1. Burning the Hatchet - Co-written with Imeriata
The Supreme Crownworld was underwhelming, compared to some of the worlds in the galaxy, it had plenty of traffic around it, to be sure, but it did not have the complicated webs of orbital rings, or the Tsiolkovsky Towers, or complicated structural rearrangement one might imagine, it was a planet without obvious signs of its importance, save for the multiple layers of shielding that passed around the ship invisibly, enough to turn the assault of a hundred planet-killing weapons, and the space stations and sail-wings in orbit. Still, it was an impressive sight, if it was one’s second world, its continents were clearly visible in relatively cloud-free skies, and shining seas were spread below the state barge as it glided through the atmosphere as freely as the seagulls that circled below.
The great city of Tephet-Sheta, named by the early colonists for one of the mythical cities of Gates, sat on the coast of the ocean known as the Nehahara Sea, named for one of the beasts of the city, or perils perhaps, a serpent that devoured the oceans of the world, and the souls of the unloved dead, lay sprawled on the coastline. It was a vast city, but it was without structure, its central districts, which the group were afforded a view of had towers that rose in antique style, miles high through the clouds, built onto scattered islands, linked by bridges and highways, beyond this central, area, accessible to both land and sea dwellers the city of canals sprawled like rust on an abandoned vehicle devouring the hills around it, its shapes varying wildly. In the days when Duat had been settled, the Great Civilization had still been finding its feet, and even now, every culture brought themselves to Duat, and to the city itself.
The barque passed through lines of gaily coloured ships in the sky, and toward the monumental valley of the Ruti-Asar spaceport, a vast crevasse that extended down from the hills that lead up to the Velyshaan ranges to the north. They had passed over the city of the living, into the Necropolis.
Here the spaceport nestled among the lower cliffs that were adorned with many-pillared houses of the dead and beyond the underground dwellings of those who delved cities into the earth. Ancient and modern heroes stared out at them, statues carved into the rock where the hills had been denuded, in pale basalt and white limestone, long-faced necrontyr of old, humans, too, and other species, too many to name or count. The port was a liminal place, set between life and death.
Bone-barques brought the dead to Duat, landing in the Necropolis, while the far more numerous ships of the living landed here. Few of the great trade ships landed here, though the equatorial site was preferable, their shadows would trouble the city below, the smaller craft landed here, and the traffic was constant.
It was a ceremonial space, too, and as they came to land, the Imerians could see the honourable military welcome they had been given, hundreds of necrons, their shells and raiment adorned in differing colours, their weapons jewelled, awaiting them, and with them, crowds of sight-seers.
And protestors.
There was a chorus of boos and jeers from the crowd as the doors opened to the reception ground, and no shortage of insults, ranging from ‘Death to the Slaver’ to ‘Remember Karak Rikkaz,’ a popular one with the dwarven contingent, there were plenty who did not partake in these, and the hatred for the High King seemed muted, but there were only three vocal supporters, all obviously Imerian expatriates, sitting in a corner.
Primus stood tall and proud, his face hidden behind the ancient crown that was his office. The ancient helmet that had been worn by all high kings and some had even had their heads wrapped in linen as they were growing to be able to fit it rather than yield the august office that the helmet entitled. For a moment he stopped, however, making a shocked double-take as his eyes moved over the crowds that had been gathered. ‘Slaver’ he thought bitterly at the very accusation, he had probably done more to end that vile practise more than anyone in the crowds most likely had. And what in the name of creation was his hosts doing, had he been in charge any square would have been cleared out of protesters hours beforehand.
He shook his head slowly and moved on, his body covered in the symbols of his office, a chainmail hauberk made from old runesilver glimmered over his white tunic and the red trousers he wore for the occasion, in the noble fashion were they almost skin tight. His shoulders were in turn draped by a gold and silver checkered cloak and over that the pelt of a Scanderan Snow Lion. His entourage followed all crowded as close they could around the cleric that held a large torch as a gesture of friendship, and as a protection against the very nature and the rot that seemed to be in the air itself. Burials, the very idea was sickening as far as all of them was concerned. However, Primus had to admit to himself that he was not entirely sure if it was his mind that made him associate the air with rot and make the ground itself seem sickly. That was most likely the case, or at least so he hoped.
“INTRODUCING HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRIMUS REX STJÄRNKHRONE!” a page roared and started to rattle of the very long and esteemed list of titles that Primus had been granted. Stopping a few times for breath with a face that turned to a worrying shade of red at a few points. He did, however, Primus had to admit was brave of the young lad put empathise on KRAKBORG as a reply to the protesters. Primus also realised now that he thought about it that they had used the wrong part of the name and just named the entire city Fortfort.
“Too late to do anything about that now!” he thought to himself, and if nothing else Scanderans, in general, was a very stubborn folk, the spirits did not make any quitters when they gave life to their breed.
“Honoured representatives and lords of the great civilisation we are most honoured to be welcomed amongst our most beloved friends!” He said with a nod as the group behind him spread out a bit but seemed to be more than happy to stay around the torch that their cleric carried like a banner. Which in fairness it was not far off. It was a long thing made from rosewood and carrying a lamp of oil on the top out of which the holy flames danced.
“Shame!” the protestors cried when the page got to that part in the list of royal place names, and a woman from the crowd vaulted the low rope fence around the area and ran full pelt toward the Imerians, carrying a custard pie of some sort, soft pastry with a wobbly custard filling.
There was a myriad of movement amongst the Imerians as one large albino man started to move forward and more than a few hands moved down to ceremonial sabres and less so ceremonial pistols. It all froze in one motion when the high king made a quick gesture with his hand. He remained highly doubtful that they would be brought all this way to assassinate him after all and he was hopeful that if his life truly was in danger would his host step in. At least so he very much hoped as he took a step forward his arms outstretched. His feet a bit less relaxed as his black boots rose at the back as he rested his weight on his toes ready to jump out of the way if the need arose, he had no intention of getting a pie in his face if he could avoid it.
There was indeed a necron following the protestor, though no one seemed to be inclined to use weapons nor magic to escalate from the pie-level to the fighting level, Primus had indeed chosen the approach that seemed to go down best with the crowd. As Primus sprang aside at the last moment and she threw the pie at him, it sailed past him and struck Holger on the shoulder. There was a round of applause from many of the audience who were not anti-Imerian protestors and it seemed that they might actually be approving of the High King’s response to the situation.
Holger gave up a very surprised and less than dignified sound that was somewhere between a shriek and a “uhm” as his very expensive robe got covered by pie.
“Our apologies dear lady but it seems your ladyship did not strike true, mayhaps your ladyship will get a better chance in the future, please we ask of someone to take down the distance and if her ladyship feels like it, we would be willing to invite you to our domains one day and give you another attempt!” he said his arms still outstretched, but his tone slightly muffled by the angelic shaped mask that covered his face as part of the helmet.
At this point she was dragged away at last by their hosts, or rather, grabbed by the wrist and led away, with her other hand shaking her fist again, “I’ll get you next time, graverobber!” she called as she was led away, with a distinctly Sydvinlandi accent.
One of the robed attendants that maintained the area stepped forward, and cast some spell that erased the pie from Holger’s robe without speaking, it seemed that this manner of political dissent was frequent enough for them to have planned for it here.
Ahead of the group, surrounded by a phalanx of attendants and senators, the Supreme Hierarch of the Great Civilization stood, wearing robes of silver and carrying a ceremonial staff with an orb of green at one end and sine-script upon it, blood-blue robes beneath its open front and the badge of a Venturers’ Great Captain on one side, the Ankh of the Triarch on the other, a chain between them. On his head he wore a crest-crown, a headdress of gold that spread like a fan from side to side.
“Hail to the High King, and welcome to Duat,” he said, “I see you are wise to our customs, and well-beloved that is!”
“Praise be to the Silent King!” Primus said with a quick nod “We do try our best to learn the customs of our honoured friends!”
The protestors seemed disinclined to cause further trouble, perhaps they would have another go, perhaps not, but for now, the audience seemed to be watching carefully. The C’tani leader stood as tall as a Scanderan, and with the muscular body of a Kouralian god beneath his robes, he embraced Primus, pulling him to him, and kissed his cheek.
Primus stiffened a bit as he was embraced, a bit unsure for once as if he was not used to be hugged but he did not resist.
“We thank your royal highness for your royal highness hospitality and we come bringing gifts as one fellow king to another as a token of friendship between not only our crowns but also between our su… our peoples in the hope that the absolute royal federation will one day be greeted as warmly by the people of the great civilisation as we are greeted by it’s king!” he said and a young page darted forward holding an ornate lamp carved from silver and ivory, flowers and animals danced around a half orb with three feet shaped like merry giants that held the whole thing on their shoulders, a glass cylinder held a tiny but joyful flame in its centre and held a silver inlaid ivory sculpture of a rose on the top.
“A hope for us to offer the blessings we enjoy to our friends and comrades in the great civilisation, a piece of the holy flame, taken from the city of the burning rose itself that once was used on the pyre of moonhaired Silmir, the great mon god that gave his own life to save all of creation!” Primus said nodding to the small flame. A burning flame that if tradition was to be believed had burned for millennia. Divided and spread out but since the day of bronze had it been burning uninterrupted.
The Silent King gave it a small smile, his expression was beneficent though he cared little for sacred flames, he was more than intelligent enough to take it in the spirit it was given, “It shall be nursed here until the stars themselves have burned out,” he said, that was entirely possible of course, but it wasn’t exactly going to happen soon, and if his people had their way it wasn’t actually going to happen at all, but there was no excuse not to use the old phrase.
“We thank your royal highness for your royal highness pledge!” Primus said with another quick nod of the head that Imerians seemed to use a lot, at least when addressing equals. “We further hope that as long as the fire burns that our two peoples will be joined in friendship and harmony!” He continued, truthfully as a matter of fact. The federation held a rather unenthusiastic view of outsiders in a lot of cases but there were exceptions to which they started to warm up a wee bit especially around the civilisations heavily involved in Mystria. Malgrave was an example that stood out as a particularly odd one. They were generally friendly and helpful but the federation still looked very coldly on their recent acts of cowardice and their history of aggressive land claiming against the federation. Self-reflection was another thing not on the list of things the federation held in high regards it seemed.
“We must admit your royal highness that this world is a strange place, not as dreadful as we first feared when we were told about some of it’s…. Usages! The things your royal highness people can do is something to aspire for and envy in equal amounts!”
“You might be more impressed if you saw the rest of it,” Telissat said, “Please, do not call me Royal Highness,” he said, “It’s a little... formal. Telissat would be most welcome,” he said, it was also if not wholly ineligible at least something that he didn’t want to encourage, as much as the Imerians loved titles it would get tedious fast.
“Very well Telissat it shall be!” Primus said with a nod, sounding a bit unsure for a moment. Something that not even the metal mask that he wore could hide. But then again he was not in the federation and he personally had always felt it was best to honour local traditions when travelling abroad. Well to claim that he had always felt that way was a lie and he knew it, growing up he had been as educated about the superiority of the high culture in all matters, but he had been taught recently that some of those had been wrong.
“But we are most curious to see as much of the world as our visit allows, it could be interesting to see if there are some ideas we could take inspiration from in our own blessed domains!” he continued.
“There are many in Dimheim that holds up the great civilisation as a shining example to emulate after all!” He added even if a slight sense of jealousy sparked at those words as he, of course, felt that the federation itself should be looked upon for such guidance. He swallowed and pushed away the feeling as quickly as it had came up. There were a few things even he had to admit that the C’tan did better than his people. Quite a few things even.
“I am sure there is much to learn here,” Telissat said, “but it is important to treasure what makes your own people their own,” he gave a broad smile, and held an arm toward the way he had come from, where several other dignitaries waited, his predecessor, Ranisath, among them, and more welcome to Primus no doubt, the graceful figure of Luna, the princess who had kidnapped him in what had to be the least storybook interaction between a prince and princess in history.
Primus gave a quick smile to the pony princess as he saw her, something that was a rather pointless gesture since his face was still obscured by his facemask that was part of the royal crown.
“But aye, our domains like to be unified by the strength each realm of their own provide to the whole! It is an honourable ideal to protect and to flourish!” He replied a statement that was both correct and false.
Luna gave a smile that was much more visible, her horned head bowing in recognition of Primus, and she spread her wings wide, “It is a pleasure to see you again, my friend,” she said, and then hugged him, hooves on either side of his shoulders, pulling him close to her. If Telissat had been challenging the splendid isolation of the High King’s person, her informality was an even greater assault.
This time the prince did stiffen even more.
“Maybe a bit too public place…” he whispered in the embrace, the Imerian prudeness when it came to interacting with the opposite gender showing through.
“I am of course also more than happy to once again meet you my friend!” he continued in a bit warmer and less stale voice when the first shock dropped. He even skipped the royal we for a moment, if that was intentional or not was however not clear. “I take it that Roseman is doing well?”
“She is indeed, and here, though I think she is a little worried by the exposure,” Luna said, in fact, she’d engineered to keep the younger pony away from the protestors, as she didn’t want Rosman to see Primus get a pie in the face, though as it happened that wasn’t required.
“Ah, well good to hear, we were a bit worried how she would adjust but it is good to hear that she is thriving, I was going to attempt to try my hand at making some of that bread she taught me to make in the village but it was the oddest thing, the head chef said we ran out of flour and eggs, and yeast and everything and then told me he would be unable to rectify the issue, odd that. He also wished to send his regards to his honoured opponent!” Primus replied with a smile that dropped a bit as he remembered the very fat man leaning in the door frame to the kitchen listing off the reason why the king could not enter. If he had not known better and been told by his friend that he was a good chef would he almost assume that the man was making up excuses.
Luna gave Primus a look, and she smiled, she knew what was going on but she hardly wished to explain to Primus that he simply wasn’t allowed to cook, “I am glad he fares well, I had been most worried during the attack on Imerburg, as you well know, but I am glad that things are resuming a sense of normality, and I have some gifts for Goodman Göran,” she had not felt bad about the man’s contest of making her eat meat, she’d done worse crimes in her time, and it had been in a good cause, and she had regularly sent the chef herbs and spices from her travels, and the occasional rare drink, too, the Necrontyr Shriash and other things hard to come by.
“We were luckily able to evacuate most of the royal household before the attack, the commonry did sadly enough take far too many casualties from both the attack and the frost, and the refugees that arose from the evacuation have left our strategic food supplies dangerously exhausted, but we are recovering as good as one could expect, thanks to our good friends around the world! Us Scanderans are a hard faggot to break, we rebuild and become stronger!” he said with a serious nod, his face darkening a bit when the attack was brought up.
“Take our word for it, those voidspawned savages will one day face our full retribution amongst the stars themselves! We bled them hard enough that they did not press the attack to the rest of Dimheim and Midgard we would say but that is a petty consolation when we stood in the rubble and amongst all the dead!” he said in the same grim tone before he seemed to realise something.
“No offence intended” he added quickly to the extraterrestrial people around them.
Ranisath gave a smile, and clapped Primus on the shoulder, “Well said,” everyone seemed to want to hug him or something to that effect. Of course, Ranisath, unlike Telissat, had also ordered an attack on Imeriata, as much as Luna had if not more, but rather fewer people had died during that particular invasion, there was another time, that had never been traced back to him, too.
“We should head into the city,” Telissat said, “I am sure you are looking forward to seeing the city, Tephet-Sheta can be quite welcoming.”
“If you like egg-custard pies,” Luna suggested with a wry tone.
“But we do try and make our guests welcome,” Telissat said, “and I am sure you are curious about life here, and doubtless your companions are also. Holger Björkssen we know,” he said, “but you, Jungfrau,” he said it with a Scanderan accent, “are a welcome guest I do not know,” he said, “I trust that you represent the Faith?”
“Just Holger would be fine honoured Burgmeister!” Holger said using the Imerian title as he too bowed, similar to how Imerians just translated all monarchical titles above prince as king did they tend to use the title master of the burghers as a catch-all title for elected officials as it was one of the highest in use in the federation. His distaste for his father was well known so letting go of his last name seemed to be an intentional insult to the memory of the man.
“I speak for the faiths aye, not only the sects of the holy chronicles but also of those that worships in fire beside us! My name is Erika!” The cleric said as she bowed, curiously not using a last name either.
“Of course, lead the way, the city do have a reputation spreading back even to distant Midgard!” Primus said with another quick smile at the description of the city. Even if he raised his eyebrow a bit at the egg-custard comment. He made a mental note to ask about how one used eggs in pies when he got home. He assumed that they used the eggs in the crust that being the reason it was so chewy compared to the rest of it.
They paused to meet a few members of the crowds, mostly autograph hunters and curiosity seekers, here at least it seemed that sense prevailed and the protestors had been largely corralled by some planning to be away from the route to the fliers that had been chosen, these were sleek chariot-like things, for the trip was short, and Luna seemed quite at home hopping into one of them alongside Erika, and they set off, leaving the ground behind, “You must find the whole Necropolis below a little upsetting,” Luna said, was she teasing after the time she’d had to watch several Imerian faiths demolish ancient tombs, older though perhaps less sophisticated than these; of course she was.
“It is… uncomfortable your royal princess! The ground should not be tainted in such a manner…. However I must admit that it is not my place to make such comments, some people have different morals, I assume there are some aspect of Scanderan culture that… other peoples find uncomfortable!” She said with a sigh, looking down with a mixture of sorrow and distaste.
“Truth be told I am more worried about the corpses themselves and the souls that would be trapped therein! We can wash from any taint and ask for forgiveness from the Gods would we eat food that has been grown near the dead, however they are still down there, their souls trapped in the rot and corruption!”
“That’s not how it works, of course,” she said, “the objective is often to preserve the soul and nourish it, further sustaining it to travel to other realms,” she crossed one forehoof on the rail as they shot over monuments and bare hills, “and to let them return and walk among us, but that is why we asked for you here,” she said, “the ‘practical metaphysical’ matters that concern your people and I are quite similar.”
“Similarly to how the same nourishment help water would one drop a cadaver down a well your royal princess?” Erika countered. “Would one disregard if it’s effects on the are land bad or not is it quite frankly a bit gross if you do not mind me saying so, and I do beg your royal princess forgiveness for such a statement as I know it sounds offensive to your royal princess traditions! Our ways taught us that letting the spirit flow from the body is best done by fire, wind, or water, as it was done even before the mighty gods!”
Luna didn’t seem exasperated, for she was by this point a dab hand at talking to Imerians, she’d met more than a few and knew that obstinacy was an Imerian virtue, “Oh it’s not offensive to me personally,” she said, “not everyone here shares the same religious practices,” she said, “but it is something that we would like to talk about, particularly regarding Sydvinland,” she said.
“Oh? I cannot promise I will know the answer, not everyone there follow my sect, but if it is about the sibling marriages, yes the local sect allows it but that is not accepted in most orthodox sects, or even Einild sects outside of the region and is a holdover from the mountain people’s old religion! It is also a bit gross yes!”
“Actually they permit that here, so long as precautions against having children are followed,” she said, with a slight shudder, “not my idea of a sensible policy but there you go. I mean rather that there are a great many who would rather the remaining god-kings and other burials in Sydvinland either be left alone, or even sent here, which would probably be preferred.”
“A wise policy and I wish we did the same!” She said with a wistful sigh. “As for the mummies, you would need to ask not me sadly enough, You would most likely need to speak to the highest-ranking descendant from the old royal family in the old mountain kingdom, I don’t think the lowland or jungle tribes practised mummification, I think… and don’t quote me on this your royal princess that the lowland peoples just buried their dead with what they needed in the afterlife! However, I think the ownership of any mummies we find would belong to the current descendants of them! Luckily I think we brought the man in question!”
“Oh, it’s Primus isn’t it?” she asked. She did know how nobility worked, after all, even if things had been simpler in the good old days.
“Yes, His royal highness, blessed be his household eternally, traces his lineage through the last queen of the mountain kingdom when his ancestor married the queen as a union of our realms and there in an alliance against the tribes of the lowlands!” Erika said sounding a bit disappointed. Most likely due to not being able to bring it up on her own.
“Of course at this point in time most nobles in the federation can make that claim somehow and it is even worse in Sydvinland of course! But the Stjärnkhrone dynasty is the house that has the highest rank and traces their lineage through the oldest sons from the last queen!” she explained, not entirely truthfully but as correct as far as she was aware. In reality, there were three lines one could make the argument for who would be the ruling lineage of the old god-kings lines; if one followed pure Imerian succession since the union of the two lands the title fell firmly on the Stjärnkhrone’s shoulders. However would one use the local laws as they were written and changed over time it would be the Stjärnkhrone house in Vinland that claimed that lineage and left their cousins in the home continent way behind. If one argued that one should only use the succession laws of the old traditions… the rulers would be the auf shaliberg house, a small minor house with landholdings in a small mountainous region in Sydvinland that had since then fallen into obscurity and provided a few low ranking noble officers to the military and administrators to the running of the state, as all good minor houses were expected to do.
“I think there is a rather good theatre piece about it!” Erika continued to explain about the romantic topic, there were, of course, some less than polite books that tackled the subject too that she had read but she was not about to bring that up in polite conversation.
Luna gave an equine snort of annoyance at that and rolled her eyes slightly, “I think he has bigger things to discuss for now at least, but I shall see that it’s added to the list, in truth such vandalism is distressing but not nearly as concerning for state policy as the Imerian colony in Altea, which needs a new lick of paint,” she mused, “and the many other issues that we have to discuss but I would have hoped that some discussion with the religious would at least help, the truth is I am not sure why your people are so adamant on destroying the dead; it does little to assist in dealing with the scourge of undeath, unless you truly prefer ghosts to zombies,” she said.
“I am happy to offer any insight I can my royal princess, but I am most versed in the chronicles and not as much in the faith of Ishiri nor that of the fierce unconqurable sun I must admit! As for burials ‘Tis a two-fold issue my royal princess, there is the spiritual well being of the soul, a soul trapped in a decaying corpse is not good for the soul itself, and the second is the purity of the land itself, a corpse is a corrupt foul thing, keep one around and it spread sickness in your house, leave one in a well and it brings sickness to those that drink it, the same uncleanliness is spread into the very soil itself, maybe not for the body but the taint remains there! Those are the main issues rather than a fear of the undead! I must admit that from a purely secular viewpoint I am not sure where the tradition started, it is said that the Wharen kept large corpse barracks they used their foul magic on so it could have been a reaction to necromancy that lost it’s importance down the line in favour of spiritual cleanliness, but similarly is it known that the sun worshipers have some of the oldest documented cremation traditions wheras old Scanderans were known to just use sky burials or ocean burials so it is possible that the traditions came that way through trade!” Erika explained, “As for Simeria, aye it took quite a beating in the invasion and the closing of trade with the inland due to your occupation was not a good outcome for it economically!” She said darkly remembering reading reports, the city was small and took not as a big beating as the home continent had but still a big one.
“But of course, I am hopefully we can continue to improve our relations and open up the trade again, while some would disagree am I at least in part thankful for what you and your people did for mine to show us that… some of our practices were… not as enlightened as we would have liked to imagine and we are heading to a better place I feel like under the current monarch!”
“I actually have a proposal there for your faiths that I would like to suggest and that is part of why I asked for us to be here,” Luna said, waving a hoof over the air-chariot’s railings at the wide-open hills of the Necropolis of Tephet-Sheta as they passed over it. “There are many things that we gain by working together of course but I would like to propose something that I feel might be a worthy addition to Imerian grave-goods for all three faiths, or certainly for the Holy Chronicles.”
“Oh? I don’t think it would be much use for the followers of the sun, their god send their souls back to live another life until they are all free of sin. I-I am... not entirely sure of the logistics of it but the formula for it checks out and it is not necromancy!” Erika said, thinking loud for a moment before one could see her face drain a bit as she quickly added the last part.
“But what could that be? I see no need for modern machinery in Silferheim when a good axe, hoe, and plough would give you all that life would need, especially in that blessed realm free of hardship and pain!”
“Well you may find this hard to believe but once upon a time not so long ago I went to Silferheim,” she said, “in a dream, you might say, I’m good at dreams, though I will admit that I had a fair bit of help getting there from Drömile,” she said, “it is as pleasant as one would imagine and indeed there is no discomfort there, though there is still much work to be done, and there are those who are slaves in the afterlife,” she said. “You are probably familiar with this criticism of Silferheim I expect? I imagine the other faiths mention it from time to time recently.”
“Yes… slavery in the afterlife however is…” Erika began but quickly bit her tongue “To serve the great Diviner as a slave would be an honour only granted to the greatest! To serve the spirits of former mortals is… well it is complicated!” She finished not particularly impressively.
“Well quite!” she said, “though it must be said I’ve seen far worse,” she waved her hand to the chariot’s controls and it began to dip, the hovering platform and several of their escorts breaking away from the main group to swoop down toward some of the buildings within the necropolis, wide buildings with flat rooves forming workshops and moticators’ chambers. “We’ll be back with the group in a moment,” she said, “and I do want to say, I’m not in a position to judge, the fact is that afterlives are very much defined by the fact that the old don’t y’know, die,” she smirked, “so some old fashioned ideas do persist.”
“Why thank you, your royal princess!” Erika said with a bow.
They coasted down to a building that was largely deserted, though its function was clear enough, it was, strangely enough, a shop. There was no one present but the shopkeeper who sat behind a counter and had clearly been briefed in advance as he rose with a bow, “Welcome,” he said, “Princess, Honoured Cleric,” he said, “I understand you are here to buy some grave goods,” he added. There were actually many types present, but among them were various wooden and pottery items, while others were amulets or curious cones in design; the purpose was not clear, but these at least were less likely to frighten Erika in Luna’s estimation than the actual process of burial; grave goods were a comfortably shared concept after all.
She trotted over to a long row of shelves with more than four hundred ceramic dolls lined out, they were never identical, not the products of machinery but certainly produced in massive numbers. Prices listed in temple currency were laid beneath them, and Luna levitated one out of its place; “These are the custom of the Shemsu faith here, one of several of course,” she said by way of explanation, “their afterlife is somewhat similar, considered to be an extension of the mortal life on another plane, where of course, work has to be done,” she leaned in, “between you a lot of people here are sceptical about the kind of religions that claim there’s no downside to other lives,” she added.
“In essence when buried here, it is an inanimate object, in the afterlife, it becomes a golem of sorts, the name means ‘Answerer’ and the purpose of it is to do the drudge-work that one might be called to do by the king of the realm of the dead.”
“Indeed, while pleasant I am sceptical of the kind of people that claims that the end is just you sitting on a cloud!” Erika said and gave the clay dolls a suspicious look. “Hmm… how would you ensure that the spirit of the objects as they are now are not transferred in the same shape when they pass through the divine gates?”
“That’s, of course, the magic of it,” she said, and lofted a book alongside, “the real problem is that they are reliant on the physical form being preserved and that wouldn’t fit entirely well with the Imerian customs I think,” she said, giving Erika the book, “the production is hardly a secret and the spells are somewhat lengthy, but with the right set of priests working on them they are able to bless substantial numbers of them at the same time,” she said, “the fellow who invented them was a genius of course,” she said, “about three thousand five hundred years ago, long before my time,” Imerians liked well-tried things she had discovered, “although the current forms are substantially refined,” she said, of the spells.
“I think it is well worth investigating, however, as a possible option,” she said, “I will try and talk to Drömile of it again,” she said, “I think it might be beneficial not only for making the afterlife better but also making sure that when the time comes there is a good chance that there would be more to deal with the Elderväsen.”
“Blessings of the gods as the defenders and may we all do good deeds in their names to stand against the darkness at the end of time!” Erika said quickly as a prayer before looking at the items again.
“Burying them or letting them go into the depth of the oceans could keep them intact but that would need to be done before the soul is freed in holy flame!” she said thoughtfully before shrugging. “It would be curious to see what a conclave of the clerics have to say about it as they are ultimately what determine what is true and what is falsehood by their connection to the gods above!”
“But if you speak with the divine, please speak good words for us all!” Erika added, she was not entirely convinced that this princess, divine or not in her own right, had travelled up the world tree of creation and spoken with the highest of all beings. But planned to test her over the day if she was able.
“Mayhaps you would know of Great Rasmer, holy king of gods and god of kings, speaker of wisdom and reader of flames, the great flameborn. If you sat in his presence, mayhaps you were told of his relationship with the great rose out of who’s pyre he came?” She asked curiously.
“Hah!” she said, and turned around, to bow to the shop-keep, floating him a few glass coins in appreciation, “I did indeed meet him, and he asked me more than one riddle but that one he did not ask me, and it would not be polite to ask such personal questions of one’s host!” she said, “particularly not with the amount of blood and ink shed on the matter,” she said, trotting outside. “Even if he did tell me I think I would keep my counsel on that one,” she said, “you have to have some secrets in an afterlife after all.” She pondered trying to steer the discussion back to her proposed addition to the Chronicles’ burial customs, but she knew that they would soon enough hit on the idea of supplying more to past generations.
“Wise counsel!” Erika said bowing the head again even if she bit down her own disappointment that the princess did not walk into the trap. She shut down the idea of asking how one could know that who was the king of the gods but as the idea was that mortals may not know for certain was the same not true for the gods and if she had met them would that answer not hold true.
“But mayhaps you could enlighten me on what your government had in mind for your suggestion to let the Mals back into Björnland? If my royal princess would not mind satisfying a poor cleric’s curiosity!”
“Oh yes,” she said, “that’s not really my department, of course, I’m more here to talk to you, but for the Ancestral Study there are holy sites in Bjornland there, we would like to ideally buy them, in exchange for a generous price; I understand they’ve a few alternative options as well including suggesting that the High King make up an appropriate title and bestow it on someone, of course, the actual land-owners there stand to gain a good deal, but we would like to give the Ancestralists access to the site for pilgrimage purposes at the very least, and archaeology, on the understanding that we will share any knowledge that comes out of the site with the Imerian people, although I imagine there is not much there of practical use.”
“A lot of the technology suffered some fire damage after the war!” The Cleric said with a nod.
“And you believe that Mals can be trusted with that responsibility? Their culture does favour trickery and attacks from the back to get what they desire, not the glory of announcing one’s goals and facing ones foemen face to face!”
“It would not exactly be hard to take it back,” she said, “but I do like to look for the best in ponies and people,” Luna said, stepping back up onto the chariot, “I think they may have had an over-optimistic appraisal of their chances last time, and as for deceiving the Imerian people of the time, I do have to confess that I have done similar, there was that time I kidnapped the Crown Prince,” she said as they lifted off.
“It is not us I worry for, chivalry demands that one lookout for the protection of that one is allied with!” Erika said with a shrug before giggling.
“Overly optimistic might not even begin to cover it, some reports we found implied that they did not even bother checking who actually lived there! Just luck they were able to stay as long as they did!”
“Imprudent indeed, but I think everyone’s stolen some land in the past,” she said, “my sister did it a little bit,” she waved a hoof, “I think I have too, history is not to be forgotten but it’s also worth making right debts owed productively,” she said.
“The only claim that they held with legitimacy was the right of conquest and upon that field, we were proven righteous!” Erika simply said with a shrug. “But it is a curious proposal! I will look forward to seeing how the cards are laid! But even the Malgraveans that were left-behinds proved themselves honourable enough, mayhaps the same is true for their w.. Their kin!”
“What were you going to say then?” Luna asked with a smirk, seeming interested in the gossip potential as Erika corrected herself.
“Wild kin!” Erika admitted. She first attempted to think of a more diplomatic answer but the gods disapproved of the liar so she thought better of it. “But as your royal princess suggested it might be better to look at them in a favourable light!”
“I do feel curious though, his royal highness does speak highly of your royal princess, but what exactly would the C’tan find to gain from this exchange?”
“Beyond the possibility of some advanced technology they do not already have,” she waved a hoof dismissively, she was not too interested in the details of how starships and suchlike worked, they did and that was enough for her to be going on with, “it would allow them to use it as a tool to persuade the Malgraveans to get rid of their perfidious, murderous SIS.”
“Your royal highness believe that would be wise? It is said that it was that very technology that was the cause of the bearcurse they now are saddled with! Mayhaps the argument could be made that one should not let history repeat itself and let what is accursed be?” she said, entirely ignoring or being ignorant of how the federation had started to look around the realm after just that sort of thing after they regained their strength enough to not just fight for the survival of the people and the state after the invasion from the stars.
“The C’tani generally think that while hoof, err, boot-strapping technology can be done, reverse engineering or simply selling people technology for which they’re unready is a recipe for disasters. They would rather teach you - us I suppose - how to understand the science as they- we teach our own children rather than let the best and brightest try to decipher how aeroplanes work,” she shrugged, “those of us of an older generation might never really catch up, but no, I think it might well prove unwise and I would hope the C’tani keep an eye on them.”
“I was more afraid of what would happen if something were to activate that was not meant to be activated. I must admit your royal princess, I do not doubt either us or the C’tani are wise enough to handle any technology we find!” Erika continued “However would something activate that caused a similar effect when one activated it, wisdom might not be enough!”
“Well that’s where we have to consider the Malgraveans mistake enough,” she said, “still, you’re right that the Curse did come from there and exploration would have to be immensely cautious, but the Malgraveans were far from cautious first time and with wiser oversight they should not come to harm.”
“It is just a shame we do not have the machinery from the first time, mayhaps some wisdom could be gained from them and what caused the curse to begin with, but alas, such are the regrets of looking back!”
“Indeed,” she said, as they rejoined the main group, leaving the wide necropolis and heading into the canal city of Tephet Sheta itself, its wide avenues and glittering core. “So, tell me, what do you think of the city?” she asked, “Between you and me I think it’s a bit too... neon.”
“It is very… green…” Erika admitted. “Mayhaps some colour on their decorations that was not green lights could do them good, but that is not my place to say!”
“Well there is a bit more closer to the sea,” she said, “but it’s rather too eye-searing isn’t it? And not nearly enough stone,” she said.
