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Yaer: A Tale of Three Kingdoms Part I (Chapter 1)

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Prologue

So there’s this legend here on Ultimar. It’s small, somewhat simple, and meaningless. The legend is one sentence, the dead also rise. The people here speculate what it means considering that we are to a large extent, immortal. We don’t die until the next Cycle, and the next Cycle starts after ten Seasons. Ten Seasons last a hundred Systems, and each System lasts a thousand Shards. We don’t die often.
So we don’t die. What now? We live for what seems like an eternity with a catch. The leader of Ultimar, the Yaer, dictates what we do every Shard of every System of every Season. He himself will outlast us by ten Cycles and by the ninth, a new Yaer takes his place. Each Yaer enforces its will through the Bjhorgn Guard whose job is to enforce the peace of the Yaer; the peace. Life isn’t bad, but whoever doesn’t follow the will of the Yaer finds him or herself taken, records erased, personal belongings thrown to the Void, his or her existence destroyed completely as if he or she never existed. This is made easy since the Yaer keeps all personal records of any citizen of Ultimar in the Second World, a sort of place in which anything and all things written is kept including birth certificates, death certificates, genuine licenses, tax bills of specific individuals, everything. The only ones who know where the Second World is are the Bjhorgn Guard and the Yaer itself.

So the people of Ultimar live under oppression yet don’t see it that way. It is a way of life and living and to a large extent, happiness. The inhabitants of Ultimar revel in conformity to the Yaer will. They smile when the Yaer says they can’t have the child they’ve always wanted. They believe the Yaer knows best and will provide for them better if they obey. They smile when the Yaer says they can’t get the job they’ve trained and studied for all System long. They believe the Yaer is putting them where their true talents lie; an obvious slight that only the blind could ignore.
Ultimar’s citizens need to be enlightened to the Yaer ways of misguided grandeur.

There was an effort once, a skillful coup de tat that nearly took the Yaer and his Bjhorgn Guard by surprise and nearly dethroned them both. It was merely philosophical so that in such a way, it wasn’t a rebellion of ways but a rebellion of words. That the world of Ultimar was not alone and that the Second World, the great library of Ultimar, existed on a planet beyond the horizon of Ultimar.

It would’ve explained how there was a day and a night to each Shard.
On this new world there were flora that was alien to the citizens of Ultimar; plants that could walk on four legs and creepy-crawlies that would dwell in the ground and then sprout when most didn’t expect it to into lily pads of the air. The creatures were as exotic as they came with things that grew sideways instead of up and up when clearly they should’ve grown sideways. It was a world of inexplicably wonderful wonders drowned in a pink-colored sky that was native to the Second World. The Second World would be one of freedom and fear and survival and triumph; nothing even related vaguely to the Yaer and his inescapable hold on society.

It was the dreamscape of the dreamers who dared to dream.
Alas, it was not to be so. There was a Great Purge in which nearly three-fourths of the entire population was exterminated in such a way that one might kill a bug with bug-spray. The few that did survive did by the Yaer’s grace and by a binding oath to never say to another soul again what they thought was true and wasn’t true. They lived to become the Untouchables; undeserving wretches and dregs of society who feast on the leftovers of society. But that’s who they weren’t at the time of the Great Purge. The Yaer gathered those close to him and the former Yaer who still drew breath, locked down the Grand Palace, sealed the Gateways to Immortality, and had the Bjhorgn Guard launch his bio-bombs to all four corners of Ultimar. The mass extermination of the so-branded “vermin” was heard across the globe as the people of Ultimar suddenly found their flesh melt from their bones, their insides becoming like liquid, their immortality slipping into oblivion.
A billion screams arise, a million suffer within.

Those spared were only those within the Gates of Immortality. They were young and few and far in-between. The Bjhorgn Guard was stationed on every street corner and every roof-top, scanning for those who might’ve escaped the Great Purge. Those found were shot on-sight, and those newly discovered were thrown over the mile-high walls and into the chaos of skin-melting below. The Grand Palace was not so high so that its walls would help them evade the people’s suffering. The wife of the current Yaer said, “Let not such things happen again; become better-willed the Yaer shall be or I shall throw myself to death as well.” And the Yaer saw such speech as not-wisdom but treason. The wife of the Yaer himself would betray him so easily shocked the Yaer.
He had her thrown over the Gates of Immortality as well.

How does a world recover after a planet-wide extermination? How does one become something more or something less after the death of one’s beloved? What exactly did the wife of the Yaer mean before he mercilessly gave into her wish and gave her the death she wanted? These questions plagued the Yaer in the aftermath of the Great Purge. The Bjhorgn Guard were silent sentinels waiting for their master’s orders; the people of Ultimar, whatever was left of them, were robbed of their safety. How does a Yaer reconcile with his people after committing such atrocities? How do you give back a life already taken? What reward is worth enough to undo all that was done?

There was no clear answer.

In the aftermath, the former Yaer decided that it was his time to pass; so too the old ways. The last words he spoke were, “Let bygones be bygones and let the old ways become just that, old. Change is the way of Ultimar and change shall come to challenge that which is unmoving.” With that, he ascended into the oblivion. Now the Yaer was stuck ruling with no guidance, no personal advisor, his son, two daughters, and very few of the population to rule over. And this portion of the population has been traumatized. The world of Ultimar was about to go into its death-throws if the Yaer didn’t do something and something soon. The Bjhorgn Guard couldn’t be left alone to live either for reasons the Yaer is only privy to. And it’s not like his son could take power now…he’s still too young.

The Yaer let them all go; whoever was left of the world-inhabitants of Ultimar. He ordered the Gates of Immortality shut after the last citizen left. Signed with an Order of Exclusion, the Gates of Immortality were sealed to anyone and all. The daily tithe that was made to the city-fortress was cut by nine-tenths and the citizens were given no daily orders by the Yaer.

The Yaer even sent his own son and daughters out of the city with two Bjhorgn Guard assigned to their safety. The Yaer, officially, mentally, and physically went into seclusion with only the Bjhorgn Guard assigned to the city-fortress as his companions. Broken and unable to reconcile himself with himself, he ordered that the Grand Palace also be devoid of the Guard and that the Final Doors of the Beginning be sealed from the inside.

No one shall enter the Grand Palace unless the Yaer declares it so personally. Our story takes place four Seasons after the events of the failed coup de tat. On a world called Ultimar, amidst the near aftermath of world extinction, rumors of the Second World still flowing still between the cracks of society, where three former heirs to the Yaer throne have long lost contact with one another and have formed three separate ruling entities on the world of Ultimar, there is one immortal who will end it all and reform the Yaer society completely. This immortal’s name? It’s…


Chapter I: Gaej

I’m running. Weird considering that just a Season ago, the amount of time you were allotted to physical exercise was moderated by the Yaer. It’s like I’m flying almost, my feet barely touching the ground for split-seconds at a time. I could almost be free of this world’s chains.

Alas, I did not say why I was running.

Two immortals from the nearby bazaar are coming after me with skinner-knifes and pork-pitchforks; abnormally two times their legal boundaries. Custom made definitely. The Bjhorgn Guard just watch. By now, they’d normally have arrested all three of us, charged me with a yellow warning and have escorted the other two to Jahvngard for processing. But now…they just watch. It’s almost creepy.

Now in the most unfortunate turn of events, I’ve found myself in a backstreet alley with a six-foot tall wall to my back. My following of two have me cornered with the only door into this meaningless alleyway to the rear of them. I shudder in fear of the beating I’m about to receive as I try to conceive from my imagination what sort of things you could do to someone with oversized pork-pitchforks and skinner-knives. Most of it borderlines me dying in which case I hope the Bjhorgn Guard haven’t forgotten all of their duties, like keeping someone from dying. The package I’ve held close to my chest trembling with my body as my pursues dreadfully close the gap between myself and them.

But there’s an unsung hero around. He fell from the sky, literally. He swooped in on the immortal with the pork-pitchforks who had me nearly within spearing range of the one in his right hand. Having knocked down the first and startling the other, a quick movement sweeps the other off his feet and onto the ground scrabbling for his wits.

He turns to me, and a realization dawns me. He’s a she. And she’s wearing what might be a replica of the Yaer’s White Cloud ceremonial mask. Her silver hair flowed forth like a waterfall yet stayed smooth as the wind blew through it. Her figure hidden in a jet black get-up.

       As quickly as she had come, she dismissed herself, telling me, “It’s dangerous to be around these parts where the citizens thrive on scams and being cheap. The next time you go shopping, go to the Goyjnr District. It’s a bit more expensive there but the citizens are very honest and will give you what your money is worth.”

With that, she walked away, calmly as if nothing happened. Almost like the wind blowing through her hair.

Call me an opportunist but I couldn’t help but say, “Wait a minute, what’s your-“ and with that she blurred across the gap, her leg flashing out in blinding speed, and I find myself sprawled out on the ground. In the same dirt that my would-have pursuers were thrown flat on, I found myself in the exact same disposition with one exception. My heroine decided to turn into the villain in this weird twist of events. She pressed a foot onto my chest, then a knee, took two grapple-sticks from her waist and proceeded to trap my arms against the ground. The package I held close to me slipped to the ground. There was a knife on her belt; its gleam was quite sinister at the moment. But weird enough, I felt elated, just a little.

“Don’t speak, don’t talk of, don’t think about me. I don’t exist.”

It was a warning; not one of those mock alarms where a herd of Quococks might come rampaging through Main Street Holxnq. It was genuine and had an edge to it which might prick me at any moment. With that she leaped onto the nearby wall. Grabbing hold onto the somewhat impossibly smooth wall, she sprang across the gap to the other, then back, and back again. Finally, with one hand clinging to the rooftop, she fires off her grappler-belt which expelled two clamps. The clamps find the grappler-sticks pinning my hands and with a flourish, my arms were free.

“Don’t try to find me. You shall not find what you seek.” And with that she disappeared. Astounded, I couldn’t find the will to pick myself off the dirt floor. All that was going through my head was the sound of her voice ringing in my ears. Maybe I’m just being an optimist here but she didn’t seem all that bad…

This is later on in the day. I had already come home and dropped off the groceries that I had taken from the two men today. Taken because I had been ripped off too many times. I then found the energy to take care of some of the household chores: wash the dishes, do the laundry, clean up the living room and bedroom, along with tidying up the counter serving as both the prep and eating area. The stove still needs to be scrubbed and the refrigerator sorted through. The bathroom still needs to be washed and mopped and the bedroom sheets cycled through.

I never have enough time to do all these things in a day. But I still try to anyways. After doing the few chores I could find the time for, I walked out of the apartment, down five flights of stairs, across three blocks to the small Transcendence Center near City Hall. There’s a little one waiting for me, my kid sister Kaeiln. She greets me with a smile when she sees me. Her dress flows around her in a faded blue. Faded blue partly because of being thrown in the wash a countless amount of times, partly because it’s old.

That’s been her favorite dress since our parents bought it for her during her first Season alive.

We went through the school-day formalities: “How was your day?” “Did you play a lot with your school friends?” “How was lunch?” “Do you have any homework?”

She would reply with a: “It was great!” “Yes, with Maeyh a lot.” “No, I like your cooking better.” “Yes Gaej, I have a few workbook pages to do today.”

And then the odd request: “Can Maeyh come over after three Shards? She has a stuffed-Baehr that she wants to show me. And I have a stuffed-Cajhn that I want to show her.”

Then the response: “But you don’t have a stuffed-Cajhn Kaeiln.”

And then some: “Well…I was wondering if you could get me one since my birth-Shard was also in three Shards. Don’t you remember?”

The things older siblings forget and the things we do for our little ones. After reasoning with her along the little ways back to our apartment, we end up talking about whatever else she did today. How the Quorrows were flocking strangely near the Transcendence Center’s Timekeeper. How the color blue mixed beautifully in with the color pink in the sky this morning. How one of her teachers was telling the class about her new engagement to a man who’s admired her from afar ever since they met four Seasons ago. It was these normal things that I hold dear to me whenever I’m at work or buying groceries or even doing household chores. When we get home, I make a pasta with a light cheese-flavoring; a few meaty bits baked into the crust.

       Our Companion, Shaehra, joined us at the counter. Hovering at just two feet above the ground with floppy-hinged ears and a computer generated face, Shaehra was a gift to us from our parents when Kaeiln aged beyond her second Season. Shaehra watched the house, vacuumed the floors, and dusted relatively reachable surfaces with her six-foot-long mechanical arm housed in her back. She was waiting for me to get home from the marketplace and she was waiting for my sister and I as we got home from the Transcendence Center. Normally, the Yaer would have to approve having a Companion, or even a sibling; both rare commodities. But since the Yaer locked himself within the Grand Palace and shut the Gates of Immortality…there have been no requirement for Requisite Response Orders in both, if any matters at all. In fact, I shouldn’t have been able to buy so much groceries as I have these past several-Shards.

      Everything is different. Everything is new. Nothing is the same. And the immortals of Ultimar are enjoying it. These are the thoughts that plague me as I eat with my sister. These are the thoughts that harass me as I put her to bed. And it is exactly these kinds of thoughts that are suddenly halted as I recount, to myself, the encounter I had today with a beautiful and elegant immortal whose face was like the clouds. My imagination swept away into a small bliss as easily as the wind ran through her hair.
So this is my first attempt at publishing anything on anywhere. This is, however, not the first time I've written anything. I've been writing for several years and I am only now using DA to see if there are ways to improve my fiction, writing, and creativity. This is all original work with some elements taken from books or book series or even general media that I've been exposed to over the last several years. Yaer: A Tale of Three Kingdoms will be published in parts; however, I do not know how many parts there will be. There also may be a sequel depending on where the story goes and how it progresses. I have no plot-line or intentional underlined-meanings within my stories. How you want to interpret these stories and the events that take place will be exactly how you, the reader, interpret it as.

Enjoy :D (Big Grin) 
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ViPOP's avatar
Hey! so I like your writing style but also felt overwhelmed by all the new terminology. It's definitely not the type of story I read (but ti's been forever since i read for pleasure so i dont even remember what i read anymore ) but still, I think you did a good job with writing :) other fanfic places include aO3 and wattpad so I would maybe post there too! also definitely find more groups to post in if ur looking for reviews etc.