Meldr, The New Imperium of Marlem

  Maximillian Ormson woke that day knowing all too well that his Destiny was close at hand.

  “It’s him. The Ormson boy”

  “You mean the one who…”

  “Yes." Auntie Ast- that woman, confirmed. "I’ve always known he was a troublesome lad with all those strange ideas in his head. But graverobbing? I never thought he could stoop so low.”

  Staring straight ahead, Maximilian made his way out of the Craftsman district, taking careful effort not to focus on the gossip floating about around him. A feeling of strain on his right shoulder had him pause to readjust the wooden support frame holding up his pack in place.

  However, that minor break he took to strap his things back in order was enough for the whispers to catch up to him.

  “Whatever happened to his apprenticeship under his father then? Why would the heir to a Workshop need to steal from a grave? I don't think the poor girl was wealthy enough to risk the repercussions of getting caught."

  "There wasn't anything there worth stealing in the first place. Southern customs don't enshrine their remembrances, don’t you know? They had her corpse buried whole instead of cremating her. How the poor girl finds peace without her ashes spread to the ancestral river escapes me but the priesthood allowed her her customs. The only thing enshrined there was her corpse."

  “...You never know with these deviants."

  A gasp. "Don't speak of such disgusting things!. But even if he was after the corpse itself, it should have rotted away with how long that poor girl’s been dead!”

  "I don't think it's anything so depraved... My niece said that he had been awfully besotted with magic. Foreign magic at that. The southerner was one of those Sedian Explorers who got killed in that expedition to the Wyrwoods five years ago. She was a mage, I think. He might have thought the priesthood enshrined an artifact and tried his luck.”

  "Wait, you said he was studying foreign magic. What if he was attempting necromancy?" She hissed the question. Both women paused, before they both turned their scrutinizing, accusing eyes towards him.

  His grip on his pack’s straps tightened as he hurried away, desperate to escape the whispers and the pointed fingers that haunted his every step. As he walked, a coldness brushed against his shoulder like a gentle breeze, or a lingering reassuring touch. And just like that, a lot of the tension that had wormed its way into his heart relaxed just a bit.

  If nothing else, he still had one person by his side.

  Maximilian took in the sights of his childhood home for what was probably the last time in a long, long while, before closing his eyes and walking away.

  The Town of Meldr was a lively place. It was an island of activity amidst a sea of calm rolling plains that extended as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a river that weaved through the landscape like a graceful serpent until it cut right through the middle of the town before resuming its journey towards the coastline.

  Granted, the river had been there long before civilization had ever settled upon its banks, but you’d think otherwise if you’ve heard what the priests had to say about it, what with it being a ‘gift of our ancestors’ and all that.

  The looming houses and stores of sculpted stone and chiselled wood had once felt so comforting in his childhood. But now, it almost felt as if they too were looming over him. Accusing him, Judging him. Well, it seemed like everyone had something to say about him these days, even those he had once considered friends and kin. Every structure in sight was a work of art; the houses were arranged in rows and were splattered with scented paints under massive overhanging roofs held up by finely carved pillars of stone and wood with intricate scenery and tales of legend etched into their surfaces.

  Maximilian knew all too well how detailed they could get, but none of the examples currently in sight even compared to the impossibility that was the temple at the city center, or the residences of the priests and warriors that surrounded it. Even then, the residences of the craftsmen and artisans that lived around them on edges of the central district did not lag far behind in quality either. They were all constantly attempting to outdo each other with more and more elaborate works of art that seemed to become increasingly elaborate and outlandish with every passing year, only limited by the funds and imagination required to improve.

  He also knew all too well that these decorations served as a form of advertisement as well - a sample of their quality of work for potential customers to observe in a live setting.

  There was a saying that the only thing that'll stop a Meldr-man from decorating his house was an empty pocket, and that sometimes, even that still might not be enough.

  Maximilian never had the opportunity to decorate his own home, his father deeming him not yet to be of ‘sufficient skill’ in order to do so, though he had practiced chiselling out some of the woodwork in the inner courtyard. He supposed that he would have gotten the opportunity in a year or two, had he not been caught.

  And now he never will.

  “So much for a decade of effort.” He muttered under his breath.

  Ever since he had witnessed that Expedition as a child, Maximillian had been possessed by the gnawing dream called adventure. He wanted to travel far and wide, seeking distant lands and ancient ruins to experience all that they had to offer.

  He felt that the world was simply too large and mysterious for him to waste his whole life working away in a workshop performing a job he couldn't help but feel was... tedious. Despite his father's hopes, the family craft was simply not something that he was particularly good at, or enjoyed, unlike Anna, his elder sister.

  And while that dream of adventure had been pushed back by the cold necessity and practicality that came with age, he still went about saving up money in case the opportunity to travel ever presented itself. Despite his father pushing him to inherit the family business, it had always been his distant goal to find the means to eventually embark on his journey.

  And now that it was here, having gotten exactly what he wanted, a part of him couldn’t help but wish that it didn’t happen the way it did.

  Maximilian wanted to depart with a brilliant smile on his face and the cheers of his family and friends behind him, not with the scorn and hate and stained honor that resulted from being proven guilty of grave-robbing and performing foul necromancy, forcing him to be exiled, kicking and screaming out of the only home he ever knew.

  Maximilian sighed.

  He didn’t rob a grave, nor did he practice necromancy.

  Well, technically he was simultaneously both innocent and guilty of both crimes. But there were many crucial details in what happened yesterday night that the people around him overlooked and refused to listen to or entertain. Was it so difficult for them to understand the idea of nuance? Why was everything in life defined by extremes and misleading labels that didn’t take into account factors that lay outside the mold?

  In the end, the people of Meldr refused to look beyond the label or read between the lines.

  In the end, he found himself disappointed by human nature

  So, he would accept the label. He would bear it proudly for all to see. Because some day, somehow, he would do great things, and all these people who turned their noses up at him and sneered would regret that they had turned him away.

  So decided Maximilian Ormson, the Necromancer.

  He sighed as he entered the Eastern side of the outer district, where the buildings noticeably dipped in quality and construction, being made of noticeably cheaper materials and with a rougher handling. The people here were mostly laborers and farmers. They were those who didn’t have the martial and spiritual inclination to live in the city center, or the artistic talent and skill to thrive in the inner districts.

  Like everybody else in Meldr, the people here still decorated their homes, though with surprisingly elaborate and innovative ideas with whatever materials they readily had on hand. An example was the detailed decorations of snakes and turtles made of folded strips of leaves, reed and straw that he eyed with interest.

  It was all very pretty, even if such materials were not something his father would suffer to work with.

  Wait.

  "I can make anything I could possibly want, and dear old dad won’t be there to stop me" He mused, the smile that stretched on his face a little too wide at the thought of buckling against years of strict discipline and rebuke without having to face repercussions.

  Even as he approached the outer walls that encircled the city and protected its inhabitants from the beasts that lurked in the savage wilds, Maximilian couldn’t help but feel relieved that the suspicious stares and shut windows lessened considerably in volume. So far near the edges of the city, the people probably hadn’t even heard of the scandal yet. Well, perhaps they had, but none of them knew of Maximilian well enough to identify the subject of their discussion. Rumors traveled very fast however, and their ignorance of his scandal would be rectified by sunrise.

  But by that time, he would be long gone. Hopefully.

  Maximilian didn’t think had it in him to live in a place that genuinely hated his existence. He could have stayed and proved his worth, fought tooth and nail to show these people that were so entrenched in ancient traditions to see any perspective but their own. He could have done many things, but in the end he chose to simply leave, to leave it all behind all for a chance to fulfill his dream.

  But in the end, he did it for his family.

  His father didn’t want to throw him out, but it was a matter of family honor. The priesthood had pretty much caught him red handed - or at least they thought they did, and in the eyes of the public, that was enough. Proving his innocence was not worth the social and financial backlash his family would suffer if they waged such a disadvantaged battle against the priesthood in the town court. It would utterly ruin them financially and socially. And while the other option, to not resist, grated on him immensely, at least his family would be spared most of the repercussions that would result from it.

  Thus Maximilian admitted guilt, and in doing so he forced his father's hand.

  Staying any longer was no longer an option. As long as they sheltered a necromancer within their home, his family would be shunned, their livelihoods would be at risk and his sister's social life would pretty much be over. Their friends and cousins would alienate them, and they would have to live the rest of their lives cautiously and estranged from everyone they knew.

  If there was one thing he wholly agreed with his father on, it was the fact that family looked after each other, and Maximilian refused to let his family suffer because of his mistake. Because of his incompetence.

  “What am I going to do now?” he wondered. He had made a simple plan in his head yesterday when everything came to a head, and he found himself unable to sleep.

  It was so simple at the time; Find a caravan on its way to a coastal city, or any of the other major trading hubs along the way, board a trading vessel that went to 'Sedia', or maybe 'Hor’zhen' or perhaps even the 'Kataware Shogunate' - as a necromancer, anywhere was better than staying in Marlem, where the sins of the past still left half the empire an uninhabitable wasteland, seven centuries after the old regime's collapse.

  But it was one thing to plan out such a course of action, and it was another thing entirely to actually go through it when you had no idea about the intricacies of how trade caravans worked, or the dangers and hardships of traveling vast distances outside civilized walls. He was a craftsman and a burgeoning 'necromancer', not an experienced courier or anything that already knew how to do all these things.

  Though... he supposed that everyone had to start from somewhere, and there was still someone he could ask, even if he winced at the thought of the conversation to come.

  "It’s not like I can put it off forever. She knows what happened anyways. what's a little tongue lashing on top of everything else that happened?”

  Looking around, he noticed a nice resting spot with sufficient cover and shade. Walking towards his destination, Maximilian weaved between the shrubs, bushes, and the prop roots of the massive, ancient tree that towered over the walls. He carefully set down his pack and leaned against the tree's base, though at a deliberate distance away from where he could still keep an eye of the, very aggressive, line of violently bright red ants that occasionally criss-crossed the area.

  Closing his eyes, Maximilian leaned against the tree and slowly eased his mind into a meditative trance. For a while, his eyes saw naught but the familiar orange blur of sunlight making its way past his eyelids. But as time went on, it was slowly but steadily replaced by an all-encompassing darkness that overtook his vision as he trained his gaze inward with practiced ease.

  Metaphysically rotating in place, he was confronted by an aurora made from strands of light and glittering stars that revolved around a warm, cyan flame, with some strands delicately woven into complex designs, weaves, while other strands floated free and untethered. There were also strands that flowed in the opposite direction to the rest, creating an intricate web of conflict and progress.

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  It was his soul... or at least a representation of it. His teacher had said that the shape it took was different for every individual, with her own taking the form of a crystalline city while her teacher in turn had one that took the shape of a fractal.

  Being careful not to gaze too deeply into the flame of untapped potential that represented all he ever was and all he ever would be, he turned his gaze towards the flowing strands that twisted and intertwined themselves into specific, well defined 'weaves'. Of the five fully formed weaves, he focused solely on the light that shone deeply of innocent curiosity and an alien, unfathomable wisdom.

  [Seek Guidance]

  Brushing against the star with a shapeless limb, he coaxed out a strand of potential from the star, even as it diminished and pulled it into the material world along with his conscious mind. Suddenly coming back to full awareness and a burgeoning spell at the tip of his tongue, he reviewed his experience.

  He could draw out eight more strands before the weave representing [Seek Guidance] exhausted itself. There wasn't any improvement this time, but then again, he could only draw eight strands in total the last week, so it might be a bit hasty to expect improvement so soon considering that it took an entire year for it to develop as far as it did.

  Shaking his head, Maximilian focused back on the spell, careful not to let it dissipate into the aether.

  And then he sang, a wordless hum of ethereal tunes escaping him as the air started to shift ever so slightly, the invisible pressure under his tongue growing more and more intense until it pulsed in tune with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

  Thump Thump Thump Thump.

  He was ready. And then he sang, the words of the ancient language rolling out of his mouth laced with the power given shape and form.

  "I ask of you, who reside in the edges of my perception, grant me Guidance." he intoned in the [Old Marlem Script].

  And then the world exploded in light, as sights and colors he struggled to describe suddenly became visible, while incomprehensible, haunting sounds echoed in the distance. He could taste the danger in the air, and feel the world as if he was standing in two places at the same time.

  It was strange, it was odd. It was beautiful.

  It was magic. He smiled.

  He knew from rigorous practice and experimentation that his senses hadn't changed whatsoever. Instead, it was that his newfound awareness of his surroundings transcended physical logic in a way that resulted in his mind having to reinterpret the sensations in a form he was already familiar with in order to not be driven into insanity.

  Then he heard it. The sound of displaced grass and soft footfalls drawing closer and closer, along with a shifting in the wind that heralded a familiar presence drawing near.

  He turned and smiled sheepishly at the figure that was suddenly beside him where a moment ago there were none. It was a young woman around his age, with soft features and flowing black locks. She wore an excessively decorated heavy blue cloak with the symbol of a ship riding on a crescent moon at its center - an icon of Orleal that also doubled the national flag of Sedia - hung over a far more practical and simpler uniform that was comprised of a dress of white cotton and green leather. She was as beautiful now as she was in life, he mused, remembering their brief but eventful first meeting all those years ago. But there was an ephemeral quality to her appearance that easily distinguished her from ever being mistaken for anything mortal.

  Her form was slightly more indistinct than he remembered last seeing her though, a bit more blurry at the edges. His mood plummeted at the realization that their time was running out. Hopefully their plan worked out.

  "Hey teach."

  "What's this I've been hearing about you desecrating my corpse now, apprentice?"

  Maximilian winced, before smiling sheepishly at her.

  "What can I do, Cass? You know what happened. You were there, I think."

  She sighed, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you, you foolish boy? I warned you not to do it. You don't have the subtlety, nor the skill to pull it off unnoticed."

  Harsh, but true.

  He realized early on that as a spirit, Cassandra lacked a filter between what she thought and what she said. Said filter having apparently been left behind in her mortal coil when it expired, meant that whatever came out of her mouth could only possibly be the truth as she knew it in its entirety, without any deceit or misdirection.

  When she spoke, she was literally speaking her heart out. It made conversations a lot easier and more honest. And as humbling and charming as it was, it was also... eventful when she got started on a topic she was particularly passionate about. During those times, he had learned from first hand experience that it was simply better to just let her do her thing and lend an ear.

  As for her question…

  "It's not like I had any other choice, and I refuse to let you fade away if I could have done anything to stop it."

  She smiled at, seeming a bit fond, exasperated and sad all at once. "Turning myself into a specter was a desperate move on my part I admit. I wasn't thinking straight, and I was understandably afraid of death. At the time, delirious and scared out of my mind, it was the best solution I could come up with even with the chance of it actually working being as negligible as it was. Surprisingly, it worked.

  "But so what? What was the point of severing my mind and my spirit from my body when I can't actually interact with the world in any meaningful capacity? It's not like I could do much in this state, other than wallowing in misery and lamenting all my unresolved issues until some priest or the other exorcises me, Or my sense of self withers into nothing without a physical body to hold me together. And I refuse to become like the leeches that I had so loathed in life, so I can't help but wonder what the point of it all was.

  "Helping me has brought you much grief, but... I can't help but feel grateful that it happened, and I am happy that it did. Does that make me a bad person?" She asked.

  "I don't blame you." Maximilian said eventually. "You can't blame anyone for being scared of death, and I think it's natural to feel grateful towards someone who helps you. And yeah, it sucks that I got into trouble because of it but it's not your fault the two are linked. I don't regret it, it was my mistake to make so you don't have to feel bad about it."

  She nodded hesitantly, and he smiled at her encouragingly in response.

  "At least it's not like I'm alone now, am I? I still have my master to teach me about magic and the ways of the world, and because of that, I finally have a chance I've been waiting a long time for. But anyways, we don't have a lot of time, so guide me through what I should do next?"

  She nodded, before pausing.

  "Wait, before that. did you collect all the materials we need for the ritual?" She asked.

  "Ah yeah, I had it all sorted out before I set out to... rob your grave?"

  She raised an eyebrow. "How much did you get from that by the way?"

  Maximilian rummaged through his pack before taking out what looked like a jewelry box, before opening it and showing her its contents. She grimaced.

  "Is that my arm?"

  "Yeah, that's all I managed to replace with the decoy before they caught me, so yeah, that's what we have to work with."

  "It'll have to do then. Now, back to the caravans, have you decided on your destination yet?"

  "Yeah, I was planning on going to Sedia rather than heading north. The border's closer so we can probably get there before winter sets in, and when it does it'll be warmer than the alternative at least."

  "Yes, Hor’zhen will be buried under snow by that time of the year. Hm, if Sedia's your destination, our first big stop will be Eldon, it's the first major trading hub to our south. There's probably a caravan heading there but you'll have to go to the registry to check if there are any scheduled ones heading out today. Those are generally safer. I'll guide you through what you need before you set off."

  Just as he was about to set off towards the registry, a voice called out to him from behind.

  “Wait.”

  Maximillian froze, and slowly turned around, hands trembling. There, standing at the edge of the shaded tree, was his father. He was a large man, full of bulky muscle and a trunk-like barrel gut that belied nimble, dexterous fingers and an exceptional control over his entire body that he maintained at all times. He had a rugged, handsome face and a massive braided beard that Maximillian could remember pulling whenever he wanted his father’s attention as a child.

  He had seen his father as a great, unflinching figure for all his life, and so seeing the man so slumped and defeated almost physically hurt. Maximillian stared at the ground, unwilling to see the disappointment in his father’s gaze.

  “Look at me in the eyes, boy.” His father said, his voice level.

  Maximillian winced, and looked up.

  The two men stared each other in the eyes for a long time. To his surprise, Maximillian didn’t see even a hint of disappointment or rejection in his expression. Only a deep set tiredness and melancholy that seemed out of place in the stern man he was so, so familiar with.

  “Why did you do it son?” His father eventually asked.

  “Because it was necessary.” He replied.

  His father’s eyes darted towards the place where he and Cassandra had communed.

  “I see.” He eventually said. And maybe did see something, or perhaps he might have overheard his part of their conversation. How much did he know, really?

  His father did not ask him to elaborate, and so he did not. Some things were better left unsaid, and the less he knew, the safer it was for him if someone came asking.

  “Are you determined to stay on this path?” His father eventually asked.

  He looked his father in the eyes when he answered, making sure to convey the entirety of his conviction through his gaze.

  “Yes.”

  Maximillian felt bad for forcing his father’s hand, but also anger at the man for not listening to him sooner. Maybe if he grew skilled enough in the mystical arts faster, without having to hide it at all times, he might not have needed to resort to what he did in order to save his friend before she faded. He was a traditional man though, and he didn’t approve of his son using foreign sorcery with every fiber of his being.

  The man sighed, slumping even further. “You stupid, stupid boy. Some things are forbidden for a reason, don’t you know? Your future in your hands now, so do with your life as you will.”

  Despite saying that, his father did not move from his spot. Eventually though, the man slowly unwrapped the bundle in his hands and took out-

  Maximillian’s breath left his lungs in a quiet gasp.

  “I’ve been studying this blasphemy you’ve been working on for the last three days you were in the dungeons.” He said. “And for all that it stinks of heresy and foreign sorcery, I can see what you were going for. I’ve taught you, after all. It's good to finally see some passion in something you made, after all this time.”

  His father looked at him with a scowl, though there was a hint of pride in his eyes. “This would make an acceptable conduit-stave, but the detailing was shoddy, like you did it somewhere you couldn’t even see it properly. And knowing you, you probably worked on it in secret in the night or in the basement or something equally stupid.”

  His father hit it right on the head with that assumption, but then the man did know him quite well. “I’ve taken the time to finish it for you, though I had to take a bath afterwards.” His dad snorted, and threw the stave at his dumbstruck form.

  Maximillian fumbled as he caught the wooden staff, and while he gripped the intricately detailed masterwork in his hands tightly, his eyes never left his dad’s form as the man turned around to leave. But he had seen it. For all that they both regretted how things were unfolding, his father was proud of him. For what, Maximillian couldn’t fathom, but the something in his chest eased at the knowledge.

  He may be leaving, but he had the right to call himself a true artisan of the City. And with his father’s own seal of approval too, it seemed. Something he never thought he'd get after the council decided on his banishment.

  “Your mother would want you to know she’ll know if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

  “What?”

  “Your sister would want to tell you she loves you as well. But well, she would if she stopped bothering the poor councilman right outside his house. He probably hasn't managed to leave the entire day. I didn’t tell her that the youngest Ormson sibling decided to leave without saying goodbye.”

  “Are they…?”

  “No.” His father shook his head. “They wouldn’t be able to stop themselves from following you if they did.”

  Maximillian swallowed dryly. “Yeah, they would do that, wouldn’t they? Good. Tell them I said goodbye, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” His father eventually answered. “I will."

  "I love you too, dad."

  "Yeah. You too son. Stay safe." His father whispered as he walked away. "Stupid rain, why now of all times? Now I have to paint that post all over again.”

  Maximillian stared up at the clear, sunny sky with a sad smile.

  “The rain, huh. You should just admit that you’ll miss me, you shitty father.”

  He nodded in confirmation, and took his first step towards adventure.

  -x-