The Ninth Lord

[Persephone]

Synopsis: As the Empire of Hoenn unravels, the would-be-heir to the throne travels the land to end a curse.

Content Notice: There will be violence and sexual innuendo, but nothing graphic will be portrayed. Cursing will be moderate (a few d-words, maybe an s-word every once in a great while). Most jarringly for some, the story is set in an expy of the Roman Empire and as such will involve deliberate values dissonance (characters openly accepting of misogyny and slavery, classism, etc.)

Chapter List:

The Master of Wind




I will generally try to return reviews, but given my current busyness and Crossover Battles reading this can no longer be guaranteed.

 

[Persephone]

The Master of Wind​

In the ancient days before the empire…

Alto Mare always prospered, but never dominated. Since the first castles and armies and navies had arisen in Hoenn, Alto Mare had always been near the center of regional affairs. Its treasure fleets were envied, its navy feared, and its arts were the wonder of the ancient world. And so long as the gods received tribute, their city was the crown gem of the oceans.

Yet the city never expanded. The merchants and artists and admirals were respected, but they did not hold true power over their citizens. The city was ruled by the church of the mystic dragons, the founders and protectors of the city.

Other cities rose and fell. Wars and coalitions and coups and betrayals changed the ever-shifting map of the land and the nature of backroom politics. But Alto Mare never expanded and seldom warred; the gods warned against it so the church forbade it.

But for one merchant, this was not enough. He saw the power of the city’s fleets and the size of its coffers and dreamed of greater glory—an empire stretching across the islands and in to the very land itself! An empire that could unite a warring world! And he began to scheme with the philosophers and painters and poets and generals. And he plotted with the businessmen and spies and trainers.

The church got word of this activity and the highest priest of Latios was furious. He began to assemble together his forces and devise his options for crushing this traitorous merchant. But the priestess of Latias pulled him aside and pleaded with him to not intervene.

“If the people hath rejected the gods, then who are we to interfere? If they would reject our leadership in the absence of force can they be said to have faith? No. Let us allow things to go as they will, and if the people choose against their gods then they will suffer the consequences. We must give them opportunities to prove their devotion.” Such was her proclamation and such was her faith in the island’s residents that they would not waver.

Alas, her faith was misplaced. The merchant’s schemes ended in all of the secular officials coming to the church and asking for a council and king to guide them.

“It shall put you at risk,” the priest responded. “For a king responsible to men and with luxury at his disposal may become corrupt and stray from the path of the gods. But a cleric accountable to the mystic dragons shall surely gain their favor.”

Yet the people repeated their desire for a king and, with the priestess’ pleading, the church elders relented and the merchant became the king of Alto Mare.

Within a year’s time the king set the island on the warpath. The island’s ships of trade were converted to vessels of war and the other maritime peoples were decimated, their once-revered navies cast to the depths of Kyogre’s kingdom.

And the treasures flowed back to the kingdom in a torrent of sturdy wooden ships. The priest of Latios approached the victorious king and asked for the entirety of the treasure, for the island was founded by and victorious by the grace of the mystic dragons.

But the king refused. Instead he offered only half of the treasures to the church. The priest seethed, enraged by the insult and the priestess of Latias knew her words would have no effect, for the gods themselves had been slighted. So she prayed, falling prostrate before her patron’s altar for four days and four nights without food or rest, begging the gods to spare the humans of the city from the hubris of their lord. And the gods were pacified for some time, agreeing to take only half of the fortune.

The church used its half to take care of the people and sacrifice to the gods, as it was accustomed to doing. And the king spent his money on armies and the start of a palace. And the people were content, for they were fed by the church and the king's navy was victorious.

With the newly trained and armed military the king’s forces marched on to the land, taking riches and slaves with them. Their army seized all of the coastal cities and became feared across the region.

When the treasures of the mainland began to arrive back in Alto Mare aboard a torrent of sturdy wooden ships, the priest of Latios met with the king and demanded the entirety of the plunder, lest the entire city lose the favor of the gods who had condemned such attacks before. Only if the city did not profit could they be justified for the only victory would be the glorification of the mystic dragons.

The king was outraged. “You foolish priest!” he exclaimed. “I have given you a grander treasure than you have ever known, yet you beg me for more? This was a return on my investment and is thus mine alone, as the laws of property rightfully decree! Did Latios conquer Slateport? Did Latias sink the fleets of Mossdeep? No, it was I who did so! Be gone now, lest you test my patience!”

And the gods could not be consoled. The priestess of Latias once more begged her patron for mercy. The king in his arrogance was doomed, but perhaps the city could be saved. The mystic dragons had loved the island once. Surely they could find it within their hearts to only smite the wicked.

Latias noticed her servant and was sympathetic. The human truly loved her people and had always served the gods faithfully. But the dragon’s rage could not be pacified, her honor badly damaged by a mortal. Yet out of pity Latias, The Lady of the South, sent her servant a vision.

*​

The island of Alto Mare, in those days, was very close to the realm of Kyogre. Plains of water and shallow lakes filled the island, leaving little land remaining. Because of this, many of the king’s new buildings had to be built taller rather than wider in order to fit on the available land. These projects were dangerous and required many slaves.

One such slave was a pious young man named Avex, hailing from a small town in the forests near Petalburg. He possessed a quick mind and an affinity for the creatures of the air. Combined they made him a skilled artists, capable of acquiring and coloring wurmple silk in ways that few others dreamed possible. Yet he always redirected praise to the gods of the skies who granted him talent.

When he was captured the king examined his craft and ordered Avex to design the tapestries for his new palace. Fearing for his life should he decline, Avex agreed. And thus he began to prepare the most beautiful pieces of art that the city had ever seen; a portrait of the king, a vibrant rendition of the city market, and striking images of the dreaded ships of Alto Mare. But his most spectacular work by far was a glorious depiction of the mystic dragons, for he would not allow his contribution to the kings of men to surpass what he gave to the gods.

The king became enraged when he saw this magnificent craft and demanded to know why Avex had not put his best efforts in to the portrait of the king. Avex was not shaken and replied, “Oh most glorious king! I saw it fit to practice, first, in a work for the church. But you shall get your reward. And a portrait? No. That is no fitting purpose for my talents. I will not simply render you in immortal color, but this city—this magnificent being you have brought in to its own! This is your true legacy and a far greater sign of your power than a face given to you by the gods.”

And the king was swayed and allowed Avex to work from the tallest tower on the island so that he might witness all of its features and render it in immortal color. Yet he had no plans to forge a painting more beautiful than what he had given to the gods and prayed for a path out.

While on the tower he did not make the painting. Instead his mind wandered to the ponds and watery lowlands and he began wondering about how they might be brought in to the realm of Groudon and made useful to mankind. And his wondering turned to planning and planning to crafting.

In time he appeared again before the king and showed him a pump that could drain the swamps and plains and reclaim the land. And the king was thrilled by the device and forgot about the tapestry. And thus Avex escaped making a work for a man that was more glorious than his tribute to the gods. Yet he continued to rise higher still in the world of Alto Mare until he commanded many servants of his own.

One night, as he prepared for rest, he heard a knock upon the door of his chambers. He opened it to discover a woman greeting him. She was not clad in the robes of a slave or servant and he was confused, for free women were not allowed to wander alone—much less to the chambers of a man.

“You should leave this place,” Avex stated, “for the gods have commanded that women stay apart from the worlds of men.”

“Your respect for the laws is admirable,” the woman replied, “but it is the gods themselves that have sent me here. Long ago in my folly I allowed this city to fall to sin, set in my belief that man was good and could be trusted to obey the laws. Yet I have found that the masses prefer their wicked ways and support those who disrespect their legendary lords. My folly is considerable. But the gods have taken mercy upon me and granted me a vision of the future.

“This nation shall fall, for it is simply a lost city tossed by the waves of fortune and fate. It may thrive today but it shall wither tomorrow. But you may build an empire destined to last. The ground itself now recoils from all who betrayed the mighty mystic dragons in their holy city. You may not erect a city on land, yet elsewhere you may build a throne to last for centuries.”

The woman left then in to the night, leaving Avex to ponder her words. He took them to heart and his mind began scheming once more.

The next day he appeared before the king and proposed something extraordinary—a colony made upon the sea, entirely detached from the land. It could be the ultimate haven for artists needing inspiration or a mobile refueling base for ships or a platform for trade missions. The king was intrigued and, no longer doubting the genius of Avex, gave him all of the resources he requested.

So the architect who rose from slavery set out with the finest wood and many sturdy ships of craftsmen and builders and gold. They sailed the seas, trading all of their money for simple coral—not the elegant stalks of gold and blue so often sought, but simple fragments of a corsola shell. When the trading was done Avex sailed the sturdy ships to the middle of the sea and began lashing together the wooden beams with tight weaves of silk. The wood was placed upon the coral so that it would float.

With the builders and artists he forged a city upon the waves, beam by beam. And the king in his arrogance believed himself to be the first man to rule the waves.

He was struck down not a year later by the wrath of the magical beasts, servants of the gods themselves. The kingdra and gyarados and salamence descended upon Alto Mare and laid waste to the city, razing its prized palaces and markets to the ground. The ships were filled with water and flames and cast to the depths of Kyogre’s kingdom. Even the temples were not spared, for the populace who prayed there had been corrupted by an impious king. Only a handful were spared from the entire city, left behind to make the sad retreat back to their ancestral home.

Soon the magical beasts attacked further, the rage of the mighty mystic dragons not quelled by the scorching gem upon the oceans. The ancient humming flygon of the desert lashed out with their mighty desert storms. The wickedly fanged salamence scoured the plains and burned the cities there. The kingdra with their glistening frills laid waste to the islands. Even the altaria, peaceful wanderers of the skies, turned against the people of the forests!

But the city upon the waves survived, spared from the wrath of the dragons by the piety and foresight of its founder. The ships around the city began to sail out and quickly learned that the wrath of the magical beasts unabated. Filled with sadness and fear for mankind, Avex designed a new set of plans—his most glorious yet—and assembled the resources and labor to begin construction.

He picked an island to the north of the floating city and had his forces land there. The pokémon and their humans armed with metal tools began to carve and stack blocks of stone higher and higher. And as the tower rose to the sky itself, artists came in and drew upon the walls and the poets inscribed their best works. Avex himself crafted his finest work of silk and draped it proudly at the entrance as a banner.

And when all was done, a mighty horn was blown from the top of the tower six times. The Dragon God himself heard the clamor and looked down to see that man was entering his realm! They dared to intrude upon the sky itself! The Dragon God flew down to this tower, filled with terrible fury, and encountered only a single man there, kneeling in submission.

The Dragon God was confused: why would a conqueror bring only himself? He drifted closer to the tower’s peak and the man began to speak, softly and humbly. The tower was not a mighty conqueror’s boast, but a gift to the Dragon God. It was the best that man could build and he gave it to the higher powers. The man demanded nothing—but if it pleased the Dragon God’s heart to end the rage of the mighty mystic dragons he would be eternally glad.

And the Dragon God, once the most distant of the legends from mankind, softened as he coiled through the tower and gazed upon its beauty and majesty. It was truly fit for even him! Gladdened by the gift, the mightiest dragon of all told the rest to end their quarrel. But further still he pronounced the human who gave it to him worthy of ruling over the wind types on the earth.

More than that, the rest of the region owed Avex and his floating city a debt they could not pay and feared his connection to the Dragon God. Unwilling to face his wrath but confident in his power, the head of each city in Hoenn came to Avex one by one and submitted to his rule until he was the sole ruler of the land.

Thus The Empire of Hoenn was born.

 

[Beth Pavell]

I can't quite say this is what I had expected. I suppose I had expected something more worldly and less fairy tale at first - not that this is necessarily a criticism. As usual I find myself on the side of humanity here, since according to this narrative they're at the mercy of the whims of the pokémon. Up yours, mystic dragons.

Actually, I'm more surprised that I managed to find typos here at all. Stylistically I think it needs a bit of ironing. The problem with trying to write in this storyteller's style is that it's all too easy for some sentences to not make sense. You've avoided it for the most part, but I did spot some places where this happened. Could be another instance of technical mistakes, so there it is

 

[AetherX]

This really struck me as more of a prologue than anything. As usual, your worldbuilding is on point. Got to love a good apocalyptic purge to usher in the new holy empire.

I also stumbled over a few typos. I can go back and point them out for you if you'd like. Like Pav said, wording and sentence structure with this kind of fable-esque style is finicky, and the occasional typo or wording mistake almost does more damage than it would in usual prose. Also: kind of pedantic, but you use "painting" and "tapestry" interchangeably here and there. I might be turning into Pav, but that bothered me a bit

I'm looking forward to seeing where you go with this.

EDIT: Typos...

But Alto Mare never expanded and seldom warred; the gods warned against it and the church forbid it.

*forbade

The priest of Latios approached the victorious king and asked for the entirety of the treasure, for the island was founded by and victorious by the grace of of the mystic dragons.

*of

I will not simply rend you in to immortal color,

*render

and render it in to immortal color.

For both this one and the previous one, I'd personally say "render in immortal color" rather than "in to" but that's more subjective.

Even the temples were not spared, for the populace who prayed their had been corrupted by an impious king.

*there

That's all I noticed.

 

[Persephone]

I can't quite say this is what I had expected. I suppose I had expected something more worldly and less fairy tale at first - not that this is necessarily a criticism. As usual I find myself on the side of humanity here, since according to this narrative they're at the mercy of the whims of the pokémon. Up yours, mystic dragons.

Actually, I'm more surprised that I managed to find typos here at all. Stylistically I think it needs a bit of ironing. The problem with trying to write in this storyteller's style is that it's all too easy for some sentences to not make sense. You've avoided it for the most part, but I did spot some places where this happened. Could be another instance of technical mistakes, so there it is

It's going to get worldier...ish...soon. Actually a large part of this story is trying to balance out the mythical and the mundane since it takes place just as the last classical empire is falling. So the mythical elements are still ingrained in society, but there's a question as to how much longer they'll last. So while I'll still be playing around with gods, magic, curses, classical hero tropes, etc. it will be in a style closer to Vaira than this prologue, Backgrounds, or Hard Reset.

This really struck me as more of a prologue than anything. As usual, your worldbuilding is on point. Got to love a good apocalyptic purge to usher in the new holy empire.

I also stumbled over a few typos. I can go back and point them out for you if you'd like. Like Pav said, wording and sentence structure with this kind of fable-esque style is finicky, and the occasional typo or wording mistake almost does more damage than it would in usual prose. Also: kind of pedantic, but you use "painting" and "tapestry" interchangeably here and there. I might be turning into Pav, but that bothered me a bit

I'm looking forward to seeing where you go with this.

EDIT: Typos...

It is a prologue. Can confirm. Actual chapters will be much more prosaic, albeit with narrative quirks. Because if it doesn't have narrative quirks did I really write it? The casual apocalyptic purge was fun because mass-casualty events like that are so dang common in Western mythology. Beasts raze cities because a god was disrespected, armies are destroyed because a deer got killed, wars destroy mighty empires, plagues sweep across the land because somewhat insulted the grandkid of a god, etc.

It wasn't intended but it will now become a running gag where "tapestry" and "painting" are the same world in the classical language. You're welcome.