Prologue

From The History of Merata, Chapter Two: The Beginning of the End

Merata, the grand centerpiece of the world as we know it, was once a mystical land inhabited by Oracles and the simple, animal-like men known as Bannens. Most of the land ran wild, with rolling plains of waist-high grasses, rocky hills, and steady streams of crystal pure water. Varying breeds of animals lived freely off of this wilderness, many of them ancient and magical.

From the icy lands in the south originated the Mirkai, the telepathic wolf creatures gifted with the ability to speak and think freely. In the lowlands of the west were the shapeshifters, who could imitate any breed or race presented unto them. Sirens reigned in the north, the females all born with the incredible and rather distressing ability to seduce men of any species. Why the pale, winged creatures would wish to mate with a dog or a fish, no one ever did discover. Thankfully, almost the entire race died out centuries ago. And finally, in the seas of the east lived the mermen, of whose wicked ways I will not even speak.

Anyone who has been to Merata in modern times must wonder by now if I have not gone insane to describe the land in such a manner. Surely I must not believe that such creatures as shapeshifters ever existed.

Yet how many legends are there of creatures changing form, or of wolves protecting human children, or sirens seducing men to betray their wives, or merpeople leading hapless sailors to their doom? One can only hear so many variations of the same old tale before one starts to believe that there might be some truth to the fiction. We simply no longer believe, because the magik has been snuffed out of us by centuries of disillusionment.

The magik began to slowly die two hundred years ago, after the great Civil Battle between Nubara and Nynnara erupted. Literally. The royal families of the split northwesterly country had each forced as many earthstompers as possible into their respective armies, using those unfortunates who could use their feet to control the earth to battle one another until little was left of the dry, rocky land.

After so much upheaval, the royals finally reached a truce of sorts by joining their families in marriage. Nubannyn was born, and for their part in the destruction of what hadn’t been a very pretty country anyway, the earthstompers became a persecuted people. Forced into confinement camps where they and their powers could be ‘rehabilitated’ into model citizens, those born with the ability to view and manipulate the earthline became discontent with their land and their government. Because rebellion would have only caused more death and destruction, a large group of earthstompers elected to escape the confines of their homeland and migrated to the nameless, wild land to the east of Nubanynn.

Now, when the earthstompers settled into their home, they did not count on finding it already inhabited. The magical creatures they ignored. Not even the earthstompers were dense enough to mess with such power. The Oracles, however…Well, the weak, reed-thin men and women proved to be easy enough to scare away. Especially when their only Guardians were men of very little intelligence.

With the Oracles gone, the earthstompers were free to claim the land as their own, and in honor of their swift conquest, they named the land Merata. In the ancient tongue, it meant simply ‘Mine.’

Some years passed before Merata’s new inhabitants developed the idea of democracy, a system where, instead of relying upon the magnanimity of two absolute rulers (aka, the King and Queen), or relying upon no one but themselves (aka, the early Meratan government, or lack thereof), the people ruled themselves, but under a certain set of laws determined and upheld by a group of elected officials. And over all of those officials would be one man to guide them all, the Reignar.

Upon establishing their democracy, the earthstompers voted that they should open their arms to all other races persecuted by their motherlands. More refugees poured in from other countries to inhabit the land, until the population grew so dense that they had to split Merata into five regions, with each region represented by two officials. Even the Oracles and their faithful Bannens were invited to return to the land from which they had been driven.

The Oracles respectfully declined the invitation, much preferring their new home in the deserts of the Waste.

As the human population increased, the animal and magical population decreased. Humans were constantly attempting to force the creatures of magic to do their will, which caused most of them to go into hiding.

This, my friends, is why we see so very little of their kind nowadays. What siren would wish to live in the open, fully knowing that a human would pay any amount of coin to see one captured and put on display?

Nowadays, few people recall that the Oracles once lived peacefully in the hills of Merata. They simply assume that the Oracles have always called the Waste home, that they had chosen isolation from the beginning due to their reclusive natures. Guarding the secrets of the future was serious business, after all.

Still, we must give Merata credit for originality. As the first country to employ a council of ten, more fondly called the Dekacon, it could be considered the fairest political nation. Provided those ten men and the Reignar leading them are all men (and, occasionally, women) of excellent morals and at least average intelligence.

Right.

The most I can say for Merata is that it is the only of the five countries that devotes more time to entertainment than…well, anything else. And I do so love a good show.