Read no further, child
Dream gently in your cradle of ignorance.
Eat, drink, make merry- and shut your eyes. Seek not after wisdom.
What happiness there is belongs to the fool.
...
True understanding is horror.
Preface to the Dialogues of Alhazred
-
High Sepulchrave
They crept over the upturned cobbles and charred skeletons that littered Septimus Way, careful to make no sound, the blackened remains of row houses leaning over them like mourners over an open grave.
Arctos went first, eyes flickering between the path ahead and the road at his feet. Though not usually one for piety, he recited prayers under his breath to Justinian and his Champions, the simple litanies the Clerisy had been drilled into him in the Legion. The wizard followed, eyes shut, head cocked as though listening for something. His feet picked their own way through the detritus without disturbing so much as a broken shingle.
In the distance, the domes of Dormire Palace rose unblemished above the shambles of the city, white marble and gilt bronze shining in the early dawn, ragged standards shifting in the faint morning breeze. Just beneath those towering walls, Arctos knew, was the Imperial Library, and- Justinian willing- the book the wizard was after.
The pair came to a narrow divide in the road, blocked by an overturned cart and its spilled load of vegetables- long dried to husks, but never touched. The skulls of draft horses grinned silently amid the jumble of mummified gourds and pumpkins.
The remains of an Imperial Centurion hung over the side of the cart, frozen mid-clamber, a broken pitchfork protruding from rusted armor.
Arctos turned to the wizard, who scowled and shrugged. Muttering something about useless southrons, Arctos edged forward, careful to step on nothing but old produce as he tried to edge between the wall of the nearest row house and rear of the ruined cart.
The wizard grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He barely suppressed a scream.
Arctos turned, opening his mouth to ask what was wrong, but the wizard shook his head, holding his finger to his lips. With a jerk of his head, he indicated the far side of the cart. Arctos looked.
He hadn't noticed them before, amid the general ruin.
Four children standing noiselessly just beyond the overturned cart. Three were wrapped in rags, one was naked. They were all smiling at him, their black eyes twinkling.
Arctos groaned very quietly as his insides turned to ice. He reached for his sword, but the wizard stopped him.
"We'll take another road," the southron whispered, "Another way."
One of the children, if that's what they were, tittered. Another waved at them and licked his small, sharp teeth.
-
Off the Shore of Sacrosanct, Justinian Patrimony
Meirong had never seen anything quite like Sacrosanct. Towers of white and pink stone rising directly from the still, black waters of the God's Eye, or "Justinian's Lake" as the crewmembers of the ship had taken to calling the bay around the city.
Narrow canals ran between the spindly buildings, plied by smaller boats and skiffs. Brigdes connected towers at all levels, and complex stone walkways gave the cityscape the impression of being ensnared in some great web.
Even from a distance Meirong could discern a thriving marketplace at the edge of the water. What could be procured there she could only imagine, surely goods from all over the world.
Ships from across Avara occupied these harbors. Many of the colors flown by them were unknown to her, but Meirong did recognize a few ships from Charlin and the various kingdoms that made up the Otnemarcasan Empire. Even a trading-junk from distant Tripantos plied the waters, flying the Moon-and-Sun flag of the Drathan Union, the strange land of sorcerers.
“Quite a wondrous sight, isn’t it?”
“Sure it is Fuyumi” Meirong said as her older sister approached.
“Look at that” Fuyumi pointed at a large structure dominating the middle of the city. “Travel anywhere else in the world and you will find nothing else like it, even in Kyugyu.”
Meirong eyed the massive ziggurat for a moment, wondering just how much manpower it had taken to construct Justinian's Temple-Palace. The structure was nothing if not intimidating with its sharp lines and smooth walls hung with massive banners flying Justinian's Sigil, a golden pheonix taking flight on a background of royal blue.
“Do you think I’ll live to see Kyugyu?” Meirong asked after a moment. The historic capital of the Otnemarcasan Empire, Kyugyu had been abandoned by the emperor after he had converted to Sibytte Justinianism. Since then the throne of the empire had resided in Eger, Acitha which had a much larger Sibytte population.
“I’m sure our father will return the throne to Kyugyu once we meet success here.” Fuyumi said, resting a hand on her sister’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Fuyumi was about to say something else, but was interrupted when one of their guards approached.
“Pardon the interruption your Highnesses,” the guard said after rendering a bow, “but I was asked to inform you that we’ll be docking soon.” The guard gave a second bow before backing away.
***** ****** ******
The Audience Chamber was large enough to house a small city, a shining white-marble hall lit by immense gothic windows. The domed ceiling was covered in mosaics depicting the great heroes of Humanity throughout the ages, with Justinian descending in victory from the shattered moon at its center.
The Holy Throne directly- if distantly- beneath that scene of Justinian's great feat, a high seat of gold and polished stone. It was empty, though a line of paladins stood guard around it, clad in gilded armor and azure sashes.
Beneath the Throne was a lesser chair, occupied by a fat man in volumnous blue-and-gold robes. He glowered down the length of the room, watching the Otnemarcasans approach with barely concealed hostility.
"Princesses," said the tall, handsome young seneschal accompanying the young royalty as they approached the lesser throne, "His Obvious Magnificence the Uppermost Servitor is pleased to grant you this audience. Protocol requires that you kiss the hem of his raiment before making your Prepared Statement."
"It would be our pleasure" Meirong said as she gave the fat man a deep bow. Out of the corner of her eye should could see Fuyumi give a deep, albeit slightly shallower, bow as well. Meirong could tell her sister was not pleased. Fuyumi kept her face perfectly neutral, almost pleased in fact, but Meirong noticed her sister's body had tensed up at the mention of kissing the raiment, although she could tell only because she had known the older woman for over two decades now. The two sisters approached and knelt down to kiss the hem of the raiment, none of Fuyumi's displeasure obvious to the two men as she completed the act.
"Are there any other protocols we will have the honor of completing before being granted our audience?" Fuyumi's somewhat heavy Otnemarcasan accent almost made the word honor sound like horror. Almost.
The senechal stood aside, smiling faintly, and indicated with a gesture for the princesses to proceed. His Obvious Magnificence grumbled something about it being a pleasure to meet them, and glowered down from his throne with an obvious mixture of irritability and boredom.
"It's a long way from your frozen steppeland," he said, "What compelled you to seek out your god in person?"
"We wish to petition for his aid in ending the religious conflicts in our homeland." Meirong said.
"We would be eternally greatful for your aid towards this end" Fuyumi added as she pointed her head downwards ever so slightly, giving the effect of looking up at the man.
"What is it to me, your backwater squabbles?" grumbled His Magnificence, looking incredulously from the princesses to the seneschal who had walked them in. Chins multiplied as he frowned. "You would that I petition the sole god of mankind with the petty backstabbing of heathen peoples, beheld to foreign and loathsome spirits?"
"We understand" Fuyumi responded before Meirong could open her mouth. You are an important man, surely an invaluable asset toour lord Justinian. Yet we ask you to use your time, time that could be spent doing any number of great things, to help us solve our problems." Fuyumi's voice had taken a silken quality to it as she stepped closer ot His Magnificence. "We have brought with us a small fortune in gold and steel silk of the finest quality that we wished to present to our lord Justinian in tribute, but clearly it would fall to you to utilize this tribute to the greatest effect. Perhaps" Fuyumi lowered her voice slightly, leaning in even slower to His Magnificence, "we should not bother our lord with this small matter and instead just leave the tribute in your most capable hands. Does that not sound reasonable to you?"
An expression of mixed outrage, distress, and shock spread across Meirong's face as she listened to the exchange between her sister and His Magnificence. She had expected many things, but certainly not this.
"Is Justinian not a generous and just god?" Meirong demanded, her voice raised in volume to the point of being just short of a shout. His Magnificence looked unfazed, but the handsome seneschal uttered a quiet chuckle.
"Is this the sort of behavior to be expected from such a god? What would he think if he were to look in on this conversation? Would he be pleased to see one servent of his denied the opportunity to seek an end to the suffering of his faithful?"
"Tributes and bribes should not be needed or even be brought into consideration when going to see such a benevolent, compassionate deity," She shot Fuyumi a scowl before turning her attention back to His Magnificence.
"My people need this" She said. "Our people need this" Her voice momentarily dropped to that of a whisper. "Are we not brothers and sisters of the faith joined together in our worship of the Lord? Does the deaths of thousands of our brothers and sisters mean so little merely because they occur in far off lands?"
"Please tell me" She beseeched "what must I do so that I may have the opportunity to implore our Lord to help me end the pain and suffering of his loyal subjects? I would endure any trial, any personal suffering, for just one chance to speak to Him."
His Obvious Magnificence nodded towards the seneschal who had accompanied them in. The young man was tall and handsome, with a white smile and a shock of slightly unruly black hair. He wore a simple white garment, somewhere between a doublet and a robe.
"I am Justinian, princess," he said, gently, in flawless Otnemarcasan, "And I apologize for the pomp and ceremony and my friend's obstreperous facade. I had to see, you realize, what sort of people I was dealing with. Some things are hidden, even to a god, without being tested."
He bowed slightly, smirking slightly at Fuyumi, before stooping to one knee so he was eye to eye with Meirong.
"How can I heal the pain of your people?"
"My Lord!" Meirong whispered, falling to her hands and knees, bowing till her forehead touched the floor. Fuyumi followed her younger sister's example, the slightest amount of reluctence showing through. Meirong could sense a sort of tension in her sister. It was not something she could quantify, but in some way she swore she could feel the presence of a tiger in or around her sister, staring Justinian down. And then it was gone, along with the tension in her sister's body.
Dream gently in your cradle of ignorance.
Eat, drink, make merry- and shut your eyes. Seek not after wisdom.
What happiness there is belongs to the fool.
...
True understanding is horror.
Preface to the Dialogues of Alhazred
-
High Sepulchrave
They crept over the upturned cobbles and charred skeletons that littered Septimus Way, careful to make no sound, the blackened remains of row houses leaning over them like mourners over an open grave.
Arctos went first, eyes flickering between the path ahead and the road at his feet. Though not usually one for piety, he recited prayers under his breath to Justinian and his Champions, the simple litanies the Clerisy had been drilled into him in the Legion. The wizard followed, eyes shut, head cocked as though listening for something. His feet picked their own way through the detritus without disturbing so much as a broken shingle.
In the distance, the domes of Dormire Palace rose unblemished above the shambles of the city, white marble and gilt bronze shining in the early dawn, ragged standards shifting in the faint morning breeze. Just beneath those towering walls, Arctos knew, was the Imperial Library, and- Justinian willing- the book the wizard was after.
The pair came to a narrow divide in the road, blocked by an overturned cart and its spilled load of vegetables- long dried to husks, but never touched. The skulls of draft horses grinned silently amid the jumble of mummified gourds and pumpkins.
The remains of an Imperial Centurion hung over the side of the cart, frozen mid-clamber, a broken pitchfork protruding from rusted armor.
Arctos turned to the wizard, who scowled and shrugged. Muttering something about useless southrons, Arctos edged forward, careful to step on nothing but old produce as he tried to edge between the wall of the nearest row house and rear of the ruined cart.
The wizard grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He barely suppressed a scream.
Arctos turned, opening his mouth to ask what was wrong, but the wizard shook his head, holding his finger to his lips. With a jerk of his head, he indicated the far side of the cart. Arctos looked.
He hadn't noticed them before, amid the general ruin.
Four children standing noiselessly just beyond the overturned cart. Three were wrapped in rags, one was naked. They were all smiling at him, their black eyes twinkling.
Arctos groaned very quietly as his insides turned to ice. He reached for his sword, but the wizard stopped him.
"We'll take another road," the southron whispered, "Another way."
One of the children, if that's what they were, tittered. Another waved at them and licked his small, sharp teeth.
-
Off the Shore of Sacrosanct, Justinian Patrimony
Meirong had never seen anything quite like Sacrosanct. Towers of white and pink stone rising directly from the still, black waters of the God's Eye, or "Justinian's Lake" as the crewmembers of the ship had taken to calling the bay around the city.
Narrow canals ran between the spindly buildings, plied by smaller boats and skiffs. Brigdes connected towers at all levels, and complex stone walkways gave the cityscape the impression of being ensnared in some great web.
Even from a distance Meirong could discern a thriving marketplace at the edge of the water. What could be procured there she could only imagine, surely goods from all over the world.
Ships from across Avara occupied these harbors. Many of the colors flown by them were unknown to her, but Meirong did recognize a few ships from Charlin and the various kingdoms that made up the Otnemarcasan Empire. Even a trading-junk from distant Tripantos plied the waters, flying the Moon-and-Sun flag of the Drathan Union, the strange land of sorcerers.
“Quite a wondrous sight, isn’t it?”
“Sure it is Fuyumi” Meirong said as her older sister approached.
“Look at that” Fuyumi pointed at a large structure dominating the middle of the city. “Travel anywhere else in the world and you will find nothing else like it, even in Kyugyu.”
Meirong eyed the massive ziggurat for a moment, wondering just how much manpower it had taken to construct Justinian's Temple-Palace. The structure was nothing if not intimidating with its sharp lines and smooth walls hung with massive banners flying Justinian's Sigil, a golden pheonix taking flight on a background of royal blue.
“Do you think I’ll live to see Kyugyu?” Meirong asked after a moment. The historic capital of the Otnemarcasan Empire, Kyugyu had been abandoned by the emperor after he had converted to Sibytte Justinianism. Since then the throne of the empire had resided in Eger, Acitha which had a much larger Sibytte population.
“I’m sure our father will return the throne to Kyugyu once we meet success here.” Fuyumi said, resting a hand on her sister’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Fuyumi was about to say something else, but was interrupted when one of their guards approached.
“Pardon the interruption your Highnesses,” the guard said after rendering a bow, “but I was asked to inform you that we’ll be docking soon.” The guard gave a second bow before backing away.
***** ****** ******
The Audience Chamber was large enough to house a small city, a shining white-marble hall lit by immense gothic windows. The domed ceiling was covered in mosaics depicting the great heroes of Humanity throughout the ages, with Justinian descending in victory from the shattered moon at its center.
The Holy Throne directly- if distantly- beneath that scene of Justinian's great feat, a high seat of gold and polished stone. It was empty, though a line of paladins stood guard around it, clad in gilded armor and azure sashes.
Beneath the Throne was a lesser chair, occupied by a fat man in volumnous blue-and-gold robes. He glowered down the length of the room, watching the Otnemarcasans approach with barely concealed hostility.
"Princesses," said the tall, handsome young seneschal accompanying the young royalty as they approached the lesser throne, "His Obvious Magnificence the Uppermost Servitor is pleased to grant you this audience. Protocol requires that you kiss the hem of his raiment before making your Prepared Statement."
"It would be our pleasure" Meirong said as she gave the fat man a deep bow. Out of the corner of her eye should could see Fuyumi give a deep, albeit slightly shallower, bow as well. Meirong could tell her sister was not pleased. Fuyumi kept her face perfectly neutral, almost pleased in fact, but Meirong noticed her sister's body had tensed up at the mention of kissing the raiment, although she could tell only because she had known the older woman for over two decades now. The two sisters approached and knelt down to kiss the hem of the raiment, none of Fuyumi's displeasure obvious to the two men as she completed the act.
"Are there any other protocols we will have the honor of completing before being granted our audience?" Fuyumi's somewhat heavy Otnemarcasan accent almost made the word honor sound like horror. Almost.
The senechal stood aside, smiling faintly, and indicated with a gesture for the princesses to proceed. His Obvious Magnificence grumbled something about it being a pleasure to meet them, and glowered down from his throne with an obvious mixture of irritability and boredom.
"It's a long way from your frozen steppeland," he said, "What compelled you to seek out your god in person?"
"We wish to petition for his aid in ending the religious conflicts in our homeland." Meirong said.
"We would be eternally greatful for your aid towards this end" Fuyumi added as she pointed her head downwards ever so slightly, giving the effect of looking up at the man.
"What is it to me, your backwater squabbles?" grumbled His Magnificence, looking incredulously from the princesses to the seneschal who had walked them in. Chins multiplied as he frowned. "You would that I petition the sole god of mankind with the petty backstabbing of heathen peoples, beheld to foreign and loathsome spirits?"
"We understand" Fuyumi responded before Meirong could open her mouth. You are an important man, surely an invaluable asset toour lord Justinian. Yet we ask you to use your time, time that could be spent doing any number of great things, to help us solve our problems." Fuyumi's voice had taken a silken quality to it as she stepped closer ot His Magnificence. "We have brought with us a small fortune in gold and steel silk of the finest quality that we wished to present to our lord Justinian in tribute, but clearly it would fall to you to utilize this tribute to the greatest effect. Perhaps" Fuyumi lowered her voice slightly, leaning in even slower to His Magnificence, "we should not bother our lord with this small matter and instead just leave the tribute in your most capable hands. Does that not sound reasonable to you?"
An expression of mixed outrage, distress, and shock spread across Meirong's face as she listened to the exchange between her sister and His Magnificence. She had expected many things, but certainly not this.
"Is Justinian not a generous and just god?" Meirong demanded, her voice raised in volume to the point of being just short of a shout. His Magnificence looked unfazed, but the handsome seneschal uttered a quiet chuckle.
"Is this the sort of behavior to be expected from such a god? What would he think if he were to look in on this conversation? Would he be pleased to see one servent of his denied the opportunity to seek an end to the suffering of his faithful?"
"Tributes and bribes should not be needed or even be brought into consideration when going to see such a benevolent, compassionate deity," She shot Fuyumi a scowl before turning her attention back to His Magnificence.
"My people need this" She said. "Our people need this" Her voice momentarily dropped to that of a whisper. "Are we not brothers and sisters of the faith joined together in our worship of the Lord? Does the deaths of thousands of our brothers and sisters mean so little merely because they occur in far off lands?"
"Please tell me" She beseeched "what must I do so that I may have the opportunity to implore our Lord to help me end the pain and suffering of his loyal subjects? I would endure any trial, any personal suffering, for just one chance to speak to Him."
His Obvious Magnificence nodded towards the seneschal who had accompanied them in. The young man was tall and handsome, with a white smile and a shock of slightly unruly black hair. He wore a simple white garment, somewhere between a doublet and a robe.
"I am Justinian, princess," he said, gently, in flawless Otnemarcasan, "And I apologize for the pomp and ceremony and my friend's obstreperous facade. I had to see, you realize, what sort of people I was dealing with. Some things are hidden, even to a god, without being tested."
He bowed slightly, smirking slightly at Fuyumi, before stooping to one knee so he was eye to eye with Meirong.
"How can I heal the pain of your people?"
"My Lord!" Meirong whispered, falling to her hands and knees, bowing till her forehead touched the floor. Fuyumi followed her younger sister's example, the slightest amount of reluctence showing through. Meirong could sense a sort of tension in her sister. It was not something she could quantify, but in some way she swore she could feel the presence of a tiger in or around her sister, staring Justinian down. And then it was gone, along with the tension in her sister's body.