The Aeterna Empire

Chapter 10 - The Soran

Following my dear's intrustructions I went into the fortress. The castle, by nature of Ire's limited space, was the center of the holding. There was a connection to the lord's manor, a barracks, a dungeon beneath the barracks, and where it touched the mountain a cavern extended deeper and was boarded up to allow dry space for civilians under siege and long term storage of water and wheat. In the courtyard was a stage for public trial with the occassional hanging. With the storage and dungeon to be utilized at all times the guards kept a vigil shift.

Kes structure, I observed, walled the city and built its castles and manors in the very center of the walled city with layers of increasingly secure gates, as if the idea was to build inward. Ire structure, on the other hand, seems to be to start with the castle and establish its utility, then build outward with an unwalled city and farmland.

For the Soran to be shown around something so secure as the defenses, regardless of the utility of the castle those defenses guarded, worried me. I had never met a Soran and the North Ire's relationship with them could be best described as 'friend of my enemy' and at worst myths to scare children to behave. I believed the myths of ghostly armor and metal undead to be nonsense, tales of ignorant men to explain a people so isolated as to exist only in stories.

But not even the myths could have prepared me for what I found. The myths did not do them justice.

The first thing I saw was a man in armor so thin and short I nearly mistook him for a child squire. Second, No flesh existed within, not one hint of skin or redness of muscle or sinew. While there was some clothing, it seemed to be more as a tattered afterthought in the same manner as a loincloth at a nudist beach. Every bone was as metal with large veins interweiving within an exoskeleton plated over with scaley layers as a fish. His back was hunched over with arms dangling to his ankles with knife-like fingers sharp enough to cut bone. Whether the man had hair within the helmet, I could not tell, but as it turned its eyes over the city, I saw that its helmet was slitted perpendicular with a tube extending out of its center from which was a shining light like an eye. The light of its cyclops eye flickered with its speech.

"Information: This object has observed no younglings in your domain, Duke. Query: Where are they?"

Its speech terrified me. I had heard all manner of bird, beasts, men, and this was none of these. There was neither pitch nor tone in its words. It reminded me of a string musician sawing away at a slowly stretched single note unto oblivion where you wonder yourself mad if it is still going and you realize it is your own pounding heart in your ears you hear now.

The one this Soran-Blood spoke to was the Duke standing by his side. He was a sprightly older gentlemen of Ire  with a streak of grey entering his black hair and an old military posture he wore as a retired uniform just starting to slouch and grey. On his hip was a blunt ceremonial blade.

The Duke stood close enough to the Soran unguarded that I felt it safe enough to approach.

"They are quite safe, I assure you." The Duke smiled comfortingly and placed a hand on the Soran's shoulder, only to immediately retract it as the Soran flinched and looked up sharply at him. "Under the circumstances, what with rise of the Empire, We sent them away into the warm embrace of Moloch. The disciples looked after them. You should have been there, there was a great fanfare and they had such wide smiles as we sent them away." He finished with a wave of his hand.

The Soran tilted its head slightly and looked up at the man. "Information: This object is ignorant of these disciples. Query: May the Soran know of them?"

"Of course! We will-" He stopped, seeing me approach, and he nearly stumbled over himself. The surprise on his face took many shapes, but landed on joy. "Va-valspear my lad! I- What are you doing here?"