The Land of Civilized Kings, spoken of with reverence in poem and song alike, is often described as our motherland, our birthright, a promised kingdom.
It is this one's opinion that the Land of Civilized Kings is none other than Sudra itself, in a time of former glory. The Old Machines, those perennial tokens of bad fortune, were our one-time salvation. Eternal harvest. Eternal happiness. Eternal life.
How did we learn to fear such things? Human nature. We are trained to expect bad to follow from good like night following day. We have an instinct not to drink too deeply of the sweetest nectars, and sometimes this instinct swings to the other excess.
It is time to stop speaking of the Land of Civilized Kings as a long-lost dream. It was never lost. It is simply waiting for us to wake up.
About the Note
This is a light-tan note written in Sudran