INTRODUCTION
Eulogy of Artemvian Moneti Delacreu
Delivered by Emperor Theodus III the Pious
Found in the Tomb of Maxxus Bolivine
Many would ask me how I knew Artemvian.
I first met Artemvian when I was 6, right after I set the nursery on Fire. My father decided that if I was old enough to set things on Fire with Magic, then I was old enough to learn. It was then on that fateful day, covered in ash and soot that I greeted Artemvian Moneti Delacreu, my mentor, teacher and older brother in all but blood.
To those who did not know him very well, he had many titles. Optimum Magus. Historius Daemonus Inquisito. Mythos Peritus.
To those of us who knew him very well, he was many other things. Comedic Philosopher. Jokester. And dare I say it? A pain in the ass
A brother.
But whenever someone asked him what he was, he called himself a Librarian.
It speaks volumes about Artem’s Character.
He was humble. He was quick of wit. He was as stubborn as a mule. He fought for the preservation of rivers in the Eastern Steppes. Not for political reasons mind you. ‘Kappas’, he answered me when I asked him why. He said, and I quote, ‘Those Kappas haven’t hurt anyone and without homes they’ll hurt people. You wouldn’t want that, would you Prince Theo?’.
–Wait for laughs here–
Artem was wise and more than that, he was kind. Artem’s kindness knew no bounds for I saw him spend many sleepless nights, working by candle flame. He wanted a better life for our people, for our children and for that cause, Artem never took wife nor lover. ‘My life is for the people’, he told me. He proved it.
As Optimum Magus, he was responsible for the creation of more than a dozen spells, designed for those born with the weakest of mana. Spells to provide Clean water for those in the Endless Desert and those to create a warm fire, for those in the frigid North.
As Historius Daemonus Inquisito, he authored hundreds of books detailing daemon behavior and ecology. Those books have become mandatory reading for our Equis, Academ and our Merchants. I can personally attest to the fact that it has kept me out of trouble on more than one occasion in my youth.
I will save my breath, for Artem’s deeds are no secret.
But if I had to say one thing, it would be this.
–Pause for dramatic effect–
Artem, my brother.
I will miss you dearly.
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Artemvian Moneti Delacreu awoke with a single thought.
“By the stars and forsaken hellfire, I died a virgin.”
He opened his eyes and immediately closed them, realizing that he was outside and it was raining. Fat droplets of water continued to fall on his face with a melancholy cold with enough speed to sting. Slowly, he peeked out of one eye and saw huge clouds covering the sky, hiding the sun and shadowing the world with shades of gray.
As he opened both eyes and sat up, he had another thought.
“Is this the afterlife?”
The last thing he remembered, Artemvian had been on his deathbed. King Theo and his blasted Cronies had all been there. Oh how he had wanted to set the godforsaken room on fire just to get it over with. They droned on and on about how sad they were and Artemvian cursed them out endlessly. But his accursed vocal chords were little more than mush and everything came out like a ghastly groan. His visitors used his room like some kind of social area, dumb fat nobles coming in to greet the king and show their blasted faces.
The people he had really wanted to see had not been allowed near him.
Tysha, the maid who cooked the meanest meat and egg pie he had ever tasted. Her little brother, Tyson, the stable boy who always asked Artem for a story about demons and heroes. The entire Equis Battalion Knights who frequented the Library weekly after realizing that Artem was the best chance they had of getting out of their next mission alive. Craig, the little idiot boy –the Stars bless his soul– that Artemvian took on to clean the library after the famine.
Maybe it was been better that way. Those innocent souls had known him as a somewhat cuckoo librarian who mouthed off to the king every now and then. If they tried to visit him…
“No doubt Theo would not want them near me, afraid of the things I would say near my passing.”
Artemvium had too many ghosts in his closet for a mere librarian. One didn’t become Optimum Magnus by reading books and writing down other people’s stories… one became Optimum Magnus by being good at one thing.
Killing.
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By the stars, he really should have set the room on fire.
Either way, he was dead now and there was no fixing that.
So Artem readied his heart to finally meet the Keepers of the Afterlife, of which there had been many debates about, and stood to his feet.
Which had been laughably easy.
Artem had gotten used to the creaking joints, the neverending back pain and the general clunkiness of his declining body. But now…
He waved a hand, coalescing the puddles on the ground into one giant surface to look at his reflection.
“I’m younger again.” He muttered.
Standing just a shade shy of six imperial feet, his hair was a mixture black and gray; just like Spice from the South and East. He was slim, but not too much to stand out and even his eyes were the same. A color somewhere between black and brown, unassuming in every way.
Yet, the wrinkles were gone and the whites were notably absent from his head. Even his receding hairline was… proceeding?
“Hellfire. I would’ve died earlier if I knew I would get my hair back.”
Finally he looked around to see where he was.
“Everyone wants to know about the afterlife but no one actually wants to go check it out.” Artem muttered under his breath.
He was in a small alley of sorts and around him lay smooth black knapsacks, stinking of spoiled food and only the gods knew what else. He was fenced in on either side by a tall building, maybe three or four stories high. The ground was made of some kind of black-gray material, looking burnt. The buildings were made of bricks, though not the color with which he was used to.
Artem opened one of the black knapsacks and the smell made him gag.
“What did I do to deserve being in actual Hell?”
There was no way this was the Afterlife for everyone. There had been hotly debated topics of Nirvana, Vahalla, Elysium, Hades, Tartarus and whatnot… but this type of smell?
“By the gods, I’m in Naraka.”
Artem audibly groaned and began to ready himself, launching into one of his infamous long-winded whines which he often did in front of King Theo during Royal Court Hearings just to annoy him.
“S-Stop! Please!” Someone cried out. “Someone help!”
Artemvian had heard enough strangers crying out for ‘help’ in his youth for his body to move out of reflex.
He hid behind one of those metallic spoiled food containers.
And promptly realized he was naked.
“Never just rains… always pours.”
And watched horrified as three… things poured in.
One was a human, just like him. Except… he was all wrong. The man(?) had purple hair which shot straight up, defying the natural orders of the world. He had also adopted a pair of eye-constructs colored completely black which brought up a whole host of questions about how he could see out of those things. But the most horrifying thing was the thing attached to the man’s shoulder.
Instead of an arm, the man had this parasite made of steel acting as a pseudo-appendage. It whirled and clicked like machinery, obviously moving in conjunction with the man’s thoughts.
Fascinating.
The other man was a lot more normal. Normal for someone who sold his soul to the Devil that is.
Instead of a regular head, he had scales and an elongated snout designed to snap up fish. His head was that of an alligator. It wasn’t the most out of place here in Naraka, though Artem did have to question why a demon would choose to stay combined with the man even after he died. Could it be possible that the afterlife had a whole new economy that fostered the deals between Souls and Daemons?
The third man who cried out for help was just a regular person. No steel parasite on any of limbs nor any signs of daemon workings. Just… just a very plain guy.
Like Artem.
Sighing, Artem came out from behind the metallic container.
“I hate to interrupt… but I wanted to ask for directions.” He tried to smile and wave, one hand covering his private bits. “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost here.”
Immediately, all three of them stopped.
And using that moment as a distraction the man who was being attacked slipped out of their grasps like a eel, running out into the streets without looking back.
“Aaaaand that’s what I get for trying to help. Hells.” Artem resisted the urge to rub his eyebrows with his hands, lest he reveal his private bits and shock the two poor souls with his Leviathan.
“Yup. Middle name is Decency. That’s me.”
“The fuck? This chap is naked? And we fucking lost our score! Fuck!” The alligator-daemon possessed man started to walk towards Artem, his hand reaching inside his clothes and taking out a long metallic dagger.
But the dagger had no blade. It was just a elongated cylinder.
What could the man possibly-
With a flick of his wrist, the daemon-possessed man called forth a blade of electricity which crackled with impending violence.
“No hesitation in attacking… possession of an enchanted weapon…” Artemvian drawled. “Unless you’re part of the militia or military organization here in the afterlife, I’m going to assume you’re a bandit.”
“I’m going to count to three.” Artem finished. “One.”
The other man with the parasite-arm approached as well, an ugly grimace on his face. Instead of taking out an enchanted weapon, the man’s whole arm began to crackle with contained lightning.
“Interesting to see but not nearly as impressive as the alligator face.” Artmemvian quipped. “Two.”
Then promptly he released the mana he’d been holding in, casting his spell.
The two men slammed to the ground so fast that they both broke their jaws.
“Ugh… wha… ghkk…”
“.....Fu—ck…. What.. is this…”
They struggled but Artem’s manipulation of gravity continued to hold them down.
Bending down, Artem touched the alligator-daemon-man’s forehead. He would quickly separate the daemon’s mana from the man’s own and perhaps he could come back to his-
Artem froze.
There was no Daemon Mana.
The man was just…
A man.
Moving quickly, Artem checked the metal-appendage as well. If it was a parasite of some sorts, there should be-
Again.
No abnormalities.
On instinct, Artem reached out with his senses, touching upon the ambient mana in the air. If this was the afterlife, it should be full of-
“Oh hellfire. By the Stars. By the Earth. By the Sea and Sky and all things that’s holy and accursed, by the blasted First Emperor’s baby son’s DUNG!” Artem cursed, quickly moving out of the alley and out into the main street.
Something sped by so fast that it summoned up a wall of water which covered Artem’s view for a split second.
And as the curtain of water lifted… Artem saw.
The roaring of metal carts with their top covered, moving at the speed of wind itself.
What he had thought were clouds were smoke, being belched out by large buildings resembling cannons.
People with metal parasites, blinding themselves with all manner of things and walking around with small smoke-rings coming from their breath. More people that looked like they were possessed by daemons but that Artem knew deep inside were not. They all whispered, passing him by and trying not to look at him but failing.
Artem grabbed the nearest passerby.
“Hey, what the fuck man? You fucking weirdo, I don’t have any doillies. Try-”
“Where.”
“What?”
Artem walked close to the man, and unconsciously summoned his mana. He knew that his brown irises would flash with a myriad of blue and green but right now, he didn’t care if people found out he was a Magus.
He needed to know where he was.
“Where am I?” He snarled, grabbing the man’s wrist.
“Ow! What the- Geez! That hurts!” The man tried to escaped Artemvian’s grasp but it was no use. He finally relented. “You’re in Nero City! Let go!”
“...Date? When?”
“2099! 2099!!”
Artem let him go and the man ran away.
He looked around again and another thought –more of a question– came to him, his natural penchant for swearing picking up the alligator-man’s vocabulary.
“What the fuck is a Nero City?”
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