Chapter 4 : Union of the Snake

Brahm, Immaculate Monk of the Second Coil

Realm Year 764, Resplendent Water

The Dwelling of the Serpents who Walk like Men, An-Teng, Satrapy of the Realm

“Observe my son, Immaculate One, for he is utterly unlike myself at that age.” 

The words of Mnemon, leader of Great House Mnemon, had a tendency to echo in one’s mind long after they were spoken. Brahm didn’t have the context required to understand what those words meant, but they came to mind as he watched his prescribed ward gather up his bags and ready himself to leave the river-boat. 

There was a soft humming and a constant murmur on his lips, as the sorcerer asked himself again and again ‘did I forget anything?’, slinging bags over his shoulders and slipping talismans over his neck. 

As befit of a Dynastic Dragonblooded, the Lady Mnemon was exceedingly beautiful and powerful, with skin like white jade and ruby-red hair that fell down in a crimson waterfall. She dressed herself in regal lavender silks and a hefty, rounded breastplate adorned with gemstones. 

Her son was significantly less impressive to look upon, with skin bearing a faint bronze hue and long scarlet hair falling in silky, hapless bolts. He wore a steel cap with a broad brim and a green coat with aniconic yellow decoration over a chain hauberk. His arms were wrapped warmly, his pants were loose, and his unobtrusive leather boots were sturdily made. 

He looked around the room again, casting a single bright-bronze eye around thoughtfully before nodding sharply. “That’s it, methinks.” Rhomon declared, turning from the room and walking confidently away. Brahm followed dutifully, his own traveling supplies already loaded and accounted for in a single simple bag. 

Despite all the time spent taking stock of his inventory and questioning if he had forgotten anything, the sorcerer did not spare a single glance back again once he left. 

“What do you hope to gain, among these beastmen?” Brahm asked, following the sorcerer out of the guest rooms they were provided and over the deck, towards the ramps that led down to the port they had stopped at. The captain, provided for them by courtesy of the Prince of An-Teng who Rhomon had provided gifts for, waved as they descended and set upon solid land again. 

“In summary? More sorcerous and thaumaturgical lore. Maybe a nifty relic they aren’t using anymore.” Rhomon shrugged. “That and delivering the letter that the prince provided to their leader.” He reached into his green coat to withdraw a sealed scroll and shook it about before storing it away again. “I don’t expect to receive much, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Greetings, honored guest.” A highly rigid, formal voice called out to them. There was a trained softness to the tone, delicate and soothing on the ears in a manner of practiced courtesans. Brahm turned his gaze to regard the voice- a trio of tall figures awaited them at the docks. The first among them was tall and slit-eyed, with long black hair and arms concealed below long silken sleeves. “We children of Sadana greet you as friend.”

“Your High Realm is excellent- the enunciation of secondary syllables especially.” The sorcerer complimented with a smile and a brief incline of his head. 

“We thank you, honored guest. We inquire about your purpose in our lands.” 

Rhomon nodded. “Two reasons- the first is to deliver a proposal from the Prince of the Shore Lands to your leader, whoever they might be, and the second is a request to peruse whatever documents of sorcerous nature your people have preserved- It’s a personal interest of mine.”

“And the captain…?” The tall, slit-eyed figure pressed with courteous gentleness, turning an eye towards the local man resting upon the railings of his large river-boat.

“I’m just their ride.” The captain replied gruffly, pointing a thumb down at the pair of them. “I’ll be carrying back to sea and then up the River of Queens once their business here is concluded.”

“We see. We will send word of your arrival and request to Lord Shantsu. In the meanwhile, would you like refreshments, rest, or entertainment?” One of the shorter greeters ran off at that, down the roads and towards a three-story palace in the distance. Perhaps a mile away if he were to judge it. 

“Refreshments would be lovely, thank you.” Rhomon nodded, and the greeter nodded in turn.

“Very well.” The greeter turned and left, walking with a practiced gait. “Follow me please, honored guests.”

Brahm couldn’t tell if the greeter was male or female. Their silk robes concealed much of their slender body and their soft voice conveyed nothing but polite androgyny. He let his gaze wander over the streets as they were led away from the docks- the city itself was relatively modest in construction, buildings made largely of fine mud bricks, plaster, and aged wooden beams. The roads were made of the same smoothly polished mud bricks, and stretched on for a mile in any direction he cared to glimpse through the many straight streets.

The materials and much of the construction was of primitive make, but primitive make given exceptional care and many hours of labor. Roofing was made of hundreds if not thousands of small clay tiles, and each was burned and glazed to produce a wide array of colors. Few, if any, of the buildings were taller than two stories, and the streets were covered in broad canopies of some type of stretched fabric. 

Common men and women walked through the streets, much shorter than their guide, and bearing much reduced features. The odd slitted pupil, greenish skin, smattering of scaled freckles, or similar was all that indicated their beastly heritage. 

“Would the honored guests prefer to eat outside or inside?” The greeter asked, turning their head back slightly. They were towering compared to the common men and women, Brahm noted, a full head taller at minimum. 

“Outside will be fine, thank you.” Rhomon answered with a smile and nod.

“You are exceptionally composed.” Brahm stated with a tilt of his head and shake of his straw hat, prodding the attitude of their guide slightly. 

“The honored guest did not anticipate such from we ‘beastmen’, did they?” The guide replied with a single side-eye aimed back towards him. 

“I didn’t.” Brahm acknowledged with a nod.

“Much of their culture exists as a reactionary measure to their origins.” Rhomon declared before pausing and raising a courteous hand. “Please, be welcome to interrupt and correct me if I err at any point in the retelling, courteous host.”

“We shall, honored guest.” The guide inclined his head, taking them to a veranda of clay bricks and leather canopy, gesturing once to the common man present, who quickly fled to a backroom and began to rapidly speak with unseen figures. The sharp barks of the foreign language and urgency reminded Brahm of the tones of kitchen workers. 

Wooden trays of chilled, sugared fruits were brought out to them as they sat upon wicker-weave benches, along with drinks, loaves of unleavened bread, and well-boiled eggs. 

“The Serpents who Walk like Men were the children and servants of the Mother of Serpents- a Lunar Anathema by our terms.” Rhomon began to recall, sampling a slice of sugared fruit and humming once. 

Brahm restrained his immediate reaction to that statement, disgust and horror rolling in his gut at the thought of an anathema breeding. His features were carefully blank, and he inclined his head to indicate that he understood.

“She was eventually slain by the Dragonblooded hosts, and her people retreated into their territory and fortified it against incursion. They were passed over for battle at the time, and eventually incorporated as yet another region of An-Teng.”

“They are blessed with great fertility, strength, and ferocity, but over time developed a culture to control themselves and elevate their people into a prosperous, productive, and polite nation. This formality is a result of that- part of a larger system designed to regulate themselves.”

Rhomon tilted his head. “Is that more or less correct, mister courteous host?”

The serpent-eyed man maintained his polite smile, setting down a cup of some local wine. “We would not word it in such a manner, but it is broadly truth in essence.”

“Hmm- I apologize if my wording provided insult at any point.” Rhomon tapped a finger against his chin, then sampled the wine as well. 

“You did not, otherwise we would be obligated to duel.”

“Ah, that’s good then. I’m thoroughly mediocre as a duelist.” The sorcerer nodded his head with a smile. Like almost all of his smiles, it conveyed a private amusement, as if Rhomon was laughing at a joke that no one else was aware of. “Your snacks are quite good, courteous host.”

“We thank you for these words, honored guest.” The snake-eyed man turned to him. “Is there something wrong with the meal, honored guest?”

“I cannot eat or drink any intoxicants, narcotics, red meats, or fowl.” Brahm inclined his head. “My oaths as a member of the Immaculate Order prevent such.”

“Is fish acceptable fare?”

“It is.”

The snake-eyed man turned and gestured with three fingers, sending a common man running down the street and towards the river. 

Despite being beastmen, and scions of an anathema, they were quite gracious. One step further on the road to enlightenment than their fellow half-men. ”Thank you.” He said with a small incline of his head and hat. 

It is the wise who aid the afflicted on the road to enlightenment, and the foolish who shuns their earnest attempts, after all. 

—

“Honored guests, you had a message for me from the Prince of the Shore Lands?” The apparent leader of these snakemen looked similar to their guide, being tall and lean with long black hair and a smattering of scales like freckles across his face, neck, and disappearing into his loose robes. His fingernails, when visible through his sleeves, were long and fearsomely sharp. His skin was a faint green shade, and bore the slightest hints of advanced aging in mild wrinkles. 

“We do.” Rhomon replied, reaching into his robes and withdrawing the scroll, offering it over to the man. “There’s a separate, personal matter I’d like to inquire about, but that can wait until after this business.”

“I understand.” The snake-king remarked, taking the scroll from his hands and checking the wax seal. Once inspected, he rolled it open and began to read. 

Despite being the leader of these snake-men, their king did not carry himself like a king. He wore fine robes and jewelry, but no crown or other sign of royalty. He greeted them in a fine room with tables and chairs, but no central throne. He was flanked by other serpent-men and the chamber was filled with others of similarly bestial features, but none of them had greeted their apparent king with bows and proclamations.

The treatment was closer in attitude to how Brahm and his fellow monks would regard a respected elder of the Immaculate Order, a comparison that made him faintly disturbed. 

“...The proposal is interesting, I suppose.” The snake-king remarked with a slight tilt of his head. “I would need concessions to send my people so near a blighted land as that, but such is acknowledged already. I will draft a response this evening, and it will be ready to go with you when you choose to depart.”

“Thank you, Lord Shantsu. If that is the proper way to address you?” The sorcerer bowed his head, then tilted it slightly and raised a brow.

“It is sufficient for guests, yes.” The snake-king rolled the scroll up again and handed it to one of his fellows, who tucked it away into a coat-pocket. “What of this personal matter, honored guest?”

“I first would like to make my station clear. I am a sorcerer, Lord Shantsu.” Rhomon gestured to himself with an incline of his head. A slight tension in the air developed at those words, which Rhomon ignored. “My interest is in the sorcerous arts, and I would like to make a formal request to peruse whatever documents or notations of such your people have preserved or developed. Chiefly in alchemy and enchanting.”

The snake-king made no expression in response, slowly nodding his head after a few moments. “I see… I would first maintain diligence and ask what your intentions with that knowledge is, honored guest.”

“Personal development. I am currently on sabbatical from the Blessed Isle to gain worldly experience before beginning my adulthood in full- something of a tradition among my people.” The sorcerer raised his hand and wiggled it slightly. “My most common use for such knowledge would be general errantry.”

“General errantry?” The snake-king asked with a raised brow.

The sorcerer smiled. “You know- questing about, rescuing damsels, vanquishing evil spirits. That sort of thing.”

“A noble aim.”

“It’s a hobby.” Rhomon shrugged. 

“If I were to say that we have no such knowledge, what would you do in response?” The snake-king tilted his head, obviously prodding at the sorcerer for a reaction.

“Shrug and move along.” The sorcerer stated bluntly. “There’s many things to see in Creation, and much to learn. Effort spent trying to wrangle knowledge out of unwilling individuals is more practically spent moving to the next group. I’ll learn what you’re willing to give, and I’ll be willing to trade a beneficial working in exchange, but I won’t try to threaten or curse you into handing it over.”

The snake-king stared into the sorcerer’s lone eye for a few long moments, then nodded. “That is indeed respectable. What are you willing to give in exchange for such knowledge?”

“I won’t summon a demon on your behalf.” The sorcerer stated firmly, wagging his finger. “But I am a sorcerer, I can do a great many beneficial things if given a few weeks to weave the essence required.”

“...Could you ward a structure against pests?” The snake-king asked with a hand on his chin, thoughtful.

Rhomon raised a brow. “I could ward a neighborhood against pests.”

“That will do then. In exchange for warding our primary granary against pests, you will be granted access to a few written rituals we have preserved.” The snakeking nodded. 

“Marvelous. I’ll get working as soon as you wish me to.”

—

“They were pretty nice, weren’t they?” Rhomon remarked as they walked towards the riverline and the ship in the distance, friendly waves given to their direction by commonfolk along the streets and in shops. The sorcerer’s third bag was now stuffed with additional scrolls, and he looked much like an overburdened mule with all the weight he carried. 

“Their attitudes were more respectable than most beastmen, yes.” Brahm acknowledged. So long as he ignored their origins as anathema-spawn, they seemed to be perfectly acceptable folk. Perhaps in a few decades he’d return to this place and build an Immaculate Temple, so as to guide them on the road to enlightenment. 

Or perhaps not, and instead he’d live among people who don’t make him queasy.  

“Honored guests!” A voice called out to them from behind, making Rhomon and Brahm pause and turn. One of the snakemen, tall and androgynous, approached them with a raised hand and bags slung over his shoulders. The snakelike features and the height, Brahm learned, was what separated the nobles of the land from the common men. Traits preserved for longer than most thanks to a ritual habit of inbreeding.

Another slightly nauseating thing to think about regarding these beastmen.

“Hello! You… whoever you are.” Rhomon waved and smiled as the snakeman approached. Brahm restrained his urge to lean back and instead narrowed his eyes intently.

“We are Shuri, the thirty-first son of Shantsu.” The androgynous young man inclined his head with a blank expression on his face. “Lastborn of his marriage to our mother.”

“Hello Shuri. What is it?” Rhomon replied with a nod. 

“We apologize for this presumption, but we would request to join the honored guests in their journey throughout Creation.” Shuri raised a long-nailed hand over his heart. “We have no standing obligations in our home, our father has given leave for this, and the idea intrigues us.”

“You’d like to join our travels?” Rhomon blinked, then inclined his head. “I don’t plan to come back to this place for at least a few long years- are you certain?”

“We are certain of this.” Shuri bowed his head. “I am quite proficient in swordsmanship, and my brothers consider me courageous and hardy.”

The snakeman’s entire body was lean, whatever hardiness he possessed was surely magical in origin, because it did not show in his physique. More akin to the catamites of his old House, before he severed ties with them to join the Immaculate Order. 

“Alright.” The sorcerer shrugged. Brahm cast a slightly reproachful eye towards him. “If you’re certain about it, then you’re free to venture with us.”

“Rhomon. Traveling with a beastman, no matter how polite, will not reflect well upon your house…” Brahm mentioned with a frown, making sure to remind his ward of the consequences of such easy companionship.

“My mother is a sorceress who regularly summons demons, Brahm.” Rhomon turned a dry tone and unimpressed eye towards him. “I am a mortal in a house of dragons. Traveling with a polite snake-prince is the last thing I'm going to be criticized for in the Realm.”

Brahm sighed, then inclined his head. “Very well.” 

“We must apologize- if our presence would make things difficult then-”

“Nah.” Rhomon waved off, before turning around and starting his walk towards the ship again. “Come on, you already asked and I already accepted, so now it would be rude to back out.”

The snake-prince blinked, sending an uncertain glance towards him.

Brahm ignored it and shook his head, turning to follow his ward. 

He was asked to watch over the mortal son of Mnemon, his elders giving a strong implication to observe him for signs of wickedness- the type typical to sorcerers of mortal stock. Cavorting with demons, making dark pacts, sacrifices, discontent with their station, and things of that nature.

His observation thus far indicated that the sorcerer was atypical for most of his kind.

Instead of being wicked and discontent, the son of Mnemon was downright foolhardy in his pursuit of nebulous good. 

Brahm almost found himself wishing otherwise- at least then he could simply punch the issue and report back to his elders.