Imperia - a story by Marf

[Marf]

"The court presides, the Void stirs."

♢​

O V E R V I E W​

Empress Mircalla

In a world where sorcery is the most advanced and dangerous power known to man, all governments house cultures of arcane users. Only in the Imperial superpower of Kaas is black magic the undisputed force of the regime. The Dark Lords of Kaas pursue twisted and grotesque lengths to attain the most forbidden taboo in the world, immortality. However, their controversial practices diminish their relations with other world powers, making them the hated targets of religious and democratic states.

A young woman of non-magic means named Mircalla is wed to the immortal Emperor in effort to subdue the cultural divide in the dark monarchy. As she is pulled into the sick bed of the Imperial court, Mircalla must resort to ruthless extremes of her own to secure power. Supporting her is Aurelius, an alchemy tycoon consumed by guilt over past atrocities but forced to use his skills to aid the Emperor he knows is dangerous to others. The High Executor Konstantine is desperate to be recognized as a powerful immortal by the other Dark Lords and compensates for his lack of talent as a Sorcerer by imposing tyrannical law against them.

Caught in the wrath of Konstantine’s rule, Aurelius and the Empress manipulate him by their own means and talent, all three of them vying for the attention of the reclusive Emperor, whose arcane power is so potent it has corroded his body and made him ill. Due to his condition, he is unable to devote his attention to the management of his vast country and must select his most trusted associates carefully before the court dissipates into madness.

Told from four point of view, Imperia is the story of a society built on otherworldly power and the rulers who abuse it.

 

[Marf]

C H A P T E R --- I
Mircalla---​

A woman is the Universe, a man is the Void. The antipodal entities of light and dark turned in cosmic sync. A carriage drawn by black horses led Mircalla to the citadel to wed the Emperor. She wore white as his existential other, a pristine swan drifting on a body of darkness. Populace crowded the streets of Bastion and left no space abandoned to see the new Empress. They rejoiced for she represented them. A being of the common world, untouched by sorcery as every woman was. A precious mortal. Hand gripping the silk of her dress, she maintained her demeanour with pride. Beneath stoic silence, Mircalla screamed. The stature of her circumstances was unfathomable to any woman and she had no right to complain. Turmoil overwhelmed Mircalla and froze her body in her seat, her corset restricted her chest like a wrench and relieved her nerves to a degree. The emotion confused her. She did not understand why she felt distraught, only that it made her ungrateful and selfish.

Incoherent frustration boiling from the simple lack of a voice, Mircalla thought as she tried to make sense of her feelings. She recognized fear. Fear of the idea that she was a mortal speck against the scale of the Empire, fear of the Emperor she had never even seen. Her singular duty his wife was to assure the mechanics of the Universe and the Void were always turning. She was the Universe, he was the Void and neither could exist unless they bonded to produce life. Mircalla had to give the Emperor children. The people may be happy with a princess, but the Dark Lords accepted nothing less than powerful sons to further their ranks. She did not bother exhausting herself by allowing the notion to unnerve her, not yet. Inside of the closed carriage, her father sat beside her. A politician of well repute, he gave her to the Sorcerer caste as an ambassador to the non-Arcane masses.

“Remember, Miri, you may be the manifestation of the Universe, but the Emperor is the manifestation of the Void.” He repeated.

“....and the Void consumes all.” Mircalla responded, she knew the doctrine by heart now. “... but I don’t really understand what the Void is yet.”

“Good, knowing too much is dangerous.”

The Sorcerers of Kaas did as they will. All others followed them with unquestioned obedience. Mircalla was a pawn. If bearing a son meant being something greater in the face of the Empire, she would give the Sovereign an heir. The carriage drew to a halt and the door was opened before her. Pipe organs drawled from the citadel and accompanied joyous cheers from the streets. Slick, metallic architecture speared a murky sky over smooth, black roads. Kaas aesthetic was elegant, sublime and bleak, embodying technological advancement and a mastery of black magic. To Mircalla the colours represented a greater darkness in the bed of the Imperial superpower, one of oppression. Grey caps and huge hats laden with flowers crowned the people who welcomed her. They waved Kaas flags, red for the blood of the mortal Universe centered with the cyclonic black Void.

Thick, chocolate curls barely sat beneath a simple veil resting on the bride’s oval face. Desirably plump and peach skinned, her breasts larger than the standards of fashion, Mircalla was twenty-three years of age. She wore a dress of lace with a sleek, trailing skirt, quietly detesting the high collar constricting her neck. The masked face of a Sorcerer, crowned with horns and draped in black waited before her and she took his hand. Mages of the court surrounded her procession as she linked her father’s arm and entered the citadel. The aisles were divided. They appeared to be of different worlds. On Mircalla’s side sat civilian politicians and figures of state clad in black top hats and suits. On the groom’s side sat monsters of the otherworldly arcane.

Rich, dark silk robes which looked like women's dresses, horned headdresses and sickly pale skin, many with terrifying colours for eyes. They frightened Mircalla and they seduced her. Exotic and fantastical. Not one them looked older than thirty-five, a culture obsessed with immortality and cheating age with perverse science. The pipe organ grew to an epic finale as the bride and her father strode toward the altar. Trying to calm the anguish which boiled with every step, Mircalla counted the different eye colours she saw on all the powerful Sorcerers. Yellow and orange appeared the most common, there were red, at least one purple and others with irises that were white or entirely black. All of them were men and all were abnormally pale. Behind the altar, black flags cascaded before a levelled floor and the lights seemed to dim the further Mircalla walked. The atmosphere dropped to a chill. All company rose and lumps formed on the skin of Mircalla’s back. Her insides dropped and let an involuntary gulp amass in her throat.

Figures motioned to carry away the flags and her husband to be stood idle on the higher ground. The fear she denied became real. Chin trembling, she heaved her chest once after holding her breath and kept her head steadily lowered. He looked like a ghost, an ethereal specter devoid of age and frozen in time. His skin was blinding white and smooth as plaster. Huge red eyes ringed by thick black discolouration sat sunken in a little heart-shaped face. Shadows heightened the haunting contours and sharp bones of his cheeks. The colour of his skin frightened her, Mircalla had never seen skin so abnormal and it made her dress look beige. More than anything, she was unnerved by how thin this man was. He was emaciated to an extent which may be fatal for a mortal. The Emperor did not look old at all, he looked sick, but he stood poised and elegant at the end of the stairs, his posture immaculate, the trailing hem of his silk robes pooling over the carpet.

Shock piled in Mircalla’s chest and her diaphragm clenched in pain. She wanted to shed a million tears and wail at the people who took away any semblance of power she ever had. Indignation and disgrace remained the single thing they did not control. If she behaved like a hysterical fool and threw the place sideways, nobody could prevent it. They could kill her, but they would not predict it and it would ruin their historical nonsense. She made no screams and no attempt to smile. Lips fixed in a vice, Mircalla stood dead before her groom. The Master of Ceremonies stood by the side of them and uttered the words to dictate her fate. Motioning towards her lowered head, the Emperor gracefully extended a skeletal hand and unrolled blackened fingers. Holding her breath, Mircalla wrapped her hand around them and received the icy touch of his skin. She stood at her full height. Underneath his horned crown of black silk and glistening platinum, the Emperor was only a few inches taller than his bride. At least he could not beat her to death.

“Immortal Sovereign of Kaas and Imperia, my regent, my husband, my Lord in light and dark, I vow to serve you in filial loyalty as your cosmic antipode and wife.” Mircalla read her vows before the ceremonial mage, her voice deep and commanding. A pause hang idly before the Emperor spoke. He appeared to struggle. His hand twitched and Mircalla held it fast.

“My Consort, I will protect you and depend on you as your cosmic antipode and husband.” The Emperor’s voice was light as air and barely audible. He seemed nervous and Mircalla found it jarring. This was a man of immeasurable power, unsurpassed the world over. He had no right to feel fear.

“You are the Universe.” He finished.

“You are the Void.” Mircalla responded.

 

[Marf]

reserved

 

[Marf]

This is something I have been brainstorming for... a long time, like years.

Imperia was originally a fanfiction I made about the Sith Empire from SWTOR, but the lore and characters developed to be completely different from the original source and it just became it's own thing. I am now trying to structure this story properly so I can start writing a novel in the future. It's still very WIP and the transformation from fanon to original setting is still underway.

It is super grimdark, morbid, gothy and R rated. I've taken inspiration from everything everywhere from RL history to fictional works, but it's really it's own thing and not based on any specific culture (aside from the Sith obviously).

I hope you enjoy the entries I post here!

 

[Marf]

So I have re-vamped this thing and started over, after much brainstorming and pain, but I removed alot of the stuff I didn't enjoy or like about the old version and shaped it more according to my vision.

It is a dystopian gothic setting, and is only about the Sorcerer caste and Imperial court, which is the part I am very passionate about and wanted to focus on.

It is much better now, I think, and I hope you enjoy it if you do happen to take a look.