, he floats above his golden float in a crown of wreathed ivy, singing visions into the minds of volunteers. The crowd chants their names as he anoints them. They speak prophecy. Some cry. Some fall unconscious. All remember.
No one stops him. Not anymore.
Role in the Bloc
Nero is the Bloc’s hinge.
Eighty years ago, he helped forge the alliance that reshaped Wuh-Zhei’s Senate, siding with Matilda Brightside of the Optimists and Sutherland Dash of the Paragons to push out the Transneuroclasts and Chronomancer senators out and form a ruling triumvirate. Matilda became the unofficial queen, Dash the sword, and Nero? Nero was the song.
Today, Matilda and Dash war over policy, power, and military control. Nero simply tips whichever way the wind is glamorized. He votes with whoever flatters him, funds him, or needs him most. He is easy to please and difficult to dislodge.
Dash insults him openly. Matilda calls him her teddy bear. Nero plays both like a harp and sings their praises in the streets.
He is adored. He is tolerated. He is, undeniably, essential.
Secrets and Scandals
He betrayed his family to rise. All of them. Except one.
His older sister, the sixth child, rules beside him now as his wife. The city does not approve. Nero does not ask.
He foresaw Matilda R. Brightside’s rise and aligned with her from the moment she entered the second plate. He gifted her the holographic dress of her sister’s memory. He has never once doubted her. She repays him in kind. Loyalty, for loyalty.
Nero’s records are available to those who perform for him. A dance. A poem. A secret. The archives are alive and theatrical. And accurate.
He truly believes the world is ending. Not today. But soon. The Longest Poem will be finished before it does. He knows this. It has already been written. Probably.
“If it weren’t for me, the people might forget how beautiful existence was. I won’t let that happen. Not before the end I’ve foreseen.”