WOTT DRAFT
Author's Notes: This is very much a work in progress. There are markings where I want to go back to fill in blanks for details, so if you see +++ or ___, that's why.
Your feedback is appreciated. I’m writing this by the seat of my pants, so I especially would appreciate any attention paid to pacing issues, lack of description, and insufficiently explained setting details.
Changes from September 17th Version to September 24th Version
* Added Childhood scene at start of Chapter 1.
* Extended Chapter 5.
Changes from September 24th Version to September 28th Version:
* No other changes besides more content.
Changes from September 28th version to October 5th version:
ContentsAuthor's Notes 1
Prologue 2
Chapter 1: A Faintly Memorable Childhood 2
Chapter 2: A Slight Illness 7
Chapter 3: A Slightly Turbulent Welcome 15
Chapter 4: A Somewhat Warm Welcome 28
Chapter 5: A medical inconvenience 35
Chapter 6: Magic that involves corpses somehow 44
Chapter 7: In which a few swords and spears may be involved 51
Chapter 8: A girl he likes 62
The War of the Twins
PrologueCopernicus wrenched his sword from his old friend’s ribs. Darwin fell onto the floor with a grunt and slowly twisted his way up to a sitting position. He looked up at Copernicus with fierce defiance, one hand on his breached, bloody scale armor and another hand on the floor. His fingers left thick trails of blood wherever they touched. His dark skin shone with sweat and flushed with anger.
“You defile the name of the Order of the Warflower with your abominations, Darwin”, said Copernicus, his voice breaking slightly. “You had such promise. I am sad that your desperation drove you to madness, we should have gone to our graves as friends. Instead… you chose to insult life itself.”
Copernicus looked at his bloody blade with a grimace on his face as if he were still trying to deny to himself the fact that he ran through his once-comrade.
“No… you know what is coming.”, said Darwin, propping himself against a bare stone wall. “Do you really think, with the discovery of magic, things could really remain the same, that humanity could simply remake Khai into the old world and live like we once used to?”
Copernicus made no response.
“We have already changed beyond recognition.”, said Darwin. “Acts once ascribed to the gods, you and I are not only capable of, but we do so whenever we please…. We have become greater than our own legends! And the Tol have been greater still for far longer. They will not die so easily, beings of their power cannot simply fade into history. Believe me, beaten as they are for now, the Tol will return, better prepared for us. Khai itself already rejects us, monsters lurk everywhere and bubble out of the shadows. We must change ourselves or die.”
Copernicus turned around, his large cloak and light brown hair fluttering in the slight breeze of Darwin’s laboratory. He surveyed the slashed, battered bodies of Darwin’s test subjects littering the floor. Some twisted beyond recognition, their flesh stretched into shapes unimaginable from the human form. Others seemed quite human, but only on the outside, until Copernicus faced with them with death, then they died as snarling animals and keening beasts. Still more were merely skin, bones, muscle or spirit alone, parts of a human rather than a being.
Copernicus’ retinue of warriors stood beside the massacre with their axes and spears bloodied but ready.
Copernicus’ face stiffened with resolve. Darwin’s words, had they gained any purchase in his mind, fled his consideration as he looked down at what he and his men had killed.
“Anyone who deals in monstrosities like these is simply a madman”, said Copernicus. “You butchered our fellow humans to make these.”
“They did not fight back when you burst in unannounced and murdered them, how can you say they are monsters?” Darwin sputtered as blood left his lips. “Yes, I made mistakes. These were the unsuccessful subjects, and I regret everything that led up to their creation. I served as their guardian and caretaker, like a father for a sickly child, trying to fix what I did wrong. The ones I succeeded in curing, they live productively around us as if unchanged, they thank me with their own words and their own free will.”
“Then they die too”, Copernicus growled. Darwin gasped, the defiance leaving his face.
“Please…Niklaus… no.”, said Darwin as his expression curled up on itself. “Those outside are civilians, they have done nothing wrong to you. You have already… killed me, you killed all the sick ones here. Perhaps, perhaps, I deserve it, but they do not. Please, if there is anything our friendship meant to you, please. Just let them live among themselves. Please”, he whispered.
“I cannot do that, Karl.”, said Copernicus, his breathing heavy and forced. “I do not know what they are capable of now that your magics have tainted them! Perhaps they are guilty of no more than becoming a part of your madness in their desperation for good health. It does not please me to kill your subjects. However, I have my own sons and daughters to keep in mind, and I fear what will happen should someone else stumble upon your secrets and once more defile the human form like this. No, tonight I burn down this citadel and everything related to your research. Tonight I keep the rest of the living safe.”
“No! No!”, said Darwin. His voice became soft as his lungs failed him, but he tried his hardest to force out a scream. “Niklaus! You do not understand! What I have done, what I have cured! I have cured sickness, I have cured weakness, I have cured pain!...”
Copernicus walked away from Darwin. The weight of his deeds drove Copernicus’ once-graceful gait to stumble against the floor with every step.
“I have cured death!”
Copernicus stopped, his eyes open at Darwin’s final exclamation. He visibly fought the urge to turn around, shaking with anger as he was.
Without turning his head, Copernicus gestured behind himself to his warriors. One of them stepped forward in front of the panting Darwin, and raised his axe. Darwin grimaced and looked away.
----
Copernicus managed to walk out of Darwin’s citadel as it set aflame, and he collapsed against a wall. He mumbled to himself, “It is heresy. It is insanity. How can anyone do this… to the living… or to the dead?”
Chapter 1: A Faintly Memorable ChildhoodKing Alse and Queen Feir reigned over the mighty island nation of Copernica, founded long ago by the legendary god-warrior Copernicus. It is the year 165 ARD and Copernica is at peace. Better-educated individuals in later eras may recognize King Alse for passing some much-needed trading and taxation reforms at this time. However, everyone definitely remembers the story of Alse’s two sons: Crown-Prince Inraf and Prince Anuar, a pair of fraternal twins born five minutes apart, Inraf being the elder.
In 173 ARD, the Royal Twins of Copernica are eight years old.
“Ha ha! I win! My legion wins!” said Inraf, stamping up and down. The Copernican prince carried a dinner-plate-sized wooden shield and sword, both made much too fine and decorated much too beautifully for child’s toys, some would say. The child did not care a bit for what they might say. He paid the tasteful crimson engravings only the slightest regard as he clanged sword and shield together in victory. “I broke your shield wall!”
Anuar dropped his identical sword and shield in frustration, before immediately thinking better and picking them up, then throwing them down again before looking at Inraf again. “Nooo!” He said, drawing out the word with a deep whine, his shoulders stiffening and his arms pumping straight down.
“That’s not fair! You can’t hit my shield with your shield, that’s bad form, INRAF!”
“Haha, Anuar, did you read the books? That’s what Copernican legionnaires do to heretics! It’s called a shield ba- baz- uh, a shield thing! And it’s a thing you can’t do anything about!”
Anuar continued to pout and then suddenly seemed to have a realization. “Fine! Maybe I’ll do something less silly than fighting a cheating legion!”
“Boys!” a well-dressed, dark-skinned young girl of seven years old glided past, her long golden skirt catching their eyes. “How about something a little less silly then?” she said. She motioned to a nearby table adorned with a very real and very fine but also child-sized set of china. Some would also say that fine porcelain wasted on children, but nothing was too fine for the heirs of royals.
“No, Sayeline. We have FUN things to do!” said Inraf.
“That sounds wonderful, Sally!” said Anuar.
Sayeline, or Scarsinid Sally, as the boys liked to call her, was a princess from the larger neighboring nation of Scarsinid Empire, only an eight-day boat ride away, ruled by the boys’ distant uncle Emperor Xernaryt. The complex alliances and geopolitics behind her visit lay utterly beyond the grasp of all three of the children, for the moment. All they knew was that she was pretty fun to have around.
Inraf folded his arms as Anuar sat down next to Sayeline at the tea table.
The tea smelled fantastic, the older prince had to admit. He knew nothing about Scarsinid tea, except that he loved the sugar they liked to shovel into each cup. Inraf, standing alone in the dust with sword in shield in hand, looked on at the sugar Sayeline dunked into Anuar’s tea, trying to hide his staring.
Anuar and Sayeline proceeded to sip tea and talk about matters more genteel than swinging at each other with heavy pieces of wood. Sayeline hugged at her stuffed deer as she spoke. Inraf rolled her eyes. To form attachments to an artificial being like that was HERESY and stuff, that’s what the priests said, why he and his brother didn’t have any. Plus, the Scarsinids made like, zombies and stuff with their magic. That was super heresy! Duh! Inraf felt so disappointed in his little brother.
Sayeline noticed Inraf’s staring and patted a fourth child-sized chair invitingly, the third one reserved for her stuffed deer, who Anuar was clearly fine speaking to, as if it was an actual person.
Inraf internally scoffed at both the idea of joining them and the idea of Anuar talking to a stupid toy, as loudly (in his mind) as he could.
Then he had an idea and, as children are wont to, immediately acted on it the moment it expressed itself.
“Raaahh!” the crown prince rasped as he ran towards the table.
“I’m a rampaging legion! I destroy you heretics and your silly, silly deer and tea!” he declared as his shield jostled the table and knocked over teacups, his eight-year-old strength not quite enough to flip the table.
Sayeline screamed a little, before grabbing a thin pillow from one of the chairs and stepped onto the table. She tackled into Inraf’s shield, using the pillow to cushion the impact. As they landed, she put the pillow over his face and slapped him through it a few times, ignoring whatever he was yelling, while she made mock grunts of anger.
Meanwhile, Anuar simply sat there, an expression of dread and shock hanging off his face as the tea-party-turned-brawl continued before his eyes.
Inraf dropped the sword and shield and waved and yelled for a bit then Sayeline got off him, stepped back as daintily as she could manage, and hung the pillow in a stance like it was a deadly weapon.
Anuar rushed to his brother’s side in a fit of worry to find that his big brother’s yelling was actually laughing.
“Ha ha, see I made Sally fun now! She can fight!” said Inraf, not bothering to get up. “Wasn’t that better than some silly tea!”
Anuar made a motion to kick Inraf, but stopped himself. He looked worriedly at Sayeline.
Sayeline dropped the pillow and laughed with Inraf, before kneeling down to hug them both.
“Man, are all Scarsinids as cool as you?” said Inraf.
“Even cooler!” said Sayeline, with a smile. “Now, do you yield, Sir Inraf of Copernica?”
“Nevar!” the prince yelled. Sayeline smacked his face with the pillow.
“Okay, okay. You earned some peace then.” said Inraf. “I’ll sit down for your silly tea and your…” he gestured at the stuffed toy. “silly deer!”
“He’s not silly, come talk to him and you’ll see!” Sayeline laughed as she led the boys by the hand back to the tea table.
Anuar picked up the teacups, unscathed despite Inraf’s blows dropping them to the floor. He paid little mind to the light blue arcane engravings on each teacup keeping them from even scratching. Sorcery was a part of his daily life, as natural as the holy silver sun rising in the sky every day.
“Yeah, not so silly after all.” he said.
In 179 ARD, the royal twins are 14 years old. Sayeline went home five years ago, the boys have already forgotten about her. Inraf grew up to be a young lad of great charisma, his face pleasing to all eyes and his voice soothing to all hearts. Anuar was a little less fortunate- although it was agreed he was an altogether lad, he had a reputation for taking too long to make decisions. Together people called them Inraf the Splendid and Anuar the Timid. Inraf took well to fencing and equestrian lessons, and he was presently proving his admirers quite correct.
“Inraf! Wait up! Please, Inraf! You are riding much too fast! We are not even supposed to be here!” Anuar yelled.
“Haha, Anworrywart is worrying again! No fear, brother, how many times have we done this?” said Inraf, his face grinning as wide as it would go. The wind in his hair made him feel weightless. Anuar always worried too much, they were the Copernican princes: the finest of royal blood Copernicus saw fit to make! What could hurt them in practically their own backyard!
“This is the first time, Inraf. Nan is going to KILL us when she finally finds us.” said Anuar. Why did Brother always try to have to concern everyone with his behavior?
“Nan can’t kill if she doesn’t know we’re missing!” said Inraf. Anuar could practically hear the naughty tongue waggling in his brother’s tone.
“Please stop Inraf! Please!” said Anuar. Desperation clung onto his voice, some part of him clearly convinced his words were useless.
Inraf made no response other than to laugh wildly, riding into the woods, enjoying his brother’s cries as much as he enjoyed the exhilaration of a fleet horse pounding dirt as hard as it could. Anuar shrugged in discomfort as he rode and yelled at his brother. The bow on the younger prince’s back was oversized for his age, making it difficult to ride properly, and he tried not to mind it as he pressed his horse harder. Prince Anuar’s cries fell further and further behind Inraf, as he struggled in vain to keep up with his elder brother. Inraf’s smile remained as the complaints become harder and harder to hear and eventually stop.
However, Inraf snapped back to what was in front of him when he saw a ragged-looking figure crossing his path. Still with a lesser grin on his face, Inraf tugged up on his pony’s reigns, executing a clean quick stop that would have any veteran equestrian nodding in approval. The crown prince’s grin faded as he realizes the walking person was a badly injured but well-dressed man, appearing unremarkable but for many small streams of blood pouring from his mouth and torso.
Inraf pulled his sword from its sheath. “Stop there”, he says. “Where are you going?”
“No…. nowhere... “, the man said, a slight slur on his lips, likely from whatever was making his mouth bleed. “I’m going to die. That’s… that’s where I’ll go.”
Inraf points his sword at the man’s throat, looking down its length. “Who did this to you?”
“Copernicus… did this… to me. I’ll shit on his name… in hell!” the man growled under his breath. He made a few shuffling steps forward but froze and then sank down a little on bent knees, still fighting to continue on his original path.
“Excuse me!?” said Inraf, his voice raising in pitch. He found it unspeakable that someone in his land would defame his ancestor and god, especially in his presence. This was not an excusable offense, he thought. He raised his sword in the Church’s traditional sword guard, the Copernican Ascension. It would be Inraf’s first time drawing blood in anger if it came down to that, and he knew he would not hesitate on the first try.
The bleeding man turned to the prince and smiled, clearly happy to have such a reaction from a devout Copernican.
“And who the fuck are you? Little kid trying to be a gendarme?” the man managed to sputter between shallow gasps.
“I am most certainly not a little kid, I am fourteen and I am Crown Prince Inraf of Copernica. I will have your head myself if this vulgarity continues, you are in no state to put up any kind of fight. I suggest you shut up and die already before I make it painful.” said the prince, with a sneer.
“Oh, you have no idea crown brat, how painful this right here, how painful it is.” The man interrupted his sentence as he tilts his head and blood spilled out of one of his ears.
“Inraf! Inraf!” Anuar’s cries remained as loud as ever, even though his voice felt dry and pained from minutes of yelling. “Inraf! What are you doing! Stay away from him!”
Inraf ignored his brother, sword still poised to smite the bleeding man. “This man is a blasphemer; he clearly wants to die by our blades instead of the bloody fate that Copernicus has assigned him in His wisdom.”
The dying man met the pronouncement with another growl, this one much harsher than the last. He stood up with a newfound strength, his legs shaking but managing to support him.
“Copernican dogs!” he said, with a robustness in his voice not heard before, “I can see, you must be the twins of the royal family. God himself, the one true god has delivered you to your destruction, through me! I will have my deliverance!”
“What one true god?!” asked Inraf. “What on earth are y-!”
“Inraf! Inraf! INRAF!”
Inraf blinked unexpectedly and sat up, drenched in blood, barely able to see. “Wha-.... what?”
A mere meter away, the blasphemer laid still in a puddle of the last of his blood, his face nearly a light blue underneath red stripes of drying blood. Buried in his chest sat the bloody stumps of two arrows of fine make, direct from Prince Anuar’s hunting quiver.
Inraf couldn’t believe the man managed to get this close to him… maybe even touched the royal person. He wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve and gets slowly to his feet.
“Inraf! Are you okay! Did he hurt you?”
“Slow down, Anwart.” Inraf said, almost reflexively, stressing the first two words. “I am fine. It does not hurt, I just… I just blacked out for a moment. I hope Copernicus did not see me, I do not know why I let him get so close. I had my sword out and… and…”
A moment of silence.
Anuar looked down at his right hand, still clutching the bow, his skin white from pressure. His voice is barely audible.
“Let’s go home, Inraf.”
From this day on, Inraf will always listen to his brother’s worries.
The return home went as expected. Both boys received a stern scolding from their mother for a full hour, Anuar nearly reaching the verge of tears. However, in the end, Anuar received praise for saving the crown prince from a deranged heretic, while Inraf lost his riding privileges for a month. Inraf was shaken by the experience, but he regains his old bravado soon enough… most of it anyways.
Chapter 2: A Slight IllnessNow it is 182 ARD. The boys are now 17 years of age, fate has been kind to Inraf so far, and he has grown into a dashing young man the ladies at court swoon over day and night.
“I don’t know why we need to wait for Archmagus Abtre. Copernicus gives us everything we need. Protection, miracles, company. What can silly heathen hand-waving do that God can’t?” asked Inraf.
Anuar shushed him, a tad too sharply for the Copernican concept of politeness. “You gotta be patient, Inraf. He is an important man all the way from the Mageocracy. Dad didn’t pay him a bunch to tell us nothing, there’s a lot we can learn from Taber sorcery!”
“Like what”, asked Inraf. He fidgeted a little on the oak bench they sat on. The Copernican temple was a little hot right now, and Inraf’s next words were emboldened by both discomfort and the utter lack of anyone else around. “How to be super late?”
“A wizard is never late or early, he arrives precisely when he means to!” Inraf and Anuar practically flew off their bench. “Aaaah!” said Inraf!
An older, balding man in blue robes stepped out of thin air. “Excellent, it works!” the man said, his jovial tone of voice booming throughout the temple. “I am Archmagus Abtre, and that was a demonstration of what you can learn from other magical traditions! Well said, Prince Anuar!”
“By the Sun’s spots! How did you do that?!” said Inraf. “Yeah, yeah, I wanna know!” said Anuar.
Abtre smiled. “The limits of sorcery are not in capacity, but in knowledge. If you do not know what to ask Copernicus for, how can he give it to you? I am not a Copernican, but I did know of a basic camouflage charm. You did not know such a thing was possible. Could you have asked Copernicus to do this for you before today?”
Anuar smiled and shook his head almost violently. Inraf just crossed his arms and huffed. “Okay”, said Inraf. “That was pretty good, but uh, well, why doesn’t anyone in our father’s court know how to do that?”
Abtre smiled even wider. “It’s not as simple as asking. Something like healing or protection is in your god’s nature, you need only ask and it happens. Something like asking him for an aura of illusions needs, well, instructions. Think of it this way, do you ask Copernicus to till your fields for you?”
“No sir!” said Anuar.
“Suck up”, muttered Inraf.
“What do you do instead, young prince?” asked Abtre.
“We ask him for the strength to till the fields, and his favor so that it might rain and shine, but we do the work for ourselves!”, Anuar said with pride.
“Excellent”, said Abtre, still with a deep smile. “Your wise father has paid me a shitl- erm, has arranged for this lesson to widen your perspectives. Much like tilling a field, sometimes you take care of some things yourself. Now, show me what sorcery you can do with a prayer to Copernicus.”
Anuar smiled ear to ear. He closed his eyes, fell to his knees and spoke intensely under his breath, his words taking on the harsh whispers of a fanatic, but the rhythm and meter of a poet. “Copernicus, hear my faith, hear my plea, Copernicus, heed my calls, lend an ear to me. Copernicus, your might is great, your deeds many. Copernicus, please, by the light of the silver sun, illuminate me!” As soon as the last words left his lips, Anuar’s skin began glowing. The glow grew greater and greater, practically shining like a lighthouse within seconds of ending the chant, then ended suddenly, leaving the temple seemingly in darkness. Abtre shielded his eyes and chuckled, clearly impressed. Inraf kept his arms folded and inaudibly scoffed, trying to hide some kind of upset.
Abtre turned to Inraf. “How about you, master Inraf?”
Inraf grimaced a little. “I uh, haven’t been doing much in the way of Kaleothes prayer.” he said, referring to the spellcasting-like ritual prayer that frequently resulted in miracles. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Lord Copernicus and all, but I haven’t been calling on his power much. I’m just not feeling well.”
Abtre shrugged and nodded. “Well, that’s alright, perhaps a demonstration isn’t necessary. I can safely assume you are at about the level of your brother?”
“Uh… about. Let me give it a shot, I actually haven’t tried magic in so long, I don’t know.”
Inraf dropped to his knees and raised his arms straight up. “Copernicus! Aid me, grant me the-“ He paused. His arms started quivering a little. “Copernicus, grant me the li-“… He couldn’t finish it. Suddenly, Inraf shrieked and fell to the ground, convulsing.
Anuar rushed to his brother’s side almost seamlessly and kneeled by his side. “Copernicus, hear my prayer, make my brother whole again! Copernicus, all I ask is restoration! “ Anuar yelped and fell backwards as there was a blast of rainbow-colored light between him and Inraf’s shivering form. “The healing spell is not working, Abtre!”
As soon as Anuar’s spell failed, Abtre whispered words in a long-since dead language, staring intently at Inraf. There was a slight flash of dark purple color and Inraf audibly shuddered and stopped twitching.
Abtre’s voice shook with not a small amount of fear. “As I thought. Some kind of magical curse on him. But few have the potency to reject a healing spell outright like that! And, even fewer of that kind of curse would leave Inraf able to walk and speak, let alone try to call on magic.”
Anuar tugged at Abtre’s robes. “We need to get him to the temple infirmary!”
---
“Well, Archmagus Abtre?” asked Queen Feir. “What is it? Our greatest healers have almost no power over Inraf’s affliction. Has your communique to the Mageocracy shed light on our son’s illness?”
“After consultation with my peers, “said Abtre. “I strongly suspect it is a very rare disease called the Inner Death. It spread by contact with an afflicted person’s viscera. The Inner Death is insidiously slow to assert itself, and causes the body’s magical field to disassemble itself. In the meantime causes immense pain during spellcasting and causes nearby magical phenomena to become unpredictable, perhaps even dangerous to the sufferer.”
“No cure is known, and the best recourse is non-magical… palliative measures. Little is known of the Inner plagues except its basic mechanisms… any information you could offer on this disease would both further science and improve your son’s chances…”
Queen Feir did not reply for a moment, lost in thought at a distant memory. “Wait!” she said. “That night with the heretic who accosted our sons in the woods. Perhaps that was what was gave him the disease. Then contact with Inraf might have-“
“Perhaps. Could you unearth the assailant’s body for further examination?”
Queen Feir wringed her hands a little. “We threw his body to the wolves in a distant location, without last rites, a traditional recourse for attempted treason. It is possible, but unless you have a way to distinguish this person’s bones from another’s…”
Abtre shook his head. “The bones will not have any magical traces. I would look for clues as to where this man came from and how he communicated the disease.”
“There is little, Archmagus. We found that he was a local man with a long history of blasphemy, but he was not working with anyone and did not premeditate the encounter with our sons. We will resume the investigation immediately, but it has been four years, the odds of a warm trail are slim.”
“Queen Feir, my suggested treatment is non-magical care to delay his suffering. Should he have another episode, the only thing that will surely alleviate it is a counter spell. I can have a team of our best medicae here by tonight. With careful magical examination, we might find a way to delay or halt his decline.”
Queen Feir shook her head slightly. “No, that will not be necessary. For any outside party to discover that our elder heir is dying would shake the kingdom and grant opportunity for usurpers to strike at our younger in hopes of ending the bloodline. We shall keep this confidential between us, Abtre. Seek a cure with the greatest discretion and we will reward you enormously.”
“Milady.” Abtre bowed and walked out.
Queen Feir paused for a moment, still tense from the conversation. She turned to her left, not looking at anything in particular. “Actually, I’d prefer this incident stay strictly within the royal house. Remove Abtre as naturally as possible.” she said.
Then, in the darkness in the side of the room, there was a slight shuffling sound of a slight bow, the barest hint of footsteps, and then silence.
---
Anuar sat with his head down while Inraf slept fitfully. He had not had any more attacks since the priests’ failed attempts to cure him. “Inraf… what happened to you? Mother says it is some inner plague. But… how could this happen like this? You were fine yesterday! Remember when you jumped onto the dinner table and Father yelled at you? There was nothing wrong with you! What happened?!” Anuar made a movement to slam his fist before remembering there was nothing in front of him he could hit without possibly waking his brother.
Still shaking, Anuar spoke, “Inraf…. They say you can’t be cured. They’re wrong. Copernicus as my witness, there is a way to heal you. I will find it. I’ll study twice as hard, I’ll get the best doctors, I’ll fight the entire world if I have to… please, brother, please get better.”
Anuar buried his head in his arms, with only the soft breathing of his brother to keep him company.
Two months later…
“How are you doing, Anuar?” Inraf spoke as he leaned on a crutch. The last seizure took out his legs from under him, the healers advised him that a fall in the wrong way could be the end of him.
“Did… did they find anything?” asked Anuar.
Inraf shook his head. “Healing prayers actually hurt me. I can’t believe it. Copernicus can’t do anything about it. His own flesh and blood, and heir to his kingdom, cursed in such a way that God’s healing light actually hurts me.” Inraf sighed and sat down on his hospital bed.
“They’ve tried feeding me all kinds of medicine; it isn’t doing anything so far, I’m afraid all these potions might make my hair fall out or something. The healers won’t try surgery or even biopsies, because they can’t heal me back up again. Apparently, they have barely any idea what to do if healing magic doesn’t work at all. They’ve tried the leech treatments just because, I guess. It didn’t work. I’m not getting any better, if anything I’m getting worse.” said Inraf.
Anuar thought for a moment. “What about the counter spell that Abtre talked about?”
“It will only cut short an attack while it is happening. It definitely won’t help otherwise.”
“Uh, well…” Anuar paused, clearly unsure whether he should or should not continue.
“What?” said Inraf, saying the word with a very sharp attitude. He could clearly sense his brother’s misgivings.
Anuar looked at the ground. “Well… I have heard things… I didn’t want to hear it… but I overheard someone saying, it might be because you sinned in the eyes of Copernicus.”
Inraf clutched his head. “I’m really not in the mood for people to add trouble onto an already bad condition. Really? Because I sinned? Not because a heretic bled his nasty disease all over me? Why does everything have to be Copernicus’ fault?”
He made very clear eye contact with Anuar. “No, I still have faith in Copernicus. If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead by now. If he wanted me to suffer, he’d make it very clear it was he, he wouldn’t humiliate his own healing magics by making them hurt someone for no visible reason. My own prayers haven’t gone heard, and I’m definitely not trying out Kaleothes.” The magical prayer rituals of Kaleothes would be a pretty good way to die if it could hurt me enough, he thought. Then he dismissed that horrible thought.
“Docs say I’m okay if I stay away from other people’s magic and don’t use my own. Occasionally, it will hurt me anyways because the human body normally constantly releases a ‘thaumic field’ made of magic or something. So in this case, the thaumic magic field will turn against me until I eventually drop dead, and it will also hurt me if someone else’s thaumic field flares up by spellcasting around me. I should have someone nearby to catch me if I have another episode of seizures in the meantime. I guess that’s you right now, Anuar.”
Anuar nodded. “Look, Inraf, if there’s anything I can do; I will drop anything to help you.”
Inraf nodded back. “Absolutely.”, was all he had to say.
And without words, the looks in their eyes told each other I love you too, brother.
The next ten years did little for Inraf’s constitution. Inraf’s parents searched for a cure as discreetly as possible, throwing the royal treasury at Copernica’s domestic medical research and covertly acquiring medical research from the four corners of Khai. Although several exciting advances bubbled out of it, nothing was nearly enough to do more than alleviate Inraf’s condition, at least for a while. Life still went on, lessons, galas and public events continued. Inraf’s public appearances became rare and carefully planned, with avenues of escape and convenient explanations on hand should he have an episode of seizures again. Inraf for the most part lived behind closed doors, and although he regained a measure of his old bravado as he got accustomed to the restrictions of his illness, his mother and father knew he fought a losing battle. The royal physicians warned Alse and Feir against bodily contact with Inraf. They also warned the king and queen that their parental worries were tearing up their bodies, and it was probably best for the royal persons if Inraf simply separated from them for treatment elsewhere. It was a measure they rejected immediately… until one day, a particular bad attack one day brought Inraf low before his father’s terrified eyes, and the stricken prince simply would not wake up.
The infirmary was closed down, every bed empty save for Inraf, the lights dimmed and the air still enough to hear dust settle. The King and Queen spoke in hushed tones beside their elder son. Anuar looked up at his parents, clinging slightly to his mother, despite feeling he was a bit too old for that.
His parents spoke in Antique Copernican, a difficult and ancient language that hardly existed in the wider public, but still served as a code language among Spherist intellectuals. Anuar hadn’t started his lessons yet, although Inraf had. So the younger prince could only look up and wait for his mother and father to resume speaking in Centric.
“Our best healers haven’t so much as budged his illness. Five days out like this and he has only woken up once, briefly. The investigation into the person who attacked him has still given no leads, it seems to have been random chance. Rumors are spreading wild about the disappearance of Prince Inraf.”, said Queen Feir.
“We can make up something about sending him abroad for tutelage…” said King Alse. “But I think we should have taken the Taber Mageocracy’s assistance. I had to clean up the diplomatic fuss over the untimely loss of Archmagus Abtre and our countries’ relations have suffered ever since. Exotic magics are their specialty, after all, and this is what this Inner Death ultimately is.”
“It was necessary,” said Queen Feir. “Copernica today is on even footing with the Tabers, but it wasn’t always so, and to learn of our weakness could invite disaster. They may even be responsible, directly or indirectly, for this Inner Plague. How could our finest physicians know nothing of this plague and no sign appears in our son, yet it appears he is stricken the moment that Abtre met him and Abtre managed to be the only one who has a chance to help him?”
“Even in that case, I would take the health of Inraf over the kingdom.” said Alse, a fierce look in his eyes. “But you have already committed us to this course of action, and it may be well that this remains a secret. Our options are few, our son is deteriorating. He hasn’t been lucid for days. Where else may we seek answers without revealing our weakness?”
“Hm… perhaps the Scarsinids could help.” said Feir.
“The Scarsinids! The heretics!” said Alse, almost in a hissing whisper. “What do they have to offer us but living blasphemies against God? Can we even trust them, if they had something for us? Xernaryt may be your third cousin and Sayeline may be a wonderful young lady, but such a distant relationship and a scrap of copper is worth the scrap of copper, especially when the fate of the kingdom is in the balance!”
“Calm down, dear.” said Feir. “The Scarsinid Empire is known for its biological magics. They are the most known in plaguecraft and medicinal sorcery.”
“But they are best of all known for undead abominations!” said Alse. “What if they decide to pull apart our son for the sake of science? Can we trust a people who will butcher their own countrymen for a fleeting glimpse of immortality?”
“Xernaryt trusted us enough with Sayeline! Why can’t we trust him back?” said Feir.
“Sayeline is but one of dozens of his children. She is merely the only one we’ve met. We’ve hardly even spoken to him about the other ones. It’s hardly the same thing as sending half of our children, and the crown heir, no less, over there. “, said Alse.
Anuar audibly whimpered, noticing both Sally’s name and the harsh tones used in his father’s speech. Alse looked down and all indignation left his face. He put a hand on his son’s head and rubbed Anuar’s head a little. “It’s all right, Anuar. We will think of something. We are Copernica, God’s very own chosen people. He will take care of Inraf in time, we just need to attend to some details.” she said in Centric.
Feir draped an arm around Anuar’s shoulder and held him closer to her. She continued looking at Alse, unperturbed. “The Scarsinid nobles are impious beasts, but I believe I know Xernaryt well enough. He is a charitable if firm ruler. Remember our official function there, it was a wonderful time!”
“That was seven years ago!” said Alse. “In a position of strength with nothing at stake! Now we will be exposing our sick son. A ready-made hostage or worse.”
Feir took on an expression of deep thought again. “What about Elistierre? Perhaps there is an expert in their lands. They are our compatriots, after all. They’ve been exposed to traditions we have not, there is perhaps something of value there. “
“The odds of the insect clans seizing Inraf is too high, they’ve been at war with Elistierre for over a century, and not exactly losing, at that. Moreover, did not you, yourself, call the Elistierri stupid bird-worshippers? We won’t reveal this secret to our own court, why should we give our vulnerable son to heretics half a world away?” said Alse.
“Come off of it, dear.” said Feir. “But you are right, our leash on Elistierre is long and the physical distance is longer still. Consider this instead. I have had our network of spies looking in the Scarsinid empire. Reports say the Scarsinid Empire, even in its state of decline, is at the forefront of biological magics. If we are going to go down this road, we might as well go with the Scarsinids. Though they may harm our son, they won’t try to invade us if we provoke them, at least.”
“Why is that?” asked Alse.
“The Empire’s roads are in a state of disrepair. Xernaryt has not been wise with the imperial coffers. The Scarsinid people revolt every other week or so, and have to be put down. The Immortal Legions are scattered all about Alenactia for this purpose. It would take almost a year for the Scarsinid Empire to concentrate the manpower and supplies to invade us, it would be quite obvious.”
“Hm… could we use our network of spies as leverage against Xernaryt then? Insert as many as we can into the imperial household, task them with keeping our son safe, and if that is not possible, threatening Xernaryt?” asked Alse.
“Hm, we could. We could. The need to spy on the Scarsinids is waning with the state they are in. If we have to sacrifice our spy ring to save our heir, I would take that every time.” said Feir.
“I would go anywhere to stop this pain. “, a third voice said.
Queen Feir and King Alse hesitated, and then turned to look at the speaker. Inraf’s eyes opened. He continued to speak, punctuating the scarce Antique Copernican he remembered with common Centric where he could not remember a word. “I think Anuar should be heir. I’m ill, I don’t know if I’ll recover. He’s a good brother to me… he… he’ll do fine as a king. I can go to the Scarsinid Empire for a cure, or….” Inraf left loose a bitter chuckle under his breath. “-at least see some wonderful sights if I won’t come back. I hear it is beautiful in the neighboring Voidlands, if nowhere else.”
Feir looked carefully at Alse. Alse pursed his lips, and said, “Well, Inraf… if that’s how you feel… we’ll make arrangements. I don’t like Xernaryt or the Scarsinids, but if anyone knows anything about plague, it’s them.”
Chapter 3: A Slightly Turbulent WelcomeSix months later.
Inraf scratched the back of his head. The royal groomer had shaved his head down to nearly a fuzz; apparently, very short hair was in fashion this year in the Scarsinid court. In addition, it would make him much less recognizable. His new life was as “Terynd”, the sickly son of the Elistierri house of Bafi. He hoped Xernaryt would keep his secret well. There was a lot of debate in his family whether and to what extent Xernaryt could know of the situation. Perhaps it was for the best that he knew more- for a guest to deceive a host was definitely not in Copernican custom. His hair itched at him again. So distracting.
Inraf stepped off the boat. All the advice about the Scarsinids was spinning in his head now. He would have to remember it as it became applicable. If it became applicable. Scarsinid fashion was so different, there was so much gold color everywhere, and everyone had some kind of scarf around his or her head or neck. He felt a bit naked with just his Elistierri tunic. Well, they would get him sorted out eventually. His official imperial escort welcomed him warmly, as if he were a long-lost friend. The guards were very well armored and stood stock still, and Inraf felt a little safer until he remembered there was a good chance they were not quite alive under all that armor. He shuddered a little and tried to push the thought out of his head. The sting of the sea salt in his nose left as his convoy moved inland.
It was honestly quite exciting, seeing something different from Copernica. The royal line of Copernica did not send their sons abroad for training like other nobles and royalty did, so this kind of trip was not something he nor Anuar had done before. As much as seeing these new sights nearly pushed it from his mind, the most exciting thought was the chance of curing his disease.
A few hours in, Inraf’s convoy made a supply run at a particularly large bazaar. Strange potions, headscarves, and bizarre new creatures in all manner of stalls all caught Inraf’s eye. The air was alive with the barks of merchants boasting of their wares, a warmth in their voices that would be rare between strangers in Copernica. Inraf clapped as a sword-swallower gulped down a particularly long blade. Amazing, and to think there wasn’t even magic involved! Inraf’s guide practically pulled at him to rejoin the escort. Inraf waved him off, turning towards a stall filled with particularly inviting-looking tomes, but then he heard shouting. Lots of it. Now that he thought about it, the clashing of metal. More than just a butcher chopping at his wares or a merchant’s jewelry clacking in the breeze. He decided to follow his guide’s advice and walked back towards the escort. In the clearing stood a large crowd and in response the Imperial soldiers escorting Inraf almost as one twirled their halberds down into fighting stances. A woman at the head of the mob yelled something and pointed at the soldiers. Inraf did not quite understand with his unfamiliarity with the Scarsinid dialect of Centric, but it was obvious the intent was not in the least polite. Inraf decided to withdraw behind the thin line of imperial soldiers; he best should not fight in his condition. Inraf’s guide spoke to the mob and words exchanged between them. It seemed the situation de-escalated. The mob did not advance or brandish weapons, and they started moving much less, which was good. Then someone yelled something out, and the rest of the mob started repeating it. Chanting it, in fact. The guide became nervous as they continued to try to negotiate, and the soldiers grouped together a bit more tightly. There must have been five or six people in the mob for every one of Inraf’s guards, and it appeared it was growing larger. They largely wore plain or ragged clothes, and although not many of them appeared to be starving or sick, almost all of them had the makings of grief shown in their eyes and bedraggled appearance. The same things Inraf saw in his brother, mother and father. He was not sure exactly what happened to provoke this, but he hoped they found justice for it. Just not now, and not with their farm tools and knives in front of his face.
They were at least not gesturing or looking at him, so the presence of a foreigner probably wasn’t their complaint. Inraf tried not to draw attention to himself in any way, not something easy for someone used to being front and center all his life. The mob was still chanting their… slogan, he guessed, as a few people at the head of the mob continued their dialogue with Inraf’s guide, the soldiers forming a bit of a screen behind the guide, with a single spot left open behind the guide, probably for escape. The soldiers appeared well trained at least, but… it must have been seven or eight people in the mob for every guard now?
A woman walked out of the mob, a skull in her hands, raised above her head. Its eye sockets glowed quite unnaturally, and Inraf could swear he saw the skull change expression somehow. That was the spark in the haystack. The crowd started yelling in response and wildly gesturing at the skull. The guide went quiet and cautiously started backwards into the soldiers flanking him. The mob tensed… and charged. The guide fled through the block of soldiers just as abruptly and the soldiers simply closed rank behind him, as Inraf braced himself. Dozens of commoners practically bounced off the wall of halberds. The soldiers swept and prodded their halberds with rather understated movement, but it was effective, they tossed aside and shoved backwards scores of peasants. Blood splashed everywhere, but little of it got on the soldiers’ armor. The soldiers budged only the slightest distance despite the onslaught of bodies and weapons pressing against their spear tips. The mob thinned and then turned around as it became obvious that their assault was merely rushing to certain and useless death. In the end, the only signs of the mob left were bloodstains and the wails of the dying.
Despite the tenseness in his shoulders and the clenching of his teeth during all that, Inraf couldn’t help but be impressed by how well the Scarsinid troops withstood the attack. Only the finest Copernican legionnaires could shrug off that many attackers that gracefully. The soldiers lowered their spears and advanced after all signs of the fleeing mob were out of sight and out of hearing. Inraf stared in curiosity as to what they were doing, and then he saw the halberds rise up and then down into fallen enemies, and he looked away. He turned to his guide still cowering beside him, and fumbled for words. “What happened?”
“I-I-It was a revolt.” the guide said. “The people… they are angry, they say the satrap, the- the- the local ruler, and he has been taking their young for horrible magic experiments. They want the soldiers to kill him. They are very, very angry, and will not listen to reasoning, they will not believe Xernaryt will help them and wish the satrap dead right now.”
“Well, can’t Xernaryt do something about it? I-” Inraf fought back the urge to say that he had Xernaryt’s ear, there was no reason why his current identity, the noble Terynd ___ of Elistierre, would have any influence on the Emperor. He wasn’t even sure that Prince Inraf could get Xernaryt’s ear.
“Our Emperor has more important things to attend to…. I- I- do not know. It is not my place, sahib. I only do what is of my place.” the guide responded.
“Okay. Well, it’s considered helpful in C- in Elistierre to point out potential problems, if someone is at all able to do something about it. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll bring it up, if anyone has to.” said Inraf. “Anyways, can we expect any more of these confrontations on our way to the imperial palace?”
The guide hesitated. “Well…. It is not unheard of. Not before my eyes, but I have heard words of similar happenings as of late. Here, and in other satrapies.” He cleared his throat. “I am sorry, Sir Terynd, but it is something perhaps best not spoken of in the open air.”
“Can I at least have a sword? I may be ill, but I’d feel a lot safer if I can do even the slightest to defend myself if something happens to the guards.” said Inraf.
The guide turned to the soldiers and muttered something that Inraf could not catch. One soldier stepped out of line, presented Inraf a small curved sword, and merged back into formation without a moment’s pause. Inraf took a moment to look at the sword. He immediately identified this as a sidearm, it did not seem particularly well balanced or large, but he could tell it was of very sturdy make. This was certainly not an ornament. He always felt better with steel at his hip.
“Please do not tell Our Emperor of this, Sir Terynd.”, said the guide. “He prides himself on guests feeling safe and not feeling the need to bear arms or attend to security within his domain.”
Inraf nodded. It was bad enough his escort was assaulted, but for Inraf to have to dirty his own hands would embarrass Xernaryt as a host. That said, it beat dying by a long shot. Inraf was ultimately here to save his life after all, Copernicus damn it.
His thoughts turned to the uprising just now. If rumor flew about similar other things, that did not bode well for the Scarsinid Empire. Sacrificing children for necromantic science? That would not do, his Copernican upbringing told him: if true, this was heresy of the highest order and offended both his faith and simple human decency alike. He would have to look into this.
The next stretch of this journey would take them through the deserts of Alenactia. The guide cautioned Inraf to stay close to the platoon at all times. Inraf noticed that the escort took an awful lot of supplies, pack animals and porters with them for the stretch- he had heard that deserts required one to carry lots of water, but really, this much?
“Here there are the Arrownaughts. Please, do not be afraid, they are loyal subjects under the hire of Our Emperor, but be wary. A few loose bands have been known to prey on the unwary away from their comrades’ eyes.” said the guide.
Inraf’s eyes narrowed in doubt. The guide’s words said one thing, the tone of his voice said another. In any case, the convoy would see these “Arrownaughts” coming a mile away, there was nothing but sand here. Inraf suddenly tensed up and fell to the ground, seeing electricity jump across his sight as his world shook. Around him, many people yelled in Scarse Centric and Inraf heard lots of movement and felt pressure all over him as his body rose above the sand. His mind went limp at the same time as his body and when he finally snapped back to his senses, he found himself propped up on an animal…. a….dragon? It was very large and scaly, with large spines jutting from its back and only a very tall saddle kept him from falling off it. He dared not try to guide it, who knows how different a reptile might react from a horse. He sighed. He had another episode. They were getting more severe, though thankfully no more frequent.
Inraf felt too weak to look around, and his eyes pointed at the dragon’s back. Wait, who put him in the saddle? Inraf attempted to speak, and managed enough semblance of speech for the guide to rush to his side and speak to him. “Sir Terynd, are you all right? You had another bout of the illness, it was very bad. We have had to move you.”
“I’m fine.” Inraf managed to say. He could not think of much else to say. His guide seemed to sense that and walked beside him without any further words.
The desert surprisingly did not feel as hot Inraf thought it would, although the nights were cold and bright. The moon shined as brightly as the loving touch of Copernicus. The soldiers dug a trench (as much as was possible in the sand) and lit a fire in it. Inraf puzzled as to why they also covered the fire with what appeared to be a very thick net overhead. He thought about asking his guide, but then realized he felt very sleepy. Perhaps he would ask later, an ill person really needed their sleep, right?
Inraf’s dreams that night took on mostly a vivid, seamless mishmash of colors, the same as it always did once he fell ill. Perhaps the plague also affected his mind. His mind searched for the word that Taber scientists used to describe something that was all noise and no message? Oh, yes, static. His dreams consisted entirely of static. With that particularly coherent thought, he realized he was not currently asleep- something had woken him up.
The young Copernican made some incoherent vocal sounds, as anyone who just woke up tended to. Someone shushed him. His eyes flew wide open; he was not used to anyone besides Anuar shushing him asleep and something deep in Crown Prince Inraf wanted to address this upstart. Then Inraf remembered where he was and calmed down… but still, something felt wrong. The entire camp lay still, the fire freshly extinguished, no one made a noise, although Inraf felt certain there were still soldiers everywhere, none of them moving so much as a limb. He struggled to get on his feet and then realized that may not be an ideal choice. He heard only the whistle of gales moving past…yet the air felt deadly still on his skin… what was going on? He couldn’t see anything in the pitch-blackness, but the military officer in him knew that everyone around him remained awake and still for a very good reason.
The silence dug away at his mind, he wanted to pull his sword out and gut whatever bastard dared to threaten him, in the true Copernican fashion. His finger itched. Inraf did not want to die to something that didn’t even have the gall to show its face.
Movement. He felt as much as heard it, almost perfectly located behind him, off-axis a little. Inraf resisted the urge to turn his head to view the threat. His guards made no move but the sudden stillness of their breathing (not sure, actually, it seemed they were always this quiet) demonstrated that they heard and felt it too. They slowly oriented to the threat. Then another movement, not far away from them, this one at a right angle to the right of the previous one. Uh oh.
Another and another. Almost perfectly arranged, with one in each cardinal direction from Inraf’s group. Prince Inraf’s mind ran wild at the possibilities. This ruled out a simple animal, not even the most unusual of beasts could possibly coordinate with precision like this. The four things that arrived moved slowly, almost wandering, breaking up their symmetry. Perhaps… searching? That might explain why no one so much as lifted a finger here.
“Sir Terynd”, a very quiet whisper said. “Sir Terynd. I need you to move forty degrees to your left.” It was Inraf’s guide. His voice came from below him, so Inraf guessed he crawled all the way over to Inraf. “On our signal.”
“Wait”, Inraf whispered. “Running or wal-“
“Go!” the guide said.
The soldiers picked up their weapons and marched off into the darkness. There were shouts in the distance and it was all Inraf could do to fumble for his sword and try to catch up to them. He trudged in the same sound as the voices, aimlessly, he felt. He had no idea if the soldiers could maintain cohesion in this kind of confusion and night-blindness, or even if they did. There was a mighty scream, as many voices yelled at once and lights bloomed not a hundred meters from him. Someone had lit a torch- many someones, in fact, many human figures, thin and ragged, wearing some sort of dark mask, no wait, a breathing apparatus, on their faces. They bore axes and torches and brandished them wildly as they charged at the Scarsinid soldiers. The Soldiers hastily formed up into a line two ranks deep and slowly advanced. The assailants’ blades clashed against the soldiers’ halberds as warrior stuck to warrior. Inraf could see a soldier or two struck by an axe stumbling out of formation briefly, but the wounded soldier’s allies would always close around him as someone in the second rank pulled him back. The assailants, to their credit, didn’t drop as easily as the mob from earlier and he could see warriors covered in wounds still fighting on as if nothing had happened to them.
Inraf noticed one of the assailants charging by without noticing Inraf and rushed forward with a scream to match his opponent’s. Inraf slammed his sword into the man’s back, praying to Copernicus in his mind as his breath raced in his chest. His opponent stumbled over, blood spurting from the cut, and blindly struck Inraf with the back of his left hand. Inraf recoiled from the blow and narrowly stepped under a ferocious axe swing. Inraf couldn’t see enough of an opening as his opponent reversed the axe’s trajectory, stepped forward, and advanced with a downward blow. The prince stepped back, and became aware of the poor footing of the sand dune beneath him. Sensing Inraf’s moment of weakness, and seemingly ignorant of the gash on his own body, Inraf’s opponent lunged with the axe like it was everything in the world to him, and all the young prince could do was retreat away from an impossible flurry of cuts and swings.
One particularly close call hooked the axe head around Inraf’s sword, and his foe pulled it out of his hands. Inraf’s conscious mind did not have time to register anything before the next axe swing, but something deep inside of him knew exactly what happened and how to respond. Inraf glided forward almost seamlessly with his opponent’s pull and thrust both hands out into the handle of his foe’s axe as it came forward, catching the weapon. Without thinking, Inraf snapped his head forward into the mask, and was surprised to find it cushioned the blow reasonably… for himself. His opponent reeled backward, and still, clutching at the axe, Inraf gave him a particularly ugly kick to the kneecaps. The attacker did not release the axe even as he went to one knee, so Inraf directed the same foot, still in midair, into another kick at the man’s chest.
The impact separated the two of them, and Inraf’s footing finally failed as he splashed backward into the loose sand. Inraf felt pleased for a second to find the axe entirely in his hands now, but then its former owner, without skipping a beat, tugged at his legs. Inraf reflexively swung his new axe at the attacker’s chest, but either due to luck or his attacker’s instinct, Inraf hit nothing but air and the blow landed in the sand beside the two of them. His foe kept pulling at him, letting go for a second to land a punch to Inraf’s hip, so Inraf curled his body forward and snapped a jab of the axe’s pommel at his attacker, connecting with his foe’s head again. That was enough to release the pressure on Inraf’s legs, and Inraf raised one knee to strike his attacker.
The blow connected with something, not solidly, but enough to tell Inraf where the man definitely was. Lacking the physical leverage to properly pick up the axe and swing upward into his foe, Inraf instead opted to interpose the axe’s length between them to buy time, thrusting the tip of the handle into the man’s chest, and was surprised to find his opponent entirely stopped. Knowing an opportunity when he felt it, Inraf pushed the axe haft as hard he could, lifting his own weight off the sand, sideways and then down into his falling foe’s body. His opponent spasmed and flailed at the axe, and then lay still. Inraf gave the prone man a fierce kick that nearly lifted the body off the ground and felt satisfied at the lack of reaction. He then extracted the axe from the body and found a small spear tip on the edge of the haft. That would explain things. The whirlwind in his lungs rushed across his lips, and his heart slammed against the walls of his chest and he knew there were still foes to deal with. He spun around looking for the next attacker. He saw only the last vestiges of the enemy cut down by Scarsinid soldiers, methodically pulling apart the axe wielders with the coordinated movements of their halberds.
Inraf sat down, he fell ill. But it was not an episode… had he just killed a man? Ugh.
He shuddered to something resembling a level of calm as his guide rushed up to him. “Sir Terynd! Sir Terynd! Oh thank the gods, you are alive and well. Oh, and I see you slew an Arrownaught, with his own axe! Excellent sir, the Elistierri are certainly no novices to battle!”
Inraf started to laugh and felt sicker. He would be blushing now if he didn’t feel empty inside.
“It is no mean feat, they are the fiercest of warriors, and I am of the greatest joy you were able to prevail. Now, we can escape, their other three hunting parties are too far to corner us. Come, Sir Terynd. Come!” said the guide. Inraf guessed the guide was also recovering from a state of shock, from the elated tension in his voice.
Inraf got up, shaking from the exertion. His body wanted to collapse, but his mind wanted to keep moving, so he marched over to the soldiers and leaned on one for support. The soldier did not react in the least. Inraf heard movement and the flash of a torch near them and swiveled his head in alarm, then saw it was the porters and pack animals bringing their supplies. He turned his head back to the soldiers and saw that they were no worse the wear despite seeing several of them taking very ferocious axe blows- the Scarsinids must have fine armor, he thought.
The march out of the desert saw no further encounters. Inraf made sure to stay right behind the soldiers this time, still riding his… dragon? Apparently, it was simply a very large lizard, although it certainly could be mistaken for a dragon from the right angle. He felt tired… did the fight really take that much out of him? As day broke over the sand dunes, he finally saw fit to fall asleep.
“We are not far from the Imperial Palace now, Sir Terynd!” said the guide. Inraf woke up as he heard the words. It looked like they headed down a simple road. He did not see anything on the other side of it, just the horizon, maybe a few hills.
“Oh thank Copernicus…” Inraf hesitated, and then remembered that the Elistierri man he was supposed to be would also follow the Spherist religion. “Yes, thank Copernicus. How are the men doing?”
“Sir Terynd?” the guide said, the questioning tone entirely in his voice.
“Yes, I asked about the troops. How are they?” said Inraf.
“They are well, the battle was invigorating to them, they are pleased they could demonstrate their strength properly and do their duty before a guest of the Emperor.”
Inraf sighed. That sounded like a pre-packaged statement, he’d heard that exact tone of voice from his own courtiers all the time. Well, it didn’t seem like a lie anyway. He just didn’t want the deaths of friends on his hands, that’s why he felt like he had to join the battle. Then again, it was their duty to fight anyways. He wasn’t sure how to feel, he had killed a man just like that. How on Earth did Anuar do it? He pictured that bleeding heretic so long ago about to cut down Anuar, and then imagined himself driving a sword into that monster’s gut to save Anuar, and felt a warm righteous indignation in his chest. He felt a little better, even if the disease would have ended the same way for one of them, with the blood splashing around-
He stopped himself. The way forward lay ahead of him now, he should think about that instead. He felt like continuing to speak to his guide but something caught at his throat. He knew he wasn’t a shy person, so what exactly… hm…
A soldier extended a hand sideways and the guide barked out something. The rest of the convoy stopped. Inraf pushed his heels down into his mount’s side and was pleased that the giant lizard stopped just like a horse would, although it took a fair bit more force for the same reaction.
The guide turned to Inraf again, and tapped his hand on the axe hanging at Inraf’s saddle. Inraf immediately understood. Someone was watching them. And following them. Arrownaughts? No, this approach was not nearly as elegant. He immediately saw another convoy approaching in the far distance. Something in his heart sank.
Men and women in Copernican armor and weaponry. But not quite. Quite a bit was off- an emblem swapped out here, a different flag there, and their armor and finished goods were of quite a different make, despite retaining the general qualities of Copernica. “Keplerites”, Inraf mumbled. The guide looked up at him. “Sorry sir?”
“Keplerites are the castoffs of Copernica… apostates and heretics who fled north and took over a piece of Alenactia. Your Emperor has had the damnedest time kicking them off his land, and the Copernican royal family has not seen fit to destroy them, either… they can’t be looking for something good here.”
“Oh. We just call them Spherists.” said the guide. Then realizing he probably offended “Terynd”, he continued, “Of course, we call Elistierri and Copernicans the proper Spherists, these people do not deserve the title of Copernicans. But why are Spherists…ah, Keplerites here?”
“I don’t know, but they’re awful far from the southern shores of Alenactia, aren’t they. Could even be after me.”
The guide nodded and yelled something. The soldiers formed up around Inraf if out of nowhere. Inraf gratefully slipped behind them as if it was second nature. The Keplerite group walked into distance, looking a bit tired, as if they traveled here on a forced march.
The guide yelled something in Scarse as the convoy approached. A woman who Inraf figured was the leader yelled of this group something back. Inraf looked around behind his cover of Scarsinid soldiers. There was no one else in sight and the last town was eighteen hours ago. The Keplerites outnumbered Inraf’s group of soldiers maybe two to one. They seemed to march with some discipline, though obviously inferior to Copernican legions. However, they were fatigued, unlike Inraf’s group, who traveled at leisure. Now that he got a closer look, he saw quite a few bandages, slings, and chipped shields among them. They had already done some fighting on the way here.
There were some more words exchanged in the bizarre Centric dialects the Keplerites and Scarsinids used, the tones growing increasingly alarmed and unpleasant as the two parties approached. Inraf picked up some words relating to stopping, taking and verbs relating to violent acts, but he didn’t need to understand anything know that the Keplerites were not approaching with good intentions, and everyone knew it.
He heard the distinctive flaps of steel swords leaving holsters, but fought the urge to join in with his own. He no longer felt very safe with his sword, and his hand trembled when merely thinking about using it.
“Wait! Hear me!” the young prince said, as he walked around the Scarsinid spear wall, carrying his chest high with royal aplomb.
“I am Terynd of Elistierre. Why do you approach me so, fellow Spherists?” he continued. He felt the false words of flattery burn against his tongue. But he ignored it.
“We seek an audience with Xernaryt.” the Keplerite leader said. “But the Immortal Legions have seen fit to pursue us on our peaceable journey and assault us for nothing more than a diplomatic entreaty.”
The guide opened his mouth and started to object, but remembered with whom he spoke. He looked at Inraf with wide-open eyes, closed his mouth, and then nodded.
“No please, inform me why this is happening.”, said Inraf to the guide.
“Well, your nobleness, the Keplerites have never attempted to initiate negotiations and have rebuffed all historic attempts by the Scarsinid emperors to negotiate… rather strenuously.” said the guide.
Inraf nodded. The guide continued, “They have not been amenable to peaceable terms and our soldiers have been at war with them for two hundred years. I do not speak for other satraps and generals, but likely they believed this mission is a ruse, especially since the Keplerite homeland is so far from the imperial palace… why go straight for Our Emperor?… . As for immediate circumstance, it is strange that it is so well-timed with meeting us as well.”
Inraf thought for a moment. He turned to the Keplerite leader.
“Is this true?” he yelled.
The Keplerite leader said, “Yes, but we have discovered a rare opportunity for mutual cooperation. Our struggle against the Scarsinid Empire is in the past, we wish to end this fruitless conflict. ”
“I wish you the best then.” the crown prince said, “It doesn’t involve us, you don’t need anything from us and I do not believe we need anything from you. To avoid tensions between our parties, let us agree to travel separately. You may take the lead or you may follow us, I will respect your choice.”
The Keplerite leader’s jaw dropped a little. She started to object, but then Inraf said, “Your people are wounded and it would not be wise to cause them further stress. I am merely an Elistierri son on the way to the Imperial Palace for tutoring. May the Silver Sun smile gently on you, friend.”
Several Keplerite soldiers behind the Keplerite leader shook their heads and muttered things. The leader turned to them and then back to Inraf. In her eyes shone a out-of-place look of defeat and defiance, but she gestured to her side and her people marched onwards down the road with little hesitation.
“Well said, Sir Terynd.”, said the guide. “Perhaps they’ll march to the deaths, when Our Emperor Xernaryt loses patience with their irrational trifles and has their heads.” he shrugged and cocked his head, ”Just saying.”
Inraf smiled. Whatever strangeness the Scarsinids believed in, they knew the correct way to treat heretics. Just… not here, and not with him.
The Scarsinids resume their march when the Keplerites had almost left their sight. Best to keep them visible, but not be too close for comfort.
The Imperial city of Rieldynbak loomed into view. As they reached the city gates, the Keplerites were taken aside by an escort of Scarsinid soldiers. The prince noticed these soldiers weren’t nearly as large or impressively equipped as the ones marching beside him, but they were still clearly Scarsinid. Then sparks of color shot across his vision and he clutched his forehead. Lesser episodes like this had not been bothering him for a while; perhaps this was some sort of reaction to the magic no doubt practiced within the city. Although he still preferred it to dropping on the ground and feeling his own body trying to pull itself in half.
Rieldynbak made a better and better impression as it came into view. Almost-shining white marble walls enveloped its thick nest of buildings, and he could see many tall spires jutting out beyond the walls in orderly succession. The architecture startled him a little, there were circular holes in many walls and overhands, and round protrusions budding off roofs and tower tips, something that would have been very unsightly in Copernica, yet somehow worked here. The air was alive with the smell of spices and …. No wait… alchemical reagents? He wasn’t sure, exactly; his condition didn’t leave him much chance to complete his scientific tutoring. Well, that was what he was here to do… sort of.
The city shone with gold and silver. It was splendid, and a bit overwhelming. Shades of blue and purple that almost no one saw in Copernica graced the streets and people, and all shapes and sizes of animals and people (again, Inraf reminded himself, not all of them necessarily alive) walked in and out of view.
The Imperial Palace was particularly splendid; it shone with a pure white unmarred by the slightest blemish. Inraf was not sure what to make of this, surely, the workers had to lapse somewhere, but there was not so much as a speck of darkness against its radiant walls. The arch of the front gate loomed overhead as he walked through. It seemed to be far larger than his own house. The inside was sparsely but very tastefully decorated- just a splash of red from flowers or yellow from gold tracings on the walls. He could tell the servants were around but apparently took pains to stay out of his sight- there were small traces and items left over from recent cleaning and work lying around- mops still wet, tea recently prepared, and such. This must be a Scarsinid custom, or so he hoped. He could barely see the ceiling and the halls echoed with its emptiness.
The throne room was as opulent as he expected of royalty though. Massive gold-trimmed doors swung open. A rich red carpet that must have had real gold sewn into it lay before him, and elegant peacock statues flanked his sides, each carved with a unique level of detail that must have taken years. Soldiers identical to the ones who had carried him here stood at attention, and there, on the other side of the room, surrounded by a small army of attendants and courtiers, was Emperor Xernaryt himself.
Chapter 4: A Somewhat Warm WelcomeA darker-skinned, well-built man sat on the throne with a brilliant gold crown on his bald head, Xernaryt looked every bit the part of a Scarsinid ruler. His purple robes hung loosely off his chest and he beckoned Inraf forward with one gesture and waved off Inraf’s attendants and his own with the next. Inraf’s guide and guards bowed out, and the courtiers turned around and left with nary the slightest sound, as if they were gliding. The throne room was eerily silent now, left with only Xernaryt’s soldiers on the sidelines, and they remained as still and silent as corpses.
Inraf bent down to one knee and looked down at his feet, as his parents taught him long ago, the slight tap of his knee echoing around the noiseless room. He started to speak, but did not expect Xernaryt to suddenly pick him up and embrace him. Wow, he moves really fast when he wants to, Inraf thought, I barely heard him leave the throne.
“My nephew!” said the Emperor, “This is the first I’ve seen of you, how wonderful to finally meet the son of my dear Alse and Feir!”
Inraf was not sure what to say. This was likely some breach of royal decorum, but well, he didn’t make the rules here. He awkwardly tried to return the hug, then thought better of it and just let his arms hang loose as Xernaryt released him.
“Welcome! We should get straight to your illness.”
“Um, your Imperial Excellency, should we really speak so frankly before others”, said the Copernican prince, gesturing to the soldiers standing at the sides of the throne room.
“Nonsense! Dead men do not tell stories!” said Xernaryt with a beam on his face.
“D-dead men?” asked Inraf.
“Certainly! They are the finest of my undead legions, the Winged Scarabs, the strongest warriors this continent has ever known. I trust you found their protection satisfactory?”
“Satisfactory and then some, your Excellency.”
“Wonderful. You may address me as Xer, or Uncle, or whatever you wish, in private. Including when we are in front of my guards and only my guards.”
“But… but I thought the undead required a necromanc- er necrologist to constantly mind them.” said Inraf, quickly remembering the polite appellation for undead-makers, which didn’t carry connotations of grave looting.
“Ah, but these are a grade of advanced skeletal warrior who we’ve managed to make very stable and independent, they are an incredible asset to the Empire.” said the emperor. “They retain all of their past training and combat experience and can even reason and strategize to some extent, although most of their personality and emotion is lost in the process, which is a shame. I should have liked to speak with my ancestors, or in a hundred years’ time speak to my far-off descendants, but it doesn’t seem we’ll make that jump within my life time.”
“Amazing. I had no idea.” said Inraf, the eagerness creeping into his voice. This may have been heresy, but it was well-done heresy. Moreover, it boded well for his cure.
“Yes, we’re making some serious strides towards fully life-like undead. Many Scarsinid governors have tried to go further and achieve ‘immortality’, whatever that means. None has shown signs of reaching it, not in three hundred years. Still, I am hopeful they will contribute something towards medicine, which is why I allow their connivances.”
“Uh, your Imperial Greatness,”, said Inraf, not quite comfortable calling the most powerful man around for a thousand miles by his first name, “I actually wondered about that. On the way here, I ran into a riot over someone having their kids sacrificed by the satrap, or that’s what I picked up, at least.”
“Yes, yes, it is unfortunate. I will administer corrective measures to the region at once.” Xernaryt snapped his fingers and one of his soldiers stepped forwards. “Have the satrap of Santurby reprimanded.” The soldier ran out of the throne room without any other sign of acknowledgment.
“Excellent, now that that’s taken care of, let’s discuss your condition. Unfortunately, we have no records of this ‘Inner plague’, at least not in the Imperial Library. Perhaps one of the satraps or Scarsinid Great Scholars knows of this disease, but if any one of them does, they have not answered my private inquiries. Therefore, we will have to treat this disease on first principles and what is known from distantly similar diseases.”
Xernaryt began to walk out of the throne room. The guards slammed their halberds onto the ground with a resounding boom, and filed behind him. Inraf followed the emperor, careful not to walk ahead or even right beside the emperor. Xernaryt nodded very slightly in Inraf’s direction, apparently approving of Inraf’s grasp of royal decorum.
“My personal sanitarium will run some tests on you to confirm my suspicions. From your parents’ description of your illness, it seems you will experience periods of destructive magical impulse that tear away at your body and mind. It will be a great step forward for science to find the cure; this could have great implications for research into the human body’s magical thaumic field.”
The prince wasn’t sure what to think about that last mention about being a lab rat for bio-sorcery. It heartened him to know that Xernaryt told the truth about at least one ulterior motive. However, Inraf’s suffering as a means of furthering science did not sit well with him.
Xernaryt continued, “The Scarsinid Empire prides itself on the most advanced of reanimation and medical science. Most of my satraps and nobles are constantly seeking this or that in their Graven Vaults, their hermetic necrological laboratories, and it seems their self-isolation has yielded acceptable results. I only ask that they share a good portion of their findings every year… or else have it taken by force.” He chuckled. “But most are happy to see the cause of science furthered, knowing that if they were all to refuse to share knowledge, it could take centuries for any single noble house to see a major breakthrough. And they are welcome to keep retain a few competitive secrets, they *are* nobles after all.”
“Anyways, here we are”, said Xernaryt as they left a hallway into a particularly elaborate steel door, easily five meters tall. It resembled a treasury vault, full of arcane and mechanical contraptions at its side to no doubt secure and monitor whatever lay inside. Xernaryt pressed his gold-ringed fingers onto a yellow-glowing square on the side of the vault. The glow vanished and the vault opened, with a massive rush of air into the opening. Inraf felt a strong twitch come on and his hands clutched at the involuntary movements in his jaw and neck.
Xernaryt turned to him with concern and rubbed his chin with royal poise. “Hm… it responds to thaumic phenomena? Curious. Scarab, take a note, arrange for review and repair of the magical insulation in the laboratory. We can’t risk stray sorcerous energies leaking into and affecting our beloved nephew.” One of the soldiers in line behind Inraf abruptly sidestepped out of line with an impressive clang, saluted and then ran away.
“Oh yes, and make my nephew comfortable.” Xernaryt said, with a dismissive wave of his hands.
Inraf, still recovering from the brief convulsions, gladly accepted a pair of Immortal Scarabs lifting him up between them and bodily carrying him into the laboratory. They rested him atop of a bed tilted at a slight angle, where it was quite comfortable, and walked back to the entrance of the laboratory. The area appeared dark, and Inraf still saw afterimages of his episode, but what he could see of the laboratory seemed sparsely decorated and covered in immaculately organized phials and metal tools.
A person in black robes, wearing what Inraf believed to be the skull of a deer, stepped in through the vault door past the guards and cautiously approached Inraf. The Copernican felt oddly drained from his seizure earlier, too much so to show any visible signs of alarm. He definitely felt alarm though, at the deer skull and the sickle-like staff the man held.
The man in the robes leaned forward at Inraf and extended his free hand towards Inraf’s face. His thumb lifted up one of Inraf’s eyelids and the robed man peered closely into the young man’s exposed eyeball. Apparently satisfied, the robed man released his thumb, dusted off his robes and leaned back to speak.
The man said, “My name is Esk. I shall be your personal physician for the duration of your stay, our Great Emperor willing. These are my associates.” He gestured to several skeletal figures flanking him, their exposed necks and arms inhumanly thin and covered in blackened char, the rest of their bodies covered in medical robes. Blackened skulls atop their necks wore thin headbands adorned with various herbs and stones and what appeared to be animal teeth. Inraf’s Copernican sensibilities wanted to say they were a bizarre mockery of plague doctors, but in Alenactia, this was probably entirely normal and benign. So he hoped.
Esk gestured to one of his assistants. “Now, Sir Terynd, I will ask you a series of questions. In the meantime, my associates will prepare a preliminary thaumic examination.”
The questions pertained to his private lifestyle, family history of disease and the progress of the Inner Plague so far. The prince tried to remain as truthful as possible without saying anything that could link him to Copernica. Esk made little if any reaction to every question, merely nodding slowly after every answer as one of his assistants wrote it down… it was hard to see Esk’s eyes under the shadow of the deer skull. Inraf also spoke at length about how he believed he contracted his illness. Meanwhile, Esk’s assistants busied themselves fetching various instruments, meticulously cleaning, and examining one of Inraf’s arms. Esk then had his other assistants administer various physical exams- body temperature, lung capacity, heart sounds, and so on.
“Hm, yes, fascinating.”, said Esk. “The first victim was clearly suffering from the end stages of his illness, and suffered what appears to be massive internal hemorrhage, yet you have not displayed any internal bleeding of any form whatsoever. Perhaps it was something comorbid with the Inner Plague. We will sample your blood now.”
“Wait, what--- agghhkkkh”, said Inraf as one of Esk’s assistants jammed a large syringe into his upper arm. It stopped hurting in about five seconds through, to Inraf’s surprise, even as he felt the pressure of the syringe on his skin. He tried not to look at it. Then the skeleton removed the syringe, with no pain whatsoever on its way out. Inraf’s eyes popped a little at the large size of the syringe- it was about the shape and volume of a curled up hand. Well, he reasoned, people have lost more blood than that in battle and walked it off. Still, it was an awful lot of blood for a test!
Esk produced a very small glass vial and the skeletal helper released a little blood from the full syringe into the vial. Esk shook the vial gently and made an indecipherable gesture to the skeleton, which then took the rest of the syringe elsewhere in the laboratory.
“We will run more elaborate tests on the rest of the blood. For now, witness the power of Scarsinid biomancy!” Esk looked down straight into Inraf’s eyes after that last statement with an expression of sympathy. “Sorry, Xernaryt wanted me to say that.”
Inraf’s eyes rolled, then they widened as Esk kept a hand on Inraf’s forehead. As he did so, the vial of blood glowed, trembled and slowly evaporated, before their eyes, emitting an expanding cone of yellow light above them. Esk released the hand from Inraf’s forehead and stared at the cone of yellow light above the empty vial. Inraf could see spirals and flashes of green and blue light within the yellow light. He could make no sense of it, but at least they didn’t resemble the sparks he saw every time he had an episode. The yellow light finally faded away, and Esk turned back to Inraf.
“Hm, that is good,” said Esk,”there is an indication of the responsible pathogen within your blood; it greatly outnumbers the other foreign microbes. This is not always the case, which generally would then require more extreme tests to detect the culprit. I can see many antigenic enzymes in your blood; the pathogen has made itself quite comfortable. Hm, wait, your disease is responsive to thaumic motion, is it not?”
Inraf took a moment to understand what Esk was asking, and then nodded.
“Very good. Nurse, give me another shot of blood”, said Esk. A clattering motion from behind them rattled over the next few seconds and the skeleton from before showed up with the blood-filled syringe and filled the tiny vial again. “Yes, excellent, nurse, now continue as you were.” The skeleton bowed and left again.
“Okay, this may be hard on you, Inraf. We’ll see we can find measures sufficient to contain external sources of thaumic energy from affecting your own magical field immediately.” Esk motioned to another of his assistants and pointed to Inraf. “Thaumic isolation, immediately.” The skeleton nodded and ran off somewhere Inraf could not see. That left Esk and Inraf alone for a while.
“So, are you comfortable?” asked Esk.
Inraf boggled a bit. You only thought to ask this now? At least Esk seemed like he knew what he was doing. Inraf had heard the story of Copernican “free preachers” going around convincingly faking healing miracles. The authorities usually burned them alive for heresy alone, to say nothing of public endangerment and fraud. Esk was actually following some sort of method, at least.
“Yes, I’m comfortable”, Inraf’s sense of politeness said.
“Good, good.” said Esk.
“So, uh, physician, what’s the story behind these skeletons?”
“Oh yes, these are old royal physicians and nurses the last two generations of the Emperor’s physicians and their assistants, trained in the finest of healing arts for their time. They served under the predecessor of my predecessor, the head physician back then. When old age took its toll on their ranks during my immediate predecessor’s reign, many chose to go on practicing the medical arts in their current form. Some did not; they received an honorable burial and obviously did not stay with us. I think that one there is my immediate predecessor.”
One of the skeletons, upon noticing Esk pointed at it, stood at attention.
“See, if he was alive, he would have displayed a very ungentlemanly hand gesture at me. Their consciousnesses did not quite make it through the process. They retain procedural knowledge and manual skill, but to communicate and synthesize conclusions is not within their power. In this manner, they resemble better-trained animals than human assistants. Case in point, notice that they do not take offense at that.” Esk chuckled a bit, and then his expression dropped.
“But they aren’t animals. They are the honored continuations of medical legacy, who chose to donate their bodies and continue helping in death.” said Esk, with a very sober tone, almost as if reminding himself.
Inraf nodded. The Scarsinids respected the dead and he could respect that. Well, at least Esk respected the dead. It pleased his Copernican upbringing to know it wasn’t all expendable zombie minions all the way through in here, loyalty and duty still had a place here.
The skeleton who left earlier now returned with a very dark and slightly sparkling sheet of cloth, with its edges covered in what appeared to be fine magic runes. It looked straight at Inraf with its empty eye sockets, and he felt something shiver up his spine.
It reached out to drape the cloth over his face and chest. It gently turned Inraf’s head to the side so he could still breathe even as the cloth covered his face. This cloth is far heavier than it seemed so, wow, these skeletons must be strong, he thought. It honestly was not at all comfortable, and he could not see what was about to happen, but he grinned and bore it.
Inraf felt Esk’s hand on his head again. At least, it felt like a living person’s hand, not a bunch of bones… Inraf shuddered a bit. He heard some movement, not exactly sure what, but it sounded a little bit like whatever spell Esk used last time. Kind of a shaking movement…, which really intensified over the next few, seconds… Inraf felt a shock of worry go through him as he heard Esk gasp.
“What? What is it?” the prince asked as a skeleton removed the heavy cloth from his face. At least the magic insulation worked.
Esk pointed at the fading remnants of the yellow glow, now heavily specked with green.
“The pathogens… they multiply when directly infused with thaumic energy. And how! This is unheard of. How… how could nature grant such incredible power to a microbe so suddenly and an infection by this disease is unheard of… no…this was not nature.” Esk visibly shook as he spoke. “This is no natural disease. We would have heard of offshoots of such a magical plague, a microbe more familiar to us, had it evolved through our Lord Darwin’s natural selection.”
Inraf’s ears perked up at the mention of Darwin, the heretical Warflower who begat the first Scarsinid necromancy. Now was not the time for a history lesson.
“I am thinking of many theories about how to treat you, but right now, your body requires immediate containment from any and all arcane energy! Now… Sir Terynd, I – Sir Terynd!”
Without warning, Inraf’s world stood still, and he distinctly heard his own breathing rapidly decelerate to a complete stop. He saw sparks of energy shoot across his sight, yet couldn’t so much as muster a reaction to it. He heard orders being shouted, and the clattering of hands and feet at work, but distantly as if from a great, almost infinite distance. Inraf felt his mind falling downward, and his thoughts faded away.
Chapter 5: A medical inconvenienceInraf woke up and opened his eyes. He was on top of a very comfortable carpet. Hm, two carpets. He wriggled his way free of the one on top of him, and then realized there was a canopy over his head. He looked around. This carpet was oddly smooth… and wait a second. There was a pillow above his head. Was this a bed? He couldn’t see an end to it. He looked around.
The door was eight meters away. In the intervening distance, nothing but blanket. The bed terminated half a meter away from the door, leaving just enough space to open the door. Similarly, now that he noticed the walls of the room, he realized he was in the center of a massive bed.
He boggled for a moment. They didn’t have beds this big in Copernica, hell not even half of this, not even for the royal family. He held his forehead in disbelief.
He heard a chime and his guide from the escort earlier walked in.
“Greetings, Sir Terynd.”, he said. “I hope you sleep pleasantly. Doctor Esk told me to inform you may not fully remember the last few minutes of the previous day due to anesthesia.”
“Anes-what?” said the Copernican prince.
“Anesthesia, I am told it is a fast-acting painkiller that has the effect of also sedating your mind and retroactively preventing the formation of new memories before rendering you too unconscious to feel pain. You had another attack of your disease, and you received sedative to halt it and prevent future such attacks. Then we took you to a royal bedroom prepared for yourself. Our court magicians have warded it from all magical energies, and all reanimated bodies and spellcasters forbidden from seeing you. You may enter and exit as you please, as long as you wear a protective garment.”
Laid out on the corner of the bed was a strange set of clothes and a note.
Inraf grabbed the note first. “Hello, my guest. For your condition, my imperial engineers have created a special outfit made of newly-developed defensive magic-insulating cloth. Technology moves quickly in my Empire, as you can see. Unfortunately, the appearance of this outfit hardly impresses and those responsible for this, I have reprimanded. We will see about making something more befitting someone of your dignity. For the time being, this should prevent your disease from worsening and minimize your symptoms. – Your Gracious Host, Xernaryt”
Inraf looked over the clothing. It looked like many dark grey strips sewn together in the shape of a tunic, socks, pants and a tightly fitting mask. He put everything on the best he could. Despite its ramshackle appearance, it fit strangely well; someone must have taken his measurements while he was sleeping. Looking in a mirror atop his new dresser, he got the impression of full-body bandages, except a very dark shade of grey, with a few gemstones embedded along the seams of his shirt and pants, and along the sides of his head. Oddly appropriate, he thought, and it did not look half-bad, actually.
Except where it covered most of his face except his eyes. It was oddly easy to breathe through it though. He had expected to be nearly suffocating like that one time he wore the curative masks the Copernican physicians tried on him (they did not work of course). It was possible this dark gemstone-cloth was enchanted, but that could undo the purpose of the magical insulation. Unless Xernaryt or the engineers worked out some clever workaround.
He stepped out of his room, his clothing feeling oddly flexible despite the heavy stiff cloth in the ward he was using earlier. The full-body grey bandage shroud definitely followed function before form. Well, this was definitely better as a disguise than a haircut and regular Scarsinid clothes, even if it wasn’t as nice-looking as it could be.
Either the guide was extremely well trained, or the outfit was not as silly as Inraf thought, because Inraf noticed only the slightest startle from other man the moment he saw Inraf covered in gray bandages and a full-face mask. Inraf hoped it was the latter, but it was probably the former. Ridiculous outfit…
Right now, the emperor was keeping himself busy in some kind of planning session. For something apparently beyond Inraf’s need to know. He instead decided to visit Dr. Esk again in the laboratory. He and the guide walked towards the vault, surprised at how long it was taking to get anywhere, the dark cloth covering his face. He couldn’t see much with the ward covering him, but he had no doubt the ceiling was far up with how long it took for the echoes of his coughs to come back.
Finally, the guide told him they had arrived at the vault. Inraf heard the sounds of construction, and many footsteps, as well as people yelling orders in Scarse Centric. Someone stepped out of the vault towards them.
“Ah, Khersis. And Sir Terynd, excellent, you’re awake.” said Esk’s voice.
“Khersis?” asked Inraf.
“Yes, Um, Khersis, do me a favor, and go do something fun. I will handle this.” said Esk, with a shooing motion.
The guide walked off.
“His name is Khersis.” Esk said briskly.
“Yes, I figured that much.” said Inraf. “How the heck did I not know that before?”
“Servants to the Emperor formally abandon their names, at least below a certain rank. Old Scarse tradition. Silly, but law. Nevertheless, we have to refer to each other by something beyond job titles, because that gets confusing fast, so we keep the names among ourselves. I’m exempt, sort of, on account of my rank, others around here would be pleased if you asked for their names, but just don’t say them in front of the Emperor.”
Esk continued speaking, “I apologize for the appearance of the clothing, its appearance is likely beneath your sensibilities. That said, it will help stabilize your condition, the minerals sewn into the cloth conduct magic in such a way as to balance out the thaumic charges your body generates and shield you from external magic. Apparently this is some kind of newfangled mage-fighting military armor, our great Emperor knew about it and actually he was the one who thought of using it this way.” He laughed, clearly surprised by the facts in the last statement.
“Your life depends on it.”, he continued, in a much more serious tone. “So, did you want to hear of my further findings? Because I don’t have any, and my other tests will be invasive enough to cause further harm.”
“No… I … I just wanted to talk to someone”, said Inraf.
“Ah. Well then, how could I disappoint you?” said Esk. “What do you wish to talk about? Your prognosis? My educated guesses for possible cures? Unrelated health problems?”
“Uh, well all of those things, I guess. Then I have other things to ask you.”
“Okay then. My suspicion is that if we suppress your episodes sufficiently, you may continue to live in your current state indefinitely without deteriorating, which is not too bad of a standard of life. As for an outright cure, your body is having great difficulty eliminating the pathogens and any non-magical method to destroy them will likely be harsh on your body in the process. It is possible your physical-magical seizures are your body attempting to purge the pathogens violently and harming itself in the process, much in the same manner as a life-threatening fever. Otherwise, without some mechanism to reduce the numbers of the pathogen, with the rate at which they multiply, your body would have already succumbed to the sheer numbers and you would be quite dead already. It is also possible the attacks also damage your body as a byproduct of the disease, so we should best not trigger them before being sure. I will have to formulate a plan of action to determine which the case is, or if there is some other third conclusion, submit it to the other physicians for ethical and methodological review. So, be patient.”
“As for other health problems, well you’re in good health aside from some minor internal bleeding from the plague. It seems the disease has oddly kept most your nervous and athletic capacity intact. Rumor has it you were fit enough to kill an Arrownaught in single combat. Most impressive, they robbed me once on the way back from a journey to retrieve exotic magical reagents, and they took everything. Everything! They wouldn’t even know how to use half of the medical supplies. Bastards made me have to make another trip overseas to get more, which was two weeks gone down the crapper.”
Esk cleared his throat, catching himself. Inraf realized Esk probably had no idea how Inraf would react, as Inraf’s face mostly hid behind the face wrappings.
“No, it’s alright. They attacked me, I protected myself, and Copernicus saw me through.”
“Ah, right, Spherist.” said Esk. “Well, it’s not a bad religion at all. Our Great Emperor Xernaryt is our god, where he treads is divine territory, a temple.”
Inraf let out a rude snorting laugh before clamping his hand on his mouth. He could feel his face turning red.
Esk paused for a moment. “Well, to tell the truth, I never really believed that either. Just… just keep it between you and me, okay?”
Inraf nodded.
“Anyways, I think I recall you had something else you wanted to talk about?” said Esk.
“Yes, what about your undead assistants? How does undeath… work?” said Inraf.
“Hm, well, its complex. What do you know about the reanimated? ”, asked Esk, stressing the last word.
“I know that you need magic to raise the corpse of a person or other intelligent being. That their soul is placed back into their body, or if that is not an option, the soul of an animal or something. The bodies usually rot quickly because it is not a natural process. From what I learned also, the necromancer has to direct the reanimated corpses to do their work, because not much is left of the undead person’s mind and they will run wild or just stand there if left alone. In addition, they need to be fed magic, because their bodies are not alive to generate magic anymore, so the enchantment that sustains their bodies will fade away without help. That’s why some undead beings eat living humans and animals, especially nervous tissue, in order to consume their life force.” The prince conveniently left out the parts in his education where it said undead were damnable abominations in the eyes of God and all who dealt in them would be put to the sword. He did not think anyone here would appreciate it, much less an honest-to-Copernicus necromancer.
“Everything you have said is true of less advanced necromantic techniques.” said Esk. “However, Scarsinid necrologists have bypassed most of these limitations. The skeletal beings we have created are the souls of their deceased owners placed back into their own bodies. It’s a technological marvel, really. The soul we leave mostly intact, to the point where it is capable of limited rational decision-making and spellcasting. The intactness of the undead soul means they are in a sense considered still “alive” by their own bodies. Which their brains can continue to generate pachu, or the magical life force you mention, and they do not require much in the way of maintenance or input of life force. It is not quite as efficient as a living nervous system, so it is still not a great situation. Further advances in research are slowly creating undead which retain a lifelike appearance, retaining the personality and free will of the deceased and powerful spellcasting undead. Experimental reanimated variants can exhibit one or more such traits, but not at the same time, and the end results have yet to demonstrate psychological and magical stability. Eventually, one hopes, the Scarsinid Empire will discover the secret to immortality, by reanimating a human in such a way that it is indistinguishable by any means from a living human, effectively being alive again.”
Inraf heard Esk’s voice trail away, with a feeling of longing in it.
“Wow, that’s pretty…” Inraf did not want to use the word crazy. “Exciting. So that’s what the nobles are doing in their Graven Vaults?”
“Mostly, yes.” said Esk. “Some simply aim for more short-term goals, such as creating powerful undead servants or pushing at the theoretical limits of the arcane sciences. Unfortunately, many of them use rather unsavory tactics, regardless of goals. Use of live subjects, grave robbing, stitching together different corpses, and worse. I hear it is causing a lot of unrest in the greater Empire, not bothering with medical ethics. We do not do necrology that way here in the palace, so worry not, Sir Terynd. There is not really anything I can do about the nobles, just hope that some of them end up furthering the cause of science. It is just as well; Xernaryt requires the support of the satraps. The Scarsinid Empire is no longer at its peak, which is simply reality. Time was when the emperor could just snap his fingers and all who abuse necrology would lose their heads like that.”
“That’s a lot to take in.”, said Inraf. “So, uh, please don’t take this the wrong way. The reanimated people are still in there, and they’re thinking?”
“In our greater reanimated skeletons, yes.”, said Esk. ”None of them are cogent enough to tell me how they’re doing in there, nor can they communicate meaningfully like you would with a living person. However, I can attest firsthand they do retain mannerisms and expertise from their past lives. They do not exhibit any signs of discomfort, if that is what you are asking, and the reanimated volunteered for posthumous duty of their free will. The civil servants who did not, which is honestly most of them, were granted a very thorough cremation in the normal Scarse tradition, intended to discourage reanimation.”
“Discourage? You mean you can create undead from ashes?” asked Inraf.
“Yes. It is, shall we say, an abomination and the Imperial household does not engage in such vulgarity. We only deal in aiding the living and employing safe and proven strains of reanimation magic. Travel to some of the rougher satrapies however, and I can tell you, I can definitely see how the Spherists get their revulsion towards necrology. You’re actually holding up well, Sir Terynd, I did not expect a devout of the silver sun to probe into this topic, much less listen as open-mindedly as you seem to be.”
“Haha, well, I’m dying anyways, so in a way Copernicus has already passed judgment. Hell can’t really be worse than to slowly lose control of my own body as prayers to my own god literally hurt me.”, said Inraf. He felt a little alarmed with how easily he said these things. But who was around to judge him?
“Yeah.”, said Esk. He did not seem sure what to say next. “It is unfortunate that Copernicus could not cure this affliction. We of the Scarsinid tradition believe that nature is only arbiter of illness and health, regardless of whatever gods we personally believe in. In any case, I take pride in this opportunity to demonstrate to the world what Scarsinid magic can do. It is well that Emperor Xernaryt has taken such a close personal interest in curing your disease.”
Inraf smiled as broadly as possible to hide his nervousness, before remembering again that Esk could not see his mouth behind the prince’s face wraps.
Esk continued without missing a beat, “It is well that you may learn about arts that go underappreciated by the rest of the world. Just be careful what you say after we cure you. As you are likely aware, most folks of other nations do not look very kindly upon our arts of life magic, and those few who do are likely to make ill use of it.”
Inraf nodded, mostly for himself.
“Well, you’ve been a fantastic listener, Sir Terynd, but now I have tests to run.”, said Esk. “Perhaps we could summon Khersis and ask him to give you a tour of the reanimation center and such, at least until either the Emperor or my humble self comes up with something for you to do.”
“Sure!” said Inraf, his mind racing at the possibilities of a branch of magic that he had never given much thought about.
Inraf heard a chiming, likely magically generated, and in a few moments, the footsteps and the sound of his guide’s voice at the entrance to the vault.
“Hello, Sir Terynd!” said Khersis.
“Hey, Khersis.”
Inraf could hear the beaming in Khersis’ voice as Khersis replied. “So good to see you are still holding up, Sir Terynd. Physician Esk instructed me to give you a tour of the laboratory here while he is busy with working. Unfortunately, it will be difficult for you to see with the magical ward in the way. I… um, suppose at a later time?”
There was a chiming noise from somewhere on Khersis’ person, although Inraf could not see any movement. “Huh, his Greatness would like to see you now. Well, that was good timing. Come, let us go!” he said.
Khersis pulled hard on Inraf’s arm to lead him out of the laboratory. Inraf figured he must be in a real hurry. Best not to keep the Emperor waiting after all.
Inraf wondered if there was a more efficient way to get around the palace, but he kept his mouth shut.
Several minutes of more walking later, Inraf stepped into the throne room.
Many of the courtiers hung around Xernaryt like houseflies around a feast. Several of them tittered at the sight of the Elistierri nobleman strolling in, covered absolutely head to toe in off-black bandages. A frown from Xernaryt shut them up immediately, and all the attendants pointedly averted their eyes from Inraf as they filed out of the throne room again.
Inraf nodded in approval. It would not do for a man’s friends to embarrass him by insulting his guest, much less for this to happen between royals like themselves. Not that they knew he was a royal… honestly a Copernican prince wouldn’t stoop low enough to dress like this, but he was already asking heretics for help…
Xernaryt clapped his hands together in a mixture of appraisal and joy. “I hope the new insulation works! It is excellent to not need to be confined to a room of magical insulation, is it not?” Before Inraf could reply, Xernaryt continued, “So, something has happened since your arrival. A Keplerite delegation came to me to discuss the rumors that a Copernican prince was visiting me, a great surprise since firstly, the Keplerites have been adamant about never opening negotiating with me and secondly, your identity is a well-guarded secret. They wished to have a private audience for you, which is of course silly and against all the beliefs both you and I hold dear. I dismissed them immediately and strongly suggested they return home without further incident. The Keplerites are corrupt excuses for Spherists; they cannot possibly have good things for you in mind. I strongly suggest caution if you travel about the city and countryside, they likely know of your identity. For now, until we can discern the source of their knowledge and silence it, I would like you to stay in the palace for the time being, with a considerable security detail.”
Xernaryt made a noncommittal gesture and a section of his guards on the sides of the throne room peeled off from their peers and marched over to Inraf’s side. He nodded in approval and then put his hands down on his lap, a clear prompt for Inraf to speak.
Inraf said, “Oh, well that explains it. I saw the Keplerites on my way to the road, had to hold my guards back from killing them all. Heretics or not, I didn’t feel it was necessary to kill them, for some reason. I mean, they still surely hold some ideas in common about Copernicus; perhaps eventually some sort of peace with them is possible. But now is not the time, of course, I will stay well out of their way.”
Now that he thought about it, he had little idea what the Keplerites believed in, only that it was serious enough to warrant separating them from Copernica. It certainly did not endear themselves to the Scarsinid Empire either.
Xernaryt nodded with approval again, but did not reply.
Inraf thought for a second. “Oh right, the clothing. It seemed heavy and I didn’t expect to be able to breathe to it. I am surprised that this is very comfortable. My thanks, Great Emperor.”
Xernaryt smiled broadly and folded his hands together. “Excellent. I am glad that you are well. I will arrange a tour of the royal laboratories with your usual guide. Not the medical laboratory, but the necrological laboratory. It will make a fantastic introduction, especially as Esk has indicated to me you have expressed curiosity about the reanimated, a level of refinement and curiosity I did not expect, but can appreciate in you, young Copernican.”
“Huh”, said Inraf. “Word travels very quickly around here. “
“Oh yes”, said Xernaryt. He tapped his forehead and a very thin, barely visible headband shimmered briefly and made a slightly familiar chiming sound. “A lovely thing, that, when activated, can communicate the spoken word over short distances. Its range leaves much to be desired, and it is fragile and poorly suited to applications in rougher circumstances. However, we are improving on it every year, as we are a nation of scientists after all. It allows almost immediate communications with my household.”
Inraf’s eyes opened in surprise. A communication device of that size definitely something they could have used in Copernica. He had no idea the Scarsinids were ahead in more ways than medicine and reanimation magics.
Xernaryt seemed to sense Inraf’s interest. “Of course, it would be nothing to us to give you one, too. Perhaps attuned to Khersis or Esk instead of me, it is best not to link me too closely to yourself. It is fitting for my nephew to have a direct line to me, but not for Sir Terynd.” Xernaryt chuckled. “But there are the practical problems of giving you a magical device. We will have to find a way to make it work through your insulation. So, patience, my nephew. Now, away, you have something more interesting awaiting you than your uncle talking at you all day. ”
Inraf could have sworn he saw the Emperor of the entire Scarsinid Empire, most powerful man on the continent, wink at him. The Copernican bowed slightly and left, his new guards precisely matching the pace of his walking.
Khersis awaited him just outside the throne room. “Oh, protection. Great!” said Khersis, with a smile, clearly relieved by the extra security.
“Okay, to the necromant- I mean necrological laboratories?” said Inraf.
“Of course, right this way.”
They left the palace. Well, that just made sense, thought Inraf. If something got loose, you don’t want it in your very big house where it might be hard to find and run into hapless civilians.
Chapter 6: Magic that involves corpses somehow
The laboratory appeared to be a massive silver tower with golden parallel lines running up along its sides. It appeared to be larger on the top than at its base, with a large white oval bubble occupying where the top floors ought to be, a curiosity Inraf had never seen in any Copernican building. It did not seem architecturally stable to him, but perhaps sorcery was involved. He felt a sense of foreboding as Khersis led him in. Inraf’s guards stopped very abruptly outside of the tower’s walls, clearly compelled by either previous orders or a magical force to stand there. Inraf couldn’t be sure which was responsible with the undead. Khersis made no reaction it, so Inraf hoped this was just business as usual.
Khersis pressed on a pad next to the gigantic door that led into the tower, to no visible or audible response, and waited quietly for a moment before the door opened on its own accord.
Two soldiers inside wore skulls of some large cat-like beasts as helmets and different armor from the Winged Scarabs that Inraf had met. They stood stiffly at attention, holding onto scythe-like polearms. Inraf couldn’t see their eyes, but he could sense suspicious stares scanning over him and Khersis.
One of them spoke, a very rough woman’s voice behind the cat-skull helmet. “Strange for an imperial escort to bring in a test subject.”
“Test subject?” said Inraf, well aware of his strange-bandaged appearance.
“Ah, no no no, this is a foreign dignitary, Sir Terynd of Elistierre. He has a medical condition that requires thaumic insulation.” Khersis replied.
“Then he’s in the wrong damn place”, the guard said.
Khersis did a close impression of a polite laugh, before his tone dropped. “His Emperor himself asked that a curious guest be indulged of his curiosity. If you don’t wish to believe me, talk to him himself”, he said, gesturing to a barely-visible headband, similar to the one Xernaryt wore.
The guards took a moment to weigh what Khersis said. Inraf wasn’t sure if they were looking at each other, but he felt the weight of their stares leaving him.
“Very good, sir.” said the other guard, with a particularly deep male voice. “Containment protocols are permanently in effect. A researcher will be down with you shortly. Comply with all requirements or we will contain any breach by force. “
Khersis turned to Inraf, and with an assuring tone said, “Don’t worry, that’s the same exact speech they give everyone. Don’t touch anything and you should be okay.”
Inraf nodded vigorously, more for the guards than for Khersis.
Khersis motioned for Inraf to step up the stairs on the other side of the lobby, and as they did so, someone Inraf supposed was one of the local necromancers met them at the top of the stairs.
The necromancer wore short black robes with red and blue crosses running down it, and an ordinary set of brown pants. What was striking was some kind of bird’s skull on his head, with what appeared to be magnifying lens sticking out of it and fitting over his eye. He steadily appraised Inraf for a second before gesturing behind himself with one hand behind his back.
“My name is Sinek.” he said. “I am one of the researchers in our fair Emperor’s necrological research center. Do not be alarmed at our skulls; they are enchanted to prevent foul odors… or worse… from wafting in. Naturally I must insist you wear these to ensure the same kind of protection.”
He handed the two of them what resembled a pair of alchemist’s hoods, with large goggles and a large steel mouthpiece in the thick leather armoring. Inraf donned his hood over his face mask, aware of how silly he must look.
“Rules!” said Sinek. “Firstly, if you deign to remember any of these rules at all, it would be do not touch anything. Anything. Not the equipment, not the reanimated, not even a lab bench, and especially not anything you do not recognize. Do not touch. Anything!
Secondly, heed all of my instructions. If I say evacuate, do not try to overrule me with your ‘common sense’, it will not do you a lick of good if the flesh melts from your bones. Thirdly, if you think something is amiss, please inform me immediately. I will either inform you there is no need for worry, or take corrective action immediately. Do not try to handle anything by yourself. You are dealing with science far beyond lay understanding. Finally, do not make eye contact or approach any of the reanimated subjects unless we tell you it is acceptable. Any dangerous reanimated subjects have been restrained appropriately, but it would be unwise to test the limits of our protective measures. Do we have an understanding?”
Before Inraf could reply, Sinek walked away. Khersis and Inraf hurriedly walked behind him. Inraf looked at Khersis; he looked mildly entertained, like he had been here before. Probably was looking forward to Inraf’s reactions to the undead, Inraf thought.
Sinek led them onto a very large device that looked like a mechanical dumbwaiter. Inraf had only seen one of these in the Copernican palace, they were a recently developed contraption that was difficult to maintain, unless there was a pressing need. Probably it was for “containment” reasons, as mentioned before. Inraf knew the purpose of one this large was obviously to convey people instead of small items, so the prince followed Sinek and Khersis into it without hesitation, pleased that he did not need an explanation of what it was, as an average person would.
“Heading up!” Sinek yelled loudly up the dumbwaiter shaft. “Project HZ Researcher Sinek, and two guests, firstly Imperial Guide Khersis, secondly Sir Terynd of Elistierre!” Inraf heard a horn go off and a brief green glow flash around before the dumbwaiter started moving up with a clank and a groan.
“First active zone, zombification protocols and variants”, said Sinek. “Non-contagious, non-intelligent reanimated corpses, largely identical to the most basic of necromantic spells that any fool can get ahold of and use. Of little interest on their own, we keep them around for post-mortem modification or as baselines for comparison with our more advanced reanimated subjects.”
The smell bashed in Inraf’s nose harder than his royal fencing lessons and his eyes watered with the scent of rotting flesh. Decaying, greenish humanoid figures either stood in thickly built cages or gnashed away at the bars with their blackened and decayed teeth. Something deep inside Inraf recoiled at seeing these things sway or writhe where they stood and the ancient teachings of Copernicus deep inside him yelled at these unloving blasphemies.
Soldiers dressed just like the lobby guards stood around at regular intervals, but they seemed rather relaxed. Scientists dressed somewhat like Sinek, except with more protective equipment, such as thick gloves and wading boots, regularly flitted to and from cages with notepads in hand. A pair of guards hauled a cage of the gnashing humanoids next to the dumbwaiter, and one with exposed muscles on its face yelled “Barhah!”, as it lunged at Inraf, before its skull clanged off of the thick bars in place. Inraf nervously looked at Khersis and Sinek as they stepped back onto the dumbwaiter.
“Don’t worry”, said Sinek. “If you have even the slightest idea how to use a sword, these things are a nuisance. They’re only dangerous if they greatly outnumber you, which is why we keep them on the first research floor here.” Inraf was not sure whether to believe him.
“Now!” said Sinek, walking further down a hall. “Skeletal undead. Both the typical reanimated skeleton and our more advanced subjects, known as greater skeletons!”
Inraf looked around. Some of the caged beings he saw were the skeletons he remembered seeing in Copernican picture books- just a pile of exposed white bones somehow standing up of their own volition in the shape of a human skeleton. He looked into their empty eye sockets and shuddered at the empty void he thought he saw- much worse than simply empty space, it felt like putting a foot into his own grave.
Then he caught the attention of the other skeletons. A thin layer of blackened and withered flesh covered their bones like Esk’s assistants, but there was something behind those eyes. Something… curiously benign. It seemed like it looked back at him, despite the absence of eyes in its sockets. He thought it almost nodded in acknowledgment of him before it turned back to the necromancer who was examining it. These beings were not at all caged or restrained, the necromancers around them did not seem to acknowledge they were undead in any way- in all respects, the scene looked like an entirely mundane physician’s lab, with some of the humans replaced with charred bones that exactly acted and were treated the same way as humans. Notably, there were no armored guards present, but a few of the blackened skeletons carried weapons and stood exactly at attention like the Winged Scarabs, and in the positions that the guards should have been, and what Inraf heard from Xernaryt sank home into his gut at last. The soldiers who protected him so well were members of the living dead. He was not sure what to make of this, as his emotions finally caught up to his brain.
Sinek interrupted Inraf’s contemplation. “The greater skeletons are beloved members of the community, who volunteer to serve beyond death. I am sure you have met quite a few on your way here. They retain much of their procedural memories and pure intellect, but display little in the way of experiential memories or emotion. They are nonetheless a great improvement over the traditional skeleton, as you can see, which we have had to cage much like the zombified subjects, potentially dangerous as they are. The greater skeleton is entirely unlike them- loyal, dependable and stable.” Sinek said, the pride creeping into his voice at every mention of the greater skeletons.
Inraf stared in fascination as he could almost see the human beings moving behind every one of these blackened skeletons. This was not a defilement of life as Copernicus said was, it was an extension of it!
He shook the thought out of his mind. He would have to think more about this later.
“Moving along”, said Sinek, this time sounding reluctant to leave.
The next area held very large, broad human figures, mostly wrapped in bandages. They did not seem to be falling apart and actively putrefying like the zombies did, but all the same, the pallor and slight greenish tinge of death every muscle and joint made clear their undead status. The undead giants wore clay pots on their heads, although with closer inspection, Inraf was unsure if those actually *were* their heads. The necromancers nearby poked and prodded these creatures, using syringes and tubes full of all manner of fluids.
“These are the mummies, large conglomerations of zombified tissue, reconstructed in a humanoid form. Very effective as laborers and as shock troops, although the latter is a bit risky, since they are strictly dependent on a necrologist to control them. Not much to see here, they don’t have natural behaviors, they’re quite useless without direction and don’t do anything too exciting.” Sinek waved to one researcher prodding a mummy nearby. “Hey, Mensyr, make it do something for our guest here!”
The necromancer nodded and, on tip toes, whispered something at the clay pot atop the mummy’s head. The headless undead being lifted its arm with a slight hesitation. Mensyr again leaned forward, spoke again into the clay pot, this time whispering for quite some time. The mummy cautiously took a step forward, turned to Inraf, and, shuddering for a moment as if to take a deep breath and gather itself, performed an elegant salute and bow in Inraf’s direction. It reminded Inraf of a newly-tamed horse reluctantly performing tricks. He chuckled a little. It seemed a bit silly and he felt a bit at ease at seeing something so familiar in the undead.
Sinek led them further into the complex without a word. Inraf saw a number of ghastly figures in black rags, floating off the ground, each one held behind magic circles on the ground. These beings were decidedly physical but incomplete, like the upper half of skeletons, leaving behind a plume of black smoke as they levitated. Their bones shone with an unreal shade of whiteness that made Inraf uncomfortable. Below them were faintly glowing magical circles drawn in pink chalk, although damned if Inraf knew their purpose. His condition did not make learning about magic easy, after all.
Inraf saw the caretaking necromancers weave in and out of the field of bony figures, some of them stooping down to maintain the magic circles. The air stank of chemicals, quite possibly magical reagents, Inraf surmised.
“The grimms.”, said Sinek. “Created from the bones of spellcasters. Definitely not as scary as they seem, mainly because their intelligence is uh… well take a look.”
One black-robed necromancer kneeled down next to one of the bony floating figures, with a small stone in hand. He waved the stone in his fist at the grimm. The grimm made no response and simply floated in place. The necromancer became increasingly frustrated, shaking the stone harder, making it glow slightly. The grimm turned to him, staring straight past him. The necromancer sighed in what Inraf figured was resignation, and tilted both hands in a slight gesture, causing a cascade of golden light to emanate from his hands. The grimm stared at him with no reaction. The necromancer did it again, this time with more force in his gesture. If the grimm noticed, it still made no indication. The necromancer shocked Inraf by actually reached out and grabbing the grimm’s bony hand as if it were a child. He made the same gesture with his free hand, again with golden light, and moved the grimm’s hand to make the same gesture. The grimm stared down at him and pulled its hand out of his grip, although it did not seem upset or offended. It looked up and down at him as he repeated the gesture a fourth time. Then it repeated the gesture, creating a burst of golden light. The necromancer made an expression that was probably a roll of his eyes underneath his mask, and then tossed the stone he held at the grimm. The grimm caught the stone and put it inside of its skull, then turned back to the direction it originally faced with the same blank stare. The necromancer shrugged and stomped off.
Inraf felt like he had to say something to stop himself from laughing. How could something so scary-looking be so stupid, he thought.
“Uh well, they look like the Jolly Reaper.” said Inraf, recalling pre-Copernican legends of the gentle and pleasant psychopomp who escorted the souls of ancient heathens to paradise.
“Yes, but the resemblance ends there.” said Sinek. ”We believe they arise from a reanimated spellcaster’s soul with a strong urge to express magic. Unfortunately, as you can see, they don’t do so very well. Grimms have not yet found any use because they require inputs of magical energy from a living necromancer and apply it with far less skill. Much more efficient to have a living spellcaster just cast the spell themselves.If only we could make grimms into something more useful. And now, finally, probably the most promising subjects.” He led them into another sealed room.
“Hemophagic subjects. Afflicted by a particular strain of a naturally occurring illness, these reanimated mostly retain their intellect and memories, albeit consumed by inhuman urges that render them a danger to others. Attempts to harness their talents have had limited effect. But hemophages seem to be resistant to necrological alteration or even influence, which makes them a particularly frustrating vein of research. These ‘vampires’ don’t live for particularly long once raised and are barely contagious, which is why we allow them much more freedom than other reanimated test subjects.”
Unnaturally pale human beings with fangs sat or stood in a room behind a large glass wall. An unrecognizable spidery gray mesh ran through the glass, Inraf presumed it was reinforcement of some sort. Some of pale humans were eating bloody strips of meat. A few of them threw orange leather balls at a basket hanging on the wall or read books. A good fraction of them slumped against the walls in a posture Inraf recognized as defeat and surrender to a bad situation.
Sinek shook his head in pity. “Okay, that’s enough of that, I don’t like seeing them either. Moving along…”
Before they could move on, Inraf saw something. One of the vampires, a teenage girl, her face pale as a drained corpse, her dark hair dangling like moss from a tree, reached out onto the glass, looking curiously at Inraf. Inraf reached his hand out to meet at hers, then caught himself, and looked at Sinek, his hand still outstretched. Sinek nodded, although he kept his own distance. Inraf reached out to the glass, his bandage-covered hand pressing against where the girl’s hand met, dwarfing her little hand. The vampire girl stared back at him. Inraf found himself back to one cold autumn morning when he looked at Anuar through an opening in the curtain of an operating ward, blood streaming from his mouth and eyes. In his heart stirred mixture of resignation, longing for a cure and love for his brother. But most of all was sadness, not for himself, but for those who had to see him die like this. Anuar could not approach within five meters for the physicians’ fear of contact with Inraf’s infectious blood. Unable to be anywhere near each other as Inraf slowly died, the desperation ripped at the two of them than any earthly pain could.
Inraf snapped back to the present. On the girl’s face was that exact same sad stare he gave Anuar. Inraf’s vision blurred and his eyes stung. He turned away sharply, determined to hide tears welling up. Inraf somehow pulled through that morning in what the doctors deemed as nothing less than an act of Copernicus. Almost certainly, this girl would not be nearly as lucky. An older male vampire, also extremely pale, wrapped his hands around the girl’s shoulder in a familial way and gently led her away from the glass wall and away from Inraf. For a second, Inraf saw the same haunted, troubled look as his father too often wore on the man’s face before the man turned away.
“We’re moving on now”, Inraf managed to sputter out between deep breaths. He still held his face away from Sinek and Khersis, afraid of what they would see.
Khersis reached out to him with concern. “Sir Terynd, are you-“
“We are done!”, he yelled.
Sinek led Khersis away. Inraf took a moment to recover, leaning against the wall for support, and then hurriedly followed them out.
“Well, I hope we managed to change some of your opinions about the reanimated, Sir Terynd.”, said Sinek, “Unfortunately, they are quite difficult to work with and this is hardly the best place to see them in action. Perhaps a military demonstration or seeing a construction project with the undead would be better. Farewell, Sir Terynd.”
Inraf’s head spun as he thought about the looks he saw on the vampires’ faces, the duty behind the greater skeletons’ standing at attention, and the almost… adorable clumsiness of the grimms and the mummies. It really jarred with the tales of his childhood about bloodthirsty monsters and shadowy killers. He saw otherwise with his own eyes though… could the Copernican priests have been wrong? He and Khersis stepped out of the tower.
The Winged Scarabs shifted direction as one as Inraf and Khersis stepped into their midst, and followed pace behind the two of them. Inraf appreciated their patience, the Winged Scarabs did not do so much as grumble or complain in the least, and they executed orders without flaw or distraction, as far he could tell.
As they returned to the palace, Khersis put his hand to his ear as if hearing something very faint. He then turned to Inraf, “His greatness would like to see you in the palace parade grounds. He has a surprise for you.”
Probably a fancy arms demonstration or something, Inraf thought. Okay, that could take my mind off the undead then.
Chapter 7: In which a few swords and spears may be involvedInraf decided to focus on walking. They left the palace through a back door into a large, crimson-pink pavilion. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting shadows through the trees on the borders of the court that framed it just so, almost like the borders of an illustration in a fancy storybook.
The wall of the palace facing the palace grounds held the biggest mirror Inraf had ever seen, at least ten meters high and three times across. On closer inspection, it was spotless, to boot, even being outdoors! Surely, it must have been magical in some way.
Xernaryt sat atop a large throne at the edge of the pavilion. The chair was identical to the one in his throne room. Heck, Inraf, thought, it may actually be his actual throne, probably moved by magic or something. Tightly surrounding him was another contingent of Winged Scarabs, two more group of soldiers that Inraf did not recognize, and a few important-looking individuals Inraf figured were military officials. Esk quietly stood on the sidelines, no doubt he was present here in an official capacity, but there was no one else Inraf recognized beyond the emperor.
Xernaryt clapped his hands together and smiled. “Welcome, Sir Terynd of Elistierre,” he said, his voice sharp and clear despite a few hundred meters between them (probably magic, Inraf thought).
”My distinguished guest.”, continued Xernaryt “I hear you have been greatly impressed by my Winged Scarabs, no small praise coming from a warrior of considerable skill yourself, having slain an Arrownaught in single combat. I thought this might be a welcome opportunity to entertain my beloved guest before supper.”
Inraf could not help a broad smile, he felt pretty tired right now, but he could always spare the energy for a skilled display of swords and spears. He sat down on a very large cushioned chair proffered by Khersis and sat back for the show.
Xernaryt made an assertive-looking gesture. The first group of soldiers, a number of very large individuals in lamellar armor, their scales of shimmering in the sunlight, moved forward atop large lizard-like beasts like those that Inraf had rode during the desert ride. They wore black masks with tooth like red patterns over their lower faces, and large branchlike spikes protruded from their helmets. A single individual in gleaming light tan armor, probably ceramic in nature, Inraf figured, led the crowd, his facemask bearing a crown like hat on top. Probably the commanding officer, Inraf thought.
The cavalrymen rode forward in perfect coherence and split in half, each half charging into and interweaving with each other, running past each other at high speed without so much as brushing their comrades, and in perfect synchronicity, both halves of the formation starting and ending each merger at the exact same moment. Inraf, no stranger to cavalry demonstrations, appreciated their movements with a cool expression. Their technique certainly matched the finest of Copernican cavalry, but the crown prince was accustomed even to perfection. They split into perfect concentric circles moving opposite to each other, waving their sabers in their air in perfect unison. Inraf clapped a little louder than was polite, hoping to please the emperor.
Abruptly, the cavalrymen pooled into a wedge formation as smoothly and swiftly as water into a cup and stamped off to the sidelines at a leisurely, exaggerated gallop, gleaming golden sabers still in the air. The officer in ceramic armor seamlessly abandoned the crowd and made a very dramatic salute to Xernaryt, almost like blowing a kiss into the air, before turning around and joining his men. Hm, that’s a nice theatric touch, Inraf thought.
The moment the cavalrymen left the borders of the pavilion, the second group of soldiers stepped forward. Winged Scarabs, Inraf recognized, with their imposing armored veils swaying in the light afternoon breeze. They marched forward, twirling their halberds in time with their steps, leaving just enough distance to avoid hitting each other with their weapons, but only just. Inraf nodded in approval at this novel approach to a weapons display. An individual in slightly better decorated armor marched ahead of the formation, again, likely an officer. The officer fell to one knee clutching his polearm and facing the Emperor as if in desperate prayer and a second later, all of the Scarabs did the same.
Xernaryt dramatically stood up from his throne, with both practiced ease and a hint of reluctance, Inraf noted. “Scarabs! Your Emperor has again need of your unparalleled might!” he said. “Go forth, and bring your Emperor victory! “ He spoke with a tone that Inraf recognized as simply reading off the script of centuries-old tradition, but still delivered it powerfully, unlike the gentle tones he took with Inraf in private. Honestly, he delivered this speech better than dad would, thought Inraf, feeling a twinge of guilt in his chest for thinking less of King Alse.
The officer stood up and made an exultant gesture with his halberd, then turn around to his men with his arms spread wide. As one, they stood and made a more restrained form of this gesture, probably to accommodate their tighter formation. They swished their halberds left and right in perfect formation, the swooshing sounds surprisingly loud from where Inraf sat, before pointing the halberds forward and advancing forward menacingly. Then the scarabs spun the halberds over their heads with a graceful twirl, still walking forward and with a loud thump of boots against pavement, reversed their direction mid-step, halberds held forwards and marching in the opposite direction. Inraf again nodded in approval, and it must have caught Xernaryt’s eye, as the Emperor leaned back with a satisfied smile.
The Scarabs held loose but perfectly ordered formation as they marched, their officer methodically marching in between the gaps between his men, moving to a new row of men after reaching the end. Wow, this was actually a fair bit more interesting, and probably more difficult, than Copernican legionnaire formations display. Then again, these were the Emperor’s bodyguard, the Copernicans did not really have any special units assigned to the King, Inraf thought. Maybe I should change that, he mused.
Then the Scarabs halted abruptly, halberds held high. The front line lunged forward with their halberds at an imaginary opponent, stopping in a low crouch with spear menacingly stabbing into thin air. The second line followed behind them, stabbing their halberds over the front line’s shoulders. The third line made an acrobatic pose and thrust their weapons even higher above the first two lines. The many troops behind them then spun around with dizzying speed and the troops at the borders of the side of the rear and formation repeated the same three layers of spears, but simultaneously and outwards from the center of the formation. Inraf knew that this was a demonstration of a response to flanking by enemies and he fidgeted a little with excitement, almost wanting to get out of his chair. It was hard enough doing that with legion shields, and not all legions could do it that smoothly, but this? Incredible.
Xernaryt stood up again and announced, “Well done, my Scarabs! Your emperor is pleased; your duty is fulfilled. Stand down and enjoy the peace that you have forged in the fire of battle!” He sat down again, and the Scarabs with their weapons held out all melted back into standing ready stances as if they had been like that this the whole time. They walked out, leaving behind their pale-armored officer, who gave an elegant flourish with his free hand towards Xernaryt before following his troops out.
Inraf eyed the third and last formation of soldiers remaining by Xernaryt’s side, expecting them to march out into the pavilion. They dressed in what appeared to be vests and stiff turbans worn over flexible body armor. Then Inraf noticed Xernaryt wore a wide grin on his face. The turbaned soldiers replaced themselves with a sudden cloud of smoke and reappeared in the center of the pavilion. Inraf startled, nearly out of his chair. They drew strange curved blades from their sides with a wild twirl, jumping acrobatically a little as they did so. They thrust the blades up high, before bringing them down low in a sweeping slash, keeping just enough space from each other to avoid nicking any of their fellows.
The formation of turbaned soldiers then split in two with a sudden sideways flip and each half threw what appeared to be knives in a high arc at the other half. Both halves then caught the thrown blades with their free hands (not quite in sync though, Inraf noticed), and returned the throw at each other, catching it yet again. Then each half took a menacing fighting pose at the other and stepped forward, the first line of each half elegantly mock fighting each other with their large blades (and all using different moves, Inraf noted with some amazement). Then the first line of each group vanished in a plume of smoke, the second line behind them advancing through the smoke and repeating the same display of swashbuckling, before also vanishing. This repeated through the third line, and then the fourth and last line instead opted to kneel down with their blades held to the ground. They stared at each other for a few moments, then their previously vanished comrades stood up behind them out of nowhere, again surprising Inraf, then placed their swords against the fourth line’s throats. They made a violent gesture and the fourth line fell down to the ground (with a controlled fall, Inraf noted with much relief). The “executioners” then picked up their “executed” comrades, who then lifted their arms up high in what seemed to be Inraf some kind of symbolic gesture, although damned if he had any idea what it meant. The soldiers then rejoined each other in formation and marched out of the pavilion. This third and last act seemed more of a dance than a military parade to Inraf, but it did make him curious as to what these soldiers could actually do on the battlefield.
The marching turbaned soldiers left a single of their members behind, as before, but this one was dressed identically to the others. The soldier made a single curt salute to Xernaryt, placing his hand at his head level and tilting just so. That very slight movement, for an emperor no less, seemed disrespectful, almost familial, to Inraf, but perhaps the Scarsinids had very different traditions? Unlike the last two demonstrations, the lone soldier did not follow his comrades, but rather walked through the pavilion in Inraf’s direction and stopped about twenty meters away from him, standing at parade rest.
“Now,” said Xernaryt, “I am told it is Elistierri custom to give a skilled fighter of a guest a sword and offer them a moment to personally test your soldiers’ mettle?”
Actually, Inraf recalled, the Elistierri did nothing of the sort but in fact Copernicans often used to, a guest rite called the seasoning of steel, although it was out of fashion in modern times. Inraf fully understood the subtext of such a “misunderstanding”, however- Xernaryt was interested in Inraf’s skill with the blade and hoped that Inraf was also interested. Inraf kept his expression calm but stood up and held out his arm to his side. Khersis slipped a sheathed short sword into Inraf’s extended hand. Inraf drew the sword out and inspected it. It appeared to be a flawless replica of the Copernican officer’s blade, the testa argenti, enchanted just so to be unable to break skin, if the inability for Inraf’s fingers to feel its edge was any indication. He nodded with approval at its flawless balance and pristine surface. He looked past the blade in his hands at the turbaned soldier standing twenty meters from him, still standing at attention.
“Ah, but we need a warm-up first! Scarab!” said Xernaryt. Esk whispered something in the emperor’s ear. Xernaryt waved him away and then snapped a finger.
Inraf made a few callisthenic movements, pleasantly surprised again to find that his strange dark bandage-like gear was not at all limiting his movements. He stopped when a Winged Scarab about a full head taller than Inraf loomed overhead before the prince realized it. Inraf was not a short man at all, but as he looked up, he definitely felt something in his gut that made him realize the emperor might have been asking him for too much. The Scarab bristled with heavy armor like the rest, and carried a halberd much the same, but now the weapon appeared much more menacing now that the prospect of being on its receiving end could not get out of Inraf’s mind. Inraf consciously knew the halberd was enchanted as a nonlethal training weapon, but that did not change the thumping in his heart one bit. Khersis presented Inraf with a Copernican shield, beckoning Inraf to take it, and Inraf grabbed the shield out of his guide’s hands much too quickly than etiquette would dictate. He gave the Scarab what he hoped was an even, unworried stare, but felt closer to a chipmunk freezing in front of an incoming carriage.
Xernaryt made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “When you are ready, Sir Terynd.”, he said.
Inraf knew his courage might not last very long, so he raised his shield up and banged his sword against it. The Scarab brought his halberd to bear with a quick spin and cautiously advanced, as if not sure what the much smaller prince was capable of.
Inraf bobbed on his feet with the shield held forward and the sword held back, hidden from the Scarab’s sight. The Scarab gave Inraf’s shield a few exploratory stabs that every veteran duelist would expect from a spearman, each strike gently pushed aside by Inraf, also according to routine. Then, another such quick jab, followed up by a sharp blow, surprising Inraf with the very small windup behind such a ferocious swing. The prince backpedaled from the force, but the Scarab lunged forward and caught Inraf’s shield with the hook on the side of the halberd. Inraf barely held onto his shield as the Scarab reeled him forward, then reversed the direction of his halberd and lunged it out into Inraf’s shoulder. Inraf knew what to expect, and so he mostly rolled with the blow, but still he felt the cold, familiar pain of an enchanted training weapon “cutting” shallowly into his shoulder. Fortunately, the dulling enchantment meant the “wound” would not actually affect his ability to fight, aside from the pain. Inraf sidestepped a blow and left the halberdier’s reach, in no state to exploit his proximity to his opponent.
Inraf’s mind desperately ransacked his training sessions for how to deal with a skilled spearman. Copernicans thought lowly of spearmen, having conquered many such spear-using peoples with their swords and shields, so he drew something of a blank. His instincts reacted to another swing, ducking away from the halberd’s path rather than confronting its power with his shield. The Scarab made sure to engage Inraf at spear’s length, never advancing and taking full use of his weapon’s reach with quick lunges at Inraf. However, he did not backpedal as a spear duelist would, apparently confident in his ability to absorb a retaliatory blow from Inraf. Inraf managed to bring his shield down on a particularly low stab with a loud slam, trapping the halberd against the ground. The prince then stepped forward, stabbing into the Scarab, who withdrew out of reach, moving his grip on the halberd shaft backwards to accommodate his retreat. Inraf followed him, realizing too late the Scarab’s goal in stepping backwards was not to avoid Inraf’s blade, but rather to get the leverage necessary to shove the halberd’s weight against Inraf’s shield, pushing him up and to the side. Inraf stumbled a bit, caught his balance and narrowly parried a fierce overhead blow, his knees shaking slightly under the impact. He mustered the might to push forward, taking another strike on his shield, and stepping beyond the reach of the polearm. The Scarab choked up on his grip, catching Inraf’s back with the hook of the blade, but Inraf paid it no mind as he ran forward, laying his shield into the Scarab with full force and following up with a blind swipe with his sword. The blow ran across the Scarab’s torso.
Inraf distantly heard applause as the Scarab flinched and stepped back under the blow, the beating blood in the young prince’s ears nearly drowning out all other sound. Not content to let a stronger opponent with better reach take advantage of dueling etiquette, Inraf opted not to permit his opponent any time to recover. He feinted a low swing with his sword, using the momentum behind the feint to punch his shield into the Scarab’s face. A satisfying thud rang out and Inraf then dived the blade into a sharp stab, which glanced off the Scarab’s thigh, to no visible effect. The Scarab held both hands on his halberd’s shaft and used the hilt to bash into Inraf’s shield, pushing him back. Then the Scarab stood back and threw a flurry of sweeping low jabs at Inraf’s feet. Inraf hunkered down and met the low attacks with his shield, hoping to bait his opponent into winding up for a big strike. The rapid impacts clattered against his shield. When none was forthcoming and the Scarab persisted in low strikes, Inraf noticed an opening in a swing that was particularly slow to withdraw. He burst out from behind his shield, kicking away the middle of the halberd with his boots, and when the Scarab insisted on trying to catch Inraf’s shield with the halberd’s hook while trying to bring his blade back into control, Inraf let him rip the shield away. Now unhampered by either the weight of his shield, or the force of the disarming, Inraf ran forward and with a practiced slide, dove under the Scarab’s legs. The Copernican flipped himself facing upwards, still prone, and hacked away at the backs of the Scarab’s legs like a maniac. The giant warrior crashed to his knees, no visible damage to his legs, but clutching his fists in pain. Inraf, expecting some kind of kick to the face in return, scrambled out of the way, executing a neat roll backwards as soon as he halfway got to his feet, but no attack came forth. The Scarab, rolled himself around to a sitting position facing Inraf and placed his one hand on his face covering an eye, the other extended out with palm facing Inraf. The prince immediately recognized the universal Centric hand sign for submission in battle. He reciprocated with the traditional response to surrender, embracing his opponent and bumping his cheek against his opponent’s cheek. The Scarab stood up, bowed deeply and walked over to the sidelines.
Inraf, still huffing with the exertion, looked up over to Xernaryt, who warmly nodded to the prince. Inraf felt a mixture of gratitude that the Scarab did not press the challenge, and of worry that the Scarab was just the opening act for this strange masked warrior.
“And now, Sir Terynd will face down a member of my Flowers of Death!” announced Xernaryt.
Inraf startled a bit. The Flowers of Death were the Scarsinid descendants of the legendary ancient Warflowers, said to be masters of all skills of battle: magical, martial and intellectual. The Copernicans carried on the warflower tradition through the Vespertine Blooms, the most elite warriors they had on hand. The crown prince definitely would have lost a battle to a Vespertine Bloom, even in a polite sparring match. The Vespertine Blooms modeled themselves after Copernicus, who served as a Warflower before he founded a nation and ascended to godhood. Presumably, the Flowers of Death modeled themselves after Darwin, the warflower who similarly became the Scarsinid progenitor. However, legend said that Copernicus killed Darwin (though that was ancient history, no grudges held in the present), so maybe Inraf had a chance that their skill was not as great?
The Flower of Death made an inviting gesture. Inraf couldn’t see anything behind its facemask. He noticed a wilted rose pinned to its vest, and that it wore loose clothing. Khersis handed Inraf his shield back, and Inraf once again clanged his sword against his shield to indicate his readiness.
The Flower made a zigzag advance with sword undrawn, the eyes behind its mask silently gauging Inraf’s reaction. Inraf stood his ground behind his shield, careful not to betray any sign of weakness or fear. The Flower’s thick curved blade came out with a fierce blow as it was drawn, biting into Inraf’s shield. Inraf stood firm behind the blow and retaliated a sharp jab at his opponent. The Flower casually ducked out of the way of the attack and made several more swings at Inraf. Inraf hid behind his shield, absorbing each blow with ease and returning each with ease. So far, so good, his opponent did not hit nearly as hard as the Scarab, although the Flower was more than able to keep up with Inraf. Inraf then felt his opponent fall out of his sight and a cold stinging in his legs told him that the Flower had hit him somehow. He made a single step back to see that the Flower had dropped down prone and thrust its blade into his leg with an acrobatic grace. Before Inraf could retaliate, the Flower of Death elegantly spun back up to its feet with no more difficulty than one would get out of a chair.
Inraf stepped away in alarm, as the Flower advanced at equal pace with its blade held straight and low, held in an imitation of Elistierre fencing form. Inraf lunged forward and jabbed out with his shield. The Flower ducked under the strike, spun downwards to dodge another thrust from Inraf and kicked out at Inraf’s feet, nearly tripping him. The crown prince regained his balance, drew back his sword and shield in a defensive stance, and advanced. The Flower obliged him by chipping at his shield with a flurry of lunging cuts, stepping back expertly when Inraf counterattacked. Inraf feinted another shield bash, winding back his arm, and then threw his shield forward, clearly catching the Flower off guard. The shield was great insurance on the battlefield or against an unexpected foe, but against such a fast single opponent, it was worth losing it and its heavy bulk for an opening. His opponent ducked almost in time, and the thrown shield skimmed off of the Flower’s head, giving Inraf the opening he needed to stab his foe in the chest. He saw his enemy flinch in pain, and its blade ran up in a late counterattack, which Inraf nearly sidestepped, the cold ache from the enchantment biting into his shoulder.
The Flower’s blows flowed into each other with an exotic grace and odd angles, giving the prince little time to rest. The prince kept his opponent at bay with quick stabs from his own straight sword, transitioning from one-handed thrusts into quick diagonal swings and back again to match the speed of the Scarsinid warrior’s swordsmanship. Their swings mostly hit thin air as Inraf kept pace with his foe’s ferocity, each of them dodging by hairs. Several times the blade grazed him, producing a twinge of pain but nothing more. Then the warrior caught him with a low kick that made him stumble, followed up by a devastating two-handed slash across the chest. The enchanted pain would have felled his younger brother Anuar into a weeping mess, but Inraf was forged from tougher stuff. He bounced away from the impact, fighting down the tears from the agony, and gracefully managed to skid both of his feet into a kneeling position. The Flower circled him, sensing that victory was near. Inraf, finally desperate enough to forget his training forms, grasped his sword in both hands and swung for home with a wild mid-height slash. The Flower backed away from it and lunged in for the finisher. Inraf, his arms still extended and appearing wide open, swiftly spun his sword in his hands until both of his hands instinctively grasped at the blunt-edged base of the blade. He brought his arms back around close to his body so that the guard of the sword caught his opponent’s incoming sword edge. Inraf, still gripping his sword by the middle, dragged its tip across his opponent’s chest, drawing another gasp of pain. Then Inraf swung the sword around like a bat, slamming its hilt into his opponent’s kneecap. The Scarsinid involuntarily dropped to that knee, and Inraf capped it off by winding up for another hard strike to the shoulder. But the Flower reacted faster, drew a dagger with its free hand and slammed it against Inraf’s neck just as his blow was about to hit home. Inraf felt the familiar paralysis from a “lethal” blow from an enchanted blade, dropped to his knees, let go of his sword and felt the magical numbness wash over him, barely able to think at all. He heard much applause from the sidelines and he saw his opponent stand up with a bit of a hobble. He slumped down, trying to breathe through the pain. Someone rushed to Inraf’s side, helping him up, and muttering something. He felt hands examining him and someone tilted his head up to the light. Inraf was dizzy with excitement, agony and adrenaline, and could barely register what came next. Xernaryt gave some kind of speech, there was much applauding and cheering, and some people, not sure who, helped Inraf stagger back to his room.
When he finally caught ahold of his thoughts again, he found himself spread-eagled back in bed. He tried to move, but it hurt a lot. He barely managed to turn his head into a more comfortable position…
He leapt out of bed with an unmanly yelp when he saw his sparring opponent next to him, sitting upright and still in uniform. With the mask off, he realized his foe was a woman. A beautiful woman at that. She had dark, warm-colored skin, thick red lips, a short but very thick and wild dark hair, and he thought she resembled someone he knew.
Inraf searched his memories of the last hour for some event, something, anything that could gracefully and politely explain why his opponent was here in his personal chambers, and a woman, to boot. This would have been highly improper in Copernica, and it stretched Inraf’s cultural open-mindedness to believe this was even slightly appropriate in Alenactia.
“W-wh-what are you doing in here? This is my room!” Inraf sputtered.
“Pfft. This was my room first.” the woman replied. “You’re just borrowing it.”
“Excuse me?” said Inraf.
“This was my room. I used to sleep here. I don’t know why Dad is speaking so highly of you, but he bade me follow you to your chambers. I don’t know what the hell he’s getting at, but here I am.“
“Dad? But… does that mean, you’re one of Xernaryt’s daughters?”
“Princess Sayeline to you. I am sure you have seen my sist-“
“Sally! It’s me! Prince Inraf!” said Inraf, ripping off his protective cloth mask violently enough that Sayeline flinched.
Chapter 8: A girl he likesSayeline paused for a moment. “You know… this would explain everything.” she said, taken aback.
“Wow, you’ve grown… uh, beautiful. Seriously, you are gorgeous.” said Inraf, almost stammering in his excitement.
“Damn right I did”, said Sayeline, breathlessly. “What was Dad thinking, setting me and you up like this?”
His mind raced for something to say, clutching at the first possibility. “So you’re a warflower now? You did super, you really gave me a beating back there.” he said.
“You did really well yourself, for a pampered little prince.” said Sayeline. “You grew up cute too. Yes, I became a Flower of Death. Dad gave me a choice; it was either the military or being married off to some dumbass foreigner… I- I mean, I wouldn’t refer to you as a dumbass foreigner, I…”
“No no,” said Inraf, standing up and pacing around in his excitement. “I understand. Wow! It’s been so long, so much has happened.” I’m actually okay with this turn of events since you left, it was worth getting to see you again like this, he thought. He didn’t even feel the tension and sickness in his stomach about the plague.
Sayeline patted the bed next to her, and Inraf sat back down, still shivering in excitement. She nodded gravely as he told her about the incident with the plague and the events afterwards until now, and to his disappointment, confirmed that his experiences with the violence in Alenactia were quite normal.
“Yeah, the empire is going to hell. We keep up appearances in the palace, but the satraps can’t be bothered to get their heads out of their arcanical experiments and actually govern like they’re supposed to. It’s like a sickness, this urge for immortality.” she said.
“Damn. And Xern-, your dad can’t do anything about it?” he said.
“Well, look at him, he’s running off and doing everything he can to please his guests and march around with his super soldiers in big fancy parades and make fancy gadgets. That’s all he cares about, so it’s all he actually does anything about. He recalled me from training in the Voidlands just for your visit, saying some Elistierri noble boy *absolutely* wanted to see some warflower successors. We hadn’t spoken for five years, and that was a pretty good reminder of why. His daughters are just another ornament in his palace; I’m just an ornament made out of steel instead of silk.” Sayeline practically spat the last sentence out.
“I can’t complain though, he’s been a super gracious host, doing tons of stuff for me in the very first day. He made this outfit out of magic-insulating cloth to try to slow down my illness. ”, said Inraf.
“It looks silly. I hope you have something better soon.”
“That’s the idea.”
They paused awkwardly for a while.
“Ah, dad’s banding at me again.”, said Sayeline, gesturing to a thin bracelet on her wrist. Inraf recognized it as the enchanted communications devices Xernaryt and Khersis wore. “He says they’ve prepared a banquet.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like there’s people starving on the outskirts of the Empire, so hey let’s all eat all the stuff they grew.” she said.
Inraf decided probably the best response involved staying silent. Sayeline took Inraf by the hand. “Come on. You can’t eat with that mask, don’t pick it up. Let’s go. Scarsinid custom says it’s super bad to be late to dinner. I’d put on something prettier”, she said, gesturing to her vest and leather armor. “But today’s just been this awful rush and I just got back home like three hours ago, so let’s go.”
Inraf felt oddly light on his feet at Sayeline took him to the palace dining hall. She had a bit of a limp in the leg where Inraf hit her, but it seemed to sort itself out as she kept moving. He felt a little bad about the duel earlier.
The dining room was massive and every inch of it had been decorated it in some way, much as he was used to. Glittering urns and lamps by every crevice and entrance in the walls, tiles adorned with exotic geometric patterns, golden spires protruding from every buttress, and every single chair, table and post in the room bearing an intricate carving of some form or another. He noticed a massive painting on the ceiling depicting some long-ago, epic and violent event involving the ancient Tol race, which he probably would recognize from a history book if he stared at it long enough.
Xernaryt, Esk and Sinek sat at a grand-looking table in the center of the room. As usual, dozens of Winged Scarabs stood stock-still all around the room, standing at attention as if their lives depended on it, which honestly was a distinct possibility. Inraf wondered for a moment if he could find the fellow he dueled, but they all looked the same…
Inraf sat down next to Sayeline. He smiled at the others, now that people could see his face, but only Xernaryt returned the smile. Esk quietly sat with a sheaf of papers in one hand, alternating between a teacup and a quill in his other hand. Sinek carefully watched Xernaryt, not meeting Inraf’s eyes. Sayeline sat down and quietly tucked in her cloth napkin as if nothing was unusual at all. Inraf followed suit, carefully observing the others at the table. As Inraf sat down, Esk seemed to snap out of a trance, looked up and down at Inraf and then briefly spared a glare at Xernaryt before returning to his papers. Inraf guessed that the two of them had had unpleasant words very recently, possibly about Inraf, even.
Xernaryt said nothing, and made a waving gesture. With a second of the emperor finishing the gesture, Inraf noticed several servants entering the room with food in hand. He noticed several Copernican specialties present- nitronara, javata fish, and viridian flamingo. However, between Esk working at the table and Sayeline so close to him he could hear her breath, Inraf did not really feel like thinking about the food.
“Splendid demonstration today, Sir Terynd. I had hoped you would best my daughter in combat, but perhaps I raised her too well, no?”, said Xernaryt. He beamed with pride, and when no response was forecoming from Inraf, motioned to the food.
“Yes, you raised me”, said Sayeline as she started filling her plate. Inraf could practically hear the moisture condensing on the coldness of her sarcasm.
Xernaryt ignored her and inquired about Inraf’s visit to the tower. Inraf stopped thinking about Sayeline and went into detail about how amazed he was at what he saw. Inraf had not had time to reflect on his visit, so he could only describe his amazement and edification, and it was probably best not to offend Sinek at the table at any rate. As Inraf spoke, Xernaryt continued smiling as if this was one of the best days in his life.
Sayeline, in her wrinkled, dusty uniform, still ripped up and bruised from her bout with Inraf, her hair a wild sweaty mess, nonetheless ate like a princess. She chose the proper utensils out of a dozen without even looking at them, and she ate with precise portions, measured timing and impeccable neatness. Inraf knew this kind of etiquette did not come easy, especially as hungry as she must have been after a day of exertion. She was still the same Sally he could remember: ferocious one moment, prim and proper the next. Inraf, aware that this was not quite a formal dinner, but not wishing to look bad next to Sayeline, did his best to keep pace with her dainty table manners. Although it had been so infrequently he had been allowed to eat with his family that Inraf’s table manners were rusty. He constantly glanced at Sayeline to copy her, feeling both relief and shame every time he paused for her to take action first.
As the conversation wore on and course after course came, Inraf could feel Sayeline fuming when Xernaryt did not even remotely include or mention her. When Inraf tried to include her in the conversation, she spoke the bare minimum when Inraf talked to her, and merely a non-committal grunt when her father said anything about her. If Inraf or Anuar did that to their parents, no doubt they would have caught a hand to the back of the head. Possibly multiple times. However, Xernaryt made no move to discipline or even noticeably react to Sayeline. As far as Inraf could tell, to the both of them, they may as well have been a thousand miles apart tonight. Inraf couldn’t wait to talk to her again, but her father was very much interested in talking to Inraf, and he *was* the emperor, after all. So the prince indulged the emperor, regaling him about his journey here and his life in “Elistierre”, and how much he liked the local décor, and other such rubbish.
Meanwhile, Esk quietly ignored the conversation much like Sayeline did. Sinek chimed in only to laugh with the emperor, share a quick anecdote, or make a joke at opportune moments, and Inraf caught the familiar scent of a sucking up. Although Inraf didn’t mind, a servant had to do what was necessary to get by, he thought. Inraf and Xernaryt held a spirited banter, although the prince felt an unfamiliar revulsion in his stomach when Xernaryt regaled him with tales of suppressing revolts and expanding the Empire by force.
Dinner ended after what seemed like only an hour later, although Xernaryt informed them it was actually nearing midnight. Inraf recalled that the Scarsinids held very strong beliefs regarding sleeping into a new day, which explained why the Emperor hastily waved off Esk and Sinek before turning to Sayeline and Inraf.
“Now, I understand that you two have much catching up to do.”, he said, directly addressing his daughter for the first time that night. “Perhaps you were not aware, my dear Sayeline, but this is actually Prince Inraf of Cop-
“I know.”, said Sayeline, not making eye contact or even a facial expression.
“Excellent!”, said Xernaryt with a hint of disappointment underneath a smile. “Prince Inraf, or Sir Terynd, as you will continue to address him before others, will need to sleep in his magical insulated room, on account of his illness. I can have a second bed set up in his room if you wish.”
Inraf flinched at that last sentence. Copernican custom would frown deeply on an unwed man and woman sharing a room for the night, even if physically apart; it was untoward for those of high standing. But Xernaryt was lord here and even his suggestion was law, no matter what propriety would have to say about the situation. Inraf forced a complaint down his throat and nodded courteously. Sayeline gave the slightest and quickest bow Inraf had ever seen and turned around immediately, holding Inraf’s hand as she nearly dragged him out of the room, well out of her father’s earshot.
“Typical. I might as well not even exist. ‘Just show off your fencing tricks after six years of never seeing you, and then whatever Sayeline, I guess you can stick around for dinner I guess’ ”. She said, in her deepest imitation of her father’s voice. “At least he had the decency to let me hang around with you. Damn, I thought you’d be more uptight at sleeping over with a girl though. I guess what happens in Alenactia stays in Alenactia, right?”
“W-well, I uh yeah, it’s great!”, said Inraf. He felt faint with both impropriety and joy at being roommates with Sayeline. She led him to his room, past the Winged Scarabs standing guard, and opened the door.
Inraf clutched his head when he saw a second bed in the room, his bed and other furnishings remained untouched, and there was a discreet curtain between the two beds. What shocked him was that the room seemed considerably larger than before to accommodate all this. This was definitely some advanced form of sorcery. Magicians couldn’t just make a room bigger, right?
“How? How?!” Inraf muttered.
Sayeline shrugged. “I’ve lived here for fifteen years and it’s been like that the entire time and even now, hell if I know. Probably a state secret. Dad is the kind of person to think of some way to do this and even then he just kind of giggles when I ask.”
A thought ran through Inraf’s mind about the Emperor of all Alenactia, most powerful and dignified man on the continent, giggling as his baby girl asks him about how her room gets larger or smaller. He shrugged it out of his head. Sayeline disappeared behind the curtain between their beds.
“Good night, Inraf”, she said.
“Good night, Sally”, he said.
Inraf peeled off the black bandage-like garb off his body, too tired to put anything else on, and rolled straight into bed. He dreamed of static as usual, although the shapes of the dead and the living he saw on the way here crackled past him in sharp form among the static…
The new day saw Sayeline shaking him from sleep. Still on a military sleeping schedule, the still-exhausted Inraf thought. She must be excited to start the new day. But it was too damn early.
“I’m sick, I need my sleep”, Inraf mumbled, not sure and not really caring if Sayeline could understand him.
“It’s ten in the morning. I’ve been up for three hours. In central Copernica, it’s four hours earlier, so it’s just you.”, said Sayeline.
“Ah, crap”, said Inraf.
“I spent the last hour asking my dad for a day with you to myself. Not sure how keen you are on missing our chance. So get up and get dressed if you like me!” she said, a little cheekiness in her voice.
She dropped some kind of package on top of Inraf and he heard her footsteps and the faint clacking of someone stepping through the curtain between their beds. He curled up to a sitting position, and looked at what was in his lap. It seemed to be a paper package with … clothes inside?
From the texture, they were clearly the same magic-insulating material as his, uh, wrappings from yesterday. But these actually looked like proper clothes, with a two-piece coat ensemble, fine dress shirt below, a scarf and a fine pair of trousers, baggy in the Scarsinid tradition, of course. For his head, a thick turban in the typical Scarsinid style, a connected face veil providing the coverage his old face mask did. The outfit was dyed in an alluring swirling mix of purples and blues (purple dye was hard to obtain anywhere but Copernica and Alenactia, he recalled), with jewels sewn in strategic spots to not seem gaudy or obtrusive. All in all, he didn’t look bad at all, although it was a tad too much blue for his taste, things were perhaps different in Alenactia. He did a few stretches to acquaint himself with the new balance of the exotic clothing and felt completely unencumbered by the thick, stretchy fabric. When he would eventually return to Copernica, he definitely would have to ask the Scarsinids if they had any similar cloth, this stuff felt amazing, like pajamas that he could actually go out in public with.
“Looking sharp”, said Sayeline, peeking her head into the curtains. Inraf startled a bit, then remembered that he wasn’t alone in this room. Sayeline stepped out to get a closer look at him. She wore a fine, tight dark red dress that came down to her knees, and a pair of riding boots below. Inraf, male as he was, could not help but admire her shapeliness, but courtesy dictated his gaze meet her eyes sooner rather than later.
She looked beautiful, her warm brown skin glowing, and her wild, swirling hair actually turned into a sharply delineated and controlled chaos that framed her face just so. He noticed her very dark hair had just a slight hint of red in it. She had a mischievous look in her warm amber eyes. It was at this point that he really hoped she was single.
“Come on!”, she said with a smile, grasping his hand with both of hers. He followed her out of the room. He left behind all his reflections of yesterday; this was an entirely new day with her beside him. He tried to suppress an ungentlemanly grin as she excitedly led him out of the palace. Winged Scarabs stood guard by the entrance and a quartet of them peeled off from their comrades and followed the royal duo in perfect formation, but he barely noticed them with her warm hands against his arm.
The gates to the palace enclosure opened smoothly, noiselessly and far faster than was natural, likely enchanted in some way. Inraf and Sayeline stepped out into the greater world of Rieldynbak.
“You must be hungry. I know a place that serves incredible noon-e sangak practically next doors. What do you say?” she asked.
“Uh, okay.” he said. His head spun with the sights.
Sayeline led Inraf past a bunch of elegant-looking marble buildings, into another bazaar, this one much more orderly than the bustles of stalls and shouting that he had seen on the way here. The smells of roasting meat and spices tickled at his nose. Scarsinid soldiers, with their peaked caps, golden uniforms and bronze-colored spears, stood at all exits and by many of the stalls, a few busy with commerce, most at attention. Strange beasts, of which Inraf only recognized a few from illustrations or his journey here, stalked back and forth, on leashes or in cages. Sayeline dragged him away from the sights and sounds, surprisingly forcefully for her size, and towards (what smelled like) a bakery hosted in a large tent. She faced a stone-faced man sitting at a booth at the entrance and said something that sounded like an order in Scarse Centric.
One of the Winged Scarabs came forth and placed in her hand a very small bag of coins, which she handed over to the man in the bakery. The man nodded, turned around and everyone waited for about a minute. Then a hand jutted out of the bakery holding a bag of wares. The man standing before the tent passed it over to Sayeline, and all Inraf knew was it smelled delicious.
With the food in hand, Inraf, Sayeline and their bodyguards walked over to an adjacent park, with many tall, round marble tables standing among the trees and hedges. Inraf thought the tables and chairs resembled more like bar furniture, with their height and thinness, but again, this was Alenactia, perhaps it was normal here.
Sayeline opened up the bag and took out some flatbread and some spreads that Inraf figured to be cheese, nuts and vegetables. The bread went down surprisingly smoothly, like Konhiton pasta, but it was also rich and aromatic. Sayeline did not hesitate to tuck in, her impeccable table manners seeming all the more impressive with the haste at which she ate. Inraf had guessed she hadn’t yet eaten today. Figures she had the usual appetite of one who fights and sweats for a living. She
SKIP SCENE+++
-------
Inraf remembered that his family was likely worried about the long trip from Copernica to the Imperial household.
Normally he would have dictated a letter to a nearby servant, but his identity was top secret after all. He rang up Khersis and asked for parchment and quill. Steeling himself, he composed a letter, trying to keep as generic as possible.
Dear Mother and Father,
After a long and slightly rough journey, I am doing quite well. Alenactia has proven lovely so far, and dear uncle has been treating me exceptionally well and the locals are nothing short of inviting and open. My condition has been giving me less trouble, thanks to a special insulating garment the physicians bade me wear. I met a childhood friend you may remember visited us in my early childhood, I will leave you to guess who it is. We are getting along splendidly again now. I look forward to giving you more good news later. Please reply soon.
Love,
Terynd of Elistierre.
He signed and sealed the letter and handed it over to the ever-patient Khersis.
With that final task finished, he removed his coat and lay down in bed, falling deep asleep.
The next few years blurred together to him. The Scarsinid treatments for Inraf’s disease were much gentler, and in his opinion, more reasoned-out, than the chemical purges and intensive magical healing the Copernican priesthood tried. His condition remained largely the same despite the insulation, explained by Esk as the natural progression of the disease- even though the treatments kept his condition at bay, it would continue to fester and injure his body, never cured for good, never worsening too much. In between therapies, Inraf traveled the country of Alenactia with Sayeline, seeing new sights, new people, new things. His world grew and he felt a little sorry for Anuar, who wouldn’t get to travel the world like this until he was already king. Letters from home were a bright spark in every month, as his brother replied to his letters like clockwork. He held onto them like gospel, even though they were frequently ciphered or cryptic about events in the Copernican royal household. Must have been his mother’s influence, she always lectured about giving away information too easily. As he puzzled over how to break the latest ciphered letter, summoning the ancient memories of his old tutoring, it was like a little game to him by this point, he really did wonder about what his brother did not tell him.
Chapter Ten: Things happen to AnuarAnuar looked up across his table at Raine Operancci, his soon to be betrothed. As the Daughter of Cardinal Operancci, their marriage had been in the works for about a decade now. Mother and father could have chosen worse, he thought. She was stunning with a long, picturesque mane of pale, almost-blonde violet hair hanging off her head-supposedly a sign of Copernica’s personal blessings, although Anuar’s schooling recognized it as one of many magical stressors that happened frequently to advanced spellcasters. It was certainly a good thing- it meant she came from a background of highly educated magical scientists, if not a potent magician herself. Her dark blue-purple eyes scrutinized everything they took aim at, with an intensity Anuar saw only in his mother, and the way her jawline framed her thin, round lips was something Anuar typically only ever saw in fairy tale books about the fairy tale princesses. Today Raine wore a light blue sundress that nicely framed her well-developed… well, Anuar was a gentleman, but it took every bit of that gentleman to not drift his eyes downwards. She was lean in all the right places, and curved where it counted. She showed inklings of bite and wit in her replies to his inquisitive conversation so far, so clearly he wasn’t going to be marrying her purely for looks. He knew she was going to be far from an ornate woman-shaped trophy, which was good, because his mother had bred him to expect no less from an able woman.
There was only one problem with their match: they just met for the first time today. He finished his plate of moonchoke and beckoned for the next course. He himself grew up tall and strong, and he received more compliments for his looks over the last few years, although part of that was likely because Inraf wasn’t around to make him look bad, he mused.
Raine smiled with affection at him as the next course came. The light in her smile could have melted down a common man’s heart, and Anuar too, if he wasn’t already aware that she was well-coached. At least the attempt meant she at least wanted this relationship to go smoothly- this marriage was going through no matter what, in order to strengthen the bonds between the Copernican Church (through her father Cardinal Oparencci) and the royal family of Copernica. A wise policy, given the friction between them that sprung from the Copernican church’s inability to heal Inraf. It figured that Inraf was to blame for Anuar settling down with this girl. In any case, it was not his place to say no. Copernica needed to present the world with a united front, especially since the Tabers had been waving sabers ever since the suspiciously timed death of Archmagus Abtre over a decade ago.
“So, Raine, what do you think of your father, the Cardinal?” he asked.
“Oh, he’s… fantastic! Dad’s taught me everything there is to know about the Spherist world! I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without his help!” she replied.
Her face never lost that beautiful smile, but Anuar could sense the disdain in her voice as plain as day. She was as much a prisoner of this religion as she was. The Cardinal’s daughter could never escape that, and neither could the crown prince to a theocracy. He wondered about what the boys said about what a preacher’s daughter was like behind closed doors, before he mentally shut out that line of inquiry.
“I don’t know. Surely you’ve had a crisis of faith before?” said Anuar, careful to let his tone hint at sympathy rather than make a simple query. “I’m sure your dad’s helped you work through it.”
“Never. I’m every bit the Copernican that my father raised me to be.”
His heart dropped; he had read her previous statement wrongly. He had hoped she was of like mind to him, his faith lost when the Copernican priesthood couldn’t so much as budge Inraf’s disease. With that simple statement, she spoke with pride and conviction, the barest snarl in her voice creeping in at “father” rather than anywhere else. He decided to steer away from that minefield rather than press on; he wanted to keep her feelings in mind, even at the cost of useful information.
“So, Raine, what do you do for fun?” he asked.
“Experimental chemistry”, she said.
Anuar started to chuckle, but then Raine lifted a hand and slipped a dainty white glove off her hand to show a nasty welt beneath. His respect for her went up a notch in that instant. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of what was in her eyes: a deep, focused stare at his expression to figure out the very depths of what he was feeling. The same one he had been giving her, the kind of face-reading he had learned from his mother. He tried his best to move on from his feeling of shock, but she must have noticed on him, because in a split second, Raine returned to the casual, oblivious, smiling girl she had been seconds ago.
Anuar had absolutely no idea how to feel. Perhaps he was just projecting himself or his mother’s training onto her. But he swore- that she was like that. He decided to properly test her
In all this, only two seconds had passed since her reply.
Your feedback is appreciated. I’m writing this by the seat of my pants, so I especially would appreciate any attention paid to pacing issues, lack of description, and insufficiently explained setting details.
Changes from September 17th Version to September 24th Version
* Added Childhood scene at start of Chapter 1.
* Extended Chapter 5.
Changes from September 24th Version to September 28th Version:
* No other changes besides more content.
Changes from September 28th version to October 5th version:
- Finished editing Chapters 3-6 to be more relevant to the story at large.
- Extended and increased the time span of Inraf’s treatment in Copernica.
- Added a decent prologue
- Bake more magic system details into the first four chapters.
- Better transitions for Chapter 6
- Condense and re-pace Chapter 7
ContentsAuthor's Notes 1
Prologue 2
Chapter 1: A Faintly Memorable Childhood 2
Chapter 2: A Slight Illness 7
Chapter 3: A Slightly Turbulent Welcome 15
Chapter 4: A Somewhat Warm Welcome 28
Chapter 5: A medical inconvenience 35
Chapter 6: Magic that involves corpses somehow 44
Chapter 7: In which a few swords and spears may be involved 51
Chapter 8: A girl he likes 62
The War of the Twins
PrologueCopernicus wrenched his sword from his old friend’s ribs. Darwin fell onto the floor with a grunt and slowly twisted his way up to a sitting position. He looked up at Copernicus with fierce defiance, one hand on his breached, bloody scale armor and another hand on the floor. His fingers left thick trails of blood wherever they touched. His dark skin shone with sweat and flushed with anger.
“You defile the name of the Order of the Warflower with your abominations, Darwin”, said Copernicus, his voice breaking slightly. “You had such promise. I am sad that your desperation drove you to madness, we should have gone to our graves as friends. Instead… you chose to insult life itself.”
Copernicus looked at his bloody blade with a grimace on his face as if he were still trying to deny to himself the fact that he ran through his once-comrade.
“No… you know what is coming.”, said Darwin, propping himself against a bare stone wall. “Do you really think, with the discovery of magic, things could really remain the same, that humanity could simply remake Khai into the old world and live like we once used to?”
Copernicus made no response.
“We have already changed beyond recognition.”, said Darwin. “Acts once ascribed to the gods, you and I are not only capable of, but we do so whenever we please…. We have become greater than our own legends! And the Tol have been greater still for far longer. They will not die so easily, beings of their power cannot simply fade into history. Believe me, beaten as they are for now, the Tol will return, better prepared for us. Khai itself already rejects us, monsters lurk everywhere and bubble out of the shadows. We must change ourselves or die.”
Copernicus turned around, his large cloak and light brown hair fluttering in the slight breeze of Darwin’s laboratory. He surveyed the slashed, battered bodies of Darwin’s test subjects littering the floor. Some twisted beyond recognition, their flesh stretched into shapes unimaginable from the human form. Others seemed quite human, but only on the outside, until Copernicus faced with them with death, then they died as snarling animals and keening beasts. Still more were merely skin, bones, muscle or spirit alone, parts of a human rather than a being.
Copernicus’ retinue of warriors stood beside the massacre with their axes and spears bloodied but ready.
Copernicus’ face stiffened with resolve. Darwin’s words, had they gained any purchase in his mind, fled his consideration as he looked down at what he and his men had killed.
“Anyone who deals in monstrosities like these is simply a madman”, said Copernicus. “You butchered our fellow humans to make these.”
“They did not fight back when you burst in unannounced and murdered them, how can you say they are monsters?” Darwin sputtered as blood left his lips. “Yes, I made mistakes. These were the unsuccessful subjects, and I regret everything that led up to their creation. I served as their guardian and caretaker, like a father for a sickly child, trying to fix what I did wrong. The ones I succeeded in curing, they live productively around us as if unchanged, they thank me with their own words and their own free will.”
“Then they die too”, Copernicus growled. Darwin gasped, the defiance leaving his face.
“Please…Niklaus… no.”, said Darwin as his expression curled up on itself. “Those outside are civilians, they have done nothing wrong to you. You have already… killed me, you killed all the sick ones here. Perhaps, perhaps, I deserve it, but they do not. Please, if there is anything our friendship meant to you, please. Just let them live among themselves. Please”, he whispered.
“I cannot do that, Karl.”, said Copernicus, his breathing heavy and forced. “I do not know what they are capable of now that your magics have tainted them! Perhaps they are guilty of no more than becoming a part of your madness in their desperation for good health. It does not please me to kill your subjects. However, I have my own sons and daughters to keep in mind, and I fear what will happen should someone else stumble upon your secrets and once more defile the human form like this. No, tonight I burn down this citadel and everything related to your research. Tonight I keep the rest of the living safe.”
“No! No!”, said Darwin. His voice became soft as his lungs failed him, but he tried his hardest to force out a scream. “Niklaus! You do not understand! What I have done, what I have cured! I have cured sickness, I have cured weakness, I have cured pain!...”
Copernicus walked away from Darwin. The weight of his deeds drove Copernicus’ once-graceful gait to stumble against the floor with every step.
“I have cured death!”
Copernicus stopped, his eyes open at Darwin’s final exclamation. He visibly fought the urge to turn around, shaking with anger as he was.
Without turning his head, Copernicus gestured behind himself to his warriors. One of them stepped forward in front of the panting Darwin, and raised his axe. Darwin grimaced and looked away.
----
Copernicus managed to walk out of Darwin’s citadel as it set aflame, and he collapsed against a wall. He mumbled to himself, “It is heresy. It is insanity. How can anyone do this… to the living… or to the dead?”
Chapter 1: A Faintly Memorable ChildhoodKing Alse and Queen Feir reigned over the mighty island nation of Copernica, founded long ago by the legendary god-warrior Copernicus. It is the year 165 ARD and Copernica is at peace. Better-educated individuals in later eras may recognize King Alse for passing some much-needed trading and taxation reforms at this time. However, everyone definitely remembers the story of Alse’s two sons: Crown-Prince Inraf and Prince Anuar, a pair of fraternal twins born five minutes apart, Inraf being the elder.
In 173 ARD, the Royal Twins of Copernica are eight years old.
“Ha ha! I win! My legion wins!” said Inraf, stamping up and down. The Copernican prince carried a dinner-plate-sized wooden shield and sword, both made much too fine and decorated much too beautifully for child’s toys, some would say. The child did not care a bit for what they might say. He paid the tasteful crimson engravings only the slightest regard as he clanged sword and shield together in victory. “I broke your shield wall!”
Anuar dropped his identical sword and shield in frustration, before immediately thinking better and picking them up, then throwing them down again before looking at Inraf again. “Nooo!” He said, drawing out the word with a deep whine, his shoulders stiffening and his arms pumping straight down.
“That’s not fair! You can’t hit my shield with your shield, that’s bad form, INRAF!”
“Haha, Anuar, did you read the books? That’s what Copernican legionnaires do to heretics! It’s called a shield ba- baz- uh, a shield thing! And it’s a thing you can’t do anything about!”
Anuar continued to pout and then suddenly seemed to have a realization. “Fine! Maybe I’ll do something less silly than fighting a cheating legion!”
“Boys!” a well-dressed, dark-skinned young girl of seven years old glided past, her long golden skirt catching their eyes. “How about something a little less silly then?” she said. She motioned to a nearby table adorned with a very real and very fine but also child-sized set of china. Some would also say that fine porcelain wasted on children, but nothing was too fine for the heirs of royals.
“No, Sayeline. We have FUN things to do!” said Inraf.
“That sounds wonderful, Sally!” said Anuar.
Sayeline, or Scarsinid Sally, as the boys liked to call her, was a princess from the larger neighboring nation of Scarsinid Empire, only an eight-day boat ride away, ruled by the boys’ distant uncle Emperor Xernaryt. The complex alliances and geopolitics behind her visit lay utterly beyond the grasp of all three of the children, for the moment. All they knew was that she was pretty fun to have around.
Inraf folded his arms as Anuar sat down next to Sayeline at the tea table.
The tea smelled fantastic, the older prince had to admit. He knew nothing about Scarsinid tea, except that he loved the sugar they liked to shovel into each cup. Inraf, standing alone in the dust with sword in shield in hand, looked on at the sugar Sayeline dunked into Anuar’s tea, trying to hide his staring.
Anuar and Sayeline proceeded to sip tea and talk about matters more genteel than swinging at each other with heavy pieces of wood. Sayeline hugged at her stuffed deer as she spoke. Inraf rolled her eyes. To form attachments to an artificial being like that was HERESY and stuff, that’s what the priests said, why he and his brother didn’t have any. Plus, the Scarsinids made like, zombies and stuff with their magic. That was super heresy! Duh! Inraf felt so disappointed in his little brother.
Sayeline noticed Inraf’s staring and patted a fourth child-sized chair invitingly, the third one reserved for her stuffed deer, who Anuar was clearly fine speaking to, as if it was an actual person.
Inraf internally scoffed at both the idea of joining them and the idea of Anuar talking to a stupid toy, as loudly (in his mind) as he could.
Then he had an idea and, as children are wont to, immediately acted on it the moment it expressed itself.
“Raaahh!” the crown prince rasped as he ran towards the table.
“I’m a rampaging legion! I destroy you heretics and your silly, silly deer and tea!” he declared as his shield jostled the table and knocked over teacups, his eight-year-old strength not quite enough to flip the table.
Sayeline screamed a little, before grabbing a thin pillow from one of the chairs and stepped onto the table. She tackled into Inraf’s shield, using the pillow to cushion the impact. As they landed, she put the pillow over his face and slapped him through it a few times, ignoring whatever he was yelling, while she made mock grunts of anger.
Meanwhile, Anuar simply sat there, an expression of dread and shock hanging off his face as the tea-party-turned-brawl continued before his eyes.
Inraf dropped the sword and shield and waved and yelled for a bit then Sayeline got off him, stepped back as daintily as she could manage, and hung the pillow in a stance like it was a deadly weapon.
Anuar rushed to his brother’s side in a fit of worry to find that his big brother’s yelling was actually laughing.
“Ha ha, see I made Sally fun now! She can fight!” said Inraf, not bothering to get up. “Wasn’t that better than some silly tea!”
Anuar made a motion to kick Inraf, but stopped himself. He looked worriedly at Sayeline.
Sayeline dropped the pillow and laughed with Inraf, before kneeling down to hug them both.
“Man, are all Scarsinids as cool as you?” said Inraf.
“Even cooler!” said Sayeline, with a smile. “Now, do you yield, Sir Inraf of Copernica?”
“Nevar!” the prince yelled. Sayeline smacked his face with the pillow.
“Okay, okay. You earned some peace then.” said Inraf. “I’ll sit down for your silly tea and your…” he gestured at the stuffed toy. “silly deer!”
“He’s not silly, come talk to him and you’ll see!” Sayeline laughed as she led the boys by the hand back to the tea table.
Anuar picked up the teacups, unscathed despite Inraf’s blows dropping them to the floor. He paid little mind to the light blue arcane engravings on each teacup keeping them from even scratching. Sorcery was a part of his daily life, as natural as the holy silver sun rising in the sky every day.
“Yeah, not so silly after all.” he said.
In 179 ARD, the royal twins are 14 years old. Sayeline went home five years ago, the boys have already forgotten about her. Inraf grew up to be a young lad of great charisma, his face pleasing to all eyes and his voice soothing to all hearts. Anuar was a little less fortunate- although it was agreed he was an altogether lad, he had a reputation for taking too long to make decisions. Together people called them Inraf the Splendid and Anuar the Timid. Inraf took well to fencing and equestrian lessons, and he was presently proving his admirers quite correct.
“Inraf! Wait up! Please, Inraf! You are riding much too fast! We are not even supposed to be here!” Anuar yelled.
“Haha, Anworrywart is worrying again! No fear, brother, how many times have we done this?” said Inraf, his face grinning as wide as it would go. The wind in his hair made him feel weightless. Anuar always worried too much, they were the Copernican princes: the finest of royal blood Copernicus saw fit to make! What could hurt them in practically their own backyard!
“This is the first time, Inraf. Nan is going to KILL us when she finally finds us.” said Anuar. Why did Brother always try to have to concern everyone with his behavior?
“Nan can’t kill if she doesn’t know we’re missing!” said Inraf. Anuar could practically hear the naughty tongue waggling in his brother’s tone.
“Please stop Inraf! Please!” said Anuar. Desperation clung onto his voice, some part of him clearly convinced his words were useless.
Inraf made no response other than to laugh wildly, riding into the woods, enjoying his brother’s cries as much as he enjoyed the exhilaration of a fleet horse pounding dirt as hard as it could. Anuar shrugged in discomfort as he rode and yelled at his brother. The bow on the younger prince’s back was oversized for his age, making it difficult to ride properly, and he tried not to mind it as he pressed his horse harder. Prince Anuar’s cries fell further and further behind Inraf, as he struggled in vain to keep up with his elder brother. Inraf’s smile remained as the complaints become harder and harder to hear and eventually stop.
However, Inraf snapped back to what was in front of him when he saw a ragged-looking figure crossing his path. Still with a lesser grin on his face, Inraf tugged up on his pony’s reigns, executing a clean quick stop that would have any veteran equestrian nodding in approval. The crown prince’s grin faded as he realizes the walking person was a badly injured but well-dressed man, appearing unremarkable but for many small streams of blood pouring from his mouth and torso.
Inraf pulled his sword from its sheath. “Stop there”, he says. “Where are you going?”
“No…. nowhere... “, the man said, a slight slur on his lips, likely from whatever was making his mouth bleed. “I’m going to die. That’s… that’s where I’ll go.”
Inraf points his sword at the man’s throat, looking down its length. “Who did this to you?”
“Copernicus… did this… to me. I’ll shit on his name… in hell!” the man growled under his breath. He made a few shuffling steps forward but froze and then sank down a little on bent knees, still fighting to continue on his original path.
“Excuse me!?” said Inraf, his voice raising in pitch. He found it unspeakable that someone in his land would defame his ancestor and god, especially in his presence. This was not an excusable offense, he thought. He raised his sword in the Church’s traditional sword guard, the Copernican Ascension. It would be Inraf’s first time drawing blood in anger if it came down to that, and he knew he would not hesitate on the first try.
The bleeding man turned to the prince and smiled, clearly happy to have such a reaction from a devout Copernican.
“And who the fuck are you? Little kid trying to be a gendarme?” the man managed to sputter between shallow gasps.
“I am most certainly not a little kid, I am fourteen and I am Crown Prince Inraf of Copernica. I will have your head myself if this vulgarity continues, you are in no state to put up any kind of fight. I suggest you shut up and die already before I make it painful.” said the prince, with a sneer.
“Oh, you have no idea crown brat, how painful this right here, how painful it is.” The man interrupted his sentence as he tilts his head and blood spilled out of one of his ears.
“Inraf! Inraf!” Anuar’s cries remained as loud as ever, even though his voice felt dry and pained from minutes of yelling. “Inraf! What are you doing! Stay away from him!”
Inraf ignored his brother, sword still poised to smite the bleeding man. “This man is a blasphemer; he clearly wants to die by our blades instead of the bloody fate that Copernicus has assigned him in His wisdom.”
The dying man met the pronouncement with another growl, this one much harsher than the last. He stood up with a newfound strength, his legs shaking but managing to support him.
“Copernican dogs!” he said, with a robustness in his voice not heard before, “I can see, you must be the twins of the royal family. God himself, the one true god has delivered you to your destruction, through me! I will have my deliverance!”
“What one true god?!” asked Inraf. “What on earth are y-!”
“Inraf! Inraf! INRAF!”
Inraf blinked unexpectedly and sat up, drenched in blood, barely able to see. “Wha-.... what?”
A mere meter away, the blasphemer laid still in a puddle of the last of his blood, his face nearly a light blue underneath red stripes of drying blood. Buried in his chest sat the bloody stumps of two arrows of fine make, direct from Prince Anuar’s hunting quiver.
Inraf couldn’t believe the man managed to get this close to him… maybe even touched the royal person. He wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve and gets slowly to his feet.
“Inraf! Are you okay! Did he hurt you?”
“Slow down, Anwart.” Inraf said, almost reflexively, stressing the first two words. “I am fine. It does not hurt, I just… I just blacked out for a moment. I hope Copernicus did not see me, I do not know why I let him get so close. I had my sword out and… and…”
A moment of silence.
Anuar looked down at his right hand, still clutching the bow, his skin white from pressure. His voice is barely audible.
“Let’s go home, Inraf.”
From this day on, Inraf will always listen to his brother’s worries.
The return home went as expected. Both boys received a stern scolding from their mother for a full hour, Anuar nearly reaching the verge of tears. However, in the end, Anuar received praise for saving the crown prince from a deranged heretic, while Inraf lost his riding privileges for a month. Inraf was shaken by the experience, but he regains his old bravado soon enough… most of it anyways.
Chapter 2: A Slight IllnessNow it is 182 ARD. The boys are now 17 years of age, fate has been kind to Inraf so far, and he has grown into a dashing young man the ladies at court swoon over day and night.
“I don’t know why we need to wait for Archmagus Abtre. Copernicus gives us everything we need. Protection, miracles, company. What can silly heathen hand-waving do that God can’t?” asked Inraf.
Anuar shushed him, a tad too sharply for the Copernican concept of politeness. “You gotta be patient, Inraf. He is an important man all the way from the Mageocracy. Dad didn’t pay him a bunch to tell us nothing, there’s a lot we can learn from Taber sorcery!”
“Like what”, asked Inraf. He fidgeted a little on the oak bench they sat on. The Copernican temple was a little hot right now, and Inraf’s next words were emboldened by both discomfort and the utter lack of anyone else around. “How to be super late?”
“A wizard is never late or early, he arrives precisely when he means to!” Inraf and Anuar practically flew off their bench. “Aaaah!” said Inraf!
An older, balding man in blue robes stepped out of thin air. “Excellent, it works!” the man said, his jovial tone of voice booming throughout the temple. “I am Archmagus Abtre, and that was a demonstration of what you can learn from other magical traditions! Well said, Prince Anuar!”
“By the Sun’s spots! How did you do that?!” said Inraf. “Yeah, yeah, I wanna know!” said Anuar.
Abtre smiled. “The limits of sorcery are not in capacity, but in knowledge. If you do not know what to ask Copernicus for, how can he give it to you? I am not a Copernican, but I did know of a basic camouflage charm. You did not know such a thing was possible. Could you have asked Copernicus to do this for you before today?”
Anuar smiled and shook his head almost violently. Inraf just crossed his arms and huffed. “Okay”, said Inraf. “That was pretty good, but uh, well, why doesn’t anyone in our father’s court know how to do that?”
Abtre smiled even wider. “It’s not as simple as asking. Something like healing or protection is in your god’s nature, you need only ask and it happens. Something like asking him for an aura of illusions needs, well, instructions. Think of it this way, do you ask Copernicus to till your fields for you?”
“No sir!” said Anuar.
“Suck up”, muttered Inraf.
“What do you do instead, young prince?” asked Abtre.
“We ask him for the strength to till the fields, and his favor so that it might rain and shine, but we do the work for ourselves!”, Anuar said with pride.
“Excellent”, said Abtre, still with a deep smile. “Your wise father has paid me a shitl- erm, has arranged for this lesson to widen your perspectives. Much like tilling a field, sometimes you take care of some things yourself. Now, show me what sorcery you can do with a prayer to Copernicus.”
Anuar smiled ear to ear. He closed his eyes, fell to his knees and spoke intensely under his breath, his words taking on the harsh whispers of a fanatic, but the rhythm and meter of a poet. “Copernicus, hear my faith, hear my plea, Copernicus, heed my calls, lend an ear to me. Copernicus, your might is great, your deeds many. Copernicus, please, by the light of the silver sun, illuminate me!” As soon as the last words left his lips, Anuar’s skin began glowing. The glow grew greater and greater, practically shining like a lighthouse within seconds of ending the chant, then ended suddenly, leaving the temple seemingly in darkness. Abtre shielded his eyes and chuckled, clearly impressed. Inraf kept his arms folded and inaudibly scoffed, trying to hide some kind of upset.
Abtre turned to Inraf. “How about you, master Inraf?”
Inraf grimaced a little. “I uh, haven’t been doing much in the way of Kaleothes prayer.” he said, referring to the spellcasting-like ritual prayer that frequently resulted in miracles. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Lord Copernicus and all, but I haven’t been calling on his power much. I’m just not feeling well.”
Abtre shrugged and nodded. “Well, that’s alright, perhaps a demonstration isn’t necessary. I can safely assume you are at about the level of your brother?”
“Uh… about. Let me give it a shot, I actually haven’t tried magic in so long, I don’t know.”
Inraf dropped to his knees and raised his arms straight up. “Copernicus! Aid me, grant me the-“ He paused. His arms started quivering a little. “Copernicus, grant me the li-“… He couldn’t finish it. Suddenly, Inraf shrieked and fell to the ground, convulsing.
Anuar rushed to his brother’s side almost seamlessly and kneeled by his side. “Copernicus, hear my prayer, make my brother whole again! Copernicus, all I ask is restoration! “ Anuar yelped and fell backwards as there was a blast of rainbow-colored light between him and Inraf’s shivering form. “The healing spell is not working, Abtre!”
As soon as Anuar’s spell failed, Abtre whispered words in a long-since dead language, staring intently at Inraf. There was a slight flash of dark purple color and Inraf audibly shuddered and stopped twitching.
Abtre’s voice shook with not a small amount of fear. “As I thought. Some kind of magical curse on him. But few have the potency to reject a healing spell outright like that! And, even fewer of that kind of curse would leave Inraf able to walk and speak, let alone try to call on magic.”
Anuar tugged at Abtre’s robes. “We need to get him to the temple infirmary!”
---
“Well, Archmagus Abtre?” asked Queen Feir. “What is it? Our greatest healers have almost no power over Inraf’s affliction. Has your communique to the Mageocracy shed light on our son’s illness?”
“After consultation with my peers, “said Abtre. “I strongly suspect it is a very rare disease called the Inner Death. It spread by contact with an afflicted person’s viscera. The Inner Death is insidiously slow to assert itself, and causes the body’s magical field to disassemble itself. In the meantime causes immense pain during spellcasting and causes nearby magical phenomena to become unpredictable, perhaps even dangerous to the sufferer.”
“No cure is known, and the best recourse is non-magical… palliative measures. Little is known of the Inner plagues except its basic mechanisms… any information you could offer on this disease would both further science and improve your son’s chances…”
Queen Feir did not reply for a moment, lost in thought at a distant memory. “Wait!” she said. “That night with the heretic who accosted our sons in the woods. Perhaps that was what was gave him the disease. Then contact with Inraf might have-“
“Perhaps. Could you unearth the assailant’s body for further examination?”
Queen Feir wringed her hands a little. “We threw his body to the wolves in a distant location, without last rites, a traditional recourse for attempted treason. It is possible, but unless you have a way to distinguish this person’s bones from another’s…”
Abtre shook his head. “The bones will not have any magical traces. I would look for clues as to where this man came from and how he communicated the disease.”
“There is little, Archmagus. We found that he was a local man with a long history of blasphemy, but he was not working with anyone and did not premeditate the encounter with our sons. We will resume the investigation immediately, but it has been four years, the odds of a warm trail are slim.”
“Queen Feir, my suggested treatment is non-magical care to delay his suffering. Should he have another episode, the only thing that will surely alleviate it is a counter spell. I can have a team of our best medicae here by tonight. With careful magical examination, we might find a way to delay or halt his decline.”
Queen Feir shook her head slightly. “No, that will not be necessary. For any outside party to discover that our elder heir is dying would shake the kingdom and grant opportunity for usurpers to strike at our younger in hopes of ending the bloodline. We shall keep this confidential between us, Abtre. Seek a cure with the greatest discretion and we will reward you enormously.”
“Milady.” Abtre bowed and walked out.
Queen Feir paused for a moment, still tense from the conversation. She turned to her left, not looking at anything in particular. “Actually, I’d prefer this incident stay strictly within the royal house. Remove Abtre as naturally as possible.” she said.
Then, in the darkness in the side of the room, there was a slight shuffling sound of a slight bow, the barest hint of footsteps, and then silence.
---
Anuar sat with his head down while Inraf slept fitfully. He had not had any more attacks since the priests’ failed attempts to cure him. “Inraf… what happened to you? Mother says it is some inner plague. But… how could this happen like this? You were fine yesterday! Remember when you jumped onto the dinner table and Father yelled at you? There was nothing wrong with you! What happened?!” Anuar made a movement to slam his fist before remembering there was nothing in front of him he could hit without possibly waking his brother.
Still shaking, Anuar spoke, “Inraf…. They say you can’t be cured. They’re wrong. Copernicus as my witness, there is a way to heal you. I will find it. I’ll study twice as hard, I’ll get the best doctors, I’ll fight the entire world if I have to… please, brother, please get better.”
Anuar buried his head in his arms, with only the soft breathing of his brother to keep him company.
Two months later…
“How are you doing, Anuar?” Inraf spoke as he leaned on a crutch. The last seizure took out his legs from under him, the healers advised him that a fall in the wrong way could be the end of him.
“Did… did they find anything?” asked Anuar.
Inraf shook his head. “Healing prayers actually hurt me. I can’t believe it. Copernicus can’t do anything about it. His own flesh and blood, and heir to his kingdom, cursed in such a way that God’s healing light actually hurts me.” Inraf sighed and sat down on his hospital bed.
“They’ve tried feeding me all kinds of medicine; it isn’t doing anything so far, I’m afraid all these potions might make my hair fall out or something. The healers won’t try surgery or even biopsies, because they can’t heal me back up again. Apparently, they have barely any idea what to do if healing magic doesn’t work at all. They’ve tried the leech treatments just because, I guess. It didn’t work. I’m not getting any better, if anything I’m getting worse.” said Inraf.
Anuar thought for a moment. “What about the counter spell that Abtre talked about?”
“It will only cut short an attack while it is happening. It definitely won’t help otherwise.”
“Uh, well…” Anuar paused, clearly unsure whether he should or should not continue.
“What?” said Inraf, saying the word with a very sharp attitude. He could clearly sense his brother’s misgivings.
Anuar looked at the ground. “Well… I have heard things… I didn’t want to hear it… but I overheard someone saying, it might be because you sinned in the eyes of Copernicus.”
Inraf clutched his head. “I’m really not in the mood for people to add trouble onto an already bad condition. Really? Because I sinned? Not because a heretic bled his nasty disease all over me? Why does everything have to be Copernicus’ fault?”
He made very clear eye contact with Anuar. “No, I still have faith in Copernicus. If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead by now. If he wanted me to suffer, he’d make it very clear it was he, he wouldn’t humiliate his own healing magics by making them hurt someone for no visible reason. My own prayers haven’t gone heard, and I’m definitely not trying out Kaleothes.” The magical prayer rituals of Kaleothes would be a pretty good way to die if it could hurt me enough, he thought. Then he dismissed that horrible thought.
“Docs say I’m okay if I stay away from other people’s magic and don’t use my own. Occasionally, it will hurt me anyways because the human body normally constantly releases a ‘thaumic field’ made of magic or something. So in this case, the thaumic magic field will turn against me until I eventually drop dead, and it will also hurt me if someone else’s thaumic field flares up by spellcasting around me. I should have someone nearby to catch me if I have another episode of seizures in the meantime. I guess that’s you right now, Anuar.”
Anuar nodded. “Look, Inraf, if there’s anything I can do; I will drop anything to help you.”
Inraf nodded back. “Absolutely.”, was all he had to say.
And without words, the looks in their eyes told each other I love you too, brother.
The next ten years did little for Inraf’s constitution. Inraf’s parents searched for a cure as discreetly as possible, throwing the royal treasury at Copernica’s domestic medical research and covertly acquiring medical research from the four corners of Khai. Although several exciting advances bubbled out of it, nothing was nearly enough to do more than alleviate Inraf’s condition, at least for a while. Life still went on, lessons, galas and public events continued. Inraf’s public appearances became rare and carefully planned, with avenues of escape and convenient explanations on hand should he have an episode of seizures again. Inraf for the most part lived behind closed doors, and although he regained a measure of his old bravado as he got accustomed to the restrictions of his illness, his mother and father knew he fought a losing battle. The royal physicians warned Alse and Feir against bodily contact with Inraf. They also warned the king and queen that their parental worries were tearing up their bodies, and it was probably best for the royal persons if Inraf simply separated from them for treatment elsewhere. It was a measure they rejected immediately… until one day, a particular bad attack one day brought Inraf low before his father’s terrified eyes, and the stricken prince simply would not wake up.
The infirmary was closed down, every bed empty save for Inraf, the lights dimmed and the air still enough to hear dust settle. The King and Queen spoke in hushed tones beside their elder son. Anuar looked up at his parents, clinging slightly to his mother, despite feeling he was a bit too old for that.
His parents spoke in Antique Copernican, a difficult and ancient language that hardly existed in the wider public, but still served as a code language among Spherist intellectuals. Anuar hadn’t started his lessons yet, although Inraf had. So the younger prince could only look up and wait for his mother and father to resume speaking in Centric.
“Our best healers haven’t so much as budged his illness. Five days out like this and he has only woken up once, briefly. The investigation into the person who attacked him has still given no leads, it seems to have been random chance. Rumors are spreading wild about the disappearance of Prince Inraf.”, said Queen Feir.
“We can make up something about sending him abroad for tutelage…” said King Alse. “But I think we should have taken the Taber Mageocracy’s assistance. I had to clean up the diplomatic fuss over the untimely loss of Archmagus Abtre and our countries’ relations have suffered ever since. Exotic magics are their specialty, after all, and this is what this Inner Death ultimately is.”
“It was necessary,” said Queen Feir. “Copernica today is on even footing with the Tabers, but it wasn’t always so, and to learn of our weakness could invite disaster. They may even be responsible, directly or indirectly, for this Inner Plague. How could our finest physicians know nothing of this plague and no sign appears in our son, yet it appears he is stricken the moment that Abtre met him and Abtre managed to be the only one who has a chance to help him?”
“Even in that case, I would take the health of Inraf over the kingdom.” said Alse, a fierce look in his eyes. “But you have already committed us to this course of action, and it may be well that this remains a secret. Our options are few, our son is deteriorating. He hasn’t been lucid for days. Where else may we seek answers without revealing our weakness?”
“Hm… perhaps the Scarsinids could help.” said Feir.
“The Scarsinids! The heretics!” said Alse, almost in a hissing whisper. “What do they have to offer us but living blasphemies against God? Can we even trust them, if they had something for us? Xernaryt may be your third cousin and Sayeline may be a wonderful young lady, but such a distant relationship and a scrap of copper is worth the scrap of copper, especially when the fate of the kingdom is in the balance!”
“Calm down, dear.” said Feir. “The Scarsinid Empire is known for its biological magics. They are the most known in plaguecraft and medicinal sorcery.”
“But they are best of all known for undead abominations!” said Alse. “What if they decide to pull apart our son for the sake of science? Can we trust a people who will butcher their own countrymen for a fleeting glimpse of immortality?”
“Xernaryt trusted us enough with Sayeline! Why can’t we trust him back?” said Feir.
“Sayeline is but one of dozens of his children. She is merely the only one we’ve met. We’ve hardly even spoken to him about the other ones. It’s hardly the same thing as sending half of our children, and the crown heir, no less, over there. “, said Alse.
Anuar audibly whimpered, noticing both Sally’s name and the harsh tones used in his father’s speech. Alse looked down and all indignation left his face. He put a hand on his son’s head and rubbed Anuar’s head a little. “It’s all right, Anuar. We will think of something. We are Copernica, God’s very own chosen people. He will take care of Inraf in time, we just need to attend to some details.” she said in Centric.
Feir draped an arm around Anuar’s shoulder and held him closer to her. She continued looking at Alse, unperturbed. “The Scarsinid nobles are impious beasts, but I believe I know Xernaryt well enough. He is a charitable if firm ruler. Remember our official function there, it was a wonderful time!”
“That was seven years ago!” said Alse. “In a position of strength with nothing at stake! Now we will be exposing our sick son. A ready-made hostage or worse.”
Feir took on an expression of deep thought again. “What about Elistierre? Perhaps there is an expert in their lands. They are our compatriots, after all. They’ve been exposed to traditions we have not, there is perhaps something of value there. “
“The odds of the insect clans seizing Inraf is too high, they’ve been at war with Elistierre for over a century, and not exactly losing, at that. Moreover, did not you, yourself, call the Elistierri stupid bird-worshippers? We won’t reveal this secret to our own court, why should we give our vulnerable son to heretics half a world away?” said Alse.
“Come off of it, dear.” said Feir. “But you are right, our leash on Elistierre is long and the physical distance is longer still. Consider this instead. I have had our network of spies looking in the Scarsinid empire. Reports say the Scarsinid Empire, even in its state of decline, is at the forefront of biological magics. If we are going to go down this road, we might as well go with the Scarsinids. Though they may harm our son, they won’t try to invade us if we provoke them, at least.”
“Why is that?” asked Alse.
“The Empire’s roads are in a state of disrepair. Xernaryt has not been wise with the imperial coffers. The Scarsinid people revolt every other week or so, and have to be put down. The Immortal Legions are scattered all about Alenactia for this purpose. It would take almost a year for the Scarsinid Empire to concentrate the manpower and supplies to invade us, it would be quite obvious.”
“Hm… could we use our network of spies as leverage against Xernaryt then? Insert as many as we can into the imperial household, task them with keeping our son safe, and if that is not possible, threatening Xernaryt?” asked Alse.
“Hm, we could. We could. The need to spy on the Scarsinids is waning with the state they are in. If we have to sacrifice our spy ring to save our heir, I would take that every time.” said Feir.
“I would go anywhere to stop this pain. “, a third voice said.
Queen Feir and King Alse hesitated, and then turned to look at the speaker. Inraf’s eyes opened. He continued to speak, punctuating the scarce Antique Copernican he remembered with common Centric where he could not remember a word. “I think Anuar should be heir. I’m ill, I don’t know if I’ll recover. He’s a good brother to me… he… he’ll do fine as a king. I can go to the Scarsinid Empire for a cure, or….” Inraf left loose a bitter chuckle under his breath. “-at least see some wonderful sights if I won’t come back. I hear it is beautiful in the neighboring Voidlands, if nowhere else.”
Feir looked carefully at Alse. Alse pursed his lips, and said, “Well, Inraf… if that’s how you feel… we’ll make arrangements. I don’t like Xernaryt or the Scarsinids, but if anyone knows anything about plague, it’s them.”
Chapter 3: A Slightly Turbulent WelcomeSix months later.
Inraf scratched the back of his head. The royal groomer had shaved his head down to nearly a fuzz; apparently, very short hair was in fashion this year in the Scarsinid court. In addition, it would make him much less recognizable. His new life was as “Terynd”, the sickly son of the Elistierri house of Bafi. He hoped Xernaryt would keep his secret well. There was a lot of debate in his family whether and to what extent Xernaryt could know of the situation. Perhaps it was for the best that he knew more- for a guest to deceive a host was definitely not in Copernican custom. His hair itched at him again. So distracting.
Inraf stepped off the boat. All the advice about the Scarsinids was spinning in his head now. He would have to remember it as it became applicable. If it became applicable. Scarsinid fashion was so different, there was so much gold color everywhere, and everyone had some kind of scarf around his or her head or neck. He felt a bit naked with just his Elistierri tunic. Well, they would get him sorted out eventually. His official imperial escort welcomed him warmly, as if he were a long-lost friend. The guards were very well armored and stood stock still, and Inraf felt a little safer until he remembered there was a good chance they were not quite alive under all that armor. He shuddered a little and tried to push the thought out of his head. The sting of the sea salt in his nose left as his convoy moved inland.
It was honestly quite exciting, seeing something different from Copernica. The royal line of Copernica did not send their sons abroad for training like other nobles and royalty did, so this kind of trip was not something he nor Anuar had done before. As much as seeing these new sights nearly pushed it from his mind, the most exciting thought was the chance of curing his disease.
A few hours in, Inraf’s convoy made a supply run at a particularly large bazaar. Strange potions, headscarves, and bizarre new creatures in all manner of stalls all caught Inraf’s eye. The air was alive with the barks of merchants boasting of their wares, a warmth in their voices that would be rare between strangers in Copernica. Inraf clapped as a sword-swallower gulped down a particularly long blade. Amazing, and to think there wasn’t even magic involved! Inraf’s guide practically pulled at him to rejoin the escort. Inraf waved him off, turning towards a stall filled with particularly inviting-looking tomes, but then he heard shouting. Lots of it. Now that he thought about it, the clashing of metal. More than just a butcher chopping at his wares or a merchant’s jewelry clacking in the breeze. He decided to follow his guide’s advice and walked back towards the escort. In the clearing stood a large crowd and in response the Imperial soldiers escorting Inraf almost as one twirled their halberds down into fighting stances. A woman at the head of the mob yelled something and pointed at the soldiers. Inraf did not quite understand with his unfamiliarity with the Scarsinid dialect of Centric, but it was obvious the intent was not in the least polite. Inraf decided to withdraw behind the thin line of imperial soldiers; he best should not fight in his condition. Inraf’s guide spoke to the mob and words exchanged between them. It seemed the situation de-escalated. The mob did not advance or brandish weapons, and they started moving much less, which was good. Then someone yelled something out, and the rest of the mob started repeating it. Chanting it, in fact. The guide became nervous as they continued to try to negotiate, and the soldiers grouped together a bit more tightly. There must have been five or six people in the mob for every one of Inraf’s guards, and it appeared it was growing larger. They largely wore plain or ragged clothes, and although not many of them appeared to be starving or sick, almost all of them had the makings of grief shown in their eyes and bedraggled appearance. The same things Inraf saw in his brother, mother and father. He was not sure exactly what happened to provoke this, but he hoped they found justice for it. Just not now, and not with their farm tools and knives in front of his face.
They were at least not gesturing or looking at him, so the presence of a foreigner probably wasn’t their complaint. Inraf tried not to draw attention to himself in any way, not something easy for someone used to being front and center all his life. The mob was still chanting their… slogan, he guessed, as a few people at the head of the mob continued their dialogue with Inraf’s guide, the soldiers forming a bit of a screen behind the guide, with a single spot left open behind the guide, probably for escape. The soldiers appeared well trained at least, but… it must have been seven or eight people in the mob for every guard now?
A woman walked out of the mob, a skull in her hands, raised above her head. Its eye sockets glowed quite unnaturally, and Inraf could swear he saw the skull change expression somehow. That was the spark in the haystack. The crowd started yelling in response and wildly gesturing at the skull. The guide went quiet and cautiously started backwards into the soldiers flanking him. The mob tensed… and charged. The guide fled through the block of soldiers just as abruptly and the soldiers simply closed rank behind him, as Inraf braced himself. Dozens of commoners practically bounced off the wall of halberds. The soldiers swept and prodded their halberds with rather understated movement, but it was effective, they tossed aside and shoved backwards scores of peasants. Blood splashed everywhere, but little of it got on the soldiers’ armor. The soldiers budged only the slightest distance despite the onslaught of bodies and weapons pressing against their spear tips. The mob thinned and then turned around as it became obvious that their assault was merely rushing to certain and useless death. In the end, the only signs of the mob left were bloodstains and the wails of the dying.
Despite the tenseness in his shoulders and the clenching of his teeth during all that, Inraf couldn’t help but be impressed by how well the Scarsinid troops withstood the attack. Only the finest Copernican legionnaires could shrug off that many attackers that gracefully. The soldiers lowered their spears and advanced after all signs of the fleeing mob were out of sight and out of hearing. Inraf stared in curiosity as to what they were doing, and then he saw the halberds rise up and then down into fallen enemies, and he looked away. He turned to his guide still cowering beside him, and fumbled for words. “What happened?”
“I-I-It was a revolt.” the guide said. “The people… they are angry, they say the satrap, the- the- the local ruler, and he has been taking their young for horrible magic experiments. They want the soldiers to kill him. They are very, very angry, and will not listen to reasoning, they will not believe Xernaryt will help them and wish the satrap dead right now.”
“Well, can’t Xernaryt do something about it? I-” Inraf fought back the urge to say that he had Xernaryt’s ear, there was no reason why his current identity, the noble Terynd ___ of Elistierre, would have any influence on the Emperor. He wasn’t even sure that Prince Inraf could get Xernaryt’s ear.
“Our Emperor has more important things to attend to…. I- I- do not know. It is not my place, sahib. I only do what is of my place.” the guide responded.
“Okay. Well, it’s considered helpful in C- in Elistierre to point out potential problems, if someone is at all able to do something about it. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll bring it up, if anyone has to.” said Inraf. “Anyways, can we expect any more of these confrontations on our way to the imperial palace?”
The guide hesitated. “Well…. It is not unheard of. Not before my eyes, but I have heard words of similar happenings as of late. Here, and in other satrapies.” He cleared his throat. “I am sorry, Sir Terynd, but it is something perhaps best not spoken of in the open air.”
“Can I at least have a sword? I may be ill, but I’d feel a lot safer if I can do even the slightest to defend myself if something happens to the guards.” said Inraf.
The guide turned to the soldiers and muttered something that Inraf could not catch. One soldier stepped out of line, presented Inraf a small curved sword, and merged back into formation without a moment’s pause. Inraf took a moment to look at the sword. He immediately identified this as a sidearm, it did not seem particularly well balanced or large, but he could tell it was of very sturdy make. This was certainly not an ornament. He always felt better with steel at his hip.
“Please do not tell Our Emperor of this, Sir Terynd.”, said the guide. “He prides himself on guests feeling safe and not feeling the need to bear arms or attend to security within his domain.”
Inraf nodded. It was bad enough his escort was assaulted, but for Inraf to have to dirty his own hands would embarrass Xernaryt as a host. That said, it beat dying by a long shot. Inraf was ultimately here to save his life after all, Copernicus damn it.
His thoughts turned to the uprising just now. If rumor flew about similar other things, that did not bode well for the Scarsinid Empire. Sacrificing children for necromantic science? That would not do, his Copernican upbringing told him: if true, this was heresy of the highest order and offended both his faith and simple human decency alike. He would have to look into this.
The next stretch of this journey would take them through the deserts of Alenactia. The guide cautioned Inraf to stay close to the platoon at all times. Inraf noticed that the escort took an awful lot of supplies, pack animals and porters with them for the stretch- he had heard that deserts required one to carry lots of water, but really, this much?
“Here there are the Arrownaughts. Please, do not be afraid, they are loyal subjects under the hire of Our Emperor, but be wary. A few loose bands have been known to prey on the unwary away from their comrades’ eyes.” said the guide.
Inraf’s eyes narrowed in doubt. The guide’s words said one thing, the tone of his voice said another. In any case, the convoy would see these “Arrownaughts” coming a mile away, there was nothing but sand here. Inraf suddenly tensed up and fell to the ground, seeing electricity jump across his sight as his world shook. Around him, many people yelled in Scarse Centric and Inraf heard lots of movement and felt pressure all over him as his body rose above the sand. His mind went limp at the same time as his body and when he finally snapped back to his senses, he found himself propped up on an animal…. a….dragon? It was very large and scaly, with large spines jutting from its back and only a very tall saddle kept him from falling off it. He dared not try to guide it, who knows how different a reptile might react from a horse. He sighed. He had another episode. They were getting more severe, though thankfully no more frequent.
Inraf felt too weak to look around, and his eyes pointed at the dragon’s back. Wait, who put him in the saddle? Inraf attempted to speak, and managed enough semblance of speech for the guide to rush to his side and speak to him. “Sir Terynd, are you all right? You had another bout of the illness, it was very bad. We have had to move you.”
“I’m fine.” Inraf managed to say. He could not think of much else to say. His guide seemed to sense that and walked beside him without any further words.
The desert surprisingly did not feel as hot Inraf thought it would, although the nights were cold and bright. The moon shined as brightly as the loving touch of Copernicus. The soldiers dug a trench (as much as was possible in the sand) and lit a fire in it. Inraf puzzled as to why they also covered the fire with what appeared to be a very thick net overhead. He thought about asking his guide, but then realized he felt very sleepy. Perhaps he would ask later, an ill person really needed their sleep, right?
Inraf’s dreams that night took on mostly a vivid, seamless mishmash of colors, the same as it always did once he fell ill. Perhaps the plague also affected his mind. His mind searched for the word that Taber scientists used to describe something that was all noise and no message? Oh, yes, static. His dreams consisted entirely of static. With that particularly coherent thought, he realized he was not currently asleep- something had woken him up.
The young Copernican made some incoherent vocal sounds, as anyone who just woke up tended to. Someone shushed him. His eyes flew wide open; he was not used to anyone besides Anuar shushing him asleep and something deep in Crown Prince Inraf wanted to address this upstart. Then Inraf remembered where he was and calmed down… but still, something felt wrong. The entire camp lay still, the fire freshly extinguished, no one made a noise, although Inraf felt certain there were still soldiers everywhere, none of them moving so much as a limb. He struggled to get on his feet and then realized that may not be an ideal choice. He heard only the whistle of gales moving past…yet the air felt deadly still on his skin… what was going on? He couldn’t see anything in the pitch-blackness, but the military officer in him knew that everyone around him remained awake and still for a very good reason.
The silence dug away at his mind, he wanted to pull his sword out and gut whatever bastard dared to threaten him, in the true Copernican fashion. His finger itched. Inraf did not want to die to something that didn’t even have the gall to show its face.
Movement. He felt as much as heard it, almost perfectly located behind him, off-axis a little. Inraf resisted the urge to turn his head to view the threat. His guards made no move but the sudden stillness of their breathing (not sure, actually, it seemed they were always this quiet) demonstrated that they heard and felt it too. They slowly oriented to the threat. Then another movement, not far away from them, this one at a right angle to the right of the previous one. Uh oh.
Another and another. Almost perfectly arranged, with one in each cardinal direction from Inraf’s group. Prince Inraf’s mind ran wild at the possibilities. This ruled out a simple animal, not even the most unusual of beasts could possibly coordinate with precision like this. The four things that arrived moved slowly, almost wandering, breaking up their symmetry. Perhaps… searching? That might explain why no one so much as lifted a finger here.
“Sir Terynd”, a very quiet whisper said. “Sir Terynd. I need you to move forty degrees to your left.” It was Inraf’s guide. His voice came from below him, so Inraf guessed he crawled all the way over to Inraf. “On our signal.”
“Wait”, Inraf whispered. “Running or wal-“
“Go!” the guide said.
The soldiers picked up their weapons and marched off into the darkness. There were shouts in the distance and it was all Inraf could do to fumble for his sword and try to catch up to them. He trudged in the same sound as the voices, aimlessly, he felt. He had no idea if the soldiers could maintain cohesion in this kind of confusion and night-blindness, or even if they did. There was a mighty scream, as many voices yelled at once and lights bloomed not a hundred meters from him. Someone had lit a torch- many someones, in fact, many human figures, thin and ragged, wearing some sort of dark mask, no wait, a breathing apparatus, on their faces. They bore axes and torches and brandished them wildly as they charged at the Scarsinid soldiers. The Soldiers hastily formed up into a line two ranks deep and slowly advanced. The assailants’ blades clashed against the soldiers’ halberds as warrior stuck to warrior. Inraf could see a soldier or two struck by an axe stumbling out of formation briefly, but the wounded soldier’s allies would always close around him as someone in the second rank pulled him back. The assailants, to their credit, didn’t drop as easily as the mob from earlier and he could see warriors covered in wounds still fighting on as if nothing had happened to them.
Inraf noticed one of the assailants charging by without noticing Inraf and rushed forward with a scream to match his opponent’s. Inraf slammed his sword into the man’s back, praying to Copernicus in his mind as his breath raced in his chest. His opponent stumbled over, blood spurting from the cut, and blindly struck Inraf with the back of his left hand. Inraf recoiled from the blow and narrowly stepped under a ferocious axe swing. Inraf couldn’t see enough of an opening as his opponent reversed the axe’s trajectory, stepped forward, and advanced with a downward blow. The prince stepped back, and became aware of the poor footing of the sand dune beneath him. Sensing Inraf’s moment of weakness, and seemingly ignorant of the gash on his own body, Inraf’s opponent lunged with the axe like it was everything in the world to him, and all the young prince could do was retreat away from an impossible flurry of cuts and swings.
One particularly close call hooked the axe head around Inraf’s sword, and his foe pulled it out of his hands. Inraf’s conscious mind did not have time to register anything before the next axe swing, but something deep inside of him knew exactly what happened and how to respond. Inraf glided forward almost seamlessly with his opponent’s pull and thrust both hands out into the handle of his foe’s axe as it came forward, catching the weapon. Without thinking, Inraf snapped his head forward into the mask, and was surprised to find it cushioned the blow reasonably… for himself. His opponent reeled backward, and still, clutching at the axe, Inraf gave him a particularly ugly kick to the kneecaps. The attacker did not release the axe even as he went to one knee, so Inraf directed the same foot, still in midair, into another kick at the man’s chest.
The impact separated the two of them, and Inraf’s footing finally failed as he splashed backward into the loose sand. Inraf felt pleased for a second to find the axe entirely in his hands now, but then its former owner, without skipping a beat, tugged at his legs. Inraf reflexively swung his new axe at the attacker’s chest, but either due to luck or his attacker’s instinct, Inraf hit nothing but air and the blow landed in the sand beside the two of them. His foe kept pulling at him, letting go for a second to land a punch to Inraf’s hip, so Inraf curled his body forward and snapped a jab of the axe’s pommel at his attacker, connecting with his foe’s head again. That was enough to release the pressure on Inraf’s legs, and Inraf raised one knee to strike his attacker.
The blow connected with something, not solidly, but enough to tell Inraf where the man definitely was. Lacking the physical leverage to properly pick up the axe and swing upward into his foe, Inraf instead opted to interpose the axe’s length between them to buy time, thrusting the tip of the handle into the man’s chest, and was surprised to find his opponent entirely stopped. Knowing an opportunity when he felt it, Inraf pushed the axe haft as hard he could, lifting his own weight off the sand, sideways and then down into his falling foe’s body. His opponent spasmed and flailed at the axe, and then lay still. Inraf gave the prone man a fierce kick that nearly lifted the body off the ground and felt satisfied at the lack of reaction. He then extracted the axe from the body and found a small spear tip on the edge of the haft. That would explain things. The whirlwind in his lungs rushed across his lips, and his heart slammed against the walls of his chest and he knew there were still foes to deal with. He spun around looking for the next attacker. He saw only the last vestiges of the enemy cut down by Scarsinid soldiers, methodically pulling apart the axe wielders with the coordinated movements of their halberds.
Inraf sat down, he fell ill. But it was not an episode… had he just killed a man? Ugh.
He shuddered to something resembling a level of calm as his guide rushed up to him. “Sir Terynd! Sir Terynd! Oh thank the gods, you are alive and well. Oh, and I see you slew an Arrownaught, with his own axe! Excellent sir, the Elistierri are certainly no novices to battle!”
Inraf started to laugh and felt sicker. He would be blushing now if he didn’t feel empty inside.
“It is no mean feat, they are the fiercest of warriors, and I am of the greatest joy you were able to prevail. Now, we can escape, their other three hunting parties are too far to corner us. Come, Sir Terynd. Come!” said the guide. Inraf guessed the guide was also recovering from a state of shock, from the elated tension in his voice.
Inraf got up, shaking from the exertion. His body wanted to collapse, but his mind wanted to keep moving, so he marched over to the soldiers and leaned on one for support. The soldier did not react in the least. Inraf heard movement and the flash of a torch near them and swiveled his head in alarm, then saw it was the porters and pack animals bringing their supplies. He turned his head back to the soldiers and saw that they were no worse the wear despite seeing several of them taking very ferocious axe blows- the Scarsinids must have fine armor, he thought.
The march out of the desert saw no further encounters. Inraf made sure to stay right behind the soldiers this time, still riding his… dragon? Apparently, it was simply a very large lizard, although it certainly could be mistaken for a dragon from the right angle. He felt tired… did the fight really take that much out of him? As day broke over the sand dunes, he finally saw fit to fall asleep.
“We are not far from the Imperial Palace now, Sir Terynd!” said the guide. Inraf woke up as he heard the words. It looked like they headed down a simple road. He did not see anything on the other side of it, just the horizon, maybe a few hills.
“Oh thank Copernicus…” Inraf hesitated, and then remembered that the Elistierri man he was supposed to be would also follow the Spherist religion. “Yes, thank Copernicus. How are the men doing?”
“Sir Terynd?” the guide said, the questioning tone entirely in his voice.
“Yes, I asked about the troops. How are they?” said Inraf.
“They are well, the battle was invigorating to them, they are pleased they could demonstrate their strength properly and do their duty before a guest of the Emperor.”
Inraf sighed. That sounded like a pre-packaged statement, he’d heard that exact tone of voice from his own courtiers all the time. Well, it didn’t seem like a lie anyway. He just didn’t want the deaths of friends on his hands, that’s why he felt like he had to join the battle. Then again, it was their duty to fight anyways. He wasn’t sure how to feel, he had killed a man just like that. How on Earth did Anuar do it? He pictured that bleeding heretic so long ago about to cut down Anuar, and then imagined himself driving a sword into that monster’s gut to save Anuar, and felt a warm righteous indignation in his chest. He felt a little better, even if the disease would have ended the same way for one of them, with the blood splashing around-
He stopped himself. The way forward lay ahead of him now, he should think about that instead. He felt like continuing to speak to his guide but something caught at his throat. He knew he wasn’t a shy person, so what exactly… hm…
A soldier extended a hand sideways and the guide barked out something. The rest of the convoy stopped. Inraf pushed his heels down into his mount’s side and was pleased that the giant lizard stopped just like a horse would, although it took a fair bit more force for the same reaction.
The guide turned to Inraf again, and tapped his hand on the axe hanging at Inraf’s saddle. Inraf immediately understood. Someone was watching them. And following them. Arrownaughts? No, this approach was not nearly as elegant. He immediately saw another convoy approaching in the far distance. Something in his heart sank.
Men and women in Copernican armor and weaponry. But not quite. Quite a bit was off- an emblem swapped out here, a different flag there, and their armor and finished goods were of quite a different make, despite retaining the general qualities of Copernica. “Keplerites”, Inraf mumbled. The guide looked up at him. “Sorry sir?”
“Keplerites are the castoffs of Copernica… apostates and heretics who fled north and took over a piece of Alenactia. Your Emperor has had the damnedest time kicking them off his land, and the Copernican royal family has not seen fit to destroy them, either… they can’t be looking for something good here.”
“Oh. We just call them Spherists.” said the guide. Then realizing he probably offended “Terynd”, he continued, “Of course, we call Elistierri and Copernicans the proper Spherists, these people do not deserve the title of Copernicans. But why are Spherists…ah, Keplerites here?”
“I don’t know, but they’re awful far from the southern shores of Alenactia, aren’t they. Could even be after me.”
The guide nodded and yelled something. The soldiers formed up around Inraf if out of nowhere. Inraf gratefully slipped behind them as if it was second nature. The Keplerite group walked into distance, looking a bit tired, as if they traveled here on a forced march.
The guide yelled something in Scarse as the convoy approached. A woman who Inraf figured was the leader yelled of this group something back. Inraf looked around behind his cover of Scarsinid soldiers. There was no one else in sight and the last town was eighteen hours ago. The Keplerites outnumbered Inraf’s group of soldiers maybe two to one. They seemed to march with some discipline, though obviously inferior to Copernican legions. However, they were fatigued, unlike Inraf’s group, who traveled at leisure. Now that he got a closer look, he saw quite a few bandages, slings, and chipped shields among them. They had already done some fighting on the way here.
There were some more words exchanged in the bizarre Centric dialects the Keplerites and Scarsinids used, the tones growing increasingly alarmed and unpleasant as the two parties approached. Inraf picked up some words relating to stopping, taking and verbs relating to violent acts, but he didn’t need to understand anything know that the Keplerites were not approaching with good intentions, and everyone knew it.
He heard the distinctive flaps of steel swords leaving holsters, but fought the urge to join in with his own. He no longer felt very safe with his sword, and his hand trembled when merely thinking about using it.
“Wait! Hear me!” the young prince said, as he walked around the Scarsinid spear wall, carrying his chest high with royal aplomb.
“I am Terynd of Elistierre. Why do you approach me so, fellow Spherists?” he continued. He felt the false words of flattery burn against his tongue. But he ignored it.
“We seek an audience with Xernaryt.” the Keplerite leader said. “But the Immortal Legions have seen fit to pursue us on our peaceable journey and assault us for nothing more than a diplomatic entreaty.”
The guide opened his mouth and started to object, but remembered with whom he spoke. He looked at Inraf with wide-open eyes, closed his mouth, and then nodded.
“No please, inform me why this is happening.”, said Inraf to the guide.
“Well, your nobleness, the Keplerites have never attempted to initiate negotiations and have rebuffed all historic attempts by the Scarsinid emperors to negotiate… rather strenuously.” said the guide.
Inraf nodded. The guide continued, “They have not been amenable to peaceable terms and our soldiers have been at war with them for two hundred years. I do not speak for other satraps and generals, but likely they believed this mission is a ruse, especially since the Keplerite homeland is so far from the imperial palace… why go straight for Our Emperor?… . As for immediate circumstance, it is strange that it is so well-timed with meeting us as well.”
Inraf thought for a moment. He turned to the Keplerite leader.
“Is this true?” he yelled.
The Keplerite leader said, “Yes, but we have discovered a rare opportunity for mutual cooperation. Our struggle against the Scarsinid Empire is in the past, we wish to end this fruitless conflict. ”
“I wish you the best then.” the crown prince said, “It doesn’t involve us, you don’t need anything from us and I do not believe we need anything from you. To avoid tensions between our parties, let us agree to travel separately. You may take the lead or you may follow us, I will respect your choice.”
The Keplerite leader’s jaw dropped a little. She started to object, but then Inraf said, “Your people are wounded and it would not be wise to cause them further stress. I am merely an Elistierri son on the way to the Imperial Palace for tutoring. May the Silver Sun smile gently on you, friend.”
Several Keplerite soldiers behind the Keplerite leader shook their heads and muttered things. The leader turned to them and then back to Inraf. In her eyes shone a out-of-place look of defeat and defiance, but she gestured to her side and her people marched onwards down the road with little hesitation.
“Well said, Sir Terynd.”, said the guide. “Perhaps they’ll march to the deaths, when Our Emperor Xernaryt loses patience with their irrational trifles and has their heads.” he shrugged and cocked his head, ”Just saying.”
Inraf smiled. Whatever strangeness the Scarsinids believed in, they knew the correct way to treat heretics. Just… not here, and not with him.
The Scarsinids resume their march when the Keplerites had almost left their sight. Best to keep them visible, but not be too close for comfort.
The Imperial city of Rieldynbak loomed into view. As they reached the city gates, the Keplerites were taken aside by an escort of Scarsinid soldiers. The prince noticed these soldiers weren’t nearly as large or impressively equipped as the ones marching beside him, but they were still clearly Scarsinid. Then sparks of color shot across his vision and he clutched his forehead. Lesser episodes like this had not been bothering him for a while; perhaps this was some sort of reaction to the magic no doubt practiced within the city. Although he still preferred it to dropping on the ground and feeling his own body trying to pull itself in half.
Rieldynbak made a better and better impression as it came into view. Almost-shining white marble walls enveloped its thick nest of buildings, and he could see many tall spires jutting out beyond the walls in orderly succession. The architecture startled him a little, there were circular holes in many walls and overhands, and round protrusions budding off roofs and tower tips, something that would have been very unsightly in Copernica, yet somehow worked here. The air was alive with the smell of spices and …. No wait… alchemical reagents? He wasn’t sure, exactly; his condition didn’t leave him much chance to complete his scientific tutoring. Well, that was what he was here to do… sort of.
The city shone with gold and silver. It was splendid, and a bit overwhelming. Shades of blue and purple that almost no one saw in Copernica graced the streets and people, and all shapes and sizes of animals and people (again, Inraf reminded himself, not all of them necessarily alive) walked in and out of view.
The Imperial Palace was particularly splendid; it shone with a pure white unmarred by the slightest blemish. Inraf was not sure what to make of this, surely, the workers had to lapse somewhere, but there was not so much as a speck of darkness against its radiant walls. The arch of the front gate loomed overhead as he walked through. It seemed to be far larger than his own house. The inside was sparsely but very tastefully decorated- just a splash of red from flowers or yellow from gold tracings on the walls. He could tell the servants were around but apparently took pains to stay out of his sight- there were small traces and items left over from recent cleaning and work lying around- mops still wet, tea recently prepared, and such. This must be a Scarsinid custom, or so he hoped. He could barely see the ceiling and the halls echoed with its emptiness.
The throne room was as opulent as he expected of royalty though. Massive gold-trimmed doors swung open. A rich red carpet that must have had real gold sewn into it lay before him, and elegant peacock statues flanked his sides, each carved with a unique level of detail that must have taken years. Soldiers identical to the ones who had carried him here stood at attention, and there, on the other side of the room, surrounded by a small army of attendants and courtiers, was Emperor Xernaryt himself.
Chapter 4: A Somewhat Warm WelcomeA darker-skinned, well-built man sat on the throne with a brilliant gold crown on his bald head, Xernaryt looked every bit the part of a Scarsinid ruler. His purple robes hung loosely off his chest and he beckoned Inraf forward with one gesture and waved off Inraf’s attendants and his own with the next. Inraf’s guide and guards bowed out, and the courtiers turned around and left with nary the slightest sound, as if they were gliding. The throne room was eerily silent now, left with only Xernaryt’s soldiers on the sidelines, and they remained as still and silent as corpses.
Inraf bent down to one knee and looked down at his feet, as his parents taught him long ago, the slight tap of his knee echoing around the noiseless room. He started to speak, but did not expect Xernaryt to suddenly pick him up and embrace him. Wow, he moves really fast when he wants to, Inraf thought, I barely heard him leave the throne.
“My nephew!” said the Emperor, “This is the first I’ve seen of you, how wonderful to finally meet the son of my dear Alse and Feir!”
Inraf was not sure what to say. This was likely some breach of royal decorum, but well, he didn’t make the rules here. He awkwardly tried to return the hug, then thought better of it and just let his arms hang loose as Xernaryt released him.
“Welcome! We should get straight to your illness.”
“Um, your Imperial Excellency, should we really speak so frankly before others”, said the Copernican prince, gesturing to the soldiers standing at the sides of the throne room.
“Nonsense! Dead men do not tell stories!” said Xernaryt with a beam on his face.
“D-dead men?” asked Inraf.
“Certainly! They are the finest of my undead legions, the Winged Scarabs, the strongest warriors this continent has ever known. I trust you found their protection satisfactory?”
“Satisfactory and then some, your Excellency.”
“Wonderful. You may address me as Xer, or Uncle, or whatever you wish, in private. Including when we are in front of my guards and only my guards.”
“But… but I thought the undead required a necromanc- er necrologist to constantly mind them.” said Inraf, quickly remembering the polite appellation for undead-makers, which didn’t carry connotations of grave looting.
“Ah, but these are a grade of advanced skeletal warrior who we’ve managed to make very stable and independent, they are an incredible asset to the Empire.” said the emperor. “They retain all of their past training and combat experience and can even reason and strategize to some extent, although most of their personality and emotion is lost in the process, which is a shame. I should have liked to speak with my ancestors, or in a hundred years’ time speak to my far-off descendants, but it doesn’t seem we’ll make that jump within my life time.”
“Amazing. I had no idea.” said Inraf, the eagerness creeping into his voice. This may have been heresy, but it was well-done heresy. Moreover, it boded well for his cure.
“Yes, we’re making some serious strides towards fully life-like undead. Many Scarsinid governors have tried to go further and achieve ‘immortality’, whatever that means. None has shown signs of reaching it, not in three hundred years. Still, I am hopeful they will contribute something towards medicine, which is why I allow their connivances.”
“Uh, your Imperial Greatness,”, said Inraf, not quite comfortable calling the most powerful man around for a thousand miles by his first name, “I actually wondered about that. On the way here, I ran into a riot over someone having their kids sacrificed by the satrap, or that’s what I picked up, at least.”
“Yes, yes, it is unfortunate. I will administer corrective measures to the region at once.” Xernaryt snapped his fingers and one of his soldiers stepped forwards. “Have the satrap of Santurby reprimanded.” The soldier ran out of the throne room without any other sign of acknowledgment.
“Excellent, now that that’s taken care of, let’s discuss your condition. Unfortunately, we have no records of this ‘Inner plague’, at least not in the Imperial Library. Perhaps one of the satraps or Scarsinid Great Scholars knows of this disease, but if any one of them does, they have not answered my private inquiries. Therefore, we will have to treat this disease on first principles and what is known from distantly similar diseases.”
Xernaryt began to walk out of the throne room. The guards slammed their halberds onto the ground with a resounding boom, and filed behind him. Inraf followed the emperor, careful not to walk ahead or even right beside the emperor. Xernaryt nodded very slightly in Inraf’s direction, apparently approving of Inraf’s grasp of royal decorum.
“My personal sanitarium will run some tests on you to confirm my suspicions. From your parents’ description of your illness, it seems you will experience periods of destructive magical impulse that tear away at your body and mind. It will be a great step forward for science to find the cure; this could have great implications for research into the human body’s magical thaumic field.”
The prince wasn’t sure what to think about that last mention about being a lab rat for bio-sorcery. It heartened him to know that Xernaryt told the truth about at least one ulterior motive. However, Inraf’s suffering as a means of furthering science did not sit well with him.
Xernaryt continued, “The Scarsinid Empire prides itself on the most advanced of reanimation and medical science. Most of my satraps and nobles are constantly seeking this or that in their Graven Vaults, their hermetic necrological laboratories, and it seems their self-isolation has yielded acceptable results. I only ask that they share a good portion of their findings every year… or else have it taken by force.” He chuckled. “But most are happy to see the cause of science furthered, knowing that if they were all to refuse to share knowledge, it could take centuries for any single noble house to see a major breakthrough. And they are welcome to keep retain a few competitive secrets, they *are* nobles after all.”
“Anyways, here we are”, said Xernaryt as they left a hallway into a particularly elaborate steel door, easily five meters tall. It resembled a treasury vault, full of arcane and mechanical contraptions at its side to no doubt secure and monitor whatever lay inside. Xernaryt pressed his gold-ringed fingers onto a yellow-glowing square on the side of the vault. The glow vanished and the vault opened, with a massive rush of air into the opening. Inraf felt a strong twitch come on and his hands clutched at the involuntary movements in his jaw and neck.
Xernaryt turned to him with concern and rubbed his chin with royal poise. “Hm… it responds to thaumic phenomena? Curious. Scarab, take a note, arrange for review and repair of the magical insulation in the laboratory. We can’t risk stray sorcerous energies leaking into and affecting our beloved nephew.” One of the soldiers in line behind Inraf abruptly sidestepped out of line with an impressive clang, saluted and then ran away.
“Oh yes, and make my nephew comfortable.” Xernaryt said, with a dismissive wave of his hands.
Inraf, still recovering from the brief convulsions, gladly accepted a pair of Immortal Scarabs lifting him up between them and bodily carrying him into the laboratory. They rested him atop of a bed tilted at a slight angle, where it was quite comfortable, and walked back to the entrance of the laboratory. The area appeared dark, and Inraf still saw afterimages of his episode, but what he could see of the laboratory seemed sparsely decorated and covered in immaculately organized phials and metal tools.
A person in black robes, wearing what Inraf believed to be the skull of a deer, stepped in through the vault door past the guards and cautiously approached Inraf. The Copernican felt oddly drained from his seizure earlier, too much so to show any visible signs of alarm. He definitely felt alarm though, at the deer skull and the sickle-like staff the man held.
The man in the robes leaned forward at Inraf and extended his free hand towards Inraf’s face. His thumb lifted up one of Inraf’s eyelids and the robed man peered closely into the young man’s exposed eyeball. Apparently satisfied, the robed man released his thumb, dusted off his robes and leaned back to speak.
The man said, “My name is Esk. I shall be your personal physician for the duration of your stay, our Great Emperor willing. These are my associates.” He gestured to several skeletal figures flanking him, their exposed necks and arms inhumanly thin and covered in blackened char, the rest of their bodies covered in medical robes. Blackened skulls atop their necks wore thin headbands adorned with various herbs and stones and what appeared to be animal teeth. Inraf’s Copernican sensibilities wanted to say they were a bizarre mockery of plague doctors, but in Alenactia, this was probably entirely normal and benign. So he hoped.
Esk gestured to one of his assistants. “Now, Sir Terynd, I will ask you a series of questions. In the meantime, my associates will prepare a preliminary thaumic examination.”
The questions pertained to his private lifestyle, family history of disease and the progress of the Inner Plague so far. The prince tried to remain as truthful as possible without saying anything that could link him to Copernica. Esk made little if any reaction to every question, merely nodding slowly after every answer as one of his assistants wrote it down… it was hard to see Esk’s eyes under the shadow of the deer skull. Inraf also spoke at length about how he believed he contracted his illness. Meanwhile, Esk’s assistants busied themselves fetching various instruments, meticulously cleaning, and examining one of Inraf’s arms. Esk then had his other assistants administer various physical exams- body temperature, lung capacity, heart sounds, and so on.
“Hm, yes, fascinating.”, said Esk. “The first victim was clearly suffering from the end stages of his illness, and suffered what appears to be massive internal hemorrhage, yet you have not displayed any internal bleeding of any form whatsoever. Perhaps it was something comorbid with the Inner Plague. We will sample your blood now.”
“Wait, what--- agghhkkkh”, said Inraf as one of Esk’s assistants jammed a large syringe into his upper arm. It stopped hurting in about five seconds through, to Inraf’s surprise, even as he felt the pressure of the syringe on his skin. He tried not to look at it. Then the skeleton removed the syringe, with no pain whatsoever on its way out. Inraf’s eyes popped a little at the large size of the syringe- it was about the shape and volume of a curled up hand. Well, he reasoned, people have lost more blood than that in battle and walked it off. Still, it was an awful lot of blood for a test!
Esk produced a very small glass vial and the skeletal helper released a little blood from the full syringe into the vial. Esk shook the vial gently and made an indecipherable gesture to the skeleton, which then took the rest of the syringe elsewhere in the laboratory.
“We will run more elaborate tests on the rest of the blood. For now, witness the power of Scarsinid biomancy!” Esk looked down straight into Inraf’s eyes after that last statement with an expression of sympathy. “Sorry, Xernaryt wanted me to say that.”
Inraf’s eyes rolled, then they widened as Esk kept a hand on Inraf’s forehead. As he did so, the vial of blood glowed, trembled and slowly evaporated, before their eyes, emitting an expanding cone of yellow light above them. Esk released the hand from Inraf’s forehead and stared at the cone of yellow light above the empty vial. Inraf could see spirals and flashes of green and blue light within the yellow light. He could make no sense of it, but at least they didn’t resemble the sparks he saw every time he had an episode. The yellow light finally faded away, and Esk turned back to Inraf.
“Hm, that is good,” said Esk,”there is an indication of the responsible pathogen within your blood; it greatly outnumbers the other foreign microbes. This is not always the case, which generally would then require more extreme tests to detect the culprit. I can see many antigenic enzymes in your blood; the pathogen has made itself quite comfortable. Hm, wait, your disease is responsive to thaumic motion, is it not?”
Inraf took a moment to understand what Esk was asking, and then nodded.
“Very good. Nurse, give me another shot of blood”, said Esk. A clattering motion from behind them rattled over the next few seconds and the skeleton from before showed up with the blood-filled syringe and filled the tiny vial again. “Yes, excellent, nurse, now continue as you were.” The skeleton bowed and left again.
“Okay, this may be hard on you, Inraf. We’ll see we can find measures sufficient to contain external sources of thaumic energy from affecting your own magical field immediately.” Esk motioned to another of his assistants and pointed to Inraf. “Thaumic isolation, immediately.” The skeleton nodded and ran off somewhere Inraf could not see. That left Esk and Inraf alone for a while.
“So, are you comfortable?” asked Esk.
Inraf boggled a bit. You only thought to ask this now? At least Esk seemed like he knew what he was doing. Inraf had heard the story of Copernican “free preachers” going around convincingly faking healing miracles. The authorities usually burned them alive for heresy alone, to say nothing of public endangerment and fraud. Esk was actually following some sort of method, at least.
“Yes, I’m comfortable”, Inraf’s sense of politeness said.
“Good, good.” said Esk.
“So, uh, physician, what’s the story behind these skeletons?”
“Oh yes, these are old royal physicians and nurses the last two generations of the Emperor’s physicians and their assistants, trained in the finest of healing arts for their time. They served under the predecessor of my predecessor, the head physician back then. When old age took its toll on their ranks during my immediate predecessor’s reign, many chose to go on practicing the medical arts in their current form. Some did not; they received an honorable burial and obviously did not stay with us. I think that one there is my immediate predecessor.”
One of the skeletons, upon noticing Esk pointed at it, stood at attention.
“See, if he was alive, he would have displayed a very ungentlemanly hand gesture at me. Their consciousnesses did not quite make it through the process. They retain procedural knowledge and manual skill, but to communicate and synthesize conclusions is not within their power. In this manner, they resemble better-trained animals than human assistants. Case in point, notice that they do not take offense at that.” Esk chuckled a bit, and then his expression dropped.
“But they aren’t animals. They are the honored continuations of medical legacy, who chose to donate their bodies and continue helping in death.” said Esk, with a very sober tone, almost as if reminding himself.
Inraf nodded. The Scarsinids respected the dead and he could respect that. Well, at least Esk respected the dead. It pleased his Copernican upbringing to know it wasn’t all expendable zombie minions all the way through in here, loyalty and duty still had a place here.
The skeleton who left earlier now returned with a very dark and slightly sparkling sheet of cloth, with its edges covered in what appeared to be fine magic runes. It looked straight at Inraf with its empty eye sockets, and he felt something shiver up his spine.
It reached out to drape the cloth over his face and chest. It gently turned Inraf’s head to the side so he could still breathe even as the cloth covered his face. This cloth is far heavier than it seemed so, wow, these skeletons must be strong, he thought. It honestly was not at all comfortable, and he could not see what was about to happen, but he grinned and bore it.
Inraf felt Esk’s hand on his head again. At least, it felt like a living person’s hand, not a bunch of bones… Inraf shuddered a bit. He heard some movement, not exactly sure what, but it sounded a little bit like whatever spell Esk used last time. Kind of a shaking movement…, which really intensified over the next few, seconds… Inraf felt a shock of worry go through him as he heard Esk gasp.
“What? What is it?” the prince asked as a skeleton removed the heavy cloth from his face. At least the magic insulation worked.
Esk pointed at the fading remnants of the yellow glow, now heavily specked with green.
“The pathogens… they multiply when directly infused with thaumic energy. And how! This is unheard of. How… how could nature grant such incredible power to a microbe so suddenly and an infection by this disease is unheard of… no…this was not nature.” Esk visibly shook as he spoke. “This is no natural disease. We would have heard of offshoots of such a magical plague, a microbe more familiar to us, had it evolved through our Lord Darwin’s natural selection.”
Inraf’s ears perked up at the mention of Darwin, the heretical Warflower who begat the first Scarsinid necromancy. Now was not the time for a history lesson.
“I am thinking of many theories about how to treat you, but right now, your body requires immediate containment from any and all arcane energy! Now… Sir Terynd, I – Sir Terynd!”
Without warning, Inraf’s world stood still, and he distinctly heard his own breathing rapidly decelerate to a complete stop. He saw sparks of energy shoot across his sight, yet couldn’t so much as muster a reaction to it. He heard orders being shouted, and the clattering of hands and feet at work, but distantly as if from a great, almost infinite distance. Inraf felt his mind falling downward, and his thoughts faded away.
Chapter 5: A medical inconvenienceInraf woke up and opened his eyes. He was on top of a very comfortable carpet. Hm, two carpets. He wriggled his way free of the one on top of him, and then realized there was a canopy over his head. He looked around. This carpet was oddly smooth… and wait a second. There was a pillow above his head. Was this a bed? He couldn’t see an end to it. He looked around.
The door was eight meters away. In the intervening distance, nothing but blanket. The bed terminated half a meter away from the door, leaving just enough space to open the door. Similarly, now that he noticed the walls of the room, he realized he was in the center of a massive bed.
He boggled for a moment. They didn’t have beds this big in Copernica, hell not even half of this, not even for the royal family. He held his forehead in disbelief.
He heard a chime and his guide from the escort earlier walked in.
“Greetings, Sir Terynd.”, he said. “I hope you sleep pleasantly. Doctor Esk told me to inform you may not fully remember the last few minutes of the previous day due to anesthesia.”
“Anes-what?” said the Copernican prince.
“Anesthesia, I am told it is a fast-acting painkiller that has the effect of also sedating your mind and retroactively preventing the formation of new memories before rendering you too unconscious to feel pain. You had another attack of your disease, and you received sedative to halt it and prevent future such attacks. Then we took you to a royal bedroom prepared for yourself. Our court magicians have warded it from all magical energies, and all reanimated bodies and spellcasters forbidden from seeing you. You may enter and exit as you please, as long as you wear a protective garment.”
Laid out on the corner of the bed was a strange set of clothes and a note.
Inraf grabbed the note first. “Hello, my guest. For your condition, my imperial engineers have created a special outfit made of newly-developed defensive magic-insulating cloth. Technology moves quickly in my Empire, as you can see. Unfortunately, the appearance of this outfit hardly impresses and those responsible for this, I have reprimanded. We will see about making something more befitting someone of your dignity. For the time being, this should prevent your disease from worsening and minimize your symptoms. – Your Gracious Host, Xernaryt”
Inraf looked over the clothing. It looked like many dark grey strips sewn together in the shape of a tunic, socks, pants and a tightly fitting mask. He put everything on the best he could. Despite its ramshackle appearance, it fit strangely well; someone must have taken his measurements while he was sleeping. Looking in a mirror atop his new dresser, he got the impression of full-body bandages, except a very dark shade of grey, with a few gemstones embedded along the seams of his shirt and pants, and along the sides of his head. Oddly appropriate, he thought, and it did not look half-bad, actually.
Except where it covered most of his face except his eyes. It was oddly easy to breathe through it though. He had expected to be nearly suffocating like that one time he wore the curative masks the Copernican physicians tried on him (they did not work of course). It was possible this dark gemstone-cloth was enchanted, but that could undo the purpose of the magical insulation. Unless Xernaryt or the engineers worked out some clever workaround.
He stepped out of his room, his clothing feeling oddly flexible despite the heavy stiff cloth in the ward he was using earlier. The full-body grey bandage shroud definitely followed function before form. Well, this was definitely better as a disguise than a haircut and regular Scarsinid clothes, even if it wasn’t as nice-looking as it could be.
Either the guide was extremely well trained, or the outfit was not as silly as Inraf thought, because Inraf noticed only the slightest startle from other man the moment he saw Inraf covered in gray bandages and a full-face mask. Inraf hoped it was the latter, but it was probably the former. Ridiculous outfit…
Right now, the emperor was keeping himself busy in some kind of planning session. For something apparently beyond Inraf’s need to know. He instead decided to visit Dr. Esk again in the laboratory. He and the guide walked towards the vault, surprised at how long it was taking to get anywhere, the dark cloth covering his face. He couldn’t see much with the ward covering him, but he had no doubt the ceiling was far up with how long it took for the echoes of his coughs to come back.
Finally, the guide told him they had arrived at the vault. Inraf heard the sounds of construction, and many footsteps, as well as people yelling orders in Scarse Centric. Someone stepped out of the vault towards them.
“Ah, Khersis. And Sir Terynd, excellent, you’re awake.” said Esk’s voice.
“Khersis?” asked Inraf.
“Yes, Um, Khersis, do me a favor, and go do something fun. I will handle this.” said Esk, with a shooing motion.
The guide walked off.
“His name is Khersis.” Esk said briskly.
“Yes, I figured that much.” said Inraf. “How the heck did I not know that before?”
“Servants to the Emperor formally abandon their names, at least below a certain rank. Old Scarse tradition. Silly, but law. Nevertheless, we have to refer to each other by something beyond job titles, because that gets confusing fast, so we keep the names among ourselves. I’m exempt, sort of, on account of my rank, others around here would be pleased if you asked for their names, but just don’t say them in front of the Emperor.”
Esk continued speaking, “I apologize for the appearance of the clothing, its appearance is likely beneath your sensibilities. That said, it will help stabilize your condition, the minerals sewn into the cloth conduct magic in such a way as to balance out the thaumic charges your body generates and shield you from external magic. Apparently this is some kind of newfangled mage-fighting military armor, our great Emperor knew about it and actually he was the one who thought of using it this way.” He laughed, clearly surprised by the facts in the last statement.
“Your life depends on it.”, he continued, in a much more serious tone. “So, did you want to hear of my further findings? Because I don’t have any, and my other tests will be invasive enough to cause further harm.”
“No… I … I just wanted to talk to someone”, said Inraf.
“Ah. Well then, how could I disappoint you?” said Esk. “What do you wish to talk about? Your prognosis? My educated guesses for possible cures? Unrelated health problems?”
“Uh, well all of those things, I guess. Then I have other things to ask you.”
“Okay then. My suspicion is that if we suppress your episodes sufficiently, you may continue to live in your current state indefinitely without deteriorating, which is not too bad of a standard of life. As for an outright cure, your body is having great difficulty eliminating the pathogens and any non-magical method to destroy them will likely be harsh on your body in the process. It is possible your physical-magical seizures are your body attempting to purge the pathogens violently and harming itself in the process, much in the same manner as a life-threatening fever. Otherwise, without some mechanism to reduce the numbers of the pathogen, with the rate at which they multiply, your body would have already succumbed to the sheer numbers and you would be quite dead already. It is also possible the attacks also damage your body as a byproduct of the disease, so we should best not trigger them before being sure. I will have to formulate a plan of action to determine which the case is, or if there is some other third conclusion, submit it to the other physicians for ethical and methodological review. So, be patient.”
“As for other health problems, well you’re in good health aside from some minor internal bleeding from the plague. It seems the disease has oddly kept most your nervous and athletic capacity intact. Rumor has it you were fit enough to kill an Arrownaught in single combat. Most impressive, they robbed me once on the way back from a journey to retrieve exotic magical reagents, and they took everything. Everything! They wouldn’t even know how to use half of the medical supplies. Bastards made me have to make another trip overseas to get more, which was two weeks gone down the crapper.”
Esk cleared his throat, catching himself. Inraf realized Esk probably had no idea how Inraf would react, as Inraf’s face mostly hid behind the face wrappings.
“No, it’s alright. They attacked me, I protected myself, and Copernicus saw me through.”
“Ah, right, Spherist.” said Esk. “Well, it’s not a bad religion at all. Our Great Emperor Xernaryt is our god, where he treads is divine territory, a temple.”
Inraf let out a rude snorting laugh before clamping his hand on his mouth. He could feel his face turning red.
Esk paused for a moment. “Well, to tell the truth, I never really believed that either. Just… just keep it between you and me, okay?”
Inraf nodded.
“Anyways, I think I recall you had something else you wanted to talk about?” said Esk.
“Yes, what about your undead assistants? How does undeath… work?” said Inraf.
“Hm, well, its complex. What do you know about the reanimated? ”, asked Esk, stressing the last word.
“I know that you need magic to raise the corpse of a person or other intelligent being. That their soul is placed back into their body, or if that is not an option, the soul of an animal or something. The bodies usually rot quickly because it is not a natural process. From what I learned also, the necromancer has to direct the reanimated corpses to do their work, because not much is left of the undead person’s mind and they will run wild or just stand there if left alone. In addition, they need to be fed magic, because their bodies are not alive to generate magic anymore, so the enchantment that sustains their bodies will fade away without help. That’s why some undead beings eat living humans and animals, especially nervous tissue, in order to consume their life force.” The prince conveniently left out the parts in his education where it said undead were damnable abominations in the eyes of God and all who dealt in them would be put to the sword. He did not think anyone here would appreciate it, much less an honest-to-Copernicus necromancer.
“Everything you have said is true of less advanced necromantic techniques.” said Esk. “However, Scarsinid necrologists have bypassed most of these limitations. The skeletal beings we have created are the souls of their deceased owners placed back into their own bodies. It’s a technological marvel, really. The soul we leave mostly intact, to the point where it is capable of limited rational decision-making and spellcasting. The intactness of the undead soul means they are in a sense considered still “alive” by their own bodies. Which their brains can continue to generate pachu, or the magical life force you mention, and they do not require much in the way of maintenance or input of life force. It is not quite as efficient as a living nervous system, so it is still not a great situation. Further advances in research are slowly creating undead which retain a lifelike appearance, retaining the personality and free will of the deceased and powerful spellcasting undead. Experimental reanimated variants can exhibit one or more such traits, but not at the same time, and the end results have yet to demonstrate psychological and magical stability. Eventually, one hopes, the Scarsinid Empire will discover the secret to immortality, by reanimating a human in such a way that it is indistinguishable by any means from a living human, effectively being alive again.”
Inraf heard Esk’s voice trail away, with a feeling of longing in it.
“Wow, that’s pretty…” Inraf did not want to use the word crazy. “Exciting. So that’s what the nobles are doing in their Graven Vaults?”
“Mostly, yes.” said Esk. “Some simply aim for more short-term goals, such as creating powerful undead servants or pushing at the theoretical limits of the arcane sciences. Unfortunately, many of them use rather unsavory tactics, regardless of goals. Use of live subjects, grave robbing, stitching together different corpses, and worse. I hear it is causing a lot of unrest in the greater Empire, not bothering with medical ethics. We do not do necrology that way here in the palace, so worry not, Sir Terynd. There is not really anything I can do about the nobles, just hope that some of them end up furthering the cause of science. It is just as well; Xernaryt requires the support of the satraps. The Scarsinid Empire is no longer at its peak, which is simply reality. Time was when the emperor could just snap his fingers and all who abuse necrology would lose their heads like that.”
“That’s a lot to take in.”, said Inraf. “So, uh, please don’t take this the wrong way. The reanimated people are still in there, and they’re thinking?”
“In our greater reanimated skeletons, yes.”, said Esk. ”None of them are cogent enough to tell me how they’re doing in there, nor can they communicate meaningfully like you would with a living person. However, I can attest firsthand they do retain mannerisms and expertise from their past lives. They do not exhibit any signs of discomfort, if that is what you are asking, and the reanimated volunteered for posthumous duty of their free will. The civil servants who did not, which is honestly most of them, were granted a very thorough cremation in the normal Scarse tradition, intended to discourage reanimation.”
“Discourage? You mean you can create undead from ashes?” asked Inraf.
“Yes. It is, shall we say, an abomination and the Imperial household does not engage in such vulgarity. We only deal in aiding the living and employing safe and proven strains of reanimation magic. Travel to some of the rougher satrapies however, and I can tell you, I can definitely see how the Spherists get their revulsion towards necrology. You’re actually holding up well, Sir Terynd, I did not expect a devout of the silver sun to probe into this topic, much less listen as open-mindedly as you seem to be.”
“Haha, well, I’m dying anyways, so in a way Copernicus has already passed judgment. Hell can’t really be worse than to slowly lose control of my own body as prayers to my own god literally hurt me.”, said Inraf. He felt a little alarmed with how easily he said these things. But who was around to judge him?
“Yeah.”, said Esk. He did not seem sure what to say next. “It is unfortunate that Copernicus could not cure this affliction. We of the Scarsinid tradition believe that nature is only arbiter of illness and health, regardless of whatever gods we personally believe in. In any case, I take pride in this opportunity to demonstrate to the world what Scarsinid magic can do. It is well that Emperor Xernaryt has taken such a close personal interest in curing your disease.”
Inraf smiled as broadly as possible to hide his nervousness, before remembering again that Esk could not see his mouth behind the prince’s face wraps.
Esk continued without missing a beat, “It is well that you may learn about arts that go underappreciated by the rest of the world. Just be careful what you say after we cure you. As you are likely aware, most folks of other nations do not look very kindly upon our arts of life magic, and those few who do are likely to make ill use of it.”
Inraf nodded, mostly for himself.
“Well, you’ve been a fantastic listener, Sir Terynd, but now I have tests to run.”, said Esk. “Perhaps we could summon Khersis and ask him to give you a tour of the reanimation center and such, at least until either the Emperor or my humble self comes up with something for you to do.”
“Sure!” said Inraf, his mind racing at the possibilities of a branch of magic that he had never given much thought about.
Inraf heard a chiming, likely magically generated, and in a few moments, the footsteps and the sound of his guide’s voice at the entrance to the vault.
“Hello, Sir Terynd!” said Khersis.
“Hey, Khersis.”
Inraf could hear the beaming in Khersis’ voice as Khersis replied. “So good to see you are still holding up, Sir Terynd. Physician Esk instructed me to give you a tour of the laboratory here while he is busy with working. Unfortunately, it will be difficult for you to see with the magical ward in the way. I… um, suppose at a later time?”
There was a chiming noise from somewhere on Khersis’ person, although Inraf could not see any movement. “Huh, his Greatness would like to see you now. Well, that was good timing. Come, let us go!” he said.
Khersis pulled hard on Inraf’s arm to lead him out of the laboratory. Inraf figured he must be in a real hurry. Best not to keep the Emperor waiting after all.
Inraf wondered if there was a more efficient way to get around the palace, but he kept his mouth shut.
Several minutes of more walking later, Inraf stepped into the throne room.
Many of the courtiers hung around Xernaryt like houseflies around a feast. Several of them tittered at the sight of the Elistierri nobleman strolling in, covered absolutely head to toe in off-black bandages. A frown from Xernaryt shut them up immediately, and all the attendants pointedly averted their eyes from Inraf as they filed out of the throne room again.
Inraf nodded in approval. It would not do for a man’s friends to embarrass him by insulting his guest, much less for this to happen between royals like themselves. Not that they knew he was a royal… honestly a Copernican prince wouldn’t stoop low enough to dress like this, but he was already asking heretics for help…
Xernaryt clapped his hands together in a mixture of appraisal and joy. “I hope the new insulation works! It is excellent to not need to be confined to a room of magical insulation, is it not?” Before Inraf could reply, Xernaryt continued, “So, something has happened since your arrival. A Keplerite delegation came to me to discuss the rumors that a Copernican prince was visiting me, a great surprise since firstly, the Keplerites have been adamant about never opening negotiating with me and secondly, your identity is a well-guarded secret. They wished to have a private audience for you, which is of course silly and against all the beliefs both you and I hold dear. I dismissed them immediately and strongly suggested they return home without further incident. The Keplerites are corrupt excuses for Spherists; they cannot possibly have good things for you in mind. I strongly suggest caution if you travel about the city and countryside, they likely know of your identity. For now, until we can discern the source of their knowledge and silence it, I would like you to stay in the palace for the time being, with a considerable security detail.”
Xernaryt made a noncommittal gesture and a section of his guards on the sides of the throne room peeled off from their peers and marched over to Inraf’s side. He nodded in approval and then put his hands down on his lap, a clear prompt for Inraf to speak.
Inraf said, “Oh, well that explains it. I saw the Keplerites on my way to the road, had to hold my guards back from killing them all. Heretics or not, I didn’t feel it was necessary to kill them, for some reason. I mean, they still surely hold some ideas in common about Copernicus; perhaps eventually some sort of peace with them is possible. But now is not the time, of course, I will stay well out of their way.”
Now that he thought about it, he had little idea what the Keplerites believed in, only that it was serious enough to warrant separating them from Copernica. It certainly did not endear themselves to the Scarsinid Empire either.
Xernaryt nodded with approval again, but did not reply.
Inraf thought for a second. “Oh right, the clothing. It seemed heavy and I didn’t expect to be able to breathe to it. I am surprised that this is very comfortable. My thanks, Great Emperor.”
Xernaryt smiled broadly and folded his hands together. “Excellent. I am glad that you are well. I will arrange a tour of the royal laboratories with your usual guide. Not the medical laboratory, but the necrological laboratory. It will make a fantastic introduction, especially as Esk has indicated to me you have expressed curiosity about the reanimated, a level of refinement and curiosity I did not expect, but can appreciate in you, young Copernican.”
“Huh”, said Inraf. “Word travels very quickly around here. “
“Oh yes”, said Xernaryt. He tapped his forehead and a very thin, barely visible headband shimmered briefly and made a slightly familiar chiming sound. “A lovely thing, that, when activated, can communicate the spoken word over short distances. Its range leaves much to be desired, and it is fragile and poorly suited to applications in rougher circumstances. However, we are improving on it every year, as we are a nation of scientists after all. It allows almost immediate communications with my household.”
Inraf’s eyes opened in surprise. A communication device of that size definitely something they could have used in Copernica. He had no idea the Scarsinids were ahead in more ways than medicine and reanimation magics.
Xernaryt seemed to sense Inraf’s interest. “Of course, it would be nothing to us to give you one, too. Perhaps attuned to Khersis or Esk instead of me, it is best not to link me too closely to yourself. It is fitting for my nephew to have a direct line to me, but not for Sir Terynd.” Xernaryt chuckled. “But there are the practical problems of giving you a magical device. We will have to find a way to make it work through your insulation. So, patience, my nephew. Now, away, you have something more interesting awaiting you than your uncle talking at you all day. ”
Inraf could have sworn he saw the Emperor of the entire Scarsinid Empire, most powerful man on the continent, wink at him. The Copernican bowed slightly and left, his new guards precisely matching the pace of his walking.
Khersis awaited him just outside the throne room. “Oh, protection. Great!” said Khersis, with a smile, clearly relieved by the extra security.
“Okay, to the necromant- I mean necrological laboratories?” said Inraf.
“Of course, right this way.”
They left the palace. Well, that just made sense, thought Inraf. If something got loose, you don’t want it in your very big house where it might be hard to find and run into hapless civilians.
Chapter 6: Magic that involves corpses somehow
The laboratory appeared to be a massive silver tower with golden parallel lines running up along its sides. It appeared to be larger on the top than at its base, with a large white oval bubble occupying where the top floors ought to be, a curiosity Inraf had never seen in any Copernican building. It did not seem architecturally stable to him, but perhaps sorcery was involved. He felt a sense of foreboding as Khersis led him in. Inraf’s guards stopped very abruptly outside of the tower’s walls, clearly compelled by either previous orders or a magical force to stand there. Inraf couldn’t be sure which was responsible with the undead. Khersis made no reaction it, so Inraf hoped this was just business as usual.
Khersis pressed on a pad next to the gigantic door that led into the tower, to no visible or audible response, and waited quietly for a moment before the door opened on its own accord.
Two soldiers inside wore skulls of some large cat-like beasts as helmets and different armor from the Winged Scarabs that Inraf had met. They stood stiffly at attention, holding onto scythe-like polearms. Inraf couldn’t see their eyes, but he could sense suspicious stares scanning over him and Khersis.
One of them spoke, a very rough woman’s voice behind the cat-skull helmet. “Strange for an imperial escort to bring in a test subject.”
“Test subject?” said Inraf, well aware of his strange-bandaged appearance.
“Ah, no no no, this is a foreign dignitary, Sir Terynd of Elistierre. He has a medical condition that requires thaumic insulation.” Khersis replied.
“Then he’s in the wrong damn place”, the guard said.
Khersis did a close impression of a polite laugh, before his tone dropped. “His Emperor himself asked that a curious guest be indulged of his curiosity. If you don’t wish to believe me, talk to him himself”, he said, gesturing to a barely-visible headband, similar to the one Xernaryt wore.
The guards took a moment to weigh what Khersis said. Inraf wasn’t sure if they were looking at each other, but he felt the weight of their stares leaving him.
“Very good, sir.” said the other guard, with a particularly deep male voice. “Containment protocols are permanently in effect. A researcher will be down with you shortly. Comply with all requirements or we will contain any breach by force. “
Khersis turned to Inraf, and with an assuring tone said, “Don’t worry, that’s the same exact speech they give everyone. Don’t touch anything and you should be okay.”
Inraf nodded vigorously, more for the guards than for Khersis.
Khersis motioned for Inraf to step up the stairs on the other side of the lobby, and as they did so, someone Inraf supposed was one of the local necromancers met them at the top of the stairs.
The necromancer wore short black robes with red and blue crosses running down it, and an ordinary set of brown pants. What was striking was some kind of bird’s skull on his head, with what appeared to be magnifying lens sticking out of it and fitting over his eye. He steadily appraised Inraf for a second before gesturing behind himself with one hand behind his back.
“My name is Sinek.” he said. “I am one of the researchers in our fair Emperor’s necrological research center. Do not be alarmed at our skulls; they are enchanted to prevent foul odors… or worse… from wafting in. Naturally I must insist you wear these to ensure the same kind of protection.”
He handed the two of them what resembled a pair of alchemist’s hoods, with large goggles and a large steel mouthpiece in the thick leather armoring. Inraf donned his hood over his face mask, aware of how silly he must look.
“Rules!” said Sinek. “Firstly, if you deign to remember any of these rules at all, it would be do not touch anything. Anything. Not the equipment, not the reanimated, not even a lab bench, and especially not anything you do not recognize. Do not touch. Anything!
Secondly, heed all of my instructions. If I say evacuate, do not try to overrule me with your ‘common sense’, it will not do you a lick of good if the flesh melts from your bones. Thirdly, if you think something is amiss, please inform me immediately. I will either inform you there is no need for worry, or take corrective action immediately. Do not try to handle anything by yourself. You are dealing with science far beyond lay understanding. Finally, do not make eye contact or approach any of the reanimated subjects unless we tell you it is acceptable. Any dangerous reanimated subjects have been restrained appropriately, but it would be unwise to test the limits of our protective measures. Do we have an understanding?”
Before Inraf could reply, Sinek walked away. Khersis and Inraf hurriedly walked behind him. Inraf looked at Khersis; he looked mildly entertained, like he had been here before. Probably was looking forward to Inraf’s reactions to the undead, Inraf thought.
Sinek led them onto a very large device that looked like a mechanical dumbwaiter. Inraf had only seen one of these in the Copernican palace, they were a recently developed contraption that was difficult to maintain, unless there was a pressing need. Probably it was for “containment” reasons, as mentioned before. Inraf knew the purpose of one this large was obviously to convey people instead of small items, so the prince followed Sinek and Khersis into it without hesitation, pleased that he did not need an explanation of what it was, as an average person would.
“Heading up!” Sinek yelled loudly up the dumbwaiter shaft. “Project HZ Researcher Sinek, and two guests, firstly Imperial Guide Khersis, secondly Sir Terynd of Elistierre!” Inraf heard a horn go off and a brief green glow flash around before the dumbwaiter started moving up with a clank and a groan.
“First active zone, zombification protocols and variants”, said Sinek. “Non-contagious, non-intelligent reanimated corpses, largely identical to the most basic of necromantic spells that any fool can get ahold of and use. Of little interest on their own, we keep them around for post-mortem modification or as baselines for comparison with our more advanced reanimated subjects.”
The smell bashed in Inraf’s nose harder than his royal fencing lessons and his eyes watered with the scent of rotting flesh. Decaying, greenish humanoid figures either stood in thickly built cages or gnashed away at the bars with their blackened and decayed teeth. Something deep inside Inraf recoiled at seeing these things sway or writhe where they stood and the ancient teachings of Copernicus deep inside him yelled at these unloving blasphemies.
Soldiers dressed just like the lobby guards stood around at regular intervals, but they seemed rather relaxed. Scientists dressed somewhat like Sinek, except with more protective equipment, such as thick gloves and wading boots, regularly flitted to and from cages with notepads in hand. A pair of guards hauled a cage of the gnashing humanoids next to the dumbwaiter, and one with exposed muscles on its face yelled “Barhah!”, as it lunged at Inraf, before its skull clanged off of the thick bars in place. Inraf nervously looked at Khersis and Sinek as they stepped back onto the dumbwaiter.
“Don’t worry”, said Sinek. “If you have even the slightest idea how to use a sword, these things are a nuisance. They’re only dangerous if they greatly outnumber you, which is why we keep them on the first research floor here.” Inraf was not sure whether to believe him.
“Now!” said Sinek, walking further down a hall. “Skeletal undead. Both the typical reanimated skeleton and our more advanced subjects, known as greater skeletons!”
Inraf looked around. Some of the caged beings he saw were the skeletons he remembered seeing in Copernican picture books- just a pile of exposed white bones somehow standing up of their own volition in the shape of a human skeleton. He looked into their empty eye sockets and shuddered at the empty void he thought he saw- much worse than simply empty space, it felt like putting a foot into his own grave.
Then he caught the attention of the other skeletons. A thin layer of blackened and withered flesh covered their bones like Esk’s assistants, but there was something behind those eyes. Something… curiously benign. It seemed like it looked back at him, despite the absence of eyes in its sockets. He thought it almost nodded in acknowledgment of him before it turned back to the necromancer who was examining it. These beings were not at all caged or restrained, the necromancers around them did not seem to acknowledge they were undead in any way- in all respects, the scene looked like an entirely mundane physician’s lab, with some of the humans replaced with charred bones that exactly acted and were treated the same way as humans. Notably, there were no armored guards present, but a few of the blackened skeletons carried weapons and stood exactly at attention like the Winged Scarabs, and in the positions that the guards should have been, and what Inraf heard from Xernaryt sank home into his gut at last. The soldiers who protected him so well were members of the living dead. He was not sure what to make of this, as his emotions finally caught up to his brain.
Sinek interrupted Inraf’s contemplation. “The greater skeletons are beloved members of the community, who volunteer to serve beyond death. I am sure you have met quite a few on your way here. They retain much of their procedural memories and pure intellect, but display little in the way of experiential memories or emotion. They are nonetheless a great improvement over the traditional skeleton, as you can see, which we have had to cage much like the zombified subjects, potentially dangerous as they are. The greater skeleton is entirely unlike them- loyal, dependable and stable.” Sinek said, the pride creeping into his voice at every mention of the greater skeletons.
Inraf stared in fascination as he could almost see the human beings moving behind every one of these blackened skeletons. This was not a defilement of life as Copernicus said was, it was an extension of it!
He shook the thought out of his mind. He would have to think more about this later.
“Moving along”, said Sinek, this time sounding reluctant to leave.
The next area held very large, broad human figures, mostly wrapped in bandages. They did not seem to be falling apart and actively putrefying like the zombies did, but all the same, the pallor and slight greenish tinge of death every muscle and joint made clear their undead status. The undead giants wore clay pots on their heads, although with closer inspection, Inraf was unsure if those actually *were* their heads. The necromancers nearby poked and prodded these creatures, using syringes and tubes full of all manner of fluids.
“These are the mummies, large conglomerations of zombified tissue, reconstructed in a humanoid form. Very effective as laborers and as shock troops, although the latter is a bit risky, since they are strictly dependent on a necrologist to control them. Not much to see here, they don’t have natural behaviors, they’re quite useless without direction and don’t do anything too exciting.” Sinek waved to one researcher prodding a mummy nearby. “Hey, Mensyr, make it do something for our guest here!”
The necromancer nodded and, on tip toes, whispered something at the clay pot atop the mummy’s head. The headless undead being lifted its arm with a slight hesitation. Mensyr again leaned forward, spoke again into the clay pot, this time whispering for quite some time. The mummy cautiously took a step forward, turned to Inraf, and, shuddering for a moment as if to take a deep breath and gather itself, performed an elegant salute and bow in Inraf’s direction. It reminded Inraf of a newly-tamed horse reluctantly performing tricks. He chuckled a little. It seemed a bit silly and he felt a bit at ease at seeing something so familiar in the undead.
Sinek led them further into the complex without a word. Inraf saw a number of ghastly figures in black rags, floating off the ground, each one held behind magic circles on the ground. These beings were decidedly physical but incomplete, like the upper half of skeletons, leaving behind a plume of black smoke as they levitated. Their bones shone with an unreal shade of whiteness that made Inraf uncomfortable. Below them were faintly glowing magical circles drawn in pink chalk, although damned if Inraf knew their purpose. His condition did not make learning about magic easy, after all.
Inraf saw the caretaking necromancers weave in and out of the field of bony figures, some of them stooping down to maintain the magic circles. The air stank of chemicals, quite possibly magical reagents, Inraf surmised.
“The grimms.”, said Sinek. “Created from the bones of spellcasters. Definitely not as scary as they seem, mainly because their intelligence is uh… well take a look.”
One black-robed necromancer kneeled down next to one of the bony floating figures, with a small stone in hand. He waved the stone in his fist at the grimm. The grimm made no response and simply floated in place. The necromancer became increasingly frustrated, shaking the stone harder, making it glow slightly. The grimm turned to him, staring straight past him. The necromancer sighed in what Inraf figured was resignation, and tilted both hands in a slight gesture, causing a cascade of golden light to emanate from his hands. The grimm stared at him with no reaction. The necromancer did it again, this time with more force in his gesture. If the grimm noticed, it still made no indication. The necromancer shocked Inraf by actually reached out and grabbing the grimm’s bony hand as if it were a child. He made the same gesture with his free hand, again with golden light, and moved the grimm’s hand to make the same gesture. The grimm stared down at him and pulled its hand out of his grip, although it did not seem upset or offended. It looked up and down at him as he repeated the gesture a fourth time. Then it repeated the gesture, creating a burst of golden light. The necromancer made an expression that was probably a roll of his eyes underneath his mask, and then tossed the stone he held at the grimm. The grimm caught the stone and put it inside of its skull, then turned back to the direction it originally faced with the same blank stare. The necromancer shrugged and stomped off.
Inraf felt like he had to say something to stop himself from laughing. How could something so scary-looking be so stupid, he thought.
“Uh well, they look like the Jolly Reaper.” said Inraf, recalling pre-Copernican legends of the gentle and pleasant psychopomp who escorted the souls of ancient heathens to paradise.
“Yes, but the resemblance ends there.” said Sinek. ”We believe they arise from a reanimated spellcaster’s soul with a strong urge to express magic. Unfortunately, as you can see, they don’t do so very well. Grimms have not yet found any use because they require inputs of magical energy from a living necromancer and apply it with far less skill. Much more efficient to have a living spellcaster just cast the spell themselves.If only we could make grimms into something more useful. And now, finally, probably the most promising subjects.” He led them into another sealed room.
“Hemophagic subjects. Afflicted by a particular strain of a naturally occurring illness, these reanimated mostly retain their intellect and memories, albeit consumed by inhuman urges that render them a danger to others. Attempts to harness their talents have had limited effect. But hemophages seem to be resistant to necrological alteration or even influence, which makes them a particularly frustrating vein of research. These ‘vampires’ don’t live for particularly long once raised and are barely contagious, which is why we allow them much more freedom than other reanimated test subjects.”
Unnaturally pale human beings with fangs sat or stood in a room behind a large glass wall. An unrecognizable spidery gray mesh ran through the glass, Inraf presumed it was reinforcement of some sort. Some of pale humans were eating bloody strips of meat. A few of them threw orange leather balls at a basket hanging on the wall or read books. A good fraction of them slumped against the walls in a posture Inraf recognized as defeat and surrender to a bad situation.
Sinek shook his head in pity. “Okay, that’s enough of that, I don’t like seeing them either. Moving along…”
Before they could move on, Inraf saw something. One of the vampires, a teenage girl, her face pale as a drained corpse, her dark hair dangling like moss from a tree, reached out onto the glass, looking curiously at Inraf. Inraf reached his hand out to meet at hers, then caught himself, and looked at Sinek, his hand still outstretched. Sinek nodded, although he kept his own distance. Inraf reached out to the glass, his bandage-covered hand pressing against where the girl’s hand met, dwarfing her little hand. The vampire girl stared back at him. Inraf found himself back to one cold autumn morning when he looked at Anuar through an opening in the curtain of an operating ward, blood streaming from his mouth and eyes. In his heart stirred mixture of resignation, longing for a cure and love for his brother. But most of all was sadness, not for himself, but for those who had to see him die like this. Anuar could not approach within five meters for the physicians’ fear of contact with Inraf’s infectious blood. Unable to be anywhere near each other as Inraf slowly died, the desperation ripped at the two of them than any earthly pain could.
Inraf snapped back to the present. On the girl’s face was that exact same sad stare he gave Anuar. Inraf’s vision blurred and his eyes stung. He turned away sharply, determined to hide tears welling up. Inraf somehow pulled through that morning in what the doctors deemed as nothing less than an act of Copernicus. Almost certainly, this girl would not be nearly as lucky. An older male vampire, also extremely pale, wrapped his hands around the girl’s shoulder in a familial way and gently led her away from the glass wall and away from Inraf. For a second, Inraf saw the same haunted, troubled look as his father too often wore on the man’s face before the man turned away.
“We’re moving on now”, Inraf managed to sputter out between deep breaths. He still held his face away from Sinek and Khersis, afraid of what they would see.
Khersis reached out to him with concern. “Sir Terynd, are you-“
“We are done!”, he yelled.
Sinek led Khersis away. Inraf took a moment to recover, leaning against the wall for support, and then hurriedly followed them out.
“Well, I hope we managed to change some of your opinions about the reanimated, Sir Terynd.”, said Sinek, “Unfortunately, they are quite difficult to work with and this is hardly the best place to see them in action. Perhaps a military demonstration or seeing a construction project with the undead would be better. Farewell, Sir Terynd.”
Inraf’s head spun as he thought about the looks he saw on the vampires’ faces, the duty behind the greater skeletons’ standing at attention, and the almost… adorable clumsiness of the grimms and the mummies. It really jarred with the tales of his childhood about bloodthirsty monsters and shadowy killers. He saw otherwise with his own eyes though… could the Copernican priests have been wrong? He and Khersis stepped out of the tower.
The Winged Scarabs shifted direction as one as Inraf and Khersis stepped into their midst, and followed pace behind the two of them. Inraf appreciated their patience, the Winged Scarabs did not do so much as grumble or complain in the least, and they executed orders without flaw or distraction, as far he could tell.
As they returned to the palace, Khersis put his hand to his ear as if hearing something very faint. He then turned to Inraf, “His greatness would like to see you in the palace parade grounds. He has a surprise for you.”
Probably a fancy arms demonstration or something, Inraf thought. Okay, that could take my mind off the undead then.
Chapter 7: In which a few swords and spears may be involvedInraf decided to focus on walking. They left the palace through a back door into a large, crimson-pink pavilion. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting shadows through the trees on the borders of the court that framed it just so, almost like the borders of an illustration in a fancy storybook.
The wall of the palace facing the palace grounds held the biggest mirror Inraf had ever seen, at least ten meters high and three times across. On closer inspection, it was spotless, to boot, even being outdoors! Surely, it must have been magical in some way.
Xernaryt sat atop a large throne at the edge of the pavilion. The chair was identical to the one in his throne room. Heck, Inraf, thought, it may actually be his actual throne, probably moved by magic or something. Tightly surrounding him was another contingent of Winged Scarabs, two more group of soldiers that Inraf did not recognize, and a few important-looking individuals Inraf figured were military officials. Esk quietly stood on the sidelines, no doubt he was present here in an official capacity, but there was no one else Inraf recognized beyond the emperor.
Xernaryt clapped his hands together and smiled. “Welcome, Sir Terynd of Elistierre,” he said, his voice sharp and clear despite a few hundred meters between them (probably magic, Inraf thought).
”My distinguished guest.”, continued Xernaryt “I hear you have been greatly impressed by my Winged Scarabs, no small praise coming from a warrior of considerable skill yourself, having slain an Arrownaught in single combat. I thought this might be a welcome opportunity to entertain my beloved guest before supper.”
Inraf could not help a broad smile, he felt pretty tired right now, but he could always spare the energy for a skilled display of swords and spears. He sat down on a very large cushioned chair proffered by Khersis and sat back for the show.
Xernaryt made an assertive-looking gesture. The first group of soldiers, a number of very large individuals in lamellar armor, their scales of shimmering in the sunlight, moved forward atop large lizard-like beasts like those that Inraf had rode during the desert ride. They wore black masks with tooth like red patterns over their lower faces, and large branchlike spikes protruded from their helmets. A single individual in gleaming light tan armor, probably ceramic in nature, Inraf figured, led the crowd, his facemask bearing a crown like hat on top. Probably the commanding officer, Inraf thought.
The cavalrymen rode forward in perfect coherence and split in half, each half charging into and interweaving with each other, running past each other at high speed without so much as brushing their comrades, and in perfect synchronicity, both halves of the formation starting and ending each merger at the exact same moment. Inraf, no stranger to cavalry demonstrations, appreciated their movements with a cool expression. Their technique certainly matched the finest of Copernican cavalry, but the crown prince was accustomed even to perfection. They split into perfect concentric circles moving opposite to each other, waving their sabers in their air in perfect unison. Inraf clapped a little louder than was polite, hoping to please the emperor.
Abruptly, the cavalrymen pooled into a wedge formation as smoothly and swiftly as water into a cup and stamped off to the sidelines at a leisurely, exaggerated gallop, gleaming golden sabers still in the air. The officer in ceramic armor seamlessly abandoned the crowd and made a very dramatic salute to Xernaryt, almost like blowing a kiss into the air, before turning around and joining his men. Hm, that’s a nice theatric touch, Inraf thought.
The moment the cavalrymen left the borders of the pavilion, the second group of soldiers stepped forward. Winged Scarabs, Inraf recognized, with their imposing armored veils swaying in the light afternoon breeze. They marched forward, twirling their halberds in time with their steps, leaving just enough distance to avoid hitting each other with their weapons, but only just. Inraf nodded in approval at this novel approach to a weapons display. An individual in slightly better decorated armor marched ahead of the formation, again, likely an officer. The officer fell to one knee clutching his polearm and facing the Emperor as if in desperate prayer and a second later, all of the Scarabs did the same.
Xernaryt dramatically stood up from his throne, with both practiced ease and a hint of reluctance, Inraf noted. “Scarabs! Your Emperor has again need of your unparalleled might!” he said. “Go forth, and bring your Emperor victory! “ He spoke with a tone that Inraf recognized as simply reading off the script of centuries-old tradition, but still delivered it powerfully, unlike the gentle tones he took with Inraf in private. Honestly, he delivered this speech better than dad would, thought Inraf, feeling a twinge of guilt in his chest for thinking less of King Alse.
The officer stood up and made an exultant gesture with his halberd, then turn around to his men with his arms spread wide. As one, they stood and made a more restrained form of this gesture, probably to accommodate their tighter formation. They swished their halberds left and right in perfect formation, the swooshing sounds surprisingly loud from where Inraf sat, before pointing the halberds forward and advancing forward menacingly. Then the scarabs spun the halberds over their heads with a graceful twirl, still walking forward and with a loud thump of boots against pavement, reversed their direction mid-step, halberds held forwards and marching in the opposite direction. Inraf again nodded in approval, and it must have caught Xernaryt’s eye, as the Emperor leaned back with a satisfied smile.
The Scarabs held loose but perfectly ordered formation as they marched, their officer methodically marching in between the gaps between his men, moving to a new row of men after reaching the end. Wow, this was actually a fair bit more interesting, and probably more difficult, than Copernican legionnaire formations display. Then again, these were the Emperor’s bodyguard, the Copernicans did not really have any special units assigned to the King, Inraf thought. Maybe I should change that, he mused.
Then the Scarabs halted abruptly, halberds held high. The front line lunged forward with their halberds at an imaginary opponent, stopping in a low crouch with spear menacingly stabbing into thin air. The second line followed behind them, stabbing their halberds over the front line’s shoulders. The third line made an acrobatic pose and thrust their weapons even higher above the first two lines. The many troops behind them then spun around with dizzying speed and the troops at the borders of the side of the rear and formation repeated the same three layers of spears, but simultaneously and outwards from the center of the formation. Inraf knew that this was a demonstration of a response to flanking by enemies and he fidgeted a little with excitement, almost wanting to get out of his chair. It was hard enough doing that with legion shields, and not all legions could do it that smoothly, but this? Incredible.
Xernaryt stood up again and announced, “Well done, my Scarabs! Your emperor is pleased; your duty is fulfilled. Stand down and enjoy the peace that you have forged in the fire of battle!” He sat down again, and the Scarabs with their weapons held out all melted back into standing ready stances as if they had been like that this the whole time. They walked out, leaving behind their pale-armored officer, who gave an elegant flourish with his free hand towards Xernaryt before following his troops out.
Inraf eyed the third and last formation of soldiers remaining by Xernaryt’s side, expecting them to march out into the pavilion. They dressed in what appeared to be vests and stiff turbans worn over flexible body armor. Then Inraf noticed Xernaryt wore a wide grin on his face. The turbaned soldiers replaced themselves with a sudden cloud of smoke and reappeared in the center of the pavilion. Inraf startled, nearly out of his chair. They drew strange curved blades from their sides with a wild twirl, jumping acrobatically a little as they did so. They thrust the blades up high, before bringing them down low in a sweeping slash, keeping just enough space from each other to avoid nicking any of their fellows.
The formation of turbaned soldiers then split in two with a sudden sideways flip and each half threw what appeared to be knives in a high arc at the other half. Both halves then caught the thrown blades with their free hands (not quite in sync though, Inraf noticed), and returned the throw at each other, catching it yet again. Then each half took a menacing fighting pose at the other and stepped forward, the first line of each half elegantly mock fighting each other with their large blades (and all using different moves, Inraf noted with some amazement). Then the first line of each group vanished in a plume of smoke, the second line behind them advancing through the smoke and repeating the same display of swashbuckling, before also vanishing. This repeated through the third line, and then the fourth and last line instead opted to kneel down with their blades held to the ground. They stared at each other for a few moments, then their previously vanished comrades stood up behind them out of nowhere, again surprising Inraf, then placed their swords against the fourth line’s throats. They made a violent gesture and the fourth line fell down to the ground (with a controlled fall, Inraf noted with much relief). The “executioners” then picked up their “executed” comrades, who then lifted their arms up high in what seemed to be Inraf some kind of symbolic gesture, although damned if he had any idea what it meant. The soldiers then rejoined each other in formation and marched out of the pavilion. This third and last act seemed more of a dance than a military parade to Inraf, but it did make him curious as to what these soldiers could actually do on the battlefield.
The marching turbaned soldiers left a single of their members behind, as before, but this one was dressed identically to the others. The soldier made a single curt salute to Xernaryt, placing his hand at his head level and tilting just so. That very slight movement, for an emperor no less, seemed disrespectful, almost familial, to Inraf, but perhaps the Scarsinids had very different traditions? Unlike the last two demonstrations, the lone soldier did not follow his comrades, but rather walked through the pavilion in Inraf’s direction and stopped about twenty meters away from him, standing at parade rest.
“Now,” said Xernaryt, “I am told it is Elistierri custom to give a skilled fighter of a guest a sword and offer them a moment to personally test your soldiers’ mettle?”
Actually, Inraf recalled, the Elistierri did nothing of the sort but in fact Copernicans often used to, a guest rite called the seasoning of steel, although it was out of fashion in modern times. Inraf fully understood the subtext of such a “misunderstanding”, however- Xernaryt was interested in Inraf’s skill with the blade and hoped that Inraf was also interested. Inraf kept his expression calm but stood up and held out his arm to his side. Khersis slipped a sheathed short sword into Inraf’s extended hand. Inraf drew the sword out and inspected it. It appeared to be a flawless replica of the Copernican officer’s blade, the testa argenti, enchanted just so to be unable to break skin, if the inability for Inraf’s fingers to feel its edge was any indication. He nodded with approval at its flawless balance and pristine surface. He looked past the blade in his hands at the turbaned soldier standing twenty meters from him, still standing at attention.
“Ah, but we need a warm-up first! Scarab!” said Xernaryt. Esk whispered something in the emperor’s ear. Xernaryt waved him away and then snapped a finger.
Inraf made a few callisthenic movements, pleasantly surprised again to find that his strange dark bandage-like gear was not at all limiting his movements. He stopped when a Winged Scarab about a full head taller than Inraf loomed overhead before the prince realized it. Inraf was not a short man at all, but as he looked up, he definitely felt something in his gut that made him realize the emperor might have been asking him for too much. The Scarab bristled with heavy armor like the rest, and carried a halberd much the same, but now the weapon appeared much more menacing now that the prospect of being on its receiving end could not get out of Inraf’s mind. Inraf consciously knew the halberd was enchanted as a nonlethal training weapon, but that did not change the thumping in his heart one bit. Khersis presented Inraf with a Copernican shield, beckoning Inraf to take it, and Inraf grabbed the shield out of his guide’s hands much too quickly than etiquette would dictate. He gave the Scarab what he hoped was an even, unworried stare, but felt closer to a chipmunk freezing in front of an incoming carriage.
Xernaryt made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “When you are ready, Sir Terynd.”, he said.
Inraf knew his courage might not last very long, so he raised his shield up and banged his sword against it. The Scarab brought his halberd to bear with a quick spin and cautiously advanced, as if not sure what the much smaller prince was capable of.
Inraf bobbed on his feet with the shield held forward and the sword held back, hidden from the Scarab’s sight. The Scarab gave Inraf’s shield a few exploratory stabs that every veteran duelist would expect from a spearman, each strike gently pushed aside by Inraf, also according to routine. Then, another such quick jab, followed up by a sharp blow, surprising Inraf with the very small windup behind such a ferocious swing. The prince backpedaled from the force, but the Scarab lunged forward and caught Inraf’s shield with the hook on the side of the halberd. Inraf barely held onto his shield as the Scarab reeled him forward, then reversed the direction of his halberd and lunged it out into Inraf’s shoulder. Inraf knew what to expect, and so he mostly rolled with the blow, but still he felt the cold, familiar pain of an enchanted training weapon “cutting” shallowly into his shoulder. Fortunately, the dulling enchantment meant the “wound” would not actually affect his ability to fight, aside from the pain. Inraf sidestepped a blow and left the halberdier’s reach, in no state to exploit his proximity to his opponent.
Inraf’s mind desperately ransacked his training sessions for how to deal with a skilled spearman. Copernicans thought lowly of spearmen, having conquered many such spear-using peoples with their swords and shields, so he drew something of a blank. His instincts reacted to another swing, ducking away from the halberd’s path rather than confronting its power with his shield. The Scarab made sure to engage Inraf at spear’s length, never advancing and taking full use of his weapon’s reach with quick lunges at Inraf. However, he did not backpedal as a spear duelist would, apparently confident in his ability to absorb a retaliatory blow from Inraf. Inraf managed to bring his shield down on a particularly low stab with a loud slam, trapping the halberd against the ground. The prince then stepped forward, stabbing into the Scarab, who withdrew out of reach, moving his grip on the halberd shaft backwards to accommodate his retreat. Inraf followed him, realizing too late the Scarab’s goal in stepping backwards was not to avoid Inraf’s blade, but rather to get the leverage necessary to shove the halberd’s weight against Inraf’s shield, pushing him up and to the side. Inraf stumbled a bit, caught his balance and narrowly parried a fierce overhead blow, his knees shaking slightly under the impact. He mustered the might to push forward, taking another strike on his shield, and stepping beyond the reach of the polearm. The Scarab choked up on his grip, catching Inraf’s back with the hook of the blade, but Inraf paid it no mind as he ran forward, laying his shield into the Scarab with full force and following up with a blind swipe with his sword. The blow ran across the Scarab’s torso.
Inraf distantly heard applause as the Scarab flinched and stepped back under the blow, the beating blood in the young prince’s ears nearly drowning out all other sound. Not content to let a stronger opponent with better reach take advantage of dueling etiquette, Inraf opted not to permit his opponent any time to recover. He feinted a low swing with his sword, using the momentum behind the feint to punch his shield into the Scarab’s face. A satisfying thud rang out and Inraf then dived the blade into a sharp stab, which glanced off the Scarab’s thigh, to no visible effect. The Scarab held both hands on his halberd’s shaft and used the hilt to bash into Inraf’s shield, pushing him back. Then the Scarab stood back and threw a flurry of sweeping low jabs at Inraf’s feet. Inraf hunkered down and met the low attacks with his shield, hoping to bait his opponent into winding up for a big strike. The rapid impacts clattered against his shield. When none was forthcoming and the Scarab persisted in low strikes, Inraf noticed an opening in a swing that was particularly slow to withdraw. He burst out from behind his shield, kicking away the middle of the halberd with his boots, and when the Scarab insisted on trying to catch Inraf’s shield with the halberd’s hook while trying to bring his blade back into control, Inraf let him rip the shield away. Now unhampered by either the weight of his shield, or the force of the disarming, Inraf ran forward and with a practiced slide, dove under the Scarab’s legs. The Copernican flipped himself facing upwards, still prone, and hacked away at the backs of the Scarab’s legs like a maniac. The giant warrior crashed to his knees, no visible damage to his legs, but clutching his fists in pain. Inraf, expecting some kind of kick to the face in return, scrambled out of the way, executing a neat roll backwards as soon as he halfway got to his feet, but no attack came forth. The Scarab, rolled himself around to a sitting position facing Inraf and placed his one hand on his face covering an eye, the other extended out with palm facing Inraf. The prince immediately recognized the universal Centric hand sign for submission in battle. He reciprocated with the traditional response to surrender, embracing his opponent and bumping his cheek against his opponent’s cheek. The Scarab stood up, bowed deeply and walked over to the sidelines.
Inraf, still huffing with the exertion, looked up over to Xernaryt, who warmly nodded to the prince. Inraf felt a mixture of gratitude that the Scarab did not press the challenge, and of worry that the Scarab was just the opening act for this strange masked warrior.
“And now, Sir Terynd will face down a member of my Flowers of Death!” announced Xernaryt.
Inraf startled a bit. The Flowers of Death were the Scarsinid descendants of the legendary ancient Warflowers, said to be masters of all skills of battle: magical, martial and intellectual. The Copernicans carried on the warflower tradition through the Vespertine Blooms, the most elite warriors they had on hand. The crown prince definitely would have lost a battle to a Vespertine Bloom, even in a polite sparring match. The Vespertine Blooms modeled themselves after Copernicus, who served as a Warflower before he founded a nation and ascended to godhood. Presumably, the Flowers of Death modeled themselves after Darwin, the warflower who similarly became the Scarsinid progenitor. However, legend said that Copernicus killed Darwin (though that was ancient history, no grudges held in the present), so maybe Inraf had a chance that their skill was not as great?
The Flower of Death made an inviting gesture. Inraf couldn’t see anything behind its facemask. He noticed a wilted rose pinned to its vest, and that it wore loose clothing. Khersis handed Inraf his shield back, and Inraf once again clanged his sword against his shield to indicate his readiness.
The Flower made a zigzag advance with sword undrawn, the eyes behind its mask silently gauging Inraf’s reaction. Inraf stood his ground behind his shield, careful not to betray any sign of weakness or fear. The Flower’s thick curved blade came out with a fierce blow as it was drawn, biting into Inraf’s shield. Inraf stood firm behind the blow and retaliated a sharp jab at his opponent. The Flower casually ducked out of the way of the attack and made several more swings at Inraf. Inraf hid behind his shield, absorbing each blow with ease and returning each with ease. So far, so good, his opponent did not hit nearly as hard as the Scarab, although the Flower was more than able to keep up with Inraf. Inraf then felt his opponent fall out of his sight and a cold stinging in his legs told him that the Flower had hit him somehow. He made a single step back to see that the Flower had dropped down prone and thrust its blade into his leg with an acrobatic grace. Before Inraf could retaliate, the Flower of Death elegantly spun back up to its feet with no more difficulty than one would get out of a chair.
Inraf stepped away in alarm, as the Flower advanced at equal pace with its blade held straight and low, held in an imitation of Elistierre fencing form. Inraf lunged forward and jabbed out with his shield. The Flower ducked under the strike, spun downwards to dodge another thrust from Inraf and kicked out at Inraf’s feet, nearly tripping him. The crown prince regained his balance, drew back his sword and shield in a defensive stance, and advanced. The Flower obliged him by chipping at his shield with a flurry of lunging cuts, stepping back expertly when Inraf counterattacked. Inraf feinted another shield bash, winding back his arm, and then threw his shield forward, clearly catching the Flower off guard. The shield was great insurance on the battlefield or against an unexpected foe, but against such a fast single opponent, it was worth losing it and its heavy bulk for an opening. His opponent ducked almost in time, and the thrown shield skimmed off of the Flower’s head, giving Inraf the opening he needed to stab his foe in the chest. He saw his enemy flinch in pain, and its blade ran up in a late counterattack, which Inraf nearly sidestepped, the cold ache from the enchantment biting into his shoulder.
The Flower’s blows flowed into each other with an exotic grace and odd angles, giving the prince little time to rest. The prince kept his opponent at bay with quick stabs from his own straight sword, transitioning from one-handed thrusts into quick diagonal swings and back again to match the speed of the Scarsinid warrior’s swordsmanship. Their swings mostly hit thin air as Inraf kept pace with his foe’s ferocity, each of them dodging by hairs. Several times the blade grazed him, producing a twinge of pain but nothing more. Then the warrior caught him with a low kick that made him stumble, followed up by a devastating two-handed slash across the chest. The enchanted pain would have felled his younger brother Anuar into a weeping mess, but Inraf was forged from tougher stuff. He bounced away from the impact, fighting down the tears from the agony, and gracefully managed to skid both of his feet into a kneeling position. The Flower circled him, sensing that victory was near. Inraf, finally desperate enough to forget his training forms, grasped his sword in both hands and swung for home with a wild mid-height slash. The Flower backed away from it and lunged in for the finisher. Inraf, his arms still extended and appearing wide open, swiftly spun his sword in his hands until both of his hands instinctively grasped at the blunt-edged base of the blade. He brought his arms back around close to his body so that the guard of the sword caught his opponent’s incoming sword edge. Inraf, still gripping his sword by the middle, dragged its tip across his opponent’s chest, drawing another gasp of pain. Then Inraf swung the sword around like a bat, slamming its hilt into his opponent’s kneecap. The Scarsinid involuntarily dropped to that knee, and Inraf capped it off by winding up for another hard strike to the shoulder. But the Flower reacted faster, drew a dagger with its free hand and slammed it against Inraf’s neck just as his blow was about to hit home. Inraf felt the familiar paralysis from a “lethal” blow from an enchanted blade, dropped to his knees, let go of his sword and felt the magical numbness wash over him, barely able to think at all. He heard much applause from the sidelines and he saw his opponent stand up with a bit of a hobble. He slumped down, trying to breathe through the pain. Someone rushed to Inraf’s side, helping him up, and muttering something. He felt hands examining him and someone tilted his head up to the light. Inraf was dizzy with excitement, agony and adrenaline, and could barely register what came next. Xernaryt gave some kind of speech, there was much applauding and cheering, and some people, not sure who, helped Inraf stagger back to his room.
When he finally caught ahold of his thoughts again, he found himself spread-eagled back in bed. He tried to move, but it hurt a lot. He barely managed to turn his head into a more comfortable position…
He leapt out of bed with an unmanly yelp when he saw his sparring opponent next to him, sitting upright and still in uniform. With the mask off, he realized his foe was a woman. A beautiful woman at that. She had dark, warm-colored skin, thick red lips, a short but very thick and wild dark hair, and he thought she resembled someone he knew.
Inraf searched his memories of the last hour for some event, something, anything that could gracefully and politely explain why his opponent was here in his personal chambers, and a woman, to boot. This would have been highly improper in Copernica, and it stretched Inraf’s cultural open-mindedness to believe this was even slightly appropriate in Alenactia.
“W-wh-what are you doing in here? This is my room!” Inraf sputtered.
“Pfft. This was my room first.” the woman replied. “You’re just borrowing it.”
“Excuse me?” said Inraf.
“This was my room. I used to sleep here. I don’t know why Dad is speaking so highly of you, but he bade me follow you to your chambers. I don’t know what the hell he’s getting at, but here I am.“
“Dad? But… does that mean, you’re one of Xernaryt’s daughters?”
“Princess Sayeline to you. I am sure you have seen my sist-“
“Sally! It’s me! Prince Inraf!” said Inraf, ripping off his protective cloth mask violently enough that Sayeline flinched.
Chapter 8: A girl he likesSayeline paused for a moment. “You know… this would explain everything.” she said, taken aback.
“Wow, you’ve grown… uh, beautiful. Seriously, you are gorgeous.” said Inraf, almost stammering in his excitement.
“Damn right I did”, said Sayeline, breathlessly. “What was Dad thinking, setting me and you up like this?”
His mind raced for something to say, clutching at the first possibility. “So you’re a warflower now? You did super, you really gave me a beating back there.” he said.
“You did really well yourself, for a pampered little prince.” said Sayeline. “You grew up cute too. Yes, I became a Flower of Death. Dad gave me a choice; it was either the military or being married off to some dumbass foreigner… I- I mean, I wouldn’t refer to you as a dumbass foreigner, I…”
“No no,” said Inraf, standing up and pacing around in his excitement. “I understand. Wow! It’s been so long, so much has happened.” I’m actually okay with this turn of events since you left, it was worth getting to see you again like this, he thought. He didn’t even feel the tension and sickness in his stomach about the plague.
Sayeline patted the bed next to her, and Inraf sat back down, still shivering in excitement. She nodded gravely as he told her about the incident with the plague and the events afterwards until now, and to his disappointment, confirmed that his experiences with the violence in Alenactia were quite normal.
“Yeah, the empire is going to hell. We keep up appearances in the palace, but the satraps can’t be bothered to get their heads out of their arcanical experiments and actually govern like they’re supposed to. It’s like a sickness, this urge for immortality.” she said.
“Damn. And Xern-, your dad can’t do anything about it?” he said.
“Well, look at him, he’s running off and doing everything he can to please his guests and march around with his super soldiers in big fancy parades and make fancy gadgets. That’s all he cares about, so it’s all he actually does anything about. He recalled me from training in the Voidlands just for your visit, saying some Elistierri noble boy *absolutely* wanted to see some warflower successors. We hadn’t spoken for five years, and that was a pretty good reminder of why. His daughters are just another ornament in his palace; I’m just an ornament made out of steel instead of silk.” Sayeline practically spat the last sentence out.
“I can’t complain though, he’s been a super gracious host, doing tons of stuff for me in the very first day. He made this outfit out of magic-insulating cloth to try to slow down my illness. ”, said Inraf.
“It looks silly. I hope you have something better soon.”
“That’s the idea.”
They paused awkwardly for a while.
“Ah, dad’s banding at me again.”, said Sayeline, gesturing to a thin bracelet on her wrist. Inraf recognized it as the enchanted communications devices Xernaryt and Khersis wore. “He says they’ve prepared a banquet.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like there’s people starving on the outskirts of the Empire, so hey let’s all eat all the stuff they grew.” she said.
Inraf decided probably the best response involved staying silent. Sayeline took Inraf by the hand. “Come on. You can’t eat with that mask, don’t pick it up. Let’s go. Scarsinid custom says it’s super bad to be late to dinner. I’d put on something prettier”, she said, gesturing to her vest and leather armor. “But today’s just been this awful rush and I just got back home like three hours ago, so let’s go.”
Inraf felt oddly light on his feet at Sayeline took him to the palace dining hall. She had a bit of a limp in the leg where Inraf hit her, but it seemed to sort itself out as she kept moving. He felt a little bad about the duel earlier.
The dining room was massive and every inch of it had been decorated it in some way, much as he was used to. Glittering urns and lamps by every crevice and entrance in the walls, tiles adorned with exotic geometric patterns, golden spires protruding from every buttress, and every single chair, table and post in the room bearing an intricate carving of some form or another. He noticed a massive painting on the ceiling depicting some long-ago, epic and violent event involving the ancient Tol race, which he probably would recognize from a history book if he stared at it long enough.
Xernaryt, Esk and Sinek sat at a grand-looking table in the center of the room. As usual, dozens of Winged Scarabs stood stock-still all around the room, standing at attention as if their lives depended on it, which honestly was a distinct possibility. Inraf wondered for a moment if he could find the fellow he dueled, but they all looked the same…
Inraf sat down next to Sayeline. He smiled at the others, now that people could see his face, but only Xernaryt returned the smile. Esk quietly sat with a sheaf of papers in one hand, alternating between a teacup and a quill in his other hand. Sinek carefully watched Xernaryt, not meeting Inraf’s eyes. Sayeline sat down and quietly tucked in her cloth napkin as if nothing was unusual at all. Inraf followed suit, carefully observing the others at the table. As Inraf sat down, Esk seemed to snap out of a trance, looked up and down at Inraf and then briefly spared a glare at Xernaryt before returning to his papers. Inraf guessed that the two of them had had unpleasant words very recently, possibly about Inraf, even.
Xernaryt said nothing, and made a waving gesture. With a second of the emperor finishing the gesture, Inraf noticed several servants entering the room with food in hand. He noticed several Copernican specialties present- nitronara, javata fish, and viridian flamingo. However, between Esk working at the table and Sayeline so close to him he could hear her breath, Inraf did not really feel like thinking about the food.
“Splendid demonstration today, Sir Terynd. I had hoped you would best my daughter in combat, but perhaps I raised her too well, no?”, said Xernaryt. He beamed with pride, and when no response was forecoming from Inraf, motioned to the food.
“Yes, you raised me”, said Sayeline as she started filling her plate. Inraf could practically hear the moisture condensing on the coldness of her sarcasm.
Xernaryt ignored her and inquired about Inraf’s visit to the tower. Inraf stopped thinking about Sayeline and went into detail about how amazed he was at what he saw. Inraf had not had time to reflect on his visit, so he could only describe his amazement and edification, and it was probably best not to offend Sinek at the table at any rate. As Inraf spoke, Xernaryt continued smiling as if this was one of the best days in his life.
Sayeline, in her wrinkled, dusty uniform, still ripped up and bruised from her bout with Inraf, her hair a wild sweaty mess, nonetheless ate like a princess. She chose the proper utensils out of a dozen without even looking at them, and she ate with precise portions, measured timing and impeccable neatness. Inraf knew this kind of etiquette did not come easy, especially as hungry as she must have been after a day of exertion. She was still the same Sally he could remember: ferocious one moment, prim and proper the next. Inraf, aware that this was not quite a formal dinner, but not wishing to look bad next to Sayeline, did his best to keep pace with her dainty table manners. Although it had been so infrequently he had been allowed to eat with his family that Inraf’s table manners were rusty. He constantly glanced at Sayeline to copy her, feeling both relief and shame every time he paused for her to take action first.
As the conversation wore on and course after course came, Inraf could feel Sayeline fuming when Xernaryt did not even remotely include or mention her. When Inraf tried to include her in the conversation, she spoke the bare minimum when Inraf talked to her, and merely a non-committal grunt when her father said anything about her. If Inraf or Anuar did that to their parents, no doubt they would have caught a hand to the back of the head. Possibly multiple times. However, Xernaryt made no move to discipline or even noticeably react to Sayeline. As far as Inraf could tell, to the both of them, they may as well have been a thousand miles apart tonight. Inraf couldn’t wait to talk to her again, but her father was very much interested in talking to Inraf, and he *was* the emperor, after all. So the prince indulged the emperor, regaling him about his journey here and his life in “Elistierre”, and how much he liked the local décor, and other such rubbish.
Meanwhile, Esk quietly ignored the conversation much like Sayeline did. Sinek chimed in only to laugh with the emperor, share a quick anecdote, or make a joke at opportune moments, and Inraf caught the familiar scent of a sucking up. Although Inraf didn’t mind, a servant had to do what was necessary to get by, he thought. Inraf and Xernaryt held a spirited banter, although the prince felt an unfamiliar revulsion in his stomach when Xernaryt regaled him with tales of suppressing revolts and expanding the Empire by force.
Dinner ended after what seemed like only an hour later, although Xernaryt informed them it was actually nearing midnight. Inraf recalled that the Scarsinids held very strong beliefs regarding sleeping into a new day, which explained why the Emperor hastily waved off Esk and Sinek before turning to Sayeline and Inraf.
“Now, I understand that you two have much catching up to do.”, he said, directly addressing his daughter for the first time that night. “Perhaps you were not aware, my dear Sayeline, but this is actually Prince Inraf of Cop-
“I know.”, said Sayeline, not making eye contact or even a facial expression.
“Excellent!”, said Xernaryt with a hint of disappointment underneath a smile. “Prince Inraf, or Sir Terynd, as you will continue to address him before others, will need to sleep in his magical insulated room, on account of his illness. I can have a second bed set up in his room if you wish.”
Inraf flinched at that last sentence. Copernican custom would frown deeply on an unwed man and woman sharing a room for the night, even if physically apart; it was untoward for those of high standing. But Xernaryt was lord here and even his suggestion was law, no matter what propriety would have to say about the situation. Inraf forced a complaint down his throat and nodded courteously. Sayeline gave the slightest and quickest bow Inraf had ever seen and turned around immediately, holding Inraf’s hand as she nearly dragged him out of the room, well out of her father’s earshot.
“Typical. I might as well not even exist. ‘Just show off your fencing tricks after six years of never seeing you, and then whatever Sayeline, I guess you can stick around for dinner I guess’ ”. She said, in her deepest imitation of her father’s voice. “At least he had the decency to let me hang around with you. Damn, I thought you’d be more uptight at sleeping over with a girl though. I guess what happens in Alenactia stays in Alenactia, right?”
“W-well, I uh yeah, it’s great!”, said Inraf. He felt faint with both impropriety and joy at being roommates with Sayeline. She led him to his room, past the Winged Scarabs standing guard, and opened the door.
Inraf clutched his head when he saw a second bed in the room, his bed and other furnishings remained untouched, and there was a discreet curtain between the two beds. What shocked him was that the room seemed considerably larger than before to accommodate all this. This was definitely some advanced form of sorcery. Magicians couldn’t just make a room bigger, right?
“How? How?!” Inraf muttered.
Sayeline shrugged. “I’ve lived here for fifteen years and it’s been like that the entire time and even now, hell if I know. Probably a state secret. Dad is the kind of person to think of some way to do this and even then he just kind of giggles when I ask.”
A thought ran through Inraf’s mind about the Emperor of all Alenactia, most powerful and dignified man on the continent, giggling as his baby girl asks him about how her room gets larger or smaller. He shrugged it out of his head. Sayeline disappeared behind the curtain between their beds.
“Good night, Inraf”, she said.
“Good night, Sally”, he said.
Inraf peeled off the black bandage-like garb off his body, too tired to put anything else on, and rolled straight into bed. He dreamed of static as usual, although the shapes of the dead and the living he saw on the way here crackled past him in sharp form among the static…
The new day saw Sayeline shaking him from sleep. Still on a military sleeping schedule, the still-exhausted Inraf thought. She must be excited to start the new day. But it was too damn early.
“I’m sick, I need my sleep”, Inraf mumbled, not sure and not really caring if Sayeline could understand him.
“It’s ten in the morning. I’ve been up for three hours. In central Copernica, it’s four hours earlier, so it’s just you.”, said Sayeline.
“Ah, crap”, said Inraf.
“I spent the last hour asking my dad for a day with you to myself. Not sure how keen you are on missing our chance. So get up and get dressed if you like me!” she said, a little cheekiness in her voice.
She dropped some kind of package on top of Inraf and he heard her footsteps and the faint clacking of someone stepping through the curtain between their beds. He curled up to a sitting position, and looked at what was in his lap. It seemed to be a paper package with … clothes inside?
From the texture, they were clearly the same magic-insulating material as his, uh, wrappings from yesterday. But these actually looked like proper clothes, with a two-piece coat ensemble, fine dress shirt below, a scarf and a fine pair of trousers, baggy in the Scarsinid tradition, of course. For his head, a thick turban in the typical Scarsinid style, a connected face veil providing the coverage his old face mask did. The outfit was dyed in an alluring swirling mix of purples and blues (purple dye was hard to obtain anywhere but Copernica and Alenactia, he recalled), with jewels sewn in strategic spots to not seem gaudy or obtrusive. All in all, he didn’t look bad at all, although it was a tad too much blue for his taste, things were perhaps different in Alenactia. He did a few stretches to acquaint himself with the new balance of the exotic clothing and felt completely unencumbered by the thick, stretchy fabric. When he would eventually return to Copernica, he definitely would have to ask the Scarsinids if they had any similar cloth, this stuff felt amazing, like pajamas that he could actually go out in public with.
“Looking sharp”, said Sayeline, peeking her head into the curtains. Inraf startled a bit, then remembered that he wasn’t alone in this room. Sayeline stepped out to get a closer look at him. She wore a fine, tight dark red dress that came down to her knees, and a pair of riding boots below. Inraf, male as he was, could not help but admire her shapeliness, but courtesy dictated his gaze meet her eyes sooner rather than later.
She looked beautiful, her warm brown skin glowing, and her wild, swirling hair actually turned into a sharply delineated and controlled chaos that framed her face just so. He noticed her very dark hair had just a slight hint of red in it. She had a mischievous look in her warm amber eyes. It was at this point that he really hoped she was single.
“Come on!”, she said with a smile, grasping his hand with both of hers. He followed her out of the room. He left behind all his reflections of yesterday; this was an entirely new day with her beside him. He tried to suppress an ungentlemanly grin as she excitedly led him out of the palace. Winged Scarabs stood guard by the entrance and a quartet of them peeled off from their comrades and followed the royal duo in perfect formation, but he barely noticed them with her warm hands against his arm.
The gates to the palace enclosure opened smoothly, noiselessly and far faster than was natural, likely enchanted in some way. Inraf and Sayeline stepped out into the greater world of Rieldynbak.
“You must be hungry. I know a place that serves incredible noon-e sangak practically next doors. What do you say?” she asked.
“Uh, okay.” he said. His head spun with the sights.
Sayeline led Inraf past a bunch of elegant-looking marble buildings, into another bazaar, this one much more orderly than the bustles of stalls and shouting that he had seen on the way here. The smells of roasting meat and spices tickled at his nose. Scarsinid soldiers, with their peaked caps, golden uniforms and bronze-colored spears, stood at all exits and by many of the stalls, a few busy with commerce, most at attention. Strange beasts, of which Inraf only recognized a few from illustrations or his journey here, stalked back and forth, on leashes or in cages. Sayeline dragged him away from the sights and sounds, surprisingly forcefully for her size, and towards (what smelled like) a bakery hosted in a large tent. She faced a stone-faced man sitting at a booth at the entrance and said something that sounded like an order in Scarse Centric.
One of the Winged Scarabs came forth and placed in her hand a very small bag of coins, which she handed over to the man in the bakery. The man nodded, turned around and everyone waited for about a minute. Then a hand jutted out of the bakery holding a bag of wares. The man standing before the tent passed it over to Sayeline, and all Inraf knew was it smelled delicious.
With the food in hand, Inraf, Sayeline and their bodyguards walked over to an adjacent park, with many tall, round marble tables standing among the trees and hedges. Inraf thought the tables and chairs resembled more like bar furniture, with their height and thinness, but again, this was Alenactia, perhaps it was normal here.
Sayeline opened up the bag and took out some flatbread and some spreads that Inraf figured to be cheese, nuts and vegetables. The bread went down surprisingly smoothly, like Konhiton pasta, but it was also rich and aromatic. Sayeline did not hesitate to tuck in, her impeccable table manners seeming all the more impressive with the haste at which she ate. Inraf had guessed she hadn’t yet eaten today. Figures she had the usual appetite of one who fights and sweats for a living. She
SKIP SCENE+++
-------
Inraf remembered that his family was likely worried about the long trip from Copernica to the Imperial household.
Normally he would have dictated a letter to a nearby servant, but his identity was top secret after all. He rang up Khersis and asked for parchment and quill. Steeling himself, he composed a letter, trying to keep as generic as possible.
Dear Mother and Father,
After a long and slightly rough journey, I am doing quite well. Alenactia has proven lovely so far, and dear uncle has been treating me exceptionally well and the locals are nothing short of inviting and open. My condition has been giving me less trouble, thanks to a special insulating garment the physicians bade me wear. I met a childhood friend you may remember visited us in my early childhood, I will leave you to guess who it is. We are getting along splendidly again now. I look forward to giving you more good news later. Please reply soon.
Love,
Terynd of Elistierre.
He signed and sealed the letter and handed it over to the ever-patient Khersis.
With that final task finished, he removed his coat and lay down in bed, falling deep asleep.
The next few years blurred together to him. The Scarsinid treatments for Inraf’s disease were much gentler, and in his opinion, more reasoned-out, than the chemical purges and intensive magical healing the Copernican priesthood tried. His condition remained largely the same despite the insulation, explained by Esk as the natural progression of the disease- even though the treatments kept his condition at bay, it would continue to fester and injure his body, never cured for good, never worsening too much. In between therapies, Inraf traveled the country of Alenactia with Sayeline, seeing new sights, new people, new things. His world grew and he felt a little sorry for Anuar, who wouldn’t get to travel the world like this until he was already king. Letters from home were a bright spark in every month, as his brother replied to his letters like clockwork. He held onto them like gospel, even though they were frequently ciphered or cryptic about events in the Copernican royal household. Must have been his mother’s influence, she always lectured about giving away information too easily. As he puzzled over how to break the latest ciphered letter, summoning the ancient memories of his old tutoring, it was like a little game to him by this point, he really did wonder about what his brother did not tell him.
Chapter Ten: Things happen to AnuarAnuar looked up across his table at Raine Operancci, his soon to be betrothed. As the Daughter of Cardinal Operancci, their marriage had been in the works for about a decade now. Mother and father could have chosen worse, he thought. She was stunning with a long, picturesque mane of pale, almost-blonde violet hair hanging off her head-supposedly a sign of Copernica’s personal blessings, although Anuar’s schooling recognized it as one of many magical stressors that happened frequently to advanced spellcasters. It was certainly a good thing- it meant she came from a background of highly educated magical scientists, if not a potent magician herself. Her dark blue-purple eyes scrutinized everything they took aim at, with an intensity Anuar saw only in his mother, and the way her jawline framed her thin, round lips was something Anuar typically only ever saw in fairy tale books about the fairy tale princesses. Today Raine wore a light blue sundress that nicely framed her well-developed… well, Anuar was a gentleman, but it took every bit of that gentleman to not drift his eyes downwards. She was lean in all the right places, and curved where it counted. She showed inklings of bite and wit in her replies to his inquisitive conversation so far, so clearly he wasn’t going to be marrying her purely for looks. He knew she was going to be far from an ornate woman-shaped trophy, which was good, because his mother had bred him to expect no less from an able woman.
There was only one problem with their match: they just met for the first time today. He finished his plate of moonchoke and beckoned for the next course. He himself grew up tall and strong, and he received more compliments for his looks over the last few years, although part of that was likely because Inraf wasn’t around to make him look bad, he mused.
Raine smiled with affection at him as the next course came. The light in her smile could have melted down a common man’s heart, and Anuar too, if he wasn’t already aware that she was well-coached. At least the attempt meant she at least wanted this relationship to go smoothly- this marriage was going through no matter what, in order to strengthen the bonds between the Copernican Church (through her father Cardinal Oparencci) and the royal family of Copernica. A wise policy, given the friction between them that sprung from the Copernican church’s inability to heal Inraf. It figured that Inraf was to blame for Anuar settling down with this girl. In any case, it was not his place to say no. Copernica needed to present the world with a united front, especially since the Tabers had been waving sabers ever since the suspiciously timed death of Archmagus Abtre over a decade ago.
“So, Raine, what do you think of your father, the Cardinal?” he asked.
“Oh, he’s… fantastic! Dad’s taught me everything there is to know about the Spherist world! I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without his help!” she replied.
Her face never lost that beautiful smile, but Anuar could sense the disdain in her voice as plain as day. She was as much a prisoner of this religion as she was. The Cardinal’s daughter could never escape that, and neither could the crown prince to a theocracy. He wondered about what the boys said about what a preacher’s daughter was like behind closed doors, before he mentally shut out that line of inquiry.
“I don’t know. Surely you’ve had a crisis of faith before?” said Anuar, careful to let his tone hint at sympathy rather than make a simple query. “I’m sure your dad’s helped you work through it.”
“Never. I’m every bit the Copernican that my father raised me to be.”
His heart dropped; he had read her previous statement wrongly. He had hoped she was of like mind to him, his faith lost when the Copernican priesthood couldn’t so much as budge Inraf’s disease. With that simple statement, she spoke with pride and conviction, the barest snarl in her voice creeping in at “father” rather than anywhere else. He decided to steer away from that minefield rather than press on; he wanted to keep her feelings in mind, even at the cost of useful information.
“So, Raine, what do you do for fun?” he asked.
“Experimental chemistry”, she said.
Anuar started to chuckle, but then Raine lifted a hand and slipped a dainty white glove off her hand to show a nasty welt beneath. His respect for her went up a notch in that instant. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of what was in her eyes: a deep, focused stare at his expression to figure out the very depths of what he was feeling. The same one he had been giving her, the kind of face-reading he had learned from his mother. He tried his best to move on from his feeling of shock, but she must have noticed on him, because in a split second, Raine returned to the casual, oblivious, smiling girl she had been seconds ago.
Anuar had absolutely no idea how to feel. Perhaps he was just projecting himself or his mother’s training onto her. But he swore- that she was like that. He decided to properly test her
In all this, only two seconds had passed since her reply.