EPISODE 95: IVERI
— Nation of Ivory, Year: 7291. Season: Color Fading.
The Demigoddess of Purity’s words finished, and her weapon faded into specs of moonlight. The weight the air held on the dock of Iveri vanished. If Wilarax wasn’t aware of the events that happened, she’d think it was all a trick—a simple illusion that the Nation of Ivory displayed.
The night sky cleared, revealing the stars once more. The air freshened, and the freshwater scent with the smell of nature returned to surround them.
Innai took the initiative to return her body to a more — mortal state — and the two demigods of the Nation of Ivory joined her. Her height shrunk until she stood slightly shorter than Wilarax at 180 centimeters. Wilarax’s small and powerful adventuring group, those who possessed the greatest strength, followed suit.
“This is not the welcome I imagined giving the [Chosen of El]—forgive my rudeness—I’ve lost… much when the second [Chosen of Madris] marched from Edryan and burned as much of the continent as he could. The third war will begin soon, and the magi will march from their prison once again—and just as before… we will repel them.
…
It was not my intention to give you such an impression when entering our great state. A party must be held and the fine delicacies of Ivory must be introduced to you.”
“Thank you, Demigoddess Innai-“
“None of that, call me Innai you possess the right to do so,” Innai said, gesturing at Wilarax’s entourage.
Wilarax found the tension gone with those words from Innai, and the group began to enter the city’s boundaries. The powerful levelers, who seemed only a moment away from fighting one another, chatted peacefully.
She studied the demigoddess who walked next to her, Aniya and Ilia stayed far away from the woman. A distrustful and uneasy expression on the mother’s face. The demigoddess wore a long-sleeved white dress with billowed-out sleeves that fell to her knees. Her diamond earrings, the only jewelry on her besides the crown of flowers, sparkled in the starlight.
Several groups bowed to them, then moved to the dock to help those fallen. This was a world of strength, but there were rules and regulations each country governed itself by. Now, as Wilarax entered Iveri, she began to see more of the beautiful architecture the city held.
Iveri was a gradually rising city that shone in the darkness of the night. Lanterns lit every corner, eradicating the shadows and leaving the soft glow of the firelight behind. Large structures sprouted from the ground as tree/building hybrids — seemingly grown in the manner they stood. Wilarax detected no traces of carvings or other manipulations as she walked alongside the demigoddess. Innai continued to speak as they walked, those awake at this time bowing as she passed. Their eyes lit up after they realized who was next to the demigoddess.
Sensing Wilarax’s curiosity toward the architecture of the city, Innai spoke and gestured to the surroundings. Her sleeves pulled back to reveal scarred arms with two thick cuff marks blackening her wrist. This was the first time Wilarax noticed the scars as the tension from earlier occupied her mind entirely.
“The trees are grown naturally and manipulated by [Grove Tenders] to create the houses and buildings you see before us. We do our best to live as the first Saphens did — the first of the mortal races,” Innai began. She spotted Wilarax’s gaze as she gestured, and a bitter expression flashed on her face.
“These are my… victories . When Carno Edryani burned his way from Edryan and into the rest of the world… I was but a child then… captured and enslaved. Pay it no heed — for I only keep them as memories, always to remind me.”
To Wilarax, it suddenly became clear about Innai’s extreme reaction. The reason for her quick action against the mother and daughter who traveled with her. The scars were brutal, disfiguring the demigoddess’ skin to the point that Wilarax wondered how she could move her arms.
‘Victories…?’
“I… see. Why…,” Wilarax hesitated to ask her next question.
Her education in the temple — home — ranged from when the Saphens lived together under one banner until modern history, but… she still didn’t understand.
“Why were the magi-humans never…,” her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to ask the question in the presence of two under her protection. She’d asked the same to Uma, her father, and many more of the Prestige and demigods alive during the time, but most answers were never straightforward.
Innai seemed to understand and answered for her. “The Gods won’t and can’t wage an all-out war…
You know the history of the realm, yes? From when Creation — Realm Lord Elrunian — failed in their fight against [Oblivion]?”
Wilarax nodded.
“When the final Gods and Titans sacrificed themselves to save the small spark of all they’d known… it was only a measure that halted the destruction and not stopped it. If the Gods were to fight…”
Innai trailed off and the group continued to walk through Iveri. A city built from a forest — or a forest built from a city. The trees grew taller, and wider as they made their way deeper — larger and grander buildings making themselves known. Innai stayed silent, but Wilarax enjoyed the atmosphere — knowing the demigoddess would speak soon.
“…then the Elrunian Continent would collapse and extinguish all life. At least this is what we of the Mortal Realm believe. However, that does not answer your question…
Why did the forces who defeated Carno Edryani never finish off the magi themselves?”
Wilarax stayed silent, but her eyes confirmed that the demigoddess was answering the right question.
“Because they are what halts the Goddess of War from striking against the Gods. She is powerful… far older than most Gods and once led the Saphens from the darkness of [Oblivion]. When El was adventuring, discovering what remained of the continent… Madris was waging war — expanding into the same territories El deemed safe for Saphens to inhabit. We know not what caused the Union to split, only that it was far after the first of the New Gods began to make an appearance in our realm. It was Goddess Madris — then El, who rose in quick succession one after the other. Perhaps they found something that led them to split ways — perhaps it was some other factor. Regardless, the first Great War began.
…
Now we are on the cusp of the third and a new chance for Godhood and other miracles open on Mt. Redcoomshi.”
Iveri was open, with no walls to protect its border. It was as natural as a forest, the elves who tended the grove meticulous in their crafting. At its center, a tree far larger than the rest stood. Wilarax imagined it wasn’t on the mythical level of a World Tree, but if she ever saw one in person — this is what she expected.
“ That is Iveri, and the city is named after her.”
A tree stood — no, for that was not a word to describe it. A tree pierced its way through the ground and into the heavens — for it was only there that its magnificence could be halted. Iridescent leaves sparkle like a rainbow in the night sky. Like ants, the citizens of Iveri crawled through every surface of the tree—slaying the beast within and extracting resources.
“It’s… breathtaking,” Wilarax gasped—her hand flew to cover her mouth as she gazed upon the tree.
“This is the birthplace of El’anni elves. The place in which our Goddess is said to have conceived the only child of the Gods — Iveri, Greatest Oak, is that child, and we…,” the Goddess gestured at the El’anni elves.
“…are the fruit of the tree.”
[Grove Tenders] flocked around the great oak, its canopy extending far throughout the night sky. Wilarax frowned, how did she not see something so magnificent since they reached the shores of the city?
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“Why… how is the tree not seen for hundreds of kilometers outside Iveri?”
Innai gave a slight, devious-looking smile. “Did you notice Iveri until we arrived?”
“No… in fact, I didn’t notice it until we entered the surrounding grove.”
They walked to the base of the tree, appearing like ants did next to humans. Thousands of El’anni elves hustled to and from the tree—building combination. Some of them appeared to be [Grove Tenders], others [Adventurers] but the majority were common citizens. Even in the dead of the night, the City of Iveri was bustling. Stalls of wares, and spices — rich with the scent of cinnamon, pepper, and jasmine filled the air with a tantalizing scent. The same spices were used in open flames as food stalls prepared for their nightly customers. It wasn’t just food being sold, but weapons, armors, and more — straight from Iveri itself.
The demigods of Iveri seemed to barely be noticed, but when their faces were seen and recognized, those around them bowed — some even prayed. As their eyes found that of Wilarax, and the exact color of her hair was recognized — light and excitement, like that of discovering their demigods, appeared.
Wilarax felt uncomfortable, but the legend surrounding her birth was known to all elves, and all elves were an extension of the True Elves. That connection made them hold Wilarax in even higher regard, knowing she was the [Daughter of the Sun] and [Chosen of El]. Both figures were regarded as the originators of the portion of Saphens who called themselves elves. The silver-gradient hair Wilarax held was unmistakable to any who respected the history and bloodline of their race and its many offshoots.
“Iveri is the child of God El and Goddess Ivory, and you can consider it a divine beast. Its powers are beyond the comprehension of mortals, and in truth, it exists in the Black and White — the space between the realms of our world. You didn’t see it because it is both here and not — both Mortal and Astral.”
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— Theocracy of Jhan, Year: 7291. Season: Color Fading.
“ Death is too easy for them. They must understand the consequences of their actions until they beg to join those in the Great Rebirth and rejoin us under the Wings of Jhan.”
The Cardinal of the Beak, Lionheart thundered and his large hairy fist slammed down to emphasize his point. Five men and women sat cross-leg on a stone dais. Above them on thrones carved in the shape of a hawk’s wing, left and right respectively, sat Izon and Imole Jhan.
Beak — Lionheart.
Eye — Snake-Eye.
Talon — Tiger-Claw.
Feather — Camel-Hump.
Heart — Hawk.
The Theocracy of Jhan was run by five Cardinals of the Church of Jhan alongside the Senate until three years ago when the [Chosen of Jhan] — Izon took over. Since then, the powerful men and women became the hand that Izon governed the land of the theocracy.
Calmly, the young man sat there, chin supported by his left arm, eyes drooped as if falling asleep. Next to him, Ìmólè continued to listen to the Cardinals speak.
“The orcs of the Jehda Tundra will be looking to secure food and slaves for the winter, it is best we strike fast and hard before they must enough forces to-,“ the Cardinal of the Eye began—monolid eyes shifting around the room.
“Nonsense, we’ve only just struck the out against them in the early summer freeing thousands taken by those barbarians. They should not have the resources nor capital to strike again,” the Cardinal of the Heart interrupted. Her voice was firm and broke no arguments.
“Now is the time to consolidate our power, expand trade with the southern dwarves of the Misty Mountains, and prepare to enforce our borders with new military strength,” Cardinal Hawk finished.
“Hmph, yearly raids are a long-standing tradition of the orcs of the Jehda Tundra, you believe because we cut their numbers somewhat no raids will happen this year? You are mistaken, the young are not introduced to the pleasure of battle until the Prime System activates for them. We’ve struck down thousands of them but thousands rise per litter,” the Cardinal of the Talon, Tiger-Claw stated.
“The influx of captured slaves and freed humans is taking its toll on our grain stores. Our [Chosen] has freed two million souls from the clutches of the Jehda Orcs and the war bands of the Plains within the last three years. It is impossible to continue this upkeep without a new source of produce.”
“Nonsense-”
“Simply-“
The voices of the cardinals continued to talk, Ìmólè listening intently as their voices began to rise in pitch. Izon remained bored, it was no wonder millions of their people lost their lives or were captured and enslaved. The Cardinals all held the same amount of power and a majority vote was necessary for anything to pass. This was disregarding the political sway the Senate held in the country.
“Lionheart,” Izon spoke softly. The loud arguments of the Cardinals of Jhan halted as the voice of their [Chosen] resounded in their ears. If there was one voice the few demigods and Prestige classes of the Theocracy would listen too—then that Izon’s would do.
“Grand Purifier,” the large man saluted—both hands raising in a talon-like motion before crossing at the wrist.
“Plan a strike for the Orgon Gathering, no less than forty thousand orcs must die. That will ensure the protection of the eastern region for a few months. Take twelve legions—eight must be of newly trained men—the rest must be of level one-hundred to one hundred eighty.
Do not return unless the eight has consolidated to four. In two weeks on the fourth day, there will be a storm of snow and ice. The orcs will be laxed and hiding within their tents to stave off the chill—strike then.”
Lionheart thumped his chest and shouted affirmation to the orders received. Izon waved him off, dismissing the Prestige and allowing him to leave.
“Snake-eye… where is the report I asked for the daughter of Zion. Securing the Felion tribe as mercenaries by soft or hard methods must happen before the end of the year.”
“Grand Purifier is has become slightly more difficult to access the inner regions of the Warring Plai-“
For the first time since the meeting began, Izon sat up. The yellowish-brown hawk eyes landed on the shifty-looking man—who silently avoided the gaze of Izon. A tense silent pressure invaded the chamber where the leaders of the church held council. Large sweat beads emerged on the demigod’s forehead as the gaze of Izon continued to pressure him.
“I do not want to hear excuses—only results.”
Snake-eye let off a sigh of relief and acknowledge the command.
“ Go , in our next meeting I expect nothing but the answer I seek.”
“Grand Purifier… the grain stores… at the rate of our consumption here in Freomund will collapse into starvation before the end of the year.”
Izon remained calm at the words of Cardinal Hawk, the middle finger of his left hand raising and lowering.
Tap.
…
Tap.
…
Tap.
…
The old woman held his gaze calmly waiting for the [Chosen] to speak. He’d turn out into a fine young man—the twins both turned out fine. Their days growing up under the protection of the church served them well and allowed Izon a swift and near objectionless takeover of the country.
Although their eyes were locked, Izon’s mind was elsewhere as the [Chosen of Jhan] calculated. His theocracy held a population of nearly seventy million humans spread through a vast region of land. The resources he held sway over were nearly boundless but there was one unfortunate truth the Theocracy of Jhan lands held.
Barren, compared to the lands of others, the Theocracy was barren, barely able to breathe due to the rising population of both free men and slaves.
Izon tiredly sighed, this was a problem he constantly fought against since his ascendancy to Grand Purifier. There was a reason he told the Cardinal of the Beak to not return unless the eight legions consolidated to four. Perhaps he should also probe into the Warring Plains.
“Cardinal Tig-,”
“Grand Purifier allow me to offer a solution,” Ìmólè interrupted.
Izon glanced at his twin—a frown on his face. “Speak.”
In his ascendancy to Grand Purifier—the most powerful military position in the Church of Jhan—Izon proclaimed his sister Pontiff—a position rightfully his. If it served as another barrier to protect her life, then Izon wouldn’t hesitate to execute any action.
“It is not that we are lacking food. It is the Senate is withholding vital goods as their form of… protest against…,” Ìmólè hesitated to continue.
Not that it was necessary for her to continue—Izon already understood the problem. “Heed my orders, call for a Divine Conclave—none shall miss it no matter if they are waiting for the birth of a son or on their deathbed!”
‘It is high time for the Senate to come around if not… hmph.’