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Mihhilmor, the oldest ruin to a forgotten world... (Release)
This piece and its WIP images were originally published three weeks ago to my Patreon! For 3 USD a month you can see WIP images, get early access to finished works and sketches, and you'll be helping to support me continue working as an artist and bringing y'all stuff like this~! I'd appreciate it a whole lot if y'all checked it out, thank you~!This piece is NOT in its full resolution! Too see the full piece and all of its details, please click me to view the image mirrored to E926!They sat at another stop in their journey, a ruin somehow smaller than the last in the wind-swept plains that dotted wherever the forest thinned. The fire softly crackled, the two men, especially the king, beleaguered after a long day's travel. The terrain had begun to grow especially rough, with rocky outcroppings, dense unexplored forests, and long rolling hills. It was as though whoever developed it had simply abandoned it. Fields more tended to than the usual overgrown ruins, houses better kept or in varying states of repair... not that it could quite be called repair after so long; but in all, these lands seemed almost forgotten by the world itself. Æðelric stared out with tired weary eyes, dancing over the shapes about he and his companion, who he'd grown closer-yet to in the days since they'd begun to travel.
Further they'd drawn from his crown lands, the high and mighty peaks that dominated and surrounded the terrain of his home of Seltebia still visible, even after so much footwork had been made. He estimated at their rate of travel, it'd take a very developed band of man catchers and bloodhounds to seek he and his companion out, even in spite of the likely plentiful evidence he and his wounds had left behind. This offered little relief to the tired man, who felt he'd aged twenty years in the span of a few cycles of the moon. His body still yet ached, his wounds healing slowly. He'd been lucky to find the younger tribal, Wenke, the man thought to himself. He'd been no physician, certainly, but he'd the general knowledge of an apprentice apothecary in that brain of his, and it had been serving him well enough. Even those wounds that seemed to be taking poorly to healing had at least avoided full infection, and, at least for now, he could take the comfort of knowing death from gangrene would probably not come for hisself.
But there still hung high the question of how he'd return to his seat on the throne... That great sword swung over his head, like a pendulum. Sure, to survive was good, but for the names of his bastard conniving siblings to continue to be unsullied by the dirt of their crimes... that was unforgivable. he had to do something, but what? Even if he'd gone back to his lands right this instance, even if he'd begun trying to rabble up the gentry, what good would it do when all it would take the no doubt now consolidated court to label him a madman, steal his signet ring proving his legitimacy, and then execute him or let him languish in the donjon? No, he had to be careful about this, smart... He'd been racking his brain consistently throughout every second of silence he got... rare as that was with the bubbly and energetic companion he found in Wenke... Though he didn't mind that so much.
He'd run through so many scenarios, but they all felt so unrealistic, so impossible, or so greatly risky... even trying to work with a neighboring kingdom would be unwise, he thought to hisself. They'd just as soon slit his throat and let his blood like a freshly slaughtered hog than actually restore him... Beyond that, the relationship between Seltebia and the neighboring kingdoms of Winttal, Tercultira, and the Viceroyalty was untenable at best, and hostile at worst... and all the friendly minor provinces hadn't nearly enough military might to stand up to even the levies of his lands... As the sun lingered ever lower on the horizon, and Wenke began to grow ever more comfortable, curling on his makeshift cot, the king stretched out on his cloak, laid over the ground neatly atop a patch of soft cushy moss. He hummed, thumbing his chin, by now a small big scraggly from his lack of personal grooming tools. What had his ancestors done when met by such great odds?
He raked through his brain, thumbing through the annals of familial history, through the greatest exploits of men stronger than he, through every king, lord, and viceroy. It then hit me, a sort of creation myth that he'd been told as a boy, a story told to his father by his father, and he his own... During the foundation of his house, of his entire kingdom, the world had been a lot more dangerous. The surrounding kingdoms were fractured but united into a loose confederation, all intent on dissecting Seltebia and splitting it among themselves, like butchers after a hunt... Victory was assuredly a pipedream, as far gone as his ancestors to him... until the king made an unexpected choice. He went to the plains and forests, the fields outside the safety of Seltebia's battlement-like mountains, to meet a tribe. Though their combined forces would number far less than all of those of the opposing armies, it was promised by the the king that these tribesmen would receive whatever their wish was if they would help to bolster his forces, to defend and repel the invading forces... and seeing the great trouble in his eyes, the tribesmen agreed.
Though their forces were smaller, their conviction was strong, and together the crown's armies and the tribesmen crushed the invading armies, so strong was this victory that, after a brief campaign and at the negotiations table, the king was able to argue a hefty sum of recompense, one which afforded the royal family much of its riches today... But this is only legend, after all, nobody has seen the tribe in millenia, not even those other nomads that roam those same steppes... so of course, it was a longshot. The king wasn't even sure of the name of the tribe, among Seltebians, they're usually referred to in almost holy terms, Zuntenveralt, Rouhfolc, etc. -- So ubiquitous is the story that there's probably hundreds of words for those tribesmen. Æðelric hummed, staring intently at the fire, crackling before hisself, its cinders rising high and being swept away with the wind. He looked over to Wenke after a moment, his companion curled up on their makeshift cot, already fast asleep, their tail wrapped around their lower body as their chest rose and fell. The feline looked so peaceful, and come to think of it, ever since meeting his traveling tribal friend, the king himself had been resting more soundly. Of course, this was likely due to all the travel they'd been doing, and his wounds, but somewhere deep inside, he too knew that this deeper friendship had to play at least a small part in it...
He softly watched the wind sweeping over the cat, fluttering his feathery hair and making his jewelry softly jingle... the tall grass dancing around his form, silhouetted by the set sun and the fire that crackled before them... his eyes growing heavier and heavier... until he met the darkness of sleep. In his dream he was shown all sorts of pastiches, great rolling hills to low deserts, lands he'd only seen in the illuminations in his books and in the sketches of traveling arts-merchants... Waves lapped at the beaches of a calm port-town, and elsewhere the sea was a stormy deep inky green that crashed and slammed into craggy rocky shores. As he was pulled along location to location, the landscapes grew more familiar, morphing into vistas he'd seen in his travels. There was the hunting paths, his tumble down the cliff, the bloodied puddle he'd left in the ditch at the base of the hill, that first ruin he and his plucky companion ventured to... Further, further, the river they'd cleaned and redressed his wounds in, the fields and forests where they'd foraged to make poultices and medicines to chew, eventually to where they lay. But then it went further, the tall rolling fields, wide dense forests, and ruins melting together, an overstimulating rapid blast of colors, sights, sounds, scents, flashing by, until it stopped at somewhere huge, a place of significance...
Among the hills, the dancing greenery and the fleeting fauna, it stabbed out from the ground, partially reclaimed by the forest and crumbling, an aged monument to a people long gone. It was sprawling, a series of marble, limestone, and mansard, interconnected and covered with masonry, paint, frescoes, and patterned tile, a stunning place that unlike most images of dreams was concrete and actual, holding a deep inner logic, that of physical tangible space... And just like that, he was pulled away, his eyes fluttering open to see the world around him again. The fire was dying down, and Wenke was upright, packing up camp. Bannock bread was left sizzling on a smooth flat rock, hot to the touch, the air dissipating and crackling above it, that familiar breeze whistling through the grass and the ruins about the two men. The short statured tribal cat gently stepped about, collecting up his things and bundling them together into a pack, gently humming. The king's eyes followed him, gently shifting his head as his effeminate companion worked diligently to prepare for the day's travels, the king unsure if Wenke knew himself where the two would be moving this day, just knowing they'd be moving.
Slowly, Æðelric yawned, stretching over his cloak and the vegetation below, feeling it spring ever so lightly against him as he shivered, smacking his lips. His mouth tasted of sleep, that sticky dry flavor that pervasively seeped through his taste buds and simultaneously dried his maw while making it all too moist and slippery -- just in time too as the smaller cat stepped to the man, holding a cup to him. The king nodded, yawning again and reaching his hand in another wide stretch to grasp the cup, bringing it to his snout and huffing at its scent as his eyes lazily followed Wenke, who sashayed and swiftly moved about, the man snickering to himself. The kitty reminded him of one of his attendants, dashing about to make sure his every morning need within reason was accounted for. He felt cared for, he appreciated the treatment; If anything it made him feel more at the home he was so far from. The smell of the tea alone had a stimulating effect on his mind, the scent electrifying, his eyelids growing less droopy. He tilted his head back, quaffing a small bit of the drink, its flavor immediately apparent. Herbal, incredibly so, with a strong hint of pine... there was something fruity underlining the taste, perhaps berries or something of the sort.
He'd occasionally stolen glances of Wenke as they made their march along the wilderness in the previous days, watching the feline bounce about, excitedly collecting ingredients for the following morning or evening. All sorts of plants and parts of trees, anything from pine needles to wild horseradish, all sliding neatly into his bag or into his waist-sash, well protected against his form. The result was a far more nutritious and flavorful breakfast and supper than he'd expected, this proven by the next element of his meal. The kind had hardly risen fully onto his rump before the excited and bubbly cat had brought one of the pieces of break sizzling on the well-warmed stone to him, holding it out alongside another rock smeared with a mashed up paste dotted with herbs. The king grunted, clearing his throat as he set his cup beside himself and took the two in hand, nodding in thanks, "On-point as always, Wenke." The shorter cat's ear flicked, his tail softly swaying behind himself as he smiled, nodding and taking a seat across the other man, picking up his own bread and gently nipping at it, "Of course! How better can I make up for all my pestering?" The tribal cat jested, grinning gently as he reached over and dug his food into the paste the king held, bringing the bread to his mouth and crunching into it.
The larger cat snorted, humming as he looked wistfully away, setting his bread down and picking up his tea, "Let's see... you could launder my linens, bear my burdens, shave my scruff... oh and fetch me a maiden while you're at it, with a bottom tighter than a novice at a nunnery!" The two burst out laughing with the king's final request, Wenke licking his lips and taking another bite of his bread as he nodded, purring softly in the company of the other man. The tribal cat wasn't afraid to admit it, when the king was asleep he'd found himself missing his presence, longing for when he'd awaken. He was excited and happy now that his royal friend was lucid, stirring about, slowly picking at his food and taking big gulps of the tea he'd brewed. The man licked his lips, huffing a little as he gulped down the Bannock bread and paste, the intense flavor of freshly ground horseradish immediately hitting his throat, forcing him to hold back a choke and wash it down with another quaff from his cup. Attentive as always, Wenke caught the little lurch in the man, giggling to himself gently, the king grunting, flushing a little at this, "Not my fault you've the palette of a commoner, this is far more intense than the food I'm used to from my father's chef..." The smaller cat only laughed more at this, taking a comical scoop of the self-fashioned dip onto his bed and gobbling it up, no need for tea whatsoever. He sighed with delight, smiling, "Well, this is one of the finest flavors the land has to offer! Sure, it may be intense, but it's certainly good for your health! They say it even helps with, how you say… making more princes and princesses!" With that the tribesman burst into laughter again, the king flushing as though he'd had his trousers tugged down amidst his court at the statement.
Suddenly, amidst the merriment and calm of the morning Æðelric remembered that strange dream he'd had last night, the thoughts he'd pondered when he'd gone to sleep, everything sweeping together... It was a long shot, but he felt he should bring it up to Wenke, who seemed to know the lands so well... He swallowed another sip of his tea, clearing his throat and speaking up, "So, I was thinking of where we should go next... you know, to restore my rightful place and all..." Immediately the smaller cat's ears were flicking, his attention wholly engrossed in the larger feline's speech, nodding along, "And I was thinking, there's this story, that when my kingdom was threatened in its inaugural years, a deal with a large tribe had saved us. We were outnumbered wholly, and yet with their strength and ours combined, we were able to overturn the invading forces. I was thinking to myself, if only I could find this tribe... yet long ago, before even I can remember, they up and disappeared..." Wenke's eyes twinkled, the story wooing him as his mouth sat agape, his imagination immediately alight. A tribe, like his? He'd heard of tribes going missing for a while, their nomadic lifestyle often making them hard to track, along with their knowledge of and connection to the land... but to go missing wholly? That's incredible. He nodded again, prompting the king forward, who hummed, taking another drink of his tea and biting off more of his bread.
"Well, then I had this dream, where I was flickering through place to place, as though a magi were zapping me about corporeality... I started to see places I recognized, my home, where I'd fallen, the place you found me, even this place here right now! But then I began to see places I didn't know, and they flashed ever faster, zipping and crackling by, and there I was... A complex series of abandoned ruins, much like those we keep finding ourselves in, but far bigger... like... like..." Suddenly, Wenke burst out, "Akropol! The city on the mountain! Pillars, patterned tiles, murals, you saw Akropol!" The king's eyes went wide, and he nodded, quieting down and listening as the smaller cat described the town, every detail matching his memory of his dream to the smallest point. He was shocked, he knew he'd heard of premonitions before, but this was something else. He was sure of it, this place must be where he needed to go... of course, Wenke being similarly superstitious, though in his own cultural manner, he knew this all too well already... They both sat there for a moment, unmoving, shocked. After days of travel, of fleeing in no direction in particular, they'd at last known what to do.
After a moment, the two stood up and immediately began setting at wrapping up camp faster, their meals disappearing into their bellies and their belongings being quickly thrown about their persons, as they worked, the shorter cat spoke up again, his breaths huffy as he excited himself. "I haven't been to Akropol since I was a kit, but everyone goes to Akropol, it's kinda like a... world terminus? At least for the tribes that is..." The king cocked a brow as he was setting his cape back over his shoulders, looking to Wenke, "So you've been here, that makes sense why you know it so well... What do you mean by world terminus though? I could've sworn it was Wojslav Zajíc who proved the earth to be more akin to an orb centuries ago..." Before he could go forward with the postulating, the tribal feline spoke up again, rolling his eyes and laughing, "Not like that... more of a... spiritual endpoint? There's just... a draw to it that's felt, when you're close to the land..." The king was bewildered, giving a funny look to the cat, who had begun to shoulder his bag. Part of every good noble's training is metaphysics, and while he'd learned much of location-based spiritual energia, he'd heard very little about Akropol; So as to say he hadn't heard of it all, the name didn't even register in his mind as vaguely familiar.
As the man rose to his legs to follow the feline his tail flicked side to side, his ears twitching as he hummed, scratching his chin, his boots scuffing at the dirt, kicking up gentle clouds of dust as he pondered at it. Even the name was foreign and hard to pronounce correctly to him, especially as he tried to speak up, stumbling embarrassingly over his words, reminding him of his time in education, "Akropol... I've never heard of this place, in fact it doesn't track with my knowledge of any religions or cultures of the world... Of course, being landed, I don't know much of landless tribesmen such as yourself... I assume this place is mainly of importance to your peoples? And by draw... you mean energy I take it, like the city has an energy of its own?" Wenke, already a short distance away, nodded, looking back, his hands moving rapidly as he spoke just as much with his body as his mouth, his tail whipping side to side with excitement, "Of course! Absolutely! No matter where the tribes go, the energy can be called back on, an easy fallback in the mental map of any good nomad... The source of it though, nobody can exactly say... I don't think it's the city, it's something in the land if you ask me... Something innate, primal, there since its beginning..." The king thought on those words, mulling them over as they continued their travels.
Of course, being as good a nomad as he claimed, Wenke was easily able to take the two of themselves to the ruin; it certainly helped that they'd already been marching eastward, closer and closer to that great ruin, to the nexus of the tribesmen, that point which all returned to, no matter their culture, ideals, or people. Two days and two nights they traveled, venturing far, their pace quickened by excitement, and doubly so curiosity on the king's part. How could this place be real, be actual and tangible. A place that showed itself in his dreams, whose energy reached out as he was in desperate thought... as though it were calling to that same desperation his ancestor must have felt... He thought on this plenty, and for the first time their journey had truly been quiet, the two of them determined, walking long into the wee hours of the night, resting for a short time, and beginning again as the sun rose. Then, one day, Wenke nodded, "We're near." He hummed as they were walking through a hilly and dense forest, pushing brush aside and climbing over rocks. The king gasped, excitement practically making his heart do flips as he followed along, ears flicking, tail tensing. They drew closer to the tree line, light piercing through the gaps in the foliage, a dense kaleidoscope of bright greens, faded browns, and falling leaves covering his vision, until he finally stepped beyond the threshold and into the thinning vegetation of the field beyond.
He was shocked as before his eyes Akropol came into view, the city just as stunning as he'd seen in his dream... It was tremendous, ruined buildings and overgrowth stretching far and wide, thinning out into the remains of farms, untended fields dotting the landscape around the two of them, themselves standing no doubt in what used to be a clearing for a field. Wenke was practically in tears, clutching his chest softly as he stared forward, his tail swaying in the wind as he stared out at the main structure, a high building painted with a spectacularly vibrant red, the color of its marble, paints, and mansard roofing betraying its age. If it weren't for the dense overgrowth reclaiming the building and for its crumbling walls and pillars the king would have sworn he were standing before a great capitol. He was shocked, his companion was choked up, the two of them stood, staring out at the structure, wind sweeping their clothes, rolling over the fields as they sang their song, an elegy to a dead empire. The smaller cat was trembling... it had been so long since he'd been back, the feeling in his body was palpable, overbearing and stimulating to such a degree that he practically didn't realize the stinging in his cheeks as tears fell. "Akropol!" He cried out, falling to his knees, "Akropol, twoja energia jest silna, prowadź nas w swoje ramiona, ukochany Akropolu!" His tongue was foreign and strange to the king, who immediately was at his friend's side, gazing at him as he sat on his knees, arms folded outward, his jewelry clinking and jingling in the wind as he sobbed.
Æðelric was afraid and shocked, he'd never seen something like this, he didn't anticipate it, as important as the place had sounded to him. He didn't dare to interject or interrupt, knowing himself unable at present to understand the significance of what was happening. His ears flicked as he heard that name, repeatedly in the constant flow of sobbed words. "Akropol... Akropol..." They stood, the field dancing before them, trees shimmering under the bright morning light of the sun, clouds lazily passing far far away as the sprawl loomed before them, towering overhead, even when it still lay so far ahead. Time passed and still the feline cried, until his sobs lowered to whimpers, and then to simple sniffles, Wenke finally with himself enough to realize what was happening, wiping his cheeks with the backs of his hands as he breathed, slowly inhaling, holding his breath a moment, and then exhaling. The king squatted down, setting a welcome hand at his shoulder, his warmth helping to counter the by then ebbing overstimulating energies of Akropol. They sat there beside each other, taking a breather before the smaller feline could finally stand, still shivering a little as he smiled weakly to the larger cat. "Ah... I'm sorry, I don't -- I don't know what overcame me... This place just -- This place has something hard to place a finger on... I'm sorry, I'm babbling a bit... the heart is no servant..." He went quiet again, the king softly patting his shoulder, releasing him. Wenke soon nodded, and they resumed their walk, his chipper attitude slowly returning to him.
Before long it was hard to keep the feline out of things, the smaller cat practically sprinting ahead, the king, still healing from his wounds, huffing and puffing as he gave chase, constantly calling for him to yield and to wait. Even as they were running all about splendor laid itself before the man, his eyes dazzled by the sights of antiquity, the sound of brush shaking along rooves, dancing in what used to be yards, of stones clattering below their feet... The practically sparkling marble, hardly sullied by their lack of care, the paintings and frescoes and even graffiti... It was all incredible, a world unknown to him up to now, even in spite of the previous ruins he'd toured with Wenke... But everything was just so much more splendid than anything before, it really was as though the ruins about them had a magic of their own. Light streamed from the tops of trees, spattering the ground and the tile about the men with bright glimmering glistening highlights, battling with the shadows of the unlit buildings about them. It was incredible to see such a clearly once stunning massive city, easily large enough to rival Alt Heimôdliron, the capitol of Seltebia... and more than splendid enough to battle the spectacular sights of such a place...
Everywhere they went that main building disappeared and reappeared into view, obscured by crumbling high walls, homes, workshops, and all manner of densely packed uncut vegetation... but then, they'd cleared the main breadth of the city, finally meeting it face to face. It was a massive structure, crumbling in parts, its main structure shockingly still upheld. Spectacular pillars shot into the sky like minarettes, connected by gentle masonry to the splendid roof, tiled with fine mansard which stood the test of time, only missing the rare shingle here and there. Then there was the building itself, a dense pastiche of complicated marble slabs, painted accents, still as red as the day they were born into this world, and incredibly intricate tiled frescoes; They depicted all manner of events and settings, some familiar, almost resembling the city about them, and others of far away lands. Their story was likely that of a creation myth, the king thought to himself as he climbed the mighty stairs that led to the first "floor" of the structure, Wenke having already run well past him with great excitement. The feline called out with glee, a smile over his face, a far cry from his earlier bawling. "It's just as I remember it, I'm so glad it's just as I remember it..." He squeaked, tossing his bag besides one of the entryways into the main hall of the great building in order to explore unimpeded by his burdensome load.
The king's shoes softly clacked along the marble beneath them, vines softly squishing as he passed over them. Suddenly, his tranquility was broken up by the familiar clacking of claws along tile, though far quickened, as he spun around, he witnessed Wenke bolting toward the edge of the building, his face in a wide grin. Æðelric quickly jumped out, reaching a hand forward, but before he could catch up the feline had already cleared the distance, leaping forward and, to the king's surprise, landing wrapped around one of the crumbling pillars, dust and chipped marble clattering to the far drop beneath the feline as his tail whipped about excitedly. He looked back to the larger cat, grinning and giggling, the feline's ears flattening, his tail whipping side to side. "Wenke, you brazen oaf! You're going to hurt yourself and most certainly are going to cause misery to befall this gorgeous treasure of antiquity! What are you doing‽" The cat simply giggled, laughing almost enough to fall off as he climbed on top of the towering pillar, squatting down, his clothes whipping in the wind as he found his footing, looking back and winking to the bewildered Æðelric. "What's the matter oldie, worried I'm gonna hurt myself? I've been to these ruins before, I played here when I was little! I know my way around them, no matter how old they grow!" He snickered, the king firing back quickly, flicking his hair, his hands finding his hips, his legs still pacing about as he worried about his companion falling. "What! Oldie‽ I'm hardly your senior! Just descend from your perch already, come now Wenke!" The man bellowed, huffing and puffing. But before he could think, the smaller feline had already leapt forth, the king ashamedly wincing his eyes shut...
... Yet he heard no thud, only great raucous giggling laughter. When he'd opened his eyes he saw Wenke, who had already swung up from his handhold on one of the beams connecting the pillar to the roof of the structure, sitting atop it and staring back at the worried king. He winked, snickering gently as his tail flicked side to side, "Oh Æðelric, you may be learned, but you've a lot to learn!"
And finally I get to reveal to everyone this piece, which I am still supremely proud of. It took me a LOT of concerted effort and time to finish and I still am incredibly happy with the results. I really like doing these painterly more put together SFW pieces, I don't think I often enough take the time to do them and they're really positive for my brain-health, especially the writing that comes with them. I'd like to do more with Wenke and Æðelric soon and have actually already plotted out how to go forward with their story to round this all out into a full actual short story, so whether I try to do some fuller writing for this, or continue plotting this out as images with brief companion pieces, expect more from these two in the future! I hope y'all enjoy the piece a lot, this one was a really big effort for me.
Here's a really good rendition of Piano Concerto No. 1!Cheers!
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Feline (Other)
Size 1912 x 1927px
File Size 3.75 MB
This is beautiful! You’re so amazingly talented with realistic scenery, it’s nice to get to see it drawn more often. As much as I love the NSFW, getting to see the actual location fleshed out this much… just kinda feels right? Like, it’s a real place, and that takes a lot of talent.
Keep it up, dude! You’re killin it!
Keep it up, dude! You’re killin it!
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