New Civilizations [IC | Closed]

[Ulls]

Southern Minnesota,
Mafia Mill Rivertown

Though not as prominent in main Ego, the Mafia did have make their ways into Illinois and Southern Minnesota via peace and commerce than having force of arms. One of their representatives, Timurk, was called in to maintain the relations with the Skulk in Minnesota to help with their experimentations of steel by using the more useable sources of iron in the state. Like gunpowder, such testing was expensive, but weren't as dangerous as iron didn't explode on the alchemist or smiths but still expensive and wasteful to an extent.

However as the idea of the war had hasten the plans of the Skulk and, with a flip of a coin, focused on the local groups for their plan to work. Timurk was with the local archiver, her face was rough and she had the physic of a soldier but her mind was sharp like a scholar, like so many of her station. However, with her were two chieftains who were among the first, but very few, who were open to work with Ego but were still independent enough to want to hold their own identity.

Their names were Onto and Sitting River, two powerful groups that allowed the local tribes to go with Ego in the first place. It was mostly due by the Skulk instead of Ego proper that allowed them to be more liking the Fox instead of Ego proper but they have shown to express interest in increasing ties with the Theocracy.

Timurk bowed to the chieftains," Chieftains Onto and Sitting River, I humbly thank you for gracing us with your presence. My name is Timurk, a representative of the Mafia in this town and I think you all know of the archiver Sunsotkutun, leader of the local Skulk community that you have been under contact before Ego proper been decided to extend itself to your lands. We come here today to come to an arrangement that I think the archiver has talked to you about that can both benefit us together."

[Revlona]

Robert
Coast of Portugal
July 2nd, 13 AA

Robert was used to the gentle rocking of the ship he was on by now, he was seasick for the first day or so and felt like every lurch of the ship would either throw him overboard or capsize the ship, that had passed and now he was used it.

With the Raiders in Southern Brittany dealt with, Robert was free to scout the coast of Portugal where his armada would be stopping on the way to africa, though his job was more than just to scout, he was to establish contact with any natives there where in the area and set up a naval Resupply base.

The ship was small enough to where they could safely beach it instead of having to use rowboats to get to shore, once the ship was beached, they went about getting a base of operation up, cutting down a couple trees, they cut them into stakes which they hammered into the ground around the camp of tents, even though the stakes were mostly for show.

Robert then sent out 4 groups of 2, they where to look for natives and to find a good place for the Naval Base.

[Kingdom of Tunisia]

Presidential Palace, Shan State, Burma, Johor Democratic Republic
Dictator Hikma bin Naaifa was on his way to the Shan State on foot as he was accompanied by 4 Blueshirts in which he call it on both sides for his safety. So far, They did not encountered any bandits along the way. As soon they have arrived at what it supposed to be as Taunggyi. There, the village was nothing but tents with a few wooden buildings. He saw a huge wooden building in what it suppose to be a Presidential Palace thanks to one of Hikma's ideas. He went inside the building with four Blueshirts warriors behind him armed only with spears. The Governor of the village was finished praying on a mysterious statue on what seems to be some sort of a Buddhist Statue. He introduced himself and saluted afterwards. "Greetings Dictator, My name is Maung Zeya Governor of Taunggyi of the Shan State. What brings you here, my friend?" Hikma smiled briefly at him as he replied to Maung's question "Nothing much, Just want to see how well this village is. But i have a serious question for you. Do you know the meaning of Socialism? Maung's misunderstanding have caused him to questioned Hikma seriously. "I afraid that i have no idea what you are talking about. Can you tell me what does it do?" Yep, Hikma must teach Maung the basics of Socialism or else his idea will become a failure. It took 10 minutes for Maung to understand the meaning of that term. "Yes, I get it now. Thanks for teaching me that term or "Ideology" that i can't explain. Perhaps, You can teach me that term another time?" Hikma smiled "Of course, My friend. Well, I should get going then. Keep up the good work." Maung smiled as well "Farewell." Dozens of Burmese villagers mimicked Hikma's salutation as he was impressed by it but don't know what what the villagers understands that movement.

Royal Palace, Johor, Johor Democratic Republic
The trip back to the Johorian village took 2 weeks to get there as he finally went inside the Royal Palace to get some rest. He slept for 7 hours until he woke up with people shouting for a new leader. A man in the Yellow Turban have said terrible things about Hikma's lack of leadership skills until 9 Blueshirt Warriors have stopped the revolt. No one was injured but they have fled back to their homes until they took the man in the royal palace directly to Hikma's room. The man spoke anxiously about the incident "Please Your Excellency, I didn't mean to say terrible things about you." Hikma did not believe the man's honesty thus he pulled out his wooden cane to hit him on the leg. The man fell down as he was in pain. Hikma's voice was raised "How dare you lie to me! Protesting is not acceptable in this country. Get him out of my sight!" 2 Johorian guards dragged the man into the cell and was sentenced 4 years in jail for protesting against the government. Hikma did change throughout the months for his aggressive behaviour but must turn his country into a Democratic one. He sat down on his Wooden Chair feeling completely stressed out for his hard work.

9 days later

Hikma has been thinking for a new flag for 9 days now and his idea for a Referendum has begun. The villagers did know what a "Referendum" does but they must choose carefully. 32.1% of people voted for this flag while 32.9% of people voted for this flag. The first flag was made by Maung Zeya himself was the second one was made by Hikma himself. The results were in and the Second Flag was officially chosen as the country's new flag. The First one may be used as the Presidential Standard but it must represent Islam so he used this one as a result. He decided to choose a Emblem for himself but he decided to make it a bit "Hindu" for his country. So, he used this Emblem for his country. He also made up a Marching Song that led to the establishment of the Johorian Armed Forces. It is Hindu in nature. At last, He composed himself a National Anthem for the Johorian Republic as well as the Shan State. Today has been a busy day for Hikma. He imagined that one day he will found Eastern India under Johorian hands. The flag that were made was Maung Zeya's wife who she was s expert on weaving.

[Yatzatz]

I sat down at the head of the table. About 50 people had come to be coverted under the influence of Darvi. I was now meeting with the high-ranking members of the non-Yamatzon group.
"So, what have you decided?" I asked them.
"We have been talking, and we have decided that it would be a shame to destroy our peaceful cooperation. Your people help us too," Darvi's second-in-command, Hampo, said. "As such, we have decided that we will not start any feuds. We will keep Darvi as commander, however, I will have more initiative. We hope the peace will continue between our groups."
"Thank you," I replied. "Anything else to say?"
"No, not right now. Thank you for your time."
I left the meeting hall, to find Voni and Darvi waiting for me. "We've been talking," Voni said. "So far, we have been raiding, with great success."
"Yes," I replied.
"However," Darvi said. "At some point the civil war will end, and then we will not be able to raid with such success anymore. We have to do something to take the initative in this conflict."
"You have a point," I said. "What would you suggest?"
"We were thinking maybe we could send an emmisary to the leader of Yekrenia, a man named Koba. We have heard rumors that he has completely isolated from the conflict, which could work to our advantage; if we could convince him to get involved, he would likely join forces with us to destroy the enemy.. If he doesn't, we could try the leader of the largest opposing faction."
"Yes, but either way, we have no assurance that they will not turn on us."
"True, but there is nothing to be lost by sending an emmisary."
"True." I thought for a minute. "Send ten men, two from the elite corps, three from the main army, and the rest high-ranking members of the community. They will be told to attempt to start communication channels with the official government. Hopefully that will work."
"I will get them together," Voni said.

[Ralnis]

Chapter 3, part 2: Servants, Parties, and New Fables
Karlburg, Eastern Imperium
November
85 AG/2915 B.C.

The plan for the big heist was intricate, yet surprisingly simple in design. One of the nobles that the two were planning to steal a priceless relic by the name of the Soul of Grenheirdkur, a shamanic staff of the former local tribe that gave up its land for the technological might of the Imperium. Their descendants, the Uhalna Family, had kept their tribal artifacts from the Imperium and some had even said held their ties to shamanism but were fairly loyal to the Imperium, at least to the wealth of it. Such artifacts has been sought after by relic hunters and thieves alike around the region.

Bob saw this as his idea to get into being a fable thief but he needed to make the full plan before he could take the action. The Thief and his partner were able to find themselves a servant, one who was disgruntled with her work and wanted a change of pace. Bob looked at the opening with some pondering, having someone like her could pose a dangerous threat if she was captured, but she could be willing to make a change in exchange for a piece of the loot.

Bob had to be smooth when it came to his approach to actually understand her, see if she was worth the risk. Taking her out for a couple of drinks allowed him to get to know her better and he made the decision. The dressed up, wearing a lower face mask and his modified googles, he put on his leather gloves and some nice clothing while Bittertooth wore his own costume.

Bittertooth wasn't sure about this but he knew that working with Bob was better than raiding and being caught by the Imperial soldiers. He went with it as long as the coin comes flowing. Bob became known as Gaslight, a thief that he thought would work for the technology of the Imperium, and Bittertooth became known as Ironsides, which showed for his strength compared to the Inventor. The two would seem gimmicky, but for the heist the names will hopefully go down in the town's history.

The two were able to intercept the servant and got to tell her what they knew from earlier. She was surprised at first but Gaslight asked," do you wish to have a change of pace and strike back at your master?"

The very idea did make her have a look of anger as she remembers what she had to work with until she gave a nod.

" I want a cut of whatever your stealing and a way out of here for both me and my sister."

Bob and Bittertooth both nod as they also had plan to leave as they sent in their relocation papers to the town of Gorventil, which was up north in Germany but a larger town and out of the region when they make the heist. It would be something that they would need and make sure their coinage is moved before they leave.

The servant's name was Katherine and her sister work together as servants for the pagan businessman. She said that there's a party where the wealthy would be able to mingle. Bob started to believe that parties were just social gatherings but is a good point that she said that they can infiltrate and get to the treasure room.

Bob asked what the treasure room looks like. She gave some of the details but it wasn't concrete. Still, the two had an entrance and a plan all they had to was wait for the coming days. Bob and Bittertooth started to get the alien's paperwork in order and say goodbye to friends. Vlad wondered if he's going to be fine being a technician and the bandit just mentioned," he's more resourceful than he looks."

Still, Pravan and his wife gave their farewells and made Bob promised that he should visit them when he has a chance. With the preparations complete and the night of the party came around. The two donned on their get-up and snuck through the servants quarters. Katherine and her sister saw the masked thieves and was surprised that such thieves actually existed.

Both Bob and Bittertooth had gotten better at their sneaking as they hugged better to the elaborate corners and managed to follow the two servants to the treasure room. Bob got a better look over the view of the ballroom which people were hearing music and culture play that made him stop for a second to enjoy it before Bittertooth got him and pulled him along the way to the prize.

The treasure room was guarded, bodyguards who carried steel swords and shields to make them look like they were doing their job. The servants told them to wait as they sought to distract them. Bob was curious to see if they had did something like this before but their "distraction" had manage to give them a moment of the guard's backs that Bob got to work with picking the lock. Bob saw that the lock was more complex for the simple tumblers of a house but he managed to pick the lock and open the ornate doors.

They gently closed the doors behind them and got to work. The treasure, no matter how small, was grand in its treasures with some chests full of gold and gold-ornate weapons. However some things that got his eye was a rusted cannonball, a first edition Imperial Bible in parchment, and a rusted piece of bronze armor. Bob and Bittertooth looted the chests and got the pagan staff but Bob was interested in the other curios and wish he had more time to study them.

With the Soul secured, the thieves managed to get away with the servants meeting them outside of the servants quarters. The sisters were more tired than when they met. Bob blushed a bit at the idea but he shook it off and had them small pouches of gold which were more than enough for their work and a train ticket to get out of town. Bob had told them that the town of Pongief was a good place than any to start up a new life, at least it would be outside the region.

They said their goodbyes and set off in the night as the sun rose. Bob and Bittertooth quickly sold off the Soul and were met quickly with more than a couple of chest of coin which could make a simple man a minor businessman for their worth. The duo quickly split the chest and hid the rest of the loot in sepearted places among their clothes and bags so that they can move it with them.

As the train came, they heard that the local authorities were investigating a high-valued theft. Many people didn't know the theft itself but they said it was done by the same people who did the first theft months ago. The local criminals were saying that the staff was gone but two men who wore the same look as Gaslight and Ironsides had managed to nab it during the party. This gave the town quite the buzz about the local thieves and wandering when they're going to strike next but Bob couldn't get caught, he still had questions about this world and as of right now, being a criminal and technician was better than nothing.

Bob asked Bittertooth if he knew anybody in the town their going where the bandit shook his head, meaning they were going to be having to build up from scratch which is good. While they were talking about what they were going to do, Katherine and her sister asked if they could sit next to them where Bittertooth said," be my guest."

The women had said that they were going to another town that was in the same region as where the men were going to live at. When they asked why Katherine said that she didn't want to say ironically but it was better to have known company along their trips and thought that they may help each other in the next region.

Whatever it seems to be, the next region will have a lot more adventure for the man out of time and perhaps more answers to his questions.

[Revlona]

Robert
Portugal
July 8th, 13 AA

We have established contact with the Watamali Tribe, after trading them a little gold, the lead us to a very nice natural harbor, the surveyors say itś a good spot, and the Watamali have agreed to safeguard the area until we return.

We also met the Klanduck Confederacy, a series of 4-7 tribes from what we gathered, they were more hostile towards us and threatened to burn down the Wharf when they first found us building it, but when they found out we were under the protection of the Watamali they backed off, from what I gathered they have some kind of alliance and didn't want to ruin it.

The only real threat in the area is a Smaller tribe of cannibals who kidnapped one of my scouting groups, with the aid of the Watamali we tracked down the Cannibals and rescued my scouts, killing and scattering the cannibals as we did it.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

The sun slowly rose above the Aswan sand dunes, revealing a peculiar sight. A line of hundreds upon hundreds of men, front to back, snaking its way through the military camp. They had been standing there for a few hours already, shivering in the desert cold. Now, the sun was slowly warming up the sands outside Aswan, slowly easing the passage of these men. They were all tent representatives: men chosen by each tent to collect at least a part of the wages that they had lacked over the past year. Bruno had paid it from his own pocket, and it proved to be quite a big expense. He wasn’t paying them everything, only enough to keep the men loyal for a few more weeks, with a promise of more. Each tent, housing four men, had picked someone they apparently trusted most, which is exactly what Bruno intended for them to do. Last night, during the communal dinner, every man had been given a piece of broken pottery, marked with a simple symbol. The army, numbering some 10,000 men, was to be divided into five regiments of 2,000 men each.

Next to the central building of the camp stood a few dozen desks, each armed with a scribe. The tent representative would come forward to the desk, state his name and birth place, and hand over the four pieces of pottery they would have gotten. One for himself, the other three for the others in his tent. The scribe would write down the name and birth place, and see what markings had been made on the pieces of pottery. There were five different markings: a crane, a crocodile, a man, a beetle, and a bull, corresponding to the five different regiments. The scribe would confer onto the soldier a few pieces of information. One: that he was now a corporal. Two: where he had to place his tent. Three: which regiment he was now a part of. The regiments each had their own place for setting up their tents, radiating outwards from the central building. The five paths had to be maintained, as well as the paths leading through the different groups of tents. After that, the new corporal was given a bag of silver to share among his men, and a command to attend the communal dinner that night under pain of lashing.

Bruno repressed a smile as he walked among the tables and scribes, followed closely by the officers. He had not come around to replacing them just yet. He didn’t know who to replace them with, after all. He had to restructure the entire military force to is vision, and that was a hard thing to do. Still, appointing corporals was a first step. There still were a lot more steps to take. The officers following came along, but they didn’t quite grasp what they were seeing. This wasn’t a problem, they would be out soon enough.

As Bruno walked along the line of soon-to-be-corporals, they all bowed in his presence. He had made it abundantly clear during the communal meal that he was to thank, personally, for them receiving their pay. For the communal meal, too. It had taken a lot of organisation, but there now was a dedicated staff of cooks on his roll, preparing food all day in order so all men could eat. In earlier days, all men would fend for themselves, meaning about 25% of them went to bed hungry at any given night. Sometimes 60%, if food prices were high enough. Riots and food wars were the result, and in an encampment of trained men, this was a danger. So, Bruno had mandated and cared for these communal meals. Those who didn’t attend were whipped if found.

Whipping actually became an important tool for Bruno, despite him despising it. It was a regular punishment for the troops for disobeying commands, and he only needed to continue the practise. The wails of the men receiving it tore through his being, and he forced himself to watch every single one. It was sickening to watch the men wreathing in pain, but at least it was effective. He hoped to stop the practise as soon as discipline would allow. That would not be for many weeks, however.

That night, after the tents had been neatly rearranged and all the soldiers had assembled for the communal meal, Bruno spoke to them for the first time.

“Soldiers of Egypt!” he began.

“I am Councillor. I have been appointed as the general of your army! And what I have seen sickened me. An army of brave, strong men such as yourselves, of lions, led by fattened sheep living off your silver! The silver you have earned so bravely”

A murmur went up through the room, but the new corporals quickly silenced their comrades. Already, the new system was taking root. Bruno quickly continued.

“I will put an end to this. These men, getting fat while you get hungry, will get their due punishment, as you will get your reward. I am going to change the army. At the end of this season, you will wonder how you survived in the situation of last week. We, together, will rid ourselves of the weight of corruption.”

From where he stood, in the middle of the room, Bruno could just see the table with the old officers. They were looking at one another, exchanging worried looks and looking angrily in his direction. Some of them were ready to get up, but Bruno was quicker.

“Guards! Seize those men! They will not escape their justice!”

From all over the place Bruno’s personal guard stepped forward, brandishing spears and hide shields. The officers tried to run, but the soldiers sitting around them were quicker. Much quicker. A few were grabbed before they could even get up, others were tackled as they ran and handed over to the guards. As they were escorted towards Bruno, they were booed by the soldiers, who threw all manner of foodstuffs at them. As they approached Bruno they were made to kneel, after which Bruno walked by them one by one.

“The good roots out the bad” he said simply, signalling his guard to take them away. He had already given orders a few hours before that the officers were to be imprisoned in the dungeons below the command office. The officers yelled and cursed as it happened, but their shouts were drowned out by the boos of the soldiers present. After they had disappeared from sight, a thundering applause followed, mixed with jubilation and song. Using this crescendo of information, Bruno presented his newest plan.

“Soldiers! Next week, you will elect your own colonels! You will elect the leaders of your regiment. You will pick two from among yourselves. I ask of you, pick them for their intelligence, for their temperance, and for their prowess. They will become your leader, and stand by me to lead you to victory!”

The plan Bruno had was simple for that point on. The men would elect a colonel for their regiment. They would instate the necessary battalion officers and other men necessary to lead their regiment. The other man elected would become a part of Bruno’s general staff. He still needed medical crews, baggage trains, logistics officers… He would found these with the second man elected. It was complex, it was difficult, but it was entirely necessary to create a functioning, modern force.

[The Olog-Hai]

Abraham Meyer
Franklin, New Jersey
May 21st, 2915 B.C.E.

Abraham and his expedition finally made it back to Franklin, with a few wagons full of coal. It had been a slow trek back, again, likely because of the lack of horses, so they had to be drawn by hand. Definitely needed to get to work on a bicycle or something of the sort; that would probably make it easier, so long as he got the gearing right and stuff. It would need to be able to shift between gears, obviously, larger ones for uphill, as that granted power at the expense of speed, and smaller ones for downhill and straights, because that did just the opposite. Abraham instructed the several tribesmen with him to leave their loads by his workshop then go spend time with their families. They gladly did so, running at the chance to get home once more. Though they had enjoyed the journey, family time was more important for anyone.

Anyone other than him, that was. Here, he was all alone. He had a family back home, but who knew whether he would ever be able to return, much less if they still existed, with the way he's messed up the world so far. His home probably didn't exist, thanks to his own actions, so here had to be his home. He had to make Franklin his home, sooner or later. Or be a forever lonely man. To be honest, that had always been a good description of him. Sighing, Abraham entered his workshop, and greeted his assistants. As a reference to his past life, similarly to his naming of the two cities, he had given each of them the name of a founding father, and they had gladly accepted it after Abraham had explained the origins of their names. One was called Washington, the other, Adams. Just a little joke of his, as they were almost founding fathers of Ego, in a way. He definitely would have called one Franklin, because he made some damn good advancements, if it weren't for the fact that the city was named Franklin.

"Hello, Adams, hello Washington," Abraham said as he entered the workshop. "Finally managed to get my hands on some coal."
"Coal?" said Adams. "That's the stuff that's better than this char-coal that we've been using, right?"
"Yes," Abraham replied. "With it, I think we can make steel. And-"
"Steel," Washington broke in. "You go on and on about it, but like iron, you have no idea how to actually make it, do you? Not now, at least."
"Well, I do know that you bond the carbon to the iron..." Abraham trailed off.
"But you don't know how to do that, do you?"

Damn, Abraham thought. I really did teach them well. Intelligence is definitely a product of environment, more than anything else. Properly raised and nourished, even people such as these can be brilliant. I shouldn't think of them as... inferior, not at all. No, I raised these two, and they're definitely as smart as anyone can get. They may not know the things I know, not all of them, but they sure are able to question the things that I do know.

"You're right," Abraham replied. "I don't know these things. The knowledge I carried over wasn't exactly very useful in this time, not all of it. But I do carry general ideas in my head, and general ideas can be enough to start things off. You should know that, look how far we've come on the boiler, look at the fact that we've gotten iron to work. Look at the new city, that of Trenton. We've come so far, yet there's still further to go. Now, to start with, I've noticed from our forges we sometimes get iron with steel-like properties, stronger than it should be. And that's just from heating it with charcoal. To start, we can use the coal to feed the flames, but in time, I believe there's a different way of melting and forging the iron that we can develop that can bond the coal to the iron, and make proper steel, but I don't know enough, specifically, to do so yet. But, for now, let's go test your newest boiler design."

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

Joseph
Dimi

Astari was a small ranch located just outside of Dimi. The rolling grassland was used to raise goats and horses. The Astari were an offshoot of the Dimi, just three families large, and were willing members of the Sympagis. But the fields of Astar were not filled with grazing livestock but rather two milling groups of warriors. To the east were twenty warriors with dulled axes and clubs coated with red dye-soaked cloth. They were the traditional braves of this region. To them, combat was a pragmatic necessity and individual affair. In the west stood eleven warriors with blue-dyed weapons. They had large wooden-and-copper shields and five-foot spears. For armor they wore leather jerkins with copper plates. One man on each flank had a smaller shield and axe. One man in the rear stood with a quiver and bow. The quiver was of my design, a simple one. It held eight arrows. On a knoll near the hill stood the Chiefs and Elders.

At the sound of a horn, the warriors got into position. The eastern group formed into a loose wedge. The western group formed a line, shield to shield with spears pointed outwards. The axemen held each flank and the archer stood behind. A horn sounded again and the warriors charged forth. The eastern group charged full tilt while the western group advanced in formation at a controlled rate. The archer started to lob volley after volley. Most arrows missed but those that hit left bruises and blue streaks. It took maybe twenty seconds for the groups to collide. The eastern group hit the western group head on. It was like a wave crashing into a rock. They were hammered by spears while they themselves could not strike back effectively. The shields blocked their blows and the spears kept them abreast. The shields were soaked red while the easterners were streaked blue. They began to wheel around to the flanks of the group. The axemen did more than a far job of holding them off, but numbers did carry. The line began to bend, to horseshoe.

A horn sounded and the fighting stopped. The groups split off. It was readily apparent that the eastern group was worse off than the smaller western group. The Elders, Chiefs, and I stepped into the field.

‘That was a glorious fight, all of you. Each and everyone of you fought well, on both sides. I hope that this demonstration today has shown how this fighting formation can improve our performance on the field and limit the number of casualties we take. When paired with ample flank support and archers, a shield-and-spear wall is near impenetrable. With our new armor, the copper and leather gear, our brave men can survive blows that would once kill or become infected. This is an investment of time and capital, I know. But it is a worthwhile one. We have grown prosperous. Our fields and homes are the targets of those who would steal our wealth and our food. We must protect ourselves.”

The assembly nodded in agreement. They had all seen how bloody combat could be. Even though the population was booming, the degrees of connection between citizens was still close. If not your brother, then your cousin. If not your cousin, then your neighbor or baker. The loss of a single soul echoed through the community. The loss of a dozen brought tears to everyone's eyes. The old way of combat simply did not suffice anymore.

“What would you have us do, Physio?”

“Those skilled with the axe and mace, let them keep to their talents. After all, we need them for our flanks. But the rest should use the spear and shield. We must also integrate our archers into combat more. The power of massed volleys of arrows or slings is not to be underestimated. Every shepherd's boy and hunter wields a powerful weapon everyday. It’d be criminal not to utilize them.”

And thus the order went out. The clan coffers of the Sympagis were well-padded from a decade of growth. This order was draining nonetheless. Craftsmen from Aghonus to Dimi set to making the armor and weapons for the new defense force. It was part-time and voluntary, composed of hunters and shepherds and volunteers from all clans. They trained once a week. They were called the Eirineftés. In conjunction with the chiefs, I laid out their basic organization. Both Sesk and Dimi provided about one hundred Eirineftés, Delpha two hundred. Aghonus provided fifty, for we only selected those we knew to be loyal to the Tclem versus those whose loyalties laid with the surviving local lords. It was a substantial force, a substantial portion of our population as well, at least for one as I used to modern militarization rates. Any campaign would need to be short by virtue of the men it took from the economy. The Eirineftés were divided into groups of ten. We called the lowest soldiers Neutrophils. Nine Neutrophils were commanded by an Eosinophil. This unit of ten was called a Kefálaio. Five Kefálaios were commanded by a Basophil. This unit of fifty was called an Adelfótita. When asked about that name and what it meant, I said they were named after the body’s own defenses. If Sympagis was a person, we would keep her healthy and strong. The nine Adelfótitas of the Eirineftés were commanded by a Surgeon General. The first Surgeon General chosen was Patrikosi Mext, a thirty-something year old warrior and shipmaker from Delpha.

Joseph
Sesk

When I wasn’t teaching new Nurses or working in the Clinic and when I could take time off from the Eirineftés, I was working on my new--old--hobby. Beekeeping to be exact. Bees were found all over Europe, Near East, and North Africa. But they wouldn’t be domesticated for years to come. Most honey was collected incidentally, when one came across a hive. I was going to change that. Working with a carpenter recently arrived from the Imperium, I had crafted a rude approximation Langstroth hive. It was perhaps the most basic hive I’d ever seen, crafted in the most artisanal of manners. I found a few natural hives in the local region that I was considering relocating. A second hive, a simple and easy top down, had also been made.

Wrapped in cloth and wearing thick leather, I approached one of the hives. An apiarist who collected from wild hives came with me. He was similarly garbed. Together we carefully opened a wooden crate and slid it under the hive. With a quick swipe of a bronze blade, I severed the bough that held the hive and it fell into the crate, cracking slightly. The apiarist quickly sealed the box with the lid. A dozen bees swarmed around us as we raced down the hill towards the hamlet near Sesk.

We placed the box slide-up near the entrance to the top-down. We opened both slides and rolled the hive in carefully. The slides shut and the first job was done. Soon the bees would flock out again, in search of food for the damaged hive. There were slits in the top-down smaller than the queen but bigger than a worker. The top-down was between a grain field and an olive field. It’d provide much in the way of flavour for the honey and food for the bees. After the hive was established, I would monitor it for royal jelly. Once a new queen was born, I would transfer her and half the colony to the proto-Langstroth. Hopefully, we would be able to establish many hives. While it would be slower than gathering at first and lower in yield, it would eventually far outpace it. And allow for creative control over the taste.

[Pasong Tirad]

Arsenio Lacson, or Arsenios Thalassos
The Akrópolis of Athínai,
Thirteen weeks since his arrival

The Tragōidia of Mark Antony

"Winter is near!" proclaimed Elder Thespis to a round of applause from the community. The man was as charismatic as he was wise, and all of Athínai loved him dearly. The whole community of a thousand Athínaíoi were on the foot of the Akrópolis. Arsenio remarks that this would be a great place to build a theater. The whole community was facing south, and Elder Thespis was facing the Akrópolis. They were seated at elevated positions as the Akrópolis rose behind them. Most of them were sitting down on the dirt or on rocky outcroppings, while Elder Thespis spoke to them. He uses the Akrópolis itself as his speakers, the thick wall of rock acting to echo his voice all around the Athínaíoi who, without knowing it, were seated at the site of what is supposed to be the modern-day Theater of Dionysus. The Athínaíoi are celebrating because they have just had a successful harvest. They were able to harvest their cabbages, onions, lentils, chickpeas, beans, figs, and almonds. Not only that, but the Elder himself is now saying that by this time next year, the fully mature olive trees will no doubt be fruitful and will be ready to be harvested, meaning that a new batch of olive trees will be ready to be planted.

"Today is a celebration we dedicate to the gods. To Asklēpiós, to whom we give thanks for our good health. To Aphroditē, who loves us so much that she decided to bear for us dozens of new Athínaíoi, and who brought to us from far shores new members of our community (Arsenio knew he was talking about him). To the brave Árēs, who has kept the peace in Athínai, and has kept us from harm. To the twin gods, Ártemis and Apóllōn, who graced our bows and our spears on our hunts, and enriched our lives and our Athínai with beauty. And, of course, to our prime goddess! The mother of all, to Athínaía, for blessing us with the knowledge to do everything we need." Everyone bowed their heads and raised their arms, palms open, in prayer. Arsenio looked on at the large crowd, devoted to their gods and goddesses. Several other people in the crowd didn't bow their heads or raise their arms. Perhaps they were Christians, or believe in other gods and spirits. Still, Arsenio made sure to say a prayer to his lord, his Christian god.

"And now," Elder Thespis said, after a minute or so of silence, "we celebrate!"

And people began to set up tables in front of the "stage" (which was really just a patch of dirt that everybody was facing towards), and people began to bring forward plates filled with food: figs, grapes, bread, cheese, hare, goat, cattle, lamb, and pork. And, of course, jugs filled with water, wine, and beer. People played percussion and woodwind instruments that Arsenio didn't know the name of, and danced to songs he had no idea how to play. They all just joined into the song and left whenever they felt like it. Arsenio remembered a book he read by a Brazilian about how, before Aristotle, this was what theater really was: a song or a dance dedicated to the gods, with no delineation between audience and actor. It was beautiful, Arsenio was pulled in by a laughing Kleomaki and Lysistrate. He didn't know how to dance like this Athenian couple did, but he was able to follow along anyway.

He forgot about Manila through all of this. He had plenty of food and water on two bowls for her right next to her corner. She should be fine - at least, he hopes that she'll be fine.

People now started to sing more than dance. People seated at the rock were clapping their hearts out, while people who were on the "dance floor" arranged themselves in a circle, pushing random people into the middle to sing songs Arsenio understood but didn't really "understand." This was how theater was born, and Arsenio couldn't believe that he was seeing it happen with his own eyes. But it wasn't like Arsenio could be just an observer. As the most prominent outsider in Athínai, he also had to contribute to the democratic theatrical festivities of Athínai.

One of the people pushed him into the middle of the circle, chanting "Sing! Sing! Sing!"

"I don't sing!" Arsenio answered, which was met with a raucous chorus of boos and jeers. Elder Thespis, with his booming voice, shut them up and said: "Tell us a story, then, Arsenios! A story from your time!" To which everybody agreed. They all began to walk towards the rocks on the hill to sit down, leaving Arsenios all alone on the dirt stage. It was the afternoon, people were getting sleepy, and Arsenios only knew of one play that can possibly get them to wake up.

"Okay. Uh, I and several people I knew performed this once a few years ago. It was a play, a uh... a performance, where people acted not as themselves but as characters, they acted as other people." Arsenio understood his theater history. If the first actor was a man named Thespis (who was probably unrelated to the Elder Thespis that he knows), then he wouldn't really be born yet. Arsenio was able to make this up as he went along.

"In a distant land, known as Róma, there lived a man, a great general, and a humble king, by the name of Julius Caesar, who returned to Róma"

It's been years, but Arsenio was good at improvisation. Soon enough, his "audience" was hooked to his every word. He had to improvise a lot because, well, Shakespeare's original story was a bit confusing. But soon enough, he was at his climactic point, and knowing that his audience was an ancient population of Greeks, he made sure to make mention of the gods and of the divine intervention and inspiration that so often pops up in Greek tragedies, which is why he made sure to make mention of the grim prophecy that Caesar started the play off with. "Caesar entered the halls of the senate to be greeted warmly by Brutus and his co-conspirators. Under their togas, however, lay sharp secrets. In the back of Caesar's mind, he could not forget the words of the Soothsayer: beware the ides of March..." Arsenio could see people on the stands mumbling the same warning. His audience was hooked. They were deathly quiet. Perhaps this wasn't the best play to perform during a harvest celebration.

Arsenio could feel the shock on their faces as he described Caesar's brutal death at the hands of Brutus and his co-conspirators. He could feel their sadness as Mark Antony looked on, helpless, and he could feel the anger in their stomachs as Arsenio played his favorite part: Mark Antony's famous speech.

"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him..."

Soon after the monologue, Arsenio had a stroke of inspiration to turn the story around. He had mentioned Mark Antony a lot as the loyal companion of Julius Caesar. Now, he was going to delve into his loss. "This tragedy was not Caesar's. Caesar is gone. He is now with the gods in the afterlife. Now, who did he leave behind? The people of Rome, his son, Octavian, and his beloved friend, Mark Antony, who had to carry the loss with him throughout his days, walking the earth all alone. Caesar was his brother, his family, and now his family has been taken from him. No revenge fills his heart, no anger, only melancholy. Soon after, he left Rome for Korsikí to the west, where he was to spend the rest of his days alone and in agony over the great and terrible loss of such a close friend, for never was there a tragedy of more woe than that of Mark Antony, after losing his dear friend and brother, Julius Caesar."

And Arsenio decided to end it here, on a tragic note: of Mark Antony's sadness at Caesar's passing. Arsenio only fell silent for a few seconds until the people finally realized that that was the end of the story (it really wasn't, but Arsenio couldn't remember how it ended anymore).


As they applauded Arsenio for the beautiful story, however, everybody screamed in terror as they heard the blood-curdling screech of several men. Three men with spears, shields and wearing hide from head to toe came rushing into the theater, threw a bloody bag at Arsenio's feet, and ran off, still screeching. Arsenio was confused, but everybody else seems to have understood what happened.

"The Dekéleiaíoi!"

"What's going on?!" Arsenio asked, as the people rushed off to their homes, eager to protect themselves.

"The Dekéleiaíoi," answered Kleomaki frantically. They ran off together with Lysistrate as Kleomaki explained the situation. "They're brutal savages half a day's walk north of here. Even their women are brutal fighters. Their raiding season has begun, and they're here to take our harvest. They'll be coming in a week, maybe more. You're going to need to start training with your spear again, Arsenios. You're coming with us."

"What? I'm not a fighter, Kleomaki!

"You are now, Arsenios. Every man that can hold a spear, hatchet, or scythe is going to be fighting."

"Shit."

[The Hierophancy]

Colote

The cleared out tract of land, upon the edge of what most of the villagefolk seemed to consider arable, was nearly an hours walk from Colote, but the soil was decent, and better yet, untouched, save for by the men who I'd payed a small fortune to slash and burn their way through this patch of once thick forest and scrub. Said men were finalizing their labors, pulling up a particularly resilient plant near the edge of the roughly rectangular
plot, wrestling with the ancient brushes rough, gnarled roots. Cháalaxa and Chimali stood at my sides, kicking dirt and looking bored. As the workers, just distinguishable against the similarly colored reddish brown dirt extending beyond them into the distance, finally managed to extract the charred remains of this once "vibrant" patch of woods, I decided to break the prolonged silence that came with having nothing to talk about or do.

"So... how would you rate it?" The pair, one fieldhand and one former farmer, gave me near identical apathetic shrugs. Foreman Cháalaxa was the first to voice his opinion.

"My Lord, I suppose it would do for some of the more resilient crops, but it's a good deal further from the lake than most of our fields, too distant for the waters to naturally nourish it, and without that you must either farm only during the wet season or pay your laborers extra to bring water in pots and bowls to supplement the god's bounties, an arduous and dull task to be sure." For their resilience and ability to thrive in such backwards conditions, the people of Colote were surprisingly unwilling to do more than their usual share of labor without sufficiently exuberant monetary compensation. Not all that different from first-worlders, at least in that respect.

"I concur with the exalted Foreman." Chimali took another look about the field, still damp and dark from the last great rain storm some days ago. "During this time of year, especially in the coming moons, it could be just as profitable as any lake-side field, but the rest of the time? Ayyo, I do not envy those who must spend their sweat feeding plants." I gave a dismissive wave which came across a bit more flippant than I'd intended.

"Have no fear of bringing moisture to the fields, there are ways other than prayer and pots, surprisingly enough. What about the quality of the soil, how will it nourish the crops? Which crop is best?" The pair gave another simultaneous shrug.

"The soil is of all-around decent quality - fine color, density, depth... better than the gravels or sands you can find 'round Tzinia, that is for sure -" Chimali said, " - but it is not as verdant or fertile as those dirts about our own mother-lake, so I doubt you could grow such crops as pineapple or the more hefty squash too well. Corn and bean should be fine, as would the more resilient fruit trees one can find in the jungles about us. It is likely to be exhausted quickly, however - the land here is not oft touched by rushes of water or rising waters to clear away the dead soil and deposit new dirt, so it is not likely to last more than a lifespan or two before you or your descendants must clear another batch of forest." Cháalaxa gave an affirmative grunt.

"That should be of no concern. Thank you, Chimali, you may leave now." The young man rolled his eyes, grumbled something about arrogant foreigners and departed. "Cháalaxa, I want you to find all men willing to work for... say, half the wage of my bloodstone workers. This task is not so difficult, and one they should be familiar with - instruct them to till this land, remove all obstructions, turn over new soil, and - this is important - take from my stock the rotted meats, namely the fish. Bury this flesh within the earth beneath this field, so it may nourish the maize you plant upon it." Cháalaxa nodded and mouthed a few things to himself, I suppose to better memorize his orders.

"Will you be planting only maize, Lord Uikixu-Úrhi?"

"Ah, yes - beans as well, of whatever sort you deem most profitable - plant these near the maize, a few finger widths away if at all possible. And you don't have to call me Lord, Foreman." Cháalaxa gave his third shrug of the afternoon.

"Whatever you say, Úrhi." I waved off Cháalaxa, who, after giving a curt bow, backed away and turned towards the village. I resumed my wordless observation of the field that stretched a good half mile before me, absentmindedly fiddling with the pommel of Jurhiatambamusku, which lay at my side. It was near dark when I turned back towards Colote, eager to hit the quilt-pallet and face the next day.

The overseeing of my new field's formation and the constant directing required to get the newfangled irrigation canals just as I wanted them took up much of my time, the rest of which I spent ensuring that things were going well at my line of heat and toxic-gas spewing bloomeries. When I tired of ordering people around, which was a rarity, I would either try my hand at improving my blacksmithing or, if I was feeling a bit more violent, training with Tlatli - my blade against his largely-obsidianless Macuahuitl, an old piece of unadorned wood still caked in the blood of whoever his forefathers had smashed across the head in mostly forgotten wars or raids. The routine was enjoyable, and after a few weeks it began to feel normal - if I didn't think about being stranded in some isolated tribe or, just maybe, time itself, I began to feel generally happy, happier even that I had before I'd ended up in this mosquito ridden backwater, although the pangs that came with thinking about lost family and friends, stabs of sadness which encroached upon my peace of mind whilst I lay sleepless upon my soft pile of cotton quilts and skins.

Like all things, however, that pleasant monotony would come to an end, this time with a scratching at the door instead of suddenly appearing on a tropical beach. The day was young, the frothy chocolate beverage I'd grown moderately addicted to warm, and mine own self ready to set off and ensure the furnaces were heating up nicely when the soft but intruding noise interrupted my languid morning routine. In fact, I'd gotten so used to my undisturbed and silent awakenings that hearing the sudden clawing at my door-rug nearly caused me to drop my earthenware cup of xocolatl. Irritated, I made the proper noises of polite welcoming in the general direction of my huts doorway, though I neglected to walk over and greet the offending courtier - a young boy of no more than 9, a slave. Despite the obvious differences, the lad reminded me of my own brother - I felt a good deal worse about not greeting him at the door.

"Why do you come to me this morning, boy?" I felt another pang of guilt at the nervous expression he flashed me from across my hovel. "Do you... ah... I have some xocolatl, if you're cold. Or thirsty." The boy shook his head energetically and walked a bit closer before conveying his message.

"Honored Merchant, Revered Speaker Tsijiari summons you to take part in a council and meeting of other most eminent citizens of Colote, so as to discuss the events of the night previous in the most holy temple." I was more taken aback at being included in the category of eminent citizen than the news of a council-worthy occurrence I'd somehow missed.

"Er, of course. I'll get my mantle ready..." The courier nodded, and scurried out the door whilst I struggled with the knots and brightly dyed folds of my finest uniform - a nice enough dress, though it was not festooned with the feathers I'd heard far-off noblemen and kings coated themselves in, nor did it possess the heavy wood, stone or even imported gold name-pictures, badges, honors and medals of the Olmeca. I did not even aspire to wear a headdress as so many a wealthy or well born man does - my head was humbly bare of such feathered monstrosities as I finally stepped out into the early morning light and, blinking the sleep out of my eyes, set off in the rough direction of the great gleaming temple.

The gathering was, unsurprisingly, not as prestigious as the slave courier's vague description had perhaps implied - there were about 9 men in total, most dressed similarly to I, all recognizable as either craftsmen, minor priests who sometimes aided the Revered Speaker in his rituals, the pair of village physicians, and a few prominent landholding farmers - it was only said farmers who saw fit to wear the bright feathers of their rank, with one in particular, the old Taríacuri, adorning himself in a radiant of well-woven feathers of all colors, including an admittedly undersized and worn mantle which seemed to be all of tiny hummingbird feathers, an article of clothing which shimmered and flowed like light itself. Of these proto-noblemen, most looked upon me with suspicion and varying levels of disdain - despite the favor of the gods, I was still new in Colote, of strange look, stranger origin, young even in a village where few lived far past 40, and worst of all, a disruptive factor - gods knew I had stolen considerable fortunes from near all of these men selling them far overpriced iron tools and goods with which to retrofit and modernize their own industries. Nevertheless, Tsijiari gave me a broad smile when I entered, and gestured for me take a seat, albeit furthest away from him, and as such in the least honorable of positions, though I suppose I was lucky to be there at all.

As soon as I had sat down, the Revered Speaker began the speaking he was so well known for.

"As you all no doubt know, we are here to discuss how best to respond to last nights raids, and in what way we are to exact vengeance upon the Otomi dogs who saw fit to descend upon Colote, burning and pillaging over 8 households and killing 12 good men before we could take up arms and drive them once more out of this sacred place." It was baffling that I had managed to sleep through a major fire and subsequent battle, but Tsijiari plowed on despite my no doubt flabbergasted expression. "Traditionally, we have seen fit to simply counter raid the dyed savages camp, take some of their women, burn and reclaim what we could lay our hands upon, but it has become clear they are too dense to understand the message our vengeance was meant to convey. After convening with the gods early this morning, it was agreed upon that the barbarians must be totally eradicated, their blood to provide nourishment for great Kurikaweri." Many of the other nobles, artisans and priests murmured their affirmations and slowly nodded as if accepting sage council, but I could no longer contain my confusion.

"Excuse my interruption, O Revered Speaker, but Otomi? This far west? And they have raided here before, despite your... retribution?" There were a good few eye rolls, but the speaker himself answered my question without any negative or condescending inflection.

"The Otomi are savages, but these are the very worst of them, exiled from their own lands-by-the-lake for all manner of barbarisms, this particular tribe has wandered from place to place for years - much like a clan of Dog people - only to be driven out from wherever they built their stinking camps. A few years ago they came upon the great inland sea to our north, but from there too they were exiled, and so they fled south, to hide in the barren plains south of here, in the shadow of Chʼipirijuata's wrath, crawling back to that forsaken land even after being driven away by the great grandfather's own rage." The old speaker shook his head in a particularly regretful manner. "We of Colote have too tried to uproot the criminals and barbarians with our counter raids and sacks, but they seem to have taken a perverse liking to those treeless wastes, and continue to squat there, reaving across the mountainsides with their pitiful warbands." I gave the man my most understanding expression. "The main reason we've summoned you to join us, Uikixu-Úrhi, are your bloodstone tools, namely the weapons. Do you have spear and arrowtips enough to equip this town's fighting men?" I did some brief mental arthritic.

"I should have enough in my stores, revered Speaker, although for close combat you'd best stick with your Macuahuitl - it would take much to long to create swords enough to equip the menfolk, and without a portent vision I'm no-" Tsijiari gestured for me to stop speaking.

"Spear and arrowheads will be all we require, Uikixu, save for your own personage. You've been selected to aid in leading the expedition." That really took me aback, as was no doubt visible upon my face, to the amusement of my fellow councilors. The Revered Speaker saw fit to provide some reasoning - "So far, you have shown yourself to be well-favored by the gods, and from what I've seen of your blabbing with all manner of merchants and traders, you have a penchant for language, an important skill if we wish to woo the nearby tribes into donating men to the righteous cause of exterminating these brigands, not to mention your divine weapon." He gestured towards the sword at my belt, all dull-black iron and thin yellow sheen. "You will, of course, not be granted full jurisdiction over the forces, only command over your own men coming along on the trip, and a voice at the war council, headed and led by Taríacuri in my absence." The imposing and richly garbed Taríacuri saw fit then to speak.

"And you'd best remember that, whelp. A "visions" -" he made it quite clear he didn't quite buy the divine aspect of my ascension to wealth. " - does not make you a warrior, nor do fancy bloodstone weapons and blades, and knowing the tongues of savages ranks you on the level of one of those dirty merchants you so enjoy associating with." I decided it would be best not to respond to the man, who, after some glaring, gave me a final warning. "Ensure you remember your place, foreigner, and we need not have any troubles on the road." I remained silent.

"Well then," the Revered Speaker seemed largely unphased by the posturing of Taríacuri. "you all had best get to gathering the men in your employ. Should all go well you will be departing for the coastal region by sunrise tomorrow, where I have already sent word to their Lord Tangáxuan, who should be expecting your troop. Do not return to Colote until the raiders have been dealt with. Godspeed."

[The Orson Empire]

Near the Middle Walls, City of Ego

The sky was a blood red color, and the air was choked with ash.

The fires had spread rapidly among the wooden buildings in Ego, and had now engulfed one-third of the city. The streets were clogged with thousands of civilians, many desperately trying to escape the city and avoid being consumed by the fires. However, they found their escape routes cut off by Turner's first army, the city guards and the Skulk, who were fighting each other at the middle and inner walls, while the second army was arriving outside the outer walls.

"Move, damn it, move! We've got to move forward!!" General Hal shouted to his troops, which had surrounded them on all sides. Hal, a group of 70 soldiers and 10 Elite Guards had become separated from the main force, caught up in a group of hundreds of civilians trying to barge through one of the middle gates. Hal had been trying to seize control of one of the inner walls near the palace, but the Skulk and the city guard managed to mount a massive counterattack. The Skulk had proven to be the best archers Hal had ever seen; they used strange, advanced bows unlike any other, firing bolts that pierced through the soldiers with incredible accuracy. Casualties began to mount, and Hal realized he needed to attack again soon or they could all be wiped out. The soldiers were forced to use their shields to block the impact of the bolts and made one more attempt to storm the walls, killing dozens of Skulk and city guards in the process.

The skirmish appeared to be going well for Hal and his soldiers, but suddenly, a new enemy attacked- the civilians themselves. Desperation soon turned to anger, and anger quickly turned into a massive riot; civilians would pick up weapons from dead soldiers or use any blunt object they could find as a weapon, in an attempt to force their way through the gates and out of the city. They would attack Turner's soldiers, the city guards, and the Skulk alike; essentially, anyone standing in their way was at risk of being lynched by a mob.

Others in the crowd did not appear so eager to leave immediately. Already believing they were going to die in the fire, they would turn to outright savagery and debauchery. Groups of men would grab any women they could find from the crowd and take them to a nearby alley, where they would be viciously raped and beaten. Some people would loot empty homes for any valuable treasure they could find, hoping to escape they city with said riches. As the fires continued to spread rapidly, people would emerge from burning buildings on fire themselves, running throughout the streets while screaming in agony; they were killed by the mobs and soldiers, to prevent the fires from spreading any further and as an outright act of mercy.

Hal had witnessed various atrocities occurring, and as much as wished to intervene, he knew he could not do so. Hal and his soldiers had been forced to split off after the attack by the mobs, and they dressed themselves in civilian clothing in an attempt to disguise themselves from Skulk snipers.

As Hal tried to force his way through the crowd and attempt to make a dash for a nearby tavern, an Elite roughly gripped him by the soldier. "General, general!" the Elite shouted. "We've managed to get the governor out, unharmed, through the postern! It's time for us to go now, before this whole city goes up in flames!"

Hal growled in anger. "Fuck that!" he yelled. "You Elites may have no honor, but I do! We've still got a battle to win!"

"With all due respect sir..." the Elite would duck as an arrow nearly struck his head,"the capital is well and truly fucked! What is your honor worth when you and all of your men are dead?"

Hal then looked in front of him, watching as the mobs grabbed several city guards and Skulk and began to beat them. As they screamed out in agony, the flames began to get dangerously close to the gate. Already, several buildings a couple of blocks behind them began to go up in flames, and Hal watched as people jumped out of windows and crawled out of buildings in an attempt to escape the flames.

"You may have a point, Elite..."

[Ulls]

Third Thunder,
Ego

The navy was in an uproar. From the bustling city of Twilight's Gate to the mighty drydocks of Third Thunder, the news shocked the admirals. The surprise of Turner's revolt, the southern frontier of Wisconsin was in open revolt but some had favored neutrality because of either war reariness or not willing to join up between either sides. The Mafia had been switching to manufacturing weapons and naval ships as their industrial centers and the new mill towns getting iron and agriculture in the Illinois and Minnesota frontiers allow for new food and iron to be ship for government support.

Many of the naval admirals had started to organize the ships for relief toward Suunja, the Capital, Chicago, and other pro-government provinces in order to keep the security of the Great Lakes during the war. It would take days to rally the navy but they will be ready to fight for the glory of the nation that they have built, even though many were not really surprised at how things turned but they believed that Ego could be better than this, Old or New Faith.

Itasca,
Minnesota Frontier

The final touch where the Mafia had been making strides in Minnesota for months. A messenger had sent word from the navy about the war that had started. It was a surprise to the representative of the Mafia but what they asked him to do was something even more taxing. The navy wanted to utilize the alliance of their new friendship with the tribes that the Mafia had made to get together and form a navy for the Mississippi.

The representative knew what they were doing but the Mafia agreed to value the alliance that they had with the Minnesotan and Dokotan tribes as they taught them things that could make them good for Ego. Still, they could do something like that to protect their allies on both sides of the frontier. The Mafia representative started to call up the representatives to the local tribes and started to get the necessary workings ready for what they need to do.

Coat of the Hearth,
Somewhere in Canada

Explosions could be heard in the wilderness as bird flew away from the sound of boom and black thunder. The Archiver was near the iron enforced wall as she oversaw the construction of the blackpowder weapons. She was skilled as a smith and engineer, was there fighting with both Turner and Mak Tan during the First Civil War as she help construct the first catapults and learned how to make guns from what the others in California found.

Its what made her the Archiver of one of the largest Communities that the Skulk had and saw that they get the very thing that the organization has been looking for, the power of smoke and thunder.

" Archiver, we had another failure!" A scholar came as she was looking at the mess of what was left after the explosion.

" Let me guess, too much power in the ingredients?" She wasn't even looking at the scholar.

" Yes, it became unstable when we try to fire it and the whole weapons exploded."

The Archiver sighed as she started to begin putting tobacco in her pipe," damn cast iron is strong, but brittle if not tempered right. This time make the cast iron with more temperament, balance out the coal usage and put more saltpeter in the ingredients, I want it to be mostly saltpeter with charcoal second and Sulphur the least, replace the injured with others and lets see if we can do this right."

City of Ego,
Land of Ego

The chaos was getting too much, the counterattack manage to pull off the First Army and nearly decimate them in the inner walls but the warfare that was causing between the two was already starting to pile up. The guards of the inner walls had manage to get control of that area of the city with the middle walls about to fall to the mobs as the Skulk were still trying to hunt for the officers but many in the inner walls were able to get civilians out with longships with Jeb and some of the engineers who were moving away.

Jeb was able to run a little bit as he hid among the civilians with the other Skulk. He saw his home, the city that he built over 30 years ago, burning. He was crying over the war but he knew that Turner didn't get his peace, the city, or him. The capital was a symbol of what was to come, the Ninth War. The Ninth War that he knew it was going to happen but didn't want to as the threat of the Imperium loomed over them.

None of that matters now as the war horns sounded and banners rose as the Ninth War made its way and sweep upon the people of Ego again.

[Holy Tedalonia]

Scotland - Eir Tribe, November 23rd
It had been slightly more than 3 months since Ted had joined the Eir tribe. He proved his worth over the three months showing his skill and leadership while they underwent combat training. He hardly could call it training, however since it was just simple duels between 2 warriors. Although he was skilled in combat Ted focused on other activities, he would carve with his imperials knife a nice wood carving of a chess table and begin carving the individual pieces. He hadn't played chess in forever and would be nice to play it again he thought to himself.

The current political situation was troublesome for the most part. With the Norscan wars and the
other tribes bicker among one another. This is not ideal to Ted's search for seeking asylum, but he had to deal with it. The tribes have been more unified then ever though, and while they still bicker they can all agree that the Norscans are the true enemy. Ted while he could help fight their southern threat, couldn't help but feel apathetic over the situation.

Ted was more concerned over living arrangements and the simple life. He intended on becoming a crafter and focusing on creating games from his old world to play with the other tribes folk. He would lived in the chieftains place until they finished constructing his place to stay. Ted no longer wanted to be a fighter, to kill a man is a thing to to take pleasure in, and Ted only did it for what he thinks was the greater good. Now without an ideal as strong has his blade he lost the will to fight.

The chess carvings intrigued the chieftain Cynbil and he asked Ted what he was constructing. Ted answered by explaining chess and how he hadn't played it in a long time. This further interested the Chief and he suggested that he should play with Ted sometime when he's finished. Ted told him that he'll let him know when he's done, and also explained his intent to give up fighting in the future. As the chieftain left Ted placed the finished white king piece with the other finished pieces.

[Revlona]

Robert
Portugal
July 15th, 13 AA

We travelled south some more in our ship and landed again. We set up a camp and began scouting right away. We established contact with a couple tribes, the first of which was rather large at about 130 members, they welcomed us and agreed to trade with us the next time our people came around. We also made a pact with their chief, he agreed to spread the word about the wonders of the imperium as long as we agreed to never attack them, I agreed to this very quickly.

The second tribe was a much smaller nomadic tribe who took our offered gold as trade and disappeared on us. Our scouts followed for some way but lost their tracks.

This is our last stop and we are now preparing to head back north towards brittany.

[The Orson Empire]

Western Gate, Outer Walls of Ego

While the situation inside the city had turned into a vicious stalemate for the first army, with the troops cut off and separated throughout the various wards of the capital, the siege of the outer walls had been much more successful for the second army. The army had arrived with large amounts of siege weaponry, including not only catapults, but also battering rams and large, wooden siege towers, built with several levels and ladders between each level to allow soldiers to move up to the top of the walls. The Skulk and the city guards had been distracted fighting the rioting mobs and the first army throughout the city, making it difficult for them to get into position to oppose the second army.

General Nijlon noticed this and decided to take advantage of the situation, ordering most of the siege towers to be used and ordering hundreds of soldiers to begin storming the western walls, in an attempt to force the western gate open. Catapults would begin launching boulders, which would take large chunks of rock out of the walls upon impact, while the siege towers were pushed forward. Even with the defenders being unprepared, the fighting was intense, as the Skulk and the city guards launched volley after volley of arrows and crossbow bolts onto the attackers.

Eventually, the siege towers would make it up to the walls, and the soldiers began the life-threatening journey upwards. General Nijlon fought among them, and was one of the first up the walls.

Upon reaching the top and final level, Nijlon rallied her soldiers for a massive charge against the enemy.

"Don't fight for Ego! Hell, don't even fight for the governor! Fight to destroy this fucking shit-stain of a city!" Nijlon shouted, while her troops cheered in the background. As they charged out and met the enemy in melee combat, wave upon wave of soldiers would begin to filter out of the siege towers, jumping over the battlements and running their spears and daggers through the Skulk and the city guards in front of them.

All the while, large boulders would continue hitting the walls, causing the fortifications to shake violently and add another level of confusion and chaos to the fighting. Further below, the battering rams had been moved forward, with soldiers attempting to bash in the western gate. They had covered themselves with a large wooden canoe, to protect themselves from missile fire above, but with the soldiers now storming the walls, it would be much easier for them to continue their work on the gate.

Nijlon was armed with a relatively new weapon- the sword. Nijlon found the weapon to be much more useful than a small dagger, but not nearly as unwieldy as a long spear could be. It was the perfect balance, and it allowed her to be far more effective in melee than she had ever been in the past. It was unfortunate that most soldiers could not be armed with this weapon; the forging process was still inefficient, and they were far more expensive to manufacture than a simple spear.

As Nijlon ran her sword through a nearby Skulk while pushing forward along the walls, she noticed the weapons the Skulk were carrying. It appeared to be an advanced version of a normal bow, situated horizontally on this odd wooden apparatus. Despite its unusual appearance, she had witnessed how extraordinarily effective the weapon was in comparison to a normal bow (and much easier to use as well). The sheer amount of firepower these crossbows could put out was revolutionary.

This is the weapon of the future, and we have to have it, Nijlon thought. She already knew what orders she would be giving: they were going to have to gather as many of these crossbows as possible and take them back to Blue Lagoon, where they could be reverse-engineered.

[Ulls]

A few days after the Battle for the Capital

The navy from Third Thunder came in to see the docks of a burning city. The bloody battle and the sight of hundreds of dead soldiers and thousands of civilans
along the once beautiful streets. The Outer Gates were busted open with dead soldiers crushed underneath bolders and equipment that wore loyalists symbols.

Some of the dead on the loyalsts side wore strange colors that they didn't know of but their weapons were also strange but it seemed that these weapons managed to inflict significant casualties to Turner's armies despite being outnumbered.

Such a stalemate was surpising but as they came and secured the Capital, the people gave reports of the fighting to the commander, who was shocked and mortified by the loss of life on both sides.

Turner had became a traitor, caused thousands of civilans deaths and everyone knew of his brutality that he and his army did.

Still, the hearings of these mysterious soldiers who fought with advance weapons and tatics that manage to hold off Turner's army and help get people out was another thing that the commander wanted to know.

Just who were they? If anything would they show again to fight the Butcher? These reports were given to the admiarlty and the people spread word of Turner's bloodthirsty destruction of the Capital and thousands dead on his and his supporters' hands.

However the story of the mysterious warriors were seen as blessings from the Night Owl as he is still looking down upon them and sending his angels to fight against the Butcher's Army, as Turner had been called, and had been used as a rallying cry to defend against the bloodthirsty Outworlder with his demons.

People started to unite again, smith weapons and armors, and started to begin marching in unity for their government and the unholy threat in the south.

Skulk in turn had started to be activated in quick succession. Knight chapters started to rally and prepare for the fight. Communities all collectively work on their plans but most begin working on mastering gunpowder for they knew it would be the thing that will allow them to get vengeance and bring peace to the land.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Part 11, Chapter 5: Behind the Curtain

October 12th, 85 AG

The Chamber of Stars was somewhat dim today, the rollicking clouds of some of the first winter snowstorms obscuring the normally brilliant illumination from the skylights and high windows of the most auspicious room in all of the Imperium. It gave a strange effect, the half-light, shrouding men I knew well in enfolding shadows, leaving only the suggestions of their forms for the eye to pick out in the gloom. A few servants moved here and there, placing refreshments before each prominent man and woman, goblets of wine ink-dark in the quiet interior of the White Palace, bread loaves betraying their presence only by the heady scent of fresh-baked cracked grains and hints of steam. I raised my own drink to my lips, the pale white-gold of the ornate vessel a glittering star in the dun radiance, and waited patiently for the process to be completed. It was fine drink, smooth, a heavy red thick with the remembrance of sun-drenched Italian vineyards, and it passed my eager lips as the seconds wound by with scarce comment from my waking mind.

At length the servitors finished their tasks and withdrew, leaving the twenty most powerful men in Europe- aye, perhaps in the world- to their thoughts. It was Mikhael who spoke first, siting at my left hand in the slightly more ornate chair of gilded gold-steel which he favored. His words rang out into the stillness of the chamber with a force that I had not expected, and I glanced toward him for a moment in curiosity. My grandson's face was shadowed as he spoke, but his tone was that of a man of clear conscience, despite what the substance of his speech entailed.

"The time has come, gentlemen, to hazard a throw. Alea iacta est. The Hegemon has a proposal to put before this body of which we have spoken at length, one I think wise, due your consideration."

That was, perhaps, the crux of it. Mikhael was much taken with what we had discussed over many months via letter and in fireside conversations stolen when our families slept. He had my ambition, the scion of my lineage, the driving force that had taken me from sojourner in the wilderness of the vales of the Erzgebirge to overlord of the greatest civilization man had yet to know. His father had been a man of more contentment, wise, considering, pleased with what had been wrought, needing to be prodded to seize the destiny that was his birthright. That had served mankind well, for a time, the slow burn of progress and the embers of the hearth warming family and the nation where consuming fire would have been ill-used. But here we stood now, upon the brink of a transition that would echo down through the ages. The groundwork had been laid, the foundations poured. Upon the tale of years we, I, the Imperium, now stood poised to build an edifice to last the ages.

I stood, my dark-black dress greatcoat drinking in the dappled sunlight. I did not know it, but in the eyes of some assembled I appeared almost darker than the shadows that surrounded me, an omen many found both promising and alarming. We were not men of superstition though, and my voice was that of reason as I gave voice to the ideas that had gestated in my mind for many years now.

"Friends. Fellows. We are poised upon the start of a great age, an age of discovery, an age of change, an age of power the like of which we today can scarcely comprehend. Industry we possess. The labor of the masses we possess. I tell you now nothing you do not know- the Imperium of Man stands unchallenged on every front, our armies so potent as to break entire nations before them, our merchants so wealthy as to boggle the minds of lesser men."

Heads nodded around the room at my words, barely visible in the murk, but I continued my thoughts unremarked.

"You have seen what my knowledge of the world to come has done for us, for our people, even for you. I now tell you that the establishment of the steam engine and our mighty sailing ships will usher in an era as different from that we now possess as was the age of hunting and gathering and scrabbling in the dirt that I raised your forefathers out of. There is a whole world beyond our borders, a world ripe with resources, with natural treasures, with information so great as to fill the Ageless Library threefold and again."

"You have all read the report from the New World, from America, of which our children learn in schools, but which now has been reached by the Emperor's father, Vladimir. Where the slow march of Empire is here inhibited upon our shores, disparate people groups and cultures crystallizing in opposition to the Divine mandate we have been given, beyond the sundering seas such is not the case. There they live simply, humbly, in ignorance and darkness. They will embrace the light we give to them, the strength of many hands that is not easily broken, in a way that the pagans and heathens beyond our borders no longer do."

Mutters ran around the table, some of the indistinct figures in assent, some more skeptical. After all, it was a radical proposition, asserting that the age of amazing progress and change which we lived in was only a pale counterpart to that which would soon come. These men and women held their positions in no small part because of my trust in their forward-thinking ambition, and the trust of Mikhael for their loyalty and drive, but simple cognitive dissonance could work wonders. It took a very elastic mind to even conceive of a world superior to the one one saw now, let alone accept it as a reality.

I seated myself, and waited for the questions.

First came a query from the Lord-Commander of the Seventh, deployed in Anatolia. Harald was a dour man, his giant form notable even in the darkness, and his baritone carried respect but also skepticism.

"Even if all is as you say, Lord Hegemon- and I do not assert otherwise- should we not still look to our borders for the future? There are wild kindreds of men throughout the world, I doubt not, but surely their numbers are small compared to those souls who stand just beyond the Imperial Will, in Norsca, in Scythia, in Nom Sapmi, in the Confederation, and beyond. Even in Thebes, she of the southlands, there are tens if not hundreds of thousands who die without knowing of the Almighty, who labor and slave for petty kings. Their concern, of course, must be ours, if we seek to do the most good for the most of those who are His children."

Mikhael spoke before I could open my mouth, and I took the opportunity to tear a small corner from the fragrant loaf of bread that stood upon the platter at my elbow. Hunger burned within me at these thoughts, a hunger which could hardly be sated by a small morsel composed of grain and starch, but a satisfaction for one hunger slaked the immediacy of the starvation of another.

"What you say is true, Master Melkar. We have thought long and hard on this matter. Even if it is simpler to bring the summer children of the far vistas of the world into the light, we owe a burden of duty as sons of Adam to those who would refuse the truth we offer, more so because they are our neighbors. If we do nothing, they perish not in ignorance, but rejecting the veracity of salvation. This, in my mind, is a greater evil than that the folk that run wild and free under the stars should pass onwards to their eternal reward having never heard of the gift that is freely offered to them. An evil not for them, but for us, for as of now we do not speak to those free peoples, but those who live beside us are we most condemned if they cannot be brought to the truth."

I interjected, and the eyes of the assembled notables turned to me, the flash of my green eyes like that of a dim fire in the darkness.

"Fools do not oppose the truth, though they may miss it in their foolishness. Deceivers sent by the Enemy, though, they are those men who bind the masses in chains, who stand before the light and reject it. They are wicked men, false, men who knew the truth and have turned aside from it. The Priest-King of Scythia was one such man, and I thank the Lord that he now drinks of the cup of his sorrow. But there are others beside, others like the Councilors of Helios, aye, even, from all that we have heard, the Master of Ego in the wilds of North America, who in their iniquity have espoused the belief not only of denying the truth of our Father, but pursuing the worship of false gods, of the turning away of the hearts of those who follow after them from the natural realization of Creation. They worship the Creation, not the One who made it, and in this they are damned."

Another voice then spoke from the shadows, the light airy muse of the Grand Inquisitor. Her feminine tones and bubbly disposition belied a woman whose hand was strong with hate against the witch, the corrupter, the sloth, the indolent, and the hair the color of crimson frame that tumbled at times in unchecked tresses almost to her waist.

"What you say is true, Viktor. But we cannot move against such men. To wage war in Helios- not to mention on America!- would be to stretch the supply lines of the Imperial Army to their limit. Thousands, tens of thousands, would die in such a conflict, men who bear no greater shame than the place of their birth put to the sword defending their homes against our soldiers. It would sadden my heart to countenance such a slaughter, and Christ, when he walked our Earth, did not espouse ought but peace. Our fallen world means that we must at times to defend life or home or brothers in the Faith bear arms, but that is another thing altogether than the blood-debt that would stain the mountains and the valleys red if we marched to war against the powers of which you speak."

It was a true argument, and one I had wrestled with at length. I was firmly convinced that sometimes, the few had to perish for the good of the many. But how many deaths did it take before the few were no longer justified? Open conquest of places so culturally and geographically divided from the bosom of Christendom and the Imperium of Man would be buying enmity in bulk, enmity that would flare for uncounted generations and deaths down through the years. History spoke to me of many such circumstances, and though I had been lucky with places such as Cansivar and Fenis, the states which now confronted our borders were more established by far than those. Not to mention this... Ego. A whispered name from traders from the north, a location on a map collated by careful interrogation. Most of the Rose Council seemed scarcely convinced of its existence, but I feared that other men like me, from the future (or past? or neither?), had forged such states across our world. A danger most intractable and unknowable to the purpose the Almighty had given me upon this new world.

"You are not wrong, Emma. Such bloodshed would see our hands washed in such scarlet that I doubt they could ever be clean again."

Around the table, though I could only tell such was the case due to long decades of studying my fellow man and knowing his ways, I could feel the silent sighs of relief that the Council did not know they had been holding in. They were good people, the dozen and more that I had gathered to advise my great-grandson, warriors, scholars, philosophers, theologians. To hear them relieved at not having to confront such a heavy burden warmed my heart, for it marched much with my own thinking. I continued:

"Indeed, war is not the answer I see to this conundrum of duty owed to our neighbors. Innocents would die in numbers that cannot be countenanced by even the most stonehearted amongst us, and we would sow a field of wrath our children will harvest for generations. But, there is another way."

I had their attention fully, I could see. Long had the military commanders of the Imperium wrestled with the question of our neighbors that were not so amenable to integration into a country that should be for all men, not just some, back so far that even the leaders of men before them had grappled with the same issues. Only the most hostile and outrageous had been pacified with force, but even there it had been in some ways tinged with regret, the lives lost in those conflicts sad necessities to prevent deaths elsewhere.

"Administrator Gareth, who makes a nation? Who marshals her armies, sets her taxes, levies workers to build her cathedrals?"

In the darkness I could almost hear the grin on Mark's wizened face, and his answer was telling.

"The theologian would assert that the divine does all these things, through the vessels of her leaders. You, I think, refer to the latter."

I nodded invisibly.

"Even so. Nations may be made up of each family, each kindred, but it is their leaders who shape the direction that these nations take. There would be no Scythia if there were no Priest-King, no Norsca without House Monroe. The slaughter of thousands to change these leaders by force is reprehensible to us, certainly. But what if, instead of using overt force, change in leadership was effected more neatly, more quietly? A political coup, a changing of the guard, an accident that left a man more interested in the right ways of governance to replace his former superior?"

It was a strange statement to make, and left a taste in my mouth I was not entirely sure I liked. But we had mulled it over, Mikhael and I, and I had spoken with Tanya about the idea at length. It was like the case of those criminals whose veins the doctors opened beneath the Sanatorium; sometimes, the few had to suffer for the good of the many. It was not even, necessarily, a case of suffering. Could a man be said to suffer if he lost his position and retired peacefully to the countryside?

They thought my idea odd, I could tell, but the wheels of the Rose Council turned quickly, and the mood as one of interest in the idea. I waited a few more moments, for the contemplation of what my words meant to progress further, then I gestured expansively toward the chair that sat empty at the table. It was something they had been casting glances toward at the beginning of the meeting, and now they perceived of a sudden that it was in fact occupied, though where its occupant had come from and how long he had been sitting there, even I had not marked.

"My friends, meet Westril, the Grandmaster of the League of Shadows. He shall be our knife in the dark, the whispered word, working in the shadows to serve the light wherever the League must go. I tell you all this so you may know we have allies working where they are not seen, to nudge the threads of history into patterns that weave more favorably to the Great Design. He will now sit on this Council, and his agents already move here in Europe, and soon, very soon, beyond."

Work in the shadows to serve the light. That was a reference I hadn't expected to make, well, ever. But it was only too appropriate.

[Leikmis]

No reason to get excited
The thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke
But, uh, but you and I, we've been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us stop talkin' falsely now
The hour's getting late

Atoyac River, Mexico

June

Atoyac Village

Three or so weeks had passed since he had first began to give ‘lectures’ on English to the Chieftain Irepani and his ‘scribes’ by his own view. In reality it was near the end of a very damp and warm June, ripe with expansion as new lands past the village were made into cropland. This was of much excitement among the villagers, seeing as many of them had, did, and would only ever devote their entire lives to harvesting and planting crops, after all, it meant that they didn’t have to work as hard the next year. The surplus of cornmeal, quinoa malt, and many other agricultural products would be far larger, meaning they could tend to other things instead and raise more children.

Zachaios was not brought to joy by the whole phenomenon however, because it meant he would have to work hours that he considered long, in the enduring heat that never went below seventy in day or sixty-five in night. Although his strength and will had increased a decent amount in the weeks since he had magically appeared in this sadistic land, by his own standards he would still be tortured in the fields.

During this time he was given shoddy jobs by those who he worked for, the jobs that no one wanted to do like cleaning up the dung of livestock, planting fields that required twice or triple as many people as that he had seen, including himself, work on. The jobs he did for others was because he had no ‘property’ of his own besides his hut at the edge of the village. Despite these consistent hardships which he had endured before when the fields were muddy and needed extra work, he occasionally found upon a family that treated him at least somewhat well, giving him normal or lessened work in comparison to what he had mostly been given, either out of pity or out of a curiosity of what he would do in his new home seeing as he had not left the village, and assumingly would not go away.

During his work on village land owned by others he had some time to grasp in a basic sense how the rudimentary economy of the village functioned. He observed that ‘property’ was only owned in the lightest of sense among the villagers. Property was not any sort of legal ownership but instead an agreement among each other of who would farm what, usually it was placed near their homes and them and all of their descendants would farm the same plot for generations unless and argument between two families broke out. These properties were also in part owned by the seeming upper class of the village, the scribes and the chieftain who he had been teaching English and History to, and the de facto religious and administrational leaders of the village. The fruits of a villager and his family's’ labour was then gathered up and stored in great pits in the ground, lined with wood and tanned animal hide and then closed up with stone and dirt to ensure the preservation of the surplus for later use. This surplus was then in theory distributed back to the villagers via IOUs used as a sort of pseudo currency along with shells, shiny rocks, textiles, and other crafted materials in exchange for jobs. Their ruler, the chieftain, was mostly appointed by the villagers based on how old or ‘wise’ a person was, and he chose who he would teach based on his ‘divine connection to the gods.’ Conflicts over land or crimes were often solved by the Chieftain and his followers alone, usually by form of mortal combat between the two individual parties in conflict, with the notion ‘The gods will it’ determining who won. It was a disgusting form of tribal direct democracy combined with religious domination that some neo-tribalists in the modern world would love to see, and also a form that could only work small scale.

In his off time, when he was not working in a field for the entirety of the day, he employed himself with memorizing songs, designing several new forge designs to improve upon his old one on several clay tablets, and engraving his observations of the village into other clay tablets. Besides this he generally slept as much as possible and only kept himself busy when he was planning or writing down information.

During the three or so weeks he had been kept busy he had also received several requests to show curious villagers exactly how his ‘forge’ worked, what iron was, what ore was, the entire gist that he had already explained to the Chieftain Irepani and his followers, including Masawa. Those who had asked Masawa either had turned away when told to ask the ‘demon’ of the village or stayed and requested to meet with him, although with Masawa there as well. Those who had stayed had at least some sort of piety or normality with their view towards Zachaios.

Outer Village

Because of Masawa’s eagerness to have ‘the teachings’ of ‘the messenger’ spread to the village he began to bother Zachaios more and more, almost daily to teach those who had asked him. And so he finally assembled the few men who wished to learn alongside Zachaios how to make a forge behind his home, along with Masawa who was there to take his notes and in a very hypothetical, spiritual sense bless the men who were learning.

To their side was the pile of clay, dry now into a pile of clumps of dust, with only the small faithfully held together wet patch every once and awhile. And beside that was the original forge, still broken open due to a few other uses and attempts to make better quality via slightly different handling methods, all failed.

Eight men were assembled.

“Well, shit,” Zachaios muttered and then scratched his head. “I guess I’m going to have to teach you about Iron ore first.”

“Yes, sir.” A man from the end of the line said. His name was Shanaran, a short tool maker who was deeply pious.

“Uhh, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’ ok?” Zachaios looked over to Shanaran.

“Yes.” He nodded. The two men next to him, named Kabil and Maatiaak and the first a tool maker and the latter a craftsman, snickered a bit.

Atoyac River Basin

At eight or so in the morning he ordered them all to bring bags to carry Iron and clay with. He then left left with them downstream to the same port in which he had found his Iron ore before, sponged in with loose sediment poured in from both the rich mountains down stream and the ocean up stream. He then found the original area in which he got his own iron, showed it to the men who followed him and how it was buried deep behind the loose sediments, requiring flint tools or a sharp rock to dig out. He then ordered them to find some of their own and fill their sacks to the brim with it, as much as they could carry.

He gathered them by a large rock next to the river basin. He sat on the rock, Masawa at his side, while the others sat below them looking upwards. He slipped off his backsack and dug out a chunk of iron ore, actually a mixture of hematite and magnetite, but he didn’t know better.

“Now, this red rock I’ve told you guys to collect, it’s called ‘Iron Ore.’” He held up the iron rock, then threw it down to Kabil. “It’s called ‘Iron Ore’ because it’s not pure, ore is a type of rock which the material is in, and since it’s a rock it’s found in the ground, but the river washes up some of it from the sea and the mountains over there,” He pointed to the mass of highlands and the grand mountains with peaks of white snow in the distance.

“The world I know, everything is made from it; massive buildings bigger than all of the people of the village standing on each other's heads, carts that move on their own, and literal bases among the stars.” He pointed upwards with both arms, his fingers extended, to exemplify the size the skyscrapers he was describing and the distance the International Space Station was from the Earth, but despite his efforts he could not truly show the grandeur of the world he knew.

Masawa then spoke up beside him when it was clear Zachaios had nothing else to say, at least that he was supposedly holding back information the natives would not understand. He made a makeshift speech trying to explain that without Zachaios, there would be no knowledge of the rock ‘of the gods’ to the village, a material that was stronger than both flint and stone, the main materials used for tool making in the area. He also tried to prove that Zachaios was at least somewhat in significant relation to the gods, but in the end he began to seem makeshift and began to stutter more, ending with an awkward silence.

Zachaios asked the men to go ahead of him and Masawa back to the village and to wait by his hut, Masawa then said the same thing to which they moved.

“Masawa, you’re really hyped on telling the village I’m special or something, calm down.” He got up into a relaxed squat position.

“I cannot though Green eyes.” Masawa sighed.

“Why not?”

“If I’m not pious to the gods then how am I going to succeed the Father?”

“Can’t you just be normal pious and tell what the gods want?”

“It’s not just that Green eyes, the gods, they use signs. Everything around us is connected to them.” He twirled his finger around.

“So? Interpret what they mean then, shouldn’t be hard.”

“Well it is hard!” Masawa blurted out.

“If a deer moves what does it mean? If a man dies of bad air what does it mean? Everything is so hard to keep track of, the Father makes it seem so easy keeping with the gods.” He placed his hand over his face in frustration.

Zachaios sighed and sat back down on his bottom. “Where I’m from we don’t worry about everything, and everything keeps moving along good. Try and simmer down a bit, I guess.”

“If I do, then I will be a worse leader than the Father, who has explained every prophecy or event from the gods so far. I can’t do that.”

“That’s pretty overachieving.”

“You think, and then you’re the biggest mess of a thing in nature of all. No one knows where you came from or why you are here; some think you are a man and some a messenger and some some other bollock.” He looked up and rubbed his hands down his face, still frustrated.

“I just got here, I guess. I wish I could go back, to see my family, my life.”

There was a silence between the two for a minute.

“Green eyes, what of your old world and life, how did everything stay so good if you neglected the gods?”

“If I told you what I knew I would be killed for heresy probably. Besides that I came from a pretty normal life, not in comparison to this place though. Went to schooling for most of my life until a few months ago, was waiting to get a job, go to better education. My family was separated but still okay, It’s hard to explain.”

“What a weird place, schooling for half of your life. I was only schooled for a few years so far. My Pa died from a leg cut from a large beast, so to stop thinking about it I got myself chosen as a follower by the Father, then got chosen as his successor, sadly.” He was equally as solemn.

“Green eyes, If I promise by the gods to not tell about what you know, will you tell me it?” He got a small, sharp rock from the flat surface in which they sat.

“I’ve got nothing else to lose but my time and life, why not.”

“Fine, then. Hold out your hand.” he held out his palm and the small rock.

Zachaios reluctantly held out his palm, placing it into Masawas.

Masawa said a prayer and then cut both of their hands, signifying that a ‘treaty’ had been signed.

He began to tell the story of Abraham, be it with slightly edited details to fit a bit more with what he knew of the pagan gods of the village.

[Ulls]

Coat of the Hearth

The Community was still hearing the freighting explosions of gunpowder that weren't trial and error, but of actual progress. Canons and guns have met with errors and injuries as people and Pavise had been significantly damaged by the explosion and iron shrapnel. It showed the powerful potential of the black powder as the archiver noticed that not even the highest quality armor couldn't withstand it with ripped holes being shown.
Such things made the Archiver freighted and intrigued at the terror such weapons could be of use, but one thing was noted was that the Imperial horses weren't shocked at the explosions of gunpowder but the other breeds were.

She made a message to Jeb about any information about the Imperial horses he got from Europe. She knew that they just manage to pay off the traders via their connections before the war with Turner started but her idea that perhaps the horses from this "Imperium" were used to gunpowder. When Jeb got the message, he was startled at the information of that the Imperial horses were fine around the Skulk's gunpowder tests and he begin to wonder if the Imperium has gunpowder, if so how advance is their guns?

Either way she had been getting no where with the ideas of large-scale explosions but the Coat had been getting better with producing gunpowder from their local ingredients so she started to downgrade her ambitions and start thinking of using what she already had and what she knew and start to tell the smiths to make things simple, yet brutally effective with what they learned.

One came with the idea to a tie a tube of gunpowder and a fuse and would launch it. What would happen was something that was they didn't expect to happen. The arrow flew further than any bolt or normal arrow that any Ego archer or Skulk arbalest had made. It flew like a bird and landed like an arrow but exploded a few seconds later. This was something that the Archiver didn't expect to see happened, she expected the archer to be killed but such a thing good happen, the Skulk had started to understand what could make such a thing but they noticed that tying a weight down could make it fly further.

Another impressive weapon that was tested called the Inguga Gul. The Inguga Gul was a spear, normal or short, that had a bag or wooden tube of gunpowder and iron shrapnel that could be used on the frontlines by shooting it out of the attachment at the enemy. One thing that the Archiver feared that it could back fire and that the short spear is more preferable for both throwing and shooting because of the surprise it would be.

Others had said it wouldn't matter that the spear alone would give the warrior stability and the test had shown that both were true. Still, shorter spears could be modified to hold more gunpowder and shrapnel to be an effect weapon to break morale. However, the Archiver believed that they needed to do further improvements would be needed to reduce the chance of blowing up in the wielder's face. However fire arrows had been shown to be a great use on the field and could be a great boon for Skulk archers as crossbows had started to make its way to public circles to help the main army win battles against Turner.

Itasca,
Minnesota

The industry of the frontier town was boosted by a sudden surplus of manpower as Timurk oversaw the construction of the navy as the designs from the Naval Academy. Already one ship was near full construction as it was the first oarless galley in war service. It was larger than normal galleys and had became known as "full-war galleys" because of their war focused designs and defenses like light armor iron plates to defend against defensive weapons that they would have to fight and can hold more siege weapons than normal galleys in Ego's navy.

The Itasca fleet was being built with thousands of workers in the area thanks to the deal the Mafia and Ego struck with 6 major tribes from both Minnesota and Dakota to form the Cheyenne Confederacy. Some people were mad that a few of their towns were displaced but the massive support of the local tribes and helping conquering enemy tribes with Communities sending their forces to help bring their forces to help bring the enemy tribes in line and boost the power of the Confederacy.

Timurk was especially grateful that Sitting River started to take his horses to breed with them and make better versions for Ego. The newly found state had also brought in their workers to help bring in local timber and the large iron sources which greatly paid for what Ego used many times over and let them used that source to build their navy. They were still months away but the Mafia Representative would make sure that it gets done in a timely fashion.

[Labstoska]

John Collins
A great fog had encompassed Newholm, from the somewhat large palace that was in John's palace he could see out across the entire city, of course on days like this where a great blanket of fog shrouded the entire city this view was obscured but still he looked out upon the city anyhow for when the fog was particularly dense he was able to imagine that he was still in Sydney, the place that he had so cruelly pulled from all those many months ago. He could almost picture the small mudbrick houses beneath him as the apartment blocks of his hometown and the mountain range that he could see in the distance often appeared to him as the Sydney opera house, alas he must expel these thoughts from his head home was a long way away and he might as well make the best of his current situation but still it was the little things that he missed, one of his traditions had been to listen to Mr Blue Skys right at the crack of dawn before he went to work. He still tried to play it over in his head but slowly the lines were beginning to leak out of his head.

In order to distract himself from these melancholy thoughts he chose to do the one thing that always drained any kind of thoughts or emotions that he had; paperwork. Most of the forms upon his wooden desk were that concerning arrest warrants which he rarely ever looked at, if the Zealous wanted to have someone killed that person was then going to die all John might as well do is make it official. As the morning droned on John's mind began to wander and slowly the voice that had been torturing for the past few nights began to crawl back into his conscience, whispering to him that he was a failure, a murderer, a monster. John slowly began to whisper under his breath the words "Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet" slowly as the voice kept on whispering John got louder and louder until he was full on screaming the words "BE QUIET WILL YOU JUST BE GODAMM QUIET" but as John's voice rose the voice within his head rose with it until the entire office was filled with the maddening screams John's voice and the damming voice of his imagination. After bellowing one final time at the voice John collapsed to the ground with tears running down his face and him whispering under his breath the words "I know what I have done, now will you just be quiet".

Three quick knocks at John's office door quickly got him to stand up, brush the tears of his face and sit back down after he was composed enough to be presentable he called to the person at his door to come in. The man known as Arban walked briskly in, John had recalled his face easily for he was one of the few Free company officers that had not been killed in the great purge. Arban walked in front of John's desk, did a quick salute and then placed down a large script of papyrus in front of John.

"Here is a comprehensive list of all the casualties, wounded and prisoners taken during the expedition to outside the city borders, I do believe that this report shows that the Free company has been performing at a record breaking level of discipline and strength ever since the purges oh great khan"

John quickly looked over the report and then cast his red, weary eyes upon Arban and said in a horse voice "So the Free company is lying to me as well then, you could have at least tried mate, I mean come on only 24 casualties and 1,000 prisoners taken, i'm not an idiot you know. First thing I want is a proper report, second thing I want is some good and true news"

Arban who now looked thoroughly shaken replied "I am so sorry great khan I will make sure whoever gave me this report is killed at once. As for the good news well the ships that you designed in your incredible wisdom have been completed"

Now John was interested, he quickly signed one last piece of papyrus and then said "Well then we should be going down to the docks now shouldn't we".

The Newholm docks
The docks of Newholm were simply a pier of wood stretched out into the Yangtze river however it was not the pier itself that the labours had been working on for the past few days instead it was the three large ships that had been tethered to this dock. Each one of said ship resembled a viking longship and each of these longships carried building materials, food and most importantly people for these ships were to go further up the Yangtze and build new settlements for the Khanate. Right at the moment all these ships needed were the Free company regiments who were to protect these colonies from the heathens that lived further up the river. Once all people who were required to be on these ships were the small group of government officials who were around John began waving off to the departing longships

As John was waving to the departing longships, Arban who was standing next to John, was grabbed by two Zealous agents and was quickly dragged away. No one in the crowd bothered to notice for they knew that if they showed the slightest bit of sympathy towards Arban then they would mark themselves as a traitor and a blasphemer. So the assembled crowd simply waved as the screams and calls of Arban echoed throughout the crowd.

[Revlona]

Robert
Brittany
August 3rd, 13 AA

¨Shi cla visk ga no vo ri ta, tu gi yi te re du sha la, hu i fre du ru sha cli na.¨ Several black cloaked figures standing around a bonded man on his knees chanted in perfect unison. Suddenly a massive cloaked figure appeared wielding a huge warhammer and the chanting stopped, walking forwards to the bonded man, the massive figure pulled out a beautiful bone knife and tilting the man's chin, slit his throat. ¨Our Master thanks you¨ He said as the chanting resumed, holding up his unballed hand, the chanting stopped again.

¨Brother Cleon step forward¨ He said, one of the cloaked figures stepped forward, dropped to his knees and dropped his cloak so his face could be seen. ¨The Just one has sent me a vision of the Armor his champion must wear¨, The massive figure said while reaching into his sleeve, taking out a piece of parchment he said, ¨This is the what it shall look like, The Just one expresses his permission for you to make it in this fashion¨

¨Yes Champion, it shall be done¨ Brother Cleon said taking his place among the cloaked figures again. ¨Brothers, we have for the first time met in the open to worship The Justified One, we will show the world that justice shall reign and the Unjust shall fall. You may leave.¨ He said.

[Pasong Tirad]

Arsenio Lacson, or Arsenios Thalassos
The home of Elder Thespis
at the Akrópolis of Athínai,
Thirteen weeks since his arrival

The First Ekklêsia

They all met on that same night at the home of Elder Thespis for something akin to a "war council." Arsenio, to his objections, was required to attend by both Kleomaki and Elder Thespis himself. Arsenio just wanted to go home and look after Manila.

They met at Elder Thespis' relatively large "parlor room." Everyone was gathered around a circle, with both Kleomaki and Elder Thespis in the middle, who were already beginning to get all of the men to settle down as Arsenio entered. The fires that were lit all over the household properly warmed up the elder's home against the fierce winds of October howling outside. As soon as Arsenio got inside, he took his place in the circle, and Kleomaki began to speak. Arsenio couldn't help but notice the complete lack of women in the meeting.

"Alright, you all know why we're here in this assembly. The Dekélaíoi to the north, after several years, are once again coming to Athínai. You all know what they are capable of. You all know the horror we all faced several years ago. They drove us up to the Akrópolis for a week. We were unprepared. They burned down our homes, they stole our crops, slaughtered our animals, raped and murdered our mothers, wives, and daughters, and turned your sons into slaves or worse, their personal eromenoi. Do you want this to happen again?!"

As a chorus, the men shouted "No!"

"Alright, then let's talk about our defenses. Last time, we were unprepared and we almost went hungry. Our village has grown a lot since they last attacked, but I believe we can still fit all of our people on the Akrópolis-"

"We should attack them!" And again, as a chorus, the men agreed. Kleomaki seems taken aback. He seemed ready to talk about defending Athínai from an attack. "If we let them attack, even if we manage to push them back, they'll just keep coming back every year. We have to end this, and we have to end this now!"

"Yeah!"

"Let's keep them away from our homes!"

"They're right!"

"Dekéleia's not that far! Let's march over there and raid their homes!"

"Dekéleia is a fortified town," Kleomaki counter-argued. "For a population as small as theirs, they still have more than a hundred warriors. Definitely more than we do. And they have walls made of wood, strong and tall wood-"

"We'll burn it down and kill all their warriors!" Most of the men were in a frenzy now. Trying to calm the situation down, Elder Thespis asked Kleomaki: "How many warriors do we have?"

"I'd say around eighty men. If we're lucky, more men will be brave enough to answer the call." Arsenio knew he was one of those eighty men. It seemed like, as the appointed protégé of Elder Thespis himself, he was the only one in all of Athínai who didn't have a choice.

"Get the women to help fight, then," Arsenio said, in a very serious tone. All the men just laughed. Arsenio laughed along with them, but it took him a while before he understood that they thought he was joking. Arsenio wasn't joking. But, he wanted to avoid embarrassment, and so just didn't try to speak again after that.

"Is this what you all want? That we leave the safety of Athínai and the Akrópolis and attack the Dekélaíoi?" asked Elder Thespis, to which the crowd murmured in agreement. "We shall take a vote. Raise your hand if you believe we should attack Dekéleia, don't raise your hand if you think we should defend the Akrópolis." Almost everybody raised their hand. A handful of men didn't, neither did Arsenio or Kleomaki. "Then it is settled. We attack. Kleomaki?"

"Alright, fine. I guess we have to do this. If we're going to do this, we have to do this right. And to do this right, we're going to need all the help we can get. Get our fastest runners to some of our allies in the past. Peraiós to the southwest, and perhaps Elefsís to the west too. And maybe send a boat to Salamís as well, see if they're willing to leave their island. Peraiós has been terrorized by the Dekélaíoi in the past. Elefsís, I know, was attacked just two years ago. Salamís, well, I've heard stories say that they have a lot of warriors. We could use their help. All of them. Tell them what we've talked about. Ask them if they can spare any men. If they can, head straight for Athínai, because we're leaving in a week. It'll them no longer than ten days, so they should be back to their homes in no time. Elder Thespis?"

"We'll send our fastest runners in the morning. Now," Elder Thespis said, "who shall lead this attack?" There seemed to be no reason for Elder Thespis to ask this. Everybody knew who their general was. Elder Thespis, seeing the confusion, asked again. "Say it loud, say it so the brave Árēs, god of war, can hear you from the heavens and bless him with strength! Say it so the intelligent Athínai can bless him with her wisdom! Say his name!"

"Kleomaki! Kleomaki! Kleomaki!" they all said. Even Arsenio shouted and raised his fist in the air.

"Now, General," Elder Thespis said, after symbolically crowning the general of the Athínai - or, general of the Attikoi, "what do we need for your campaign?"

"Spears and shields, swords and axes. I know many of you already have your own weapons. If you do, then you are free to use them, of course. But for those who don't, I'll be asking our smiths to get to work. What little bronze we have, we shall use to turn into spear tips. When we're out of bronze, we'll use copper. We'll get our woodworkers to make shields, and our leatherworkers, armor. We won't have the best equipment since we only have a week to prepare, but I'm hoping it'll be enough that we have the bravest men in all of Attike."

"This is going to cost a lot, General," Elder Thespis said. "How do you propose we pay for all of this?"

"We can all pitch in, I'm sure." The men agreed, albeit some of them seemed unenthusiastic about it. "And I'm sure the Dekélaíoi can oblige us," Kleomaki said, to which the men laughed and jeered at the expense of the Dekélaíoi. "We'll figure out the specifics tomorrow. But now, if you have weapons, which I know many of you already do, you will use them. If you already have shields, you will use them. If you already have armor, you will use them. If you have no weapon, no armor, or no shield, we shall provide one for you. Elder Thespis, if you will, please help me compile a list starting tomorrow of how many fighting men will be joining us and how many weapons and shields we'll need made."

"Gladly, General."

"Alright, that's it, men of Athínai. Good evening to you all." Elder Thespis went straight for Arsenio after the assembly was concluded.

"Were you happy about this, Arsenios?" Elder Thespis asked, confusing Arsenio.

"What? Why?"

"Dimokratía. This is how it's done, right?"

"Oh. Well, yeah. It's not that simple, but generally, yeah, this is kind of how it's done. You never used to do this before?"

"I'm the village elder. They follow my word."

"What if they don't like what you say?"

"Then they don't follow."

Arsenio went home with those four words in his head. He thought about it as he fed Manila, who was still cuddled up next to her pups, who were both female. They were both sleeping. Good. They were already alert and walking around, and Arsenio wouldn't be able to handle that this late in the evening. Manila herself looked tired out.

Arsenio suddenly felt his darkness creeping in. He had to go to war next week, something he never thought he'd ever have to do. He never really thought he'd have to experience anything that's happened to him in the past thirteen weeks. But if he wanted to survive, he had to train. He had to learn how to fight. He wasn't going to learn much in a week, but he'll take all the help he could get. He decided that, tomorrow, he'll start with learning how to properly throw javelins, and he had this very vivid memory of an instrument a guy used in a video online to help him throw his javelins.

[The Orson Empire]

The Chamber, Tasunke, Blue Lagoon Province
Several Days after the Battle of the Capital

Far below the streets and sewers of Tasunke, unknown to all but a select group of politicians and high-ranking officers, was an elaborate complex of offices and hallways; they were built as an extension of the extensive tunnel network under the city, which could be used during wartime to move soldiers and civilians around while remaining unseen by the besieging forces.

As far as the public knew, Turner and Blue Lagoon's government operated out of the Tasunke City Hall, a much larger and elaborate building in the center of the city. However, this building was nothing but a front; an obscure entrance near the inner walls of Tasunke, guarded by the finest Elites in all of Ego, led down to this underground complex (simply known as "The Chamber" to those who were aware of its existence). Turner was a man of utmost secrecy, and he knew that operating out in the open would make him vulnerable to the watchful eyes of the central government. While the city hall was mainly used for meetings between foreign dignitaries, speeches, and anything ceremonial, the Chamber was where Turner really ruled. Turner's foresight meant that the Chamber had been among the first structures built in the city, with the rest of the city growing around it as it expanded. It was here where Turner had plotted against the central government for years, while building alliances all across Ego.

Also located in these halls was the headquarters of the Elite Guard and offices reserved for their leadership. Taking up several different rooms were vast libraries, containing large wooden shelves filled with hundreds of books; these books were mainly filled with information the Elites had gathered about the nation as a whole. Every major city, town, and village in Ego was described in the books (and updated regularly as the nation grew), and various high-ranking individuals were also described in detail. Major rivers, streams, hills, and other geographical features were described. Essentially, these books were used as much-needed reference materials by the government, the Elite Guard, and Turner, allowing them to plot their next moves with incredible accuracy.

Further down from these rooms, in the center of the complex was the "Convocation Room". The room was shaped like a rectangle and dimly lit, and save for a large wooden table and wooden chairs in the center, the room contained nothing but the wood and stone that it was made out of. Here, Turner met with the two individuals sitting on either side of him.

"So...how many casualties?" Turner began, speaking softly to General Hal and General Nijlon. Turner had heard all manner of estimates, but sought to get an accurate number from his generals. Turner almost didn't recognize them outside of their distinctive and colorful armor; all three of them wore the clothing of regular soldiers.

"350 dead, 153 wounded," Nijlon simply said. "The majority is unfortunately from the first army. It is a miracle we managed to get the western gate open, or they could have all been wiped out by those fucking archers. No disrespect to you though, Hal."

"None taken," Hal replied. Turner had noticed that Hal had been in a melancholy mood since he arrived back in Tasunke. Hal had not been taking the loss of so many of his soldiers well, as well as the entire attack itself. Hal felt that he had been complicit in treachery; Hal had known all the torment Jeb put Turner through, but if Jeb was truly alive...was it really justification for Turner to kill him and then destroy the capital? Hal was shaken by the entire ordeal.

"Do not fret Hal, as you have done a great service to the cause," Turner said while patting Hal on the back, in an attempt to cheer him up. "The capital has been gutted due to your efforts, and it is a strategic victory for our forces. The area won't be habitable for years, and we have begun the war on the high ground. Your soldiers will be honored for generations due to their efforts."

Hal did not reply immediately. There was still much to discuss, but no one said anything for a long while. All three of them simply reflected on the battle, as well as the war to come. "What is our next move?" Hal finally said.

Nijlon looked up at Turner. "Morning Star and her loyalist regime still need to be sought out and killed. I believe they managed to escape the capital, however."

"That they did," Hal replied. "Dumb fucks think we don't know about the tunnel network beneath the capital. It's fairly obvious- if we have enough foresight to build such a complex underneath Tasunke, then it is guaranteed to also exist beneath the nation's most important city."

"Most important? Not anymore," Turner replied. "Anyway, while the frontier and the south is in open revolt with us, areas near Lake Michigan are in staunch support of the central government. The north is mostly neutral, though areas affected by the Mafia's industrialization and areas in proximity to Twilight's Gate lean towards the central government. Here in Wisconsin however, there is one neutral province of great importance- Tu Thancha."

"Ahh, the Thanchans," Nijlon interrupted. "I served in that area during the campaign. From my impression...they are the most craven bastards I have ever seen. They are terrible fighters as well. They say you would have better luck attempting to ride a bison's back than teaching a Thanchan how to wield a spear."

Turner and Han both laughed at the joke. "Well...it's nice to know our army would make short work of them," Turner said while still chuckling.

"That we would, governor," an unknown voice suddenly said from the doorway. Everyone in the room jumped and then turned around. "Is knocking a foreign concept to you?" Turner yelled, annoyed at the intrusion.

"I apologize governor. Elites are not know for their manners," the man said while smiling. He the Director of the Elite Guard, the man who every Elite around Ego answered to first (save for Turner of course); his real name was unknown to anyone, save for Turner and a select few others, for his own protection.

"The Faceless Man graces us with his presence," Hal would say.

"That I do, general. But I come with a gift." He would raise his right hand up, revealing a weapon that made Turner and Hal freeze in astonishment. "You recognize it, governor? It is a weapon from the realm you and the Night Owl originate from, correct?" The director asked, but he already knew the answer to the question.

"Ahh yes, I gave my soldiers the order to recover as many of them and as much ammunition as possible," Nijlon said. Turner would say nothing, and instead leap up out of his seat. The Director would set the weapon down on the table.

"A crossbow..." Turner managed to say while analyzing the weapon.

"Yes, governor." The director would wake a seat on the opposite side of the table. "You are all looking at the future of warfare. This weapon inflicted significant casualties on our forces during that battle, and our engineers believe that we can mass produce our own. Yes, the first versions will be shitty compared to this immaculate construct on the table, but they will improve over time. This weapon is absolute genius...it has the range of a bow, but the user does not need to go through the arduous training of an archer. With some training, a simple commoner could kill several of the best Elites with this weapon."

Turner did not reply and simply continued observing the crossbow. Damn it Jeb...always one step ahead of me with this technology, Turner thought in anger.

[Ulls]

Coat of the Hearth
Somewhere in Canada

Jeb looked at the use of arrows being able to fly higher in the sky than the last ones, explosions with spears and arrows being launched by cast iron tubes filled with gunpowder propellant and iron shards that pierce even the best armor in mass armies. One thing he saw that was being put together was artillery implement with large arrows or spears that were in a total of 50 or 100 each. They came in medium or large pieces for their size but still enough for what Jeb had in mind.

" So these fire arrows-" Morning Star said.

" Rockets," the Archiver corrected.

" Rockets?" Morning Star looked with a puzzled look.

" Yeah, they're called rockets," Jeb said by pointing to the spears being launched at the heavily armored dummies," they were used as terror weapons in the beginning of their use, but during the centuries they have been used for anti-personal weapons and even can have a very..." The spears exploded and iron shards that were in the tube had put holes through the armor, blown up those that they were near when they went off, and even made many of the workers and engineers instinctively flinch at the alien sound.

" explosive reach." Jeb finished.

" Yeah, but can they work in Tu Thancha?" Mak Tan appeared with a cup of spiced ale in his hand as he saw the next testing of fire arrows from crossbows.

" They're starting to make their move on that province?" Jeb spoke.

" Yeah, reports show that their done trying to get through our line and started to try and take the damn province. If they take it then they have a hold on the Wisconsin Front and they've already been enough of a headache." Mak Tan took a sip.

" True, and the Thanchans are the most disciplined soldiers, they can't hold off hundreds of traitors and their walls aren't the strongest." Jeb said.

" Then naturally we march on the province, like or not we have no other choice but I may need some of those rockets or other gunpowder weapons you've been making in this place." Mak Tan pointed at another explosion.

" Well Skulk are already there and we have brought some "toys" for the defense. The provincial governor has been extracted for the war. He didn't like it that we're taking his province but its for the best." Jeb crossing his arms.

" So we're going to be seeing explosions now? Bet that'll give a chance to surrender when they see the terror of the mighty gunpowder!" Mak Tan said raising his cup.

" Unfortunately even though we had nearly wiped out their first army and wounded their second, they gutted our capital and made off with a crossbow." Jeb shake his head.

" It would take them months to even get rudimentary works, by the time that happens then it will probably be too late." The Archiver chimed in.

" That's true, speaking of which," he turns Mak Tan," how's Project Soft Hammer going?"

" Still got months before its ready but its well protect, they have more than enough manpower and those "toys" that your secret army made and hope we don't loose too many like we did when they got the jump on us." Mak Tan said.

" They had surprise on their side," Jeb touched his scar," and my blindness to the Beast of the East, but now the troops are ready and the workshops are churning out weapons. Their surprise is over and now its time to bring down the Demon."

" I hear to that, couldn't stand the Outworlder and you've should've listen to Swan-Heart." Mak Tan said.

" Yeah, this entire fight is my mistake in the damn beginning. Can't turn back time now and I tried saying sorry, just have to clean up the mess." Jeb sighed and walked out of the room.

" Wish he stop reminding himself about that shit. We know its your fault, a mistake, and everything under the Red Moon. We just need to fix this damn thing and actually bring peace to Ego." Mak Tan went to go get another drink.