The Empty Throne: Who Really Wants Loreroot?

The Empty Throne: Who Really Wants Loreroot?

By Seigheart, for the Maker's Circle

Climb to the top of Raven Hold and you'll find a throne gathering dust. Aia left last winter without a word. Since then, citizenship votes have failed one after another, alliances have gone quiet, and the forest has been stripped by anyone with an axe and an excuse. Now eight names are scratched into the Register of the Crown. One has already been crossed out. By November 17 the Crown will choose, and whoever wears it must show their face every single week. Loreroot has had enough of rulers who vanish mysteriously.

So who are these people asking for the forest's trust? This Maker went looking.

The Man Who Wrote the Rules

jakubhi has guarded Loreroot's library since 2022. Last summer he stood in the forest and laid down the harvest law: take nothing while a scene holds more than two-thirds. Now he wants the crown, and he came with blueprints.

He calls it Project Primal: Loreroot's empty scenes filled with living things, like a treant grown from the forest's own wood and tended by its woodcutters. He would open two roads to citizenship. The Path of Blooms is short and kind, for honest newcomers. The Path of Thorns is long and hard, for the ones who once bled the forest dry and now want to come home. Dying alliances get one month to prove they still have a pulse.

Then comes the twist. The man who wrote the harvest law calls resources a "secondary priority." Ask him what he'd do if Aia walked back through the gates and he just says: "Have a talk with her."

The Wolf Who Wears the Joke

Ledah answered our questions like a stage villain. He promised bounties on every gnome and elf, wooden statues of himself in every scene, and maybe blackjack. Readers may laugh. They shouldn't stop there.

Strip away the costume and Ledah is the only candidate promising to rule alone: "Loreroot needs a strong, stable, and consistent hand, one that does not flit in and out." Dead alliances wouldn't get a trial month. He'd disband them. Asked how he'd protect the forest, he didn't describe a law. He described himself: "All know my power."

This is the same Ledah who, three days before claims opened, told Nep and Death Ray to their faces that "neither of you deserve the role." It's the same Ledah who once killed Death Ray with a shovel at the Gazebo and admitted in court, "I don't like DR." Rebels under King Ledah, he promises, would know "nothing but pain." He's probably joking. Probably. There will be pain and suffering, but once the dust settles? Peace? Prosperity?

The Queen of Second Chances

Invie greeted this paper with "Good evening, my subjects," as though the vote were already counted. Hers is the hardest line on the forest in the race: no harvesting below two-thirds, full stop. "For too long people have taken from this land. They may still take, but the land needs time to heal."

To her rivals she offers mercy. They are "misguided," she says, but "can be rehabilitated." She would share the burden of rule with every citizen. One detail sits oddly, though. Invie signed her claim at the Gazebo, not in the Throne Hall, and no record shows her ever holding a Loreroot office. She's running on fairness, not roots.

The Loyal Knight Who Changed His Mind

In July, Death Ray knelt before the Children of the Eclipse and swore an oath about Aia's empty seat: "I keep her throne and honor safe and prepared for her return. I hope to one day rule beside her."

Four months later, he's not keeping the throne. He's claiming it.

Death Ray has wanted this crown longer and louder than anyone. Mur named him a contender before claims even opened. He helped shape new scenes in the forest. Yet his record has thorns. He was fined for abusing the auction house in August. In October, Ledah and others cut him down again and again over claims he'd been draining the very forest he now hopes to rule. He told this paper the Crafter's Guild is "very much important to me" and pointed to a call to arms. A full plan for the kingdom? Still unwritten and unclear what these plans are.

The Ghosts on the Register

Nep was named leader of the Guardians of the Root just days ago. He says Aia once offered him the throne and he turned her down. He says he only wants it now because the land can't function without a king. He promised his plans would come "in a separate post later." The forest is still waiting for later.

Tal holds a title the realm carved out for him in 2012, Keeper of the Silvan Watch. He hasn't spoken a public word since 2022.

Ant King crawled from the depths of the forest, sight unseen, and signed the Register in the Throne Hall itself, then all but disappeared. There are no forum posts and no announcements, only a citizenship vote from fourteen years ago. His one remark on the race praised a rival: "I like Ledah, but think there's a lot of good candidates." Either he's the most confident man in Loreroot or he isn't sure he's running.

Obrac has six forum posts, the last in 2025, and no tie to the forest anyone can find.

chriselnenepr, the man once thanked by Mur for "documenting the path to Loreroot," has walked away from the race. He admires the forest, he says, but his heart belongs to another land.

What the Forest Should Ask

Loreroot isn't short on candidates. It's short on answers. Three claimants have put plans, some more real than other, on the table, and each one is a different idea of what the forest is for. jakubhi would grow it. Ledah would rule it by fear. Invie would heal it by law.

The two men Mur himself named as wanting the throne have given the forest the least to read. The Crown will judge what's written, not what's whispered at the Gazebo. Five days remain. If Nep and Death Ray want Loreroot, it's time they told Loreroot why. At the time of this publication, we have not receiceved answers from these candidates. We will update the public once they have shared their plans.