Excerpt from Shem Brightstaff’s ‘The Roads of Milur: A Traveller’s Handbook.’
“Of all the sights to see along the roads of Milur, one can’t deny the sheer majesty of the walls—however, greater guides than I have written about it at length, so I shall not dwell upon it. Instead, I turn your attention to the Starfall of Sveli, though it is somewhat further out than most travellers bother to go. Also known as the Moon’s Tears, the water falls at such a slow pace that some rather bold travellers have attempted to ride a boat down it. As your guide to the roads of Milur, I must strongly suggest against it—the last group to try were in no state to visit the rest of the wonderful sights along the way!”
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The back road gave way to a much wider highway, bustling with people, animals and all manner of vehicles. From tall, cargo-laden wagons to sleek, hovering palanquins carrying important people, it was a barely-ordered nightmare of traffic that Yenna had never witnessed before. Her gut instinct was to dismiss it as the foolishness of foreigners—Aulpre would never tolerate such disorder, and the roads into Sumadre were immaculately coordinated. After a moment’s thought, she realised the beauty in this creature in motion, the traffic a living thing with every person well-aware of where they were going.
Yenna didn’t get time to work it out, but there was a system at play—to determine who waited for who, beyond the simple factors of stepping out of the way of those with larger and scarier vehicles. Small waves, nods of the head, shouts of phrases that Yenna didn’t recognise, all combined together to allow the chaos of the drivers to proceed like a well-oiled machine. However, Eone had rather different ideas.
“Coming through! Run, Chime!”
The captain bellowed out ahead of her as the millipede silupker stepped onto the road. Bewildered drivers, surprised animals and confused automata screeched to a halt to let Chime’s massive bulk through, the huge creature jangling out a sound Yenna understood to be laughter. Whatever system of priority they were meant to be following was thrown out the window—the captain needed to reach another off-shoot road on the other side of the highway, and she didn’t care who was in the way.
To Yenna’s immense relief, Chime was exceedingly good at what they did. Snaking between even the slightest gaps, the silupker didn’t so much as bump a wagon. Using their antenna ahead of them, Chime occasionally gave a momentary nudge to urge an uncertain animal out of the way, ignoring the shout of disgruntled drivers as their length crossed the entire highway.
The mage observed all the faces as they streamed past—mostly yolm, but for a cosmopolitan sprinkling of foreign peoples from lands near and far. Yenna recalled a certain flash of culture shock walking into Sumadre for the first time, but the sight of the breadth of the diversity laid out in something as mundane as a road full of people still gave Yenna a feeling she couldn’t quite describe—fascination, wonder, curiosity, excitement, there were too many words to narrow it down to just one. What a shame that I cannot stop and inspect every single one, to ask them where they’ve come from and where they go—not that I think they very much want to talk to us now!
The whole event of Chime barrelling across the road took place over a handful of seconds, though the sheer panic and stress Yenna experienced in that mad flight, bundled together with the wonder of strange and fascinating new sights, made it feel like so much longer. As soon as Chime cleared the highway, Aroearoe’s carriage passing in their wake, the world seemed to fall silent again.
“That was a foolish thing,” Muut grumbled, his voice on the edge of Yenna’s hearing, “Diving across like that, we could’ve hurt someone, or ourselves!”
“It wasn’t my idea,” the captain flagrantly lied, “Chime did it!”
A jingling and jangling of giggled denials and teases came up in response, reverberating down the terracotta of Chime’s body, and the pair of them laughed at the surly second-in-command.
“Hey, Yenna.” A voice roused the mage from her eavesdropping, and Yenna nearly dropped her book—she had somehow managed to forget she was sharing the space with someone else. It was Mayi, of course—Jiin was napping on her shoulder, miraculously still asleep despite the chaos of their crossing.
“O-Oh, yes?” Yenna felt somewhat ridiculous, looking so frightened. She put her book down and turned her head to face Mayi.
“Look out that way—you can see the walls of the city.”
Yenna looked, and was for once glad she had been pulled away from her reading. The walls of the city of Milur were legendary, an ancient marvel of craftsmanship oft-cited and spoken of in books about wonders of ingenuity and engineering. For all the thousands of descriptions Yenna could have read about them, nothing did the walls justice like seeing them with her own eyes.
An enormous dark-green slab of stone and metal rose high into the sky, a mountain carved by a colossus to hold back the entire world. Yenna had all manner of technical facts and hearsay about it, which she rattled off to Mayi in the hopes of comprehending the sheer size and scale of the construction, but it still boggled her brain.
“Formed of adamant-stone and adamantite, it is said that the Miluran Walls have existed for longer than the state itself. Some say gods built it as a fortress in a divine war, others that it was made to defend against a horde of demons. Nothing can penetrate it, and its protection extends high into the sky—the capital has never been besieged, and sitting here it is little wonder why no one has tried.”
To Yenna’s magical senses, the walls were equally impressive. An invisible barrier stretched above it, around it, even deep below it, protecting whatever is inside from the world outside. It didn’t block the flow of magic itself—to do so would be to condemn the interior of the walls to horrifying stagnancy not unlike the ghost-filled valley that Demvya had hailed from. Instead, it filtered the magic, the magical wards performing some unknown process to pick apart even the slightest hint of hostile energy and convert them into safe, ambient magic. It was magic on a scale that even the vaunted scholars of Aulpre couldn’t hope to replicate, and Yenna understood that there was likely no mortal force in the entire world who could hope to repeat this miraculous feat of construction.
“Well, it’s certainly pretty, isn’t it? The swirling pattern on the metal, I mean.” Mayi nodded along—Yenna assumed she had seen the walls before, though her eyes still twinkled with awe.
“Adamantite is a fascinating metal, magically speaking.” Yenna felt comfortable discussing what she knew—it didn’t feel right to stare at something so incomprehensibly gargantuan without some foundation of understanding. “Completely unconjurable, no one in Aulpre knows how to make it or work with it, and an amazing conductor of magic. It’s an alloy, formed of enchanted steel, adamantium, and a lost third ingredient—apparently the final ingredient is what gives it that swirling look. Which reminds me…”
Yenna sprung into a rather impromptu anecdote about the variety of adamantite-bearing artefacts she had witnessed in her life. Wands, gates, shields, amulets, all manner of curios and trinkets described in terms of their magical conductivity, their etheroflexion capacities, their superconcentrating properties¹—Mayi listened, nodding along, though she later admitted she had no clue what Yenna was talking about².
Within the span of an hour, rumbling through side roads and cutting through the unending sprawl of buildings at the foot of Milur’s looming walls, the party managed to reach one of the immense gates that would allow them into the city proper. In this regard, they allowed Aroearoe’s carriage to proceed first—the Deepstar symbol on its side caused all but the most stubborn of drivers to shift aside and skip the long queue through the gates.
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Though Yenna felt a little bad about forcing others to wait, especially with the immense length of Chime’s body taking up so much room, they couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Now that they had stopped moving, with the enormous slab of dark green metal and stone looming oppressively in front of them, the mage could start to feel a sense of paranoia slip in.
Through the skull, the cult would have to know almost exactly where they were—they were powerful, magically speaking, not worried about collateral damage. What if they attacked, right here in the midst of all this traffic? What if one of these wagons was hiding a beast-man like the one Yenna had faced in the still realm, just waiting for the signal to jump out and shed the promised blood? For every set of eyes turned their way, Yenna could only see an enemy. Curious stares were cover for surveillance, and annoyed glaring was prelude to violence. The powerful kesh instinct to dart into the brush, to keep running until Yenna was back with her herd, it itched at her muscles—her back legs twitched, her hands shook, her pointed ears quivered with attention.
A hand on top of hers made Yenna squeal in surprise. She turned and locked eyes with Mayi, the doctor looking eminently worried.
“Everything okay? You were shivering. Crackling, too.”
“C-Crackling?” Yenna’s cheeks and eartips went red with embarrassment. Had her fears really manifested in lightning again? The mage had thought that to be under control. “I’m… sorry. I’m just worried about another attack.”
Mayi squeezed Yenna’s hand before slipping back into her seat properly. Jiin snored, an inappropriate noise to ground the mage’s worried mind.
“It’s understandable—we’re not exactly used to this kind of thing either. Truth be told, I’m pretty worried too.”
The doctor gave Yenna a smile, though the mage wasn’t sure if Mayi was even capable of the level of nervous worry that Yenna laid claim to. Even as they spoke, the spooked prey-animal inside Yenna insisted there was something large hiding just out of sight, a mass of fur and claws and hungry teeth lurking in every shadow. The entire time they waited to enter Milur city limits, the mage did her best to focus on exercises of mental discipline—to discard unnecessary emotion, segment it away until it withered and faded. Even that didn’t work in the way Yenna had hoped, leaving her feeling oddly empty and cold.
It was with that detached coldness that the mage observed the security at the gate. Part of her should have been nervous about this, or possibly relieved to see the process so rigorous—even the head of a Great House wasn’t exempt from inspection. Instead, it felt slightly tedious, as though Yenna could have been doing so much more with her time.
Three brick guardhouses, reinforced with strips of black steel, were set to either side and in the middle of the enormous gateway. From within, armoured yolm watched the area with an unparalleled vigilance, leaving nothing out of their sight. Each vehicle that passed through was obsessively looked over by pairs of guards, short swords, truncheons and a variety of other bits of kit attached to well-supplied belts around their waists. Ahead, Yenna could see that Sergeant Myuu had left the carriage to speak with the inspectors and, having reached some understanding, the carriage proceeded ahead and awaited Chime.
As it passed through the gateway, Yenna saw with both her eyes and magical sense as the body of the carriage physically disturbed some threshold—the walls were not just thick metal and stone, but a defensive wall that extended out of this reality and into the adjacent layers of existence, a bulwark that only allowed through that which had been approved.
Myuu had remained with the guards, which Yenna assumed was to explain away the concerning number of dangerous magical items in their possession. Sure enough, Yenna watched as the guards pointedly ignored the bag at Eone’s hip—and her insistence that ‘Stormsea security is really something, eh?’
When they approached Yenna’s section, those two stern-faced women weighed down with far too much equipment, the wand in the nearest one’s hand made an odd sputtering noise as though the tiny metal rod was having a horrible coughing fit. The woman holding it glared down at the wand and thumbed one of the controls to silence it, while Sergeant Myuu stepped forward to explain.
“As outlined in my brief, we’re escorting a curious case of possession to be studied and cured by a professional in Deepstar employ,” Myuu gestured to Jiin. “The spirit’s presence isn’t dangerous, but it, uh, clearly takes its toll.”
Jiin gave another resounding snore, and Mayi tried her best not to laugh.
“Understood. We’ve already received approval to allow it through, so there’s no trouble.”
The guard with the wand turned her gaze to Yenna, a frown in her eyes visible through the helmet.
“An Aulprean mage? Are you in Deepstar employ? We weren’t informed of you in the approval forms.”
Yenna’s anxiety peaked, cracking through the coldness of her mental discipline. She gave a sputter, shook her head, thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Y-Yes, I’m– I’m employed by Eone Deepstar. Part of the expedition crew.”
“Ah. Miscellaneous crew. Understood.” The guard tapped a finger to the side of her helmet and began muttering to herself—Yenna could see she was communicating through an enchantment. “You’ve been approved.”
The mage wasn’t sure how to feel about being reduced to ‘miscellaneous crew’, no matter how factual it might be. Still, she sighed with relief—the idea of somehow being left outside the gate after all that was terrifying. The pair of guards carried on, and Sergeant Myuu didn’t spare Yenna so much as a second glance.
A harrowing ten minutes later, Chime was finally approved in their entirety, crew and all, and the immense silupker tentatively took her first steps into the city. The threshold crackled against their sides, sweeping up against everyone as they proceeded. Yenna expected it to hurt or be physically unpleasant in some way—the only sensation she noticed from one side to the other was a kind of quiet in her magical sense, the ebb and flow of the world carefully contained within the controlled space of the city.
Milur was gorgeous, a far sight from the sprawl outside its walls. The immense wall on the other side was so far away as to recede into the foggy blue of distant mountains, and every single structure from here to there glittered in such resplendent luxury that Yenna had to squint. It looked like something out of legend, a thousand different styles forming a kind of chaotic harmony—a wave of colours and shapes that flowed naturally into one another, from ancient to new, magical and mundane.
At the centre stood the oldest structure of them all, an enormously tall tower of adamant-stone rising high above all to a mushroom-top protrusion so high up that it brushed against the lowest clouds. Yenna had to admit, she hadn’t the faintest idea about anything in here apart from the walls—that, and the name of their destination.
It took Chime several minutes more to walk down the immaculately kept main road, their pace slow enough to avoid disturbing the rather more tranquil interior. They passed by shops that Yenna suspected would cost her life’s savings just to enter, restaurants serving decadent meals that caught the nose with their fragrance, and offices of noble Houses, each marked with glorious emblems and dripping with wealth. Yenna let go of a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding, as though her mere breathing might offend the wealthy and powerful elite that lived within. Anyone with business in the city that wasn’t clearly nobility did so with haste, moving as though they held the same notion—the faster they moved through, the less chance of tarnishing this golden land.
“A’right, everyone! Feast your eyes! We’re here!”
Eone’s booming voice cut through the excited murmur atop Chime’s back and directed all eyes in the direction of Aroearoe’s carriage. The carriage vanished around a corner, into a district styled in sleek black marble, the very mortar between bricks shimmering with gold and gem-dust. No restaurants around the outside here, no boutique stores or fronts of fine workshops—it was all business here, offices and meeting places to conduct the vast exchanging of wealth that made up the Deepstar House.
Sitting on top of it all, like a temple to wealth itself, sat the unmistakable seat of House Deepstar’s power—Highshine. It resembled a castle carved from a single, immaculate monolith of meteorite-black metal, a wide, gorgeous estate in a realm where every pace of land was worth more money than Yenna would ever be able to spend. Its highest towers and minarets looked down over the entirety of the Milachur district, edged in shining gold and silver. Even conjuring that much metal was worth a small fortune, and Yenna had the feeling it wasn’t conjured.
Yenna gulped—the threat of the cult loomed large in the back of her mind, but she entered now a world of true wealth the likes of which she had never seen before.
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¹ - Yenna’s diatribe about various objects, despite her claims to have only surface-level knowledge, were so integral to understanding the increasingly rare nature of adamantite that many scholars consider the Almanac itself to be a vital link to forgotten metallurgical secrets.
² - On the other end, Yenna’s supposedly hour-long lecture—of which she recorded an extended version with all the details she left out for the ‘simple’ explanation—had such an impression on Mayi herself that, as the rumour goes, the doctor cited it as the moment that defined Yenna the academic for her. Mayi’s account explains that Yenna ‘lit up like a festival bonfire’, her passion for the explanations so strong that despite her lack of understanding, Mayi couldn’t help but listen intently.