“Well, I’ll see you then, handsome.”
“Have a good one, gorgeous.” He flashed her his best journalistic smile and waltzed out of the shop, leaving his coins on the counter and enormous mug in hand.
Turn 1509 of the third age
Sunset, Three turns later
Chapter 5: The Milarics
The City of Kandra, Octavian Prefecture
Oh thank god, most of them are actually here. Somehow, miraculously, nearly all of the students showed up the class before sunrise, and a three-dess sunrise at that, due to administrative meetings. She liked to think it was because of her striking personality and rousing speeches. Since her brain didn’t give her ego any snarky reality check, she took that idea and ran with it. Confidence filled her and she walked to her podium.
“Hello, boys and girls.”
The typical dissonant chorus responded in fashion.
“This class, we’re moving on to the savannah of Milakria to cover the plainsmen known as Milarics.” She pulled out a painting and a parchment littered in turquoise symbols, drew from the runes, mashed the magic into the painting, lifted again, and lobbed the orb at the floor rune, letting it form a projection orb pumping out a still illusion of a naked Milaric man and woman.
The woman was roughly a head taller than the man. She stood tall and proud with her arm resting on his shoulder as a savannah stretched out behind them. Both of them seemed identical to a Northman with bronze skin save for four thin eyes and horns protruding from just behind the temples.
The woman’s came out no further than her shoulders before jutting forward at least half a meter, ending in a fine point. The male’s, on the other hand, shot from his head perpendicularly nearly half a meter before curving forward sharply for no more than a few centimeters, ending in a blunter point.
Both of them had two sets of eyes. Two eyes sat in a proper place while two more sat above the brow, above which another brow rested. All of them held the same color of iris, typical white eyes, and had eyebrows sitting on the brows typical of a Northman.
“The Milarics are the third most populous sentient species in the world, behind Northmen and Nojerna. Naturally I have a feeling most of you know their physical characteristics, so I’ll breeze through this.
“Milarics are the most sexually dimorphic species, taking a step beyond most of us by differentiating with their horns. Women are, on average, taller, skinnier, more toned and less bulky. Men tend to be stockier, shorter, and more bulky. Milaric women have horns that point forward while the men’s horns go further out horizontally.
“As with most of the other sentients, the women also have smoother, less angular faces and more pronounced breasts. Northmen and Nojerna have, on average, larger breasts than Milarics. This is believed to be due to sexual selection.
“This theory is supported by Milaric societal norms. While it’s quite common in Northman society for one’s breast size to contribute to self-worth, Milarics feel the same with horns. Men put far less stock in horn size, often filing or cutting them off for convenience.”
A Milaric girl, quite young, asked, “Doesn’t that, like, hurt? Like... a lot?” She grimaced slightly as she rubbed her horns.
“Yeah.” A twenty-something Milaric man in the middle of the room said bluntly. His horns were mere stumps sitting at his temples, no more than a few centimeters out. “But the choice of a bit of pain for a few desses, or having to walk sideways through every bleeding doorway and to knock nearly every damn thing over each time you turn your head, I think I’d take the saw.”
She continued rubbing her horns and frowning.
“That’s a pretty popular opinion in Milaric culture. While many men would rather just be done with them for the sake of convenience, many women look at their horns as a sense of ego and pride, braving whatever inconvenience they may face for that status. Thinking of it practically, though, men’s horns provide more opportunities to get in the way than women’s, due to placement.”
The same woman, whose horns were admittedly quite long, easily past her arm’s reach, said, “I dunno about that.”
Again, the previous Milaric spoke up. “I would. Why do you think I lobbed them off?”
“Yes, yes, it’s a matter of debate. Regardless. The modern theory on why Milaric horns are as dimorphic as they are, while not necessarily proven, is widely regarded as truth. Most anthropologists agree on this theory.”
A hand shot up. “I’m sorry, ‘anthropologists?’”
Really? You’re taking an anthropology course. In the anthropology department. Come on. “One who studies the ancient history of sentient species. In the early tribal times, while Milarics were still evolving, the two sexes took up roles. Societies rarely existed of more than a basic tribe, since most of them would wander nomadically in pairs. Fun fact: this makes the Milaric species the first sentient species we’ve found that held monogamy as an early societal norm, as these pairs would commonly spend their lives together.
“In these pairs, the female typically acted the part of aggressor while the male filled the role of defender. The wide horns and stocky builds were used for defense, holding the attention of their prey or opponent, looking bigger and more fearsome. In a traditional battle, most animals would first attack the male, immediately addressing the larger threat. When the male would catch the creature, locking it in place, the nimble, lithe female would gore it from behind and use her claws to rend it while pinned.”
“Claws?” A student near the front blurted with surprise.
“Oh. Right. Yeah, modern Milarics have thicker nails than Nojerna or Northmen and tend to grow pointed. However, study of ancient burial sites find that they either grew and manicured them into claws or they used to grow thicker. Sorry, forgot to cover that.
“Anyway, the men with the strongest build and widest horns were chosen to breed with, naturally, while the strongest, yet leanest women with the largest horns would attract the men. It’s believed that the ‘horn envy’ societal stigma existed even in these times, so despite horns approaching unwieldy sizes, the women with the largest horns would both carry themselves better and would hold a sort of ‘alpha female’ title amongst the others.”
A Northman woman asked “Why do they look so similar to us northfolk, save for the horns and eyes... and, erm, claws, I guess?”
“Well, according to ancient Milaric myth, there once lived a species of people fairly similar to Northmen on the plains of Milakria, if not actual native Northmen. These folk had a budding society, complete with domesticated animals, agricultural knowledge, and even the ability to construct houses and buildings. As with most myths, though, they didn’t come across this knowledge naturally.
“These forerunners were met by a demon lord named Emiaroth who promised knowledge in return for everlasting worship, which included sacrifice of their own people. Naturally, the people accepted, and gained the ability to grow a civilization the likes of which the world had not yet seen. Grateful, they worshiped Emiaroth and sacrificed select people on the regular in his name.
“Over the turns, though, the people simply stopped. Whether they forgot, it fell out of style, they ceased to believe in him due to lack of intervention, or they were simply belligerent, we don’t know, but Emiaroth felt their disregard for him and grew angry. He returned to these people in a rage, setting fire to their crops, slaughtering their animals, and destroying their houses.
“But this wasn’t enough for him. No, he wanted more. He wanted these people to remember him, and to remember their folly. To accomplish this, he cursed the forerunners to give birth to people forged in his own image. The already bronze-skinned folk would birth children with four narrower eyes, claws where nails should lie, and two horns protruding from their heads.
“The people cast these children out into the plains to die, never to be reminde
d of their former lord. These children, banished from civilization to raise themselves, held the natural knowledge of the demon lord. These proto-Milarics watched as their forerunners died out, unable to procreate. As they forged their own society, they shunned the beliefs and knowledge of their parents, choosing to lead the lives of nomads, eschewing agriculture, domestication, even architecture for the most part. They forged a new civilization built on spite, and lived out their lives on the plains.”
A curious girl in front asked, “How much of this do you believe, professor?”
“Not a single word. For one, the way this ‘demon lord’ acted just flat-out wouldn’t happen. I earned a degree in religious studies, specifically in study of power structures and archons. Now, as some of you might not be aware, the difference between a demon and an angel is whether or not you like the god. ‘Angels’ and ‘Demons’ are simply titles put to archons, which are celestial guardians, soldiers of a given god’s army.
“These armies do have ranks, allowing certain members to be recognized. These are commonly called ‘Archangels’ or ‘Demon Lords,’ but are technically a less dramatic ‘Archon Commander.’ One of these folk wouldn’t be stupid enough to seek his or her own worship, as it would piss off their god and any of the others who notice. This might happen, and has happened before, but they wouldn’t last long enough to come back and ravage a town like they claim in the myth.
“No, I believe they just evolved naturally. However, some believe that the fact that Northmen live natively in Milakria with dark bronzed skin like the Milarics is proof enough.”
This time, a Nojernan lady asked, “So, professor, if some evidence crops up or something, do you think your stance on their creation myth could change?”
She laughed. “It’d need to be some pretty damn good evidence that an archon sought out reverence from mortals in exchange for knowledge that didn’t belong to them and lived to get pissed when they broke the contract. That’s a bit outlandish for multiple reasons.”
“But what if they were right? What if an archon did change the structure of these Milakrian Northmen? You said you majored in celestial studies. What archon would be responsible for that?”
She thought for a moment, probably longer than she would have liked. She tried to keep an air of genius around her, making her students think she knew all there was to know on her topics. This question caught her off guard, though. She thought of all the archons she knew, how the guardians of the various gods physically manifested themselves, trying to come up with a dark-skinned, four-eyed horned soldier.
“Ik’thar? Maybe? I suppose she’d be the closest, but most of her aesthetic is death related. Her colors are red and white, so... No, ‘cause she doesn’t really make sense either. See? My point proven. As a student of demonology, I researched all the gods and their archons, and I can’t conceive one built on the classic depiction of ‘four eyes, red skin, big horns, etc.’ It just doesn’t make any sense.”
The woman went to her journal, elegantly writing her notes, a smile on her face. Tab looked around expectantly. “Any other questions?”
A Milaric girl, featuring fairly short horns, held up a hand, glanced at a Northman a few seats away, blushed, and looked back at Tabitha. “Um, professor? Can... Can we... crossbreed with any other sentients? I’ve heard you can’t, but...”
Tabitha smiled. “Only Nojerna. As a general rule, the various sentient species can’t crossbreed, save for the very rare occurrence in which the child usually dies before birth. The Nojerna, on the other hand, can breed with nearly anyone they please. The child will come out as a Milaric with the telltale eyes we covered before.”
The girl mouthed the words “Thank the gods,” blushed harder when she saw Tab looking at her, and buried her head in her notebook, furiously writing.
“Unless anyone has any questions,” short pause, “you all can leave early. I know you all want to get out of here for your break. On Threedess, we’ll be covering some Milaric history, specifically regarding a few of their warlords. Squall’s first on the list. Also, your tests should be graded then.”
The students poured out of the room. She shouted a “Have a nice weekend!” to anyone that was still listening. She noticed the Milaric girl, still blushing, talking with the boy she was eyeing, both of them smiling. Ah, young love. I remember the pregnancy scares. Perks of Milaric boys... She lost herself in thought for a moment, snapped back, and walked to her office to finish grading tests. I wonder what ol’ Contu’s up to...
Chapter 6: Welcome to Nephkeska
South of Setor Basdis, Northern Milakria
Rhia jolted awake as the carriage hit a pothole. Shortly thereafter, she was surprised she fell asleep at all with how often the carriage jostled. It had been a long and rocky ride so far, and they’d spent over a week on the road already. At this point, she was just hoping it’d be over soon.
Her head lay in her mother’s lap, and as she went to sit up, her mom gently stroked her head, making her lie back down.
“It’s okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”
“How much longer, mummy?”
“We should be there this dess. Just sleep and it should fly right by.”
She sighed and accepted her mother’s placation. Cassandra slowly stroked Rhia’s head while holding a book in her off hand, something Rhia took no particular umbrage at. If reading on the road didn’t make her sick, she’d be joining in. As it was, she got her reading in while they camped.
The carriage rumbled along, bumping and dipping, creaking all the while as Rhia took in the sounds. She heard the horses clomping outside, the wood creaking, the axles groaning, the wheels grinding against the dirt. She looked to the windows, but they were shaded with curtains.
Cassandra’s hand left Rhia’s head as she wiped a bead of sweat from her own forehead, wiped it on the seat, then went back to softly caressing. It was hard to deny; the carriage was hot despite the cooling rune above their heads. The sweltering heat of the Milakrian sun soaked into the light wood of the carriage, cooking the inside. The magic did little.
Looking to escape the monotony of groaning, bouncing, and staring at the opposite seat, Rhia sat up and climbed through the small window to the coach seat. Her mother reprimanded her somehow, saying something about not bothering the driver, but she paid no mind. Her climbing wasn’t hindered, so she continued through.
She wriggled out onto a leather bench where their driver sat, reins tied off on a small horn before him, horses plodding along. Their driver was a slender man, looking young and borderline gaunt. His hair was cropped short on his head and shaven clean on his face. After a week on the road, he’d yet to show signs of stubble.
He was garbed in a fine Antrian suit, consisting of a black coat and slacks, fine black shoes, a slightly sweat-soaked white shirt, and a skinny black tie. The man looked down at her, only her top half through the window, and smiled as he helped pull her through.
“Hey there, love. How was the nap?”
“Good.” She smiled at his accent, different from anything she’d heard before. It was soft with a slight lilt to it, falling off the tongue smoothly. She was used to the rough burr back home in Vol’Tyr, so hearing different accents, while not unusual, made her smile.
“What causes you to grace me with your presence, m’lady?”
She blushed a little at the title. He knew she liked to feel grown up and ladylike. “I’m bored.”
“Ah, well take a look around, then.” She did. The Milakrian plains were flat, barren, and empty.
“Why do ye got that suit, Mr. Albreight?” She gleaned the name from her mother earlier.
“I like suits. Makes me distinguished.”
“But it’s hot!”
“This? Nah, it’s not hot. See, you got short sleeves, little skirt, no wonder you think it’s hot.”
&nb
sp; “Huh?”
“Well I’m all covered up, I can’t get hot. The sun’s beating down on your little arms and legs, though. You’ll get all hot and burned.”
“Nuh uh. You’re wearing all black, you’re hot.”
“Nah, I’m not hot. ‘Sides, I’m from the desert.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, over Runnir. I’m from Gorenya, love.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t they teach you geography at school anymore?”
“Yeah. Runnir’s on the left, by the bottom.”
“Southwest, love. The world’s surface is on north and south, east and west. Left and right’s subjective.”
“Yeah.”
“Now they didn’t teach you what’s there?”
“Nope. We learn math, reading, social studies, P.E...”
“Well. Allow me to give you a short little lesson. Over there, it’s a desert. Big, huge, massive desert. The north’s a little better, but most of it’s a big sandy desert.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh come on, you know what a desert is.”
She smiled at him. “Nope.”
“Liar.”
“Nuh uh.”
He sighed and smiled back. “Look around. You see the plains?” She looked again, and saw the flat emptiness. There was a small tree way in the distance, but nothing else graced her view. “You see all the foliage?”
“The what?”
“Plant life.”
“There’s a tree.” She pointed and squinted.
“Nah, all the grass.” Oh. Indeed, the plains were covered in tall grass, but she’d looked right past it. She’d never conceived of a place without grass other than the ocean. “Now in the desert, there’s no grass, just empty land. So imagine all this without grass.”
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