New Civilizations ( IC, Open )

[Bortslovakia]

Patrick Kolman: Greystones, Wicklow Mountains; Ireland- 2999 BCE Month Twelve (End of Year One)
Luck of the Irish

We were still about five days out from Dublin, our packs full of copper bearing malachite (or more simply known as "That green stuff"), and spirits were high. It took me a few months of sorting through the rocks and tools that Senga, the head of the migrating cattlemen, had given us in return for food to notice the small green pebble among it all. The only major copper deposits I was aware of were all in Ulster, and this seemed to confirm the presence of copper in the north. However, Ulster was simply too far away. Thus I planned another expedition into Wicklow, this time along the coast, with the hope that I'd find something of value. We found more tin lumps while walking through Greystones, but from my experience, the tin this far east was simply harder to work. Probably something to do with the mineral composition. Besides, I had made a few tin runs recently already, and we had a stockpile. Ranging further south proved fruitful however, with us filling our makeshift sacks full of malachite to work with. Ciaran, the strongest of us, carried the ore heavy sacks while Maon pathed ahead. Meanwhile I busied myself with creating a map, charting out our trip from Dublin through the mountains. My paper was... still in need of work. Between the imperfections in the paper, the ease with which it teared, and the poor quality of my crushed blackberry "ink," I had found it easier to mark off locations using charcoal and drawing on slabs of bark or on slate tablets. At least I had a snack after writing to look forward to. Maybe I'd try mixing leaf fibers into the pulp next time. The map was functional though, mapping a solid path from the village to our current deposit. Now that we knew where it was, returning would only take a few days to maybe a week. Roads would be a nice luxury at some point. Up until now, the Liffey was a road in of itself for tin gathering.

"So. How does this bronze work?" Ciaran idly asked, panting from the exertion of carrying our hard earned gains
"Well, I couldn't explain in full detail seeing as I don't know much about the process myself, but bronze is an alloy- a combination- of tin and copper. It's significantly stronger than the tin we've been using. Think of our tin work as experimental production. Not that useful, but interesting. With this copper, we'll make it practical. Something that Barra won't be ashamed to make arrowheads out of. This malachite has copper in it. We shouldn't need as much tin as we do copper for bronze, but I don't exactly know the proper mixture. Maybe... twenty percent tin? Thirty? We'll see. We've got enough copper here to test quite a bit"
Rubbing my neck, I absently scanned the horizon for any sign of activity. Beyond Maon about fifteen minutes away climbing yet another hill, absolutely nothing. The ocean, likewise, had nothing of note. Currently I had no evidence pointed to others like me altering history, but it would be foolish to assume myself alone. Hopefully the others, if they did exist, were peace minded like myself.


Liffey River, Dublin; Ireland- 2999BCE Year One, Month One

The snow hailed the new year. By my counting, today was in fact January 1st, and what better way to ring in the new year than with the first snowfall blanketing the town as we approached with our malachite. Winter normally evoked terror for these people, with last year being a flunk in terms of temperate weather. This year though the supplies were high, the game plentiful, and the barley harvest adequate. The added milk supply also helped, and with any luck, by next year Senga's herd would be large enough to start trading in beef. Something was bothering me though. A few travelers, and exiles had passed through or joined our little community over the last six months. They didn't concern me specifically, but the implications of them knowing of our existence did. We were a prosperous village in a hostile land with no defenses. That wasn't a problem when no other tribes were around, but the influx of new people implied tribal resettlement. It would only be a matter of time before they settled along the Liffey and found us. The potential for bronze working was supposed to help negate the issue, but raids were still entirely possible. A sharp blade is no match for surprise.

The next few days were filled with confusion by the villagers, and paranoia from me. They had come to trust my judgement on village planning, but the concept of walls, even if said walls were merely wooden palisades, irritated some. Mostly because of how many logs we would need. Some cried that the town was too small to be worth walling in, while others called the construction of said walls a hostile action to other tribes in of itself. They knew the Security Dilemma theory intrinsically. Fascinating.
Regardless, the walls began to go up. I worked slightly with the copper, making an ingot cast and testing the bellows on the furnace to see how hot I could get it, but ultimately turned much of the experimenting over to Guaire while organizing the construction effort. These were desperate times, and we comparably had food to spare. It was only a matter of time before someone decided they wanted it. Throughout all of this, the snow continued to fall. Most of the larger communal structures had fire circles, allowing us to remain warmish. The extra furs helped.
After a tense two weeks, the basic wall was almost done. Raising the dirt around the logs with a chest high wooden palisade remaining, the wall was quite low from inside the city, but difficult to climb at best from without. The weak point in this case was the river, but to my knowledge, the primitive tribes of Ireland did not know how to swim en masse. Barely anyone in the village did at least. Only a small wooden fence ran along the river, mostly made up of the old fencing. Ideally Senga and the rest of the merchants would be overlooked. It would have to do. Perfect timing though.

Hammering in the last post, I looked outward toward the treeline, rubbing the cold sweat out of my face. In the distance, I could see a few of the hunters stalking just before the clearing. Surprising that they were hunting so close to town.
"Barra... who did you sent out to hunt today?"
Making his way along the wall to me, Barra looked out quizzically "No one was sent today. We had a good catch yesterday, and wanted to have more men to finish your wall"
Nodding to myself, I began to rapidly make my way back into the village proper
"Right. Get your hunters. Either someone is exploiting our grounds, or an attack by raiders could be coming. I'll send a runner to the merchants. They shouldn't be able to cross the river, but I'll let Guaire know to watch out. We'll start shifting any unnecessary resources over to this side. Don't attack unless they do, and stick to the walls"
Running off, Barra called back "Could be a worse time for a raid I suppose!"
"Murphy's law! Everything can, and will go wrong. I suppose the power of negative thinking helped us luck out!"
Shouting for a fast runner to warn the merchants and workers outside the walls, I made my way to the ferry, pulling myself across. I could see Guaire hastily packing his supplies at seeing me run over "I just finished, look!" He displayed the small ingot cast, a cool piece of copper sat inside.
Smiling, I placed my hand on his shoulder, moving towards the ferry. "Fantastic, but right now we may need you on the walls. It seems we've attracted unwanted attention"

[Hanafuridake]

Grace Kinoshita (1 year, 6 months)

For the past six months, the Nonno people of the tribe had been working overtime. Men hunted more than ever now, not just for meat and clothing, but for leather and hide which could be fashioned into material for armor. The women collected bamboo and tanned the leather, even the children weren't exempt from being handed onerous tasks to perform. I had started keeping a time table. From Monday to Friday, work was done on building fortifications and armor. From Saturday to Sunday, the men were organized into ranks where I instructed them about how to form formations. Would it be enough?

The chieftain watched from his hut with leeriness, he had become paranoid about me usurping more and more of his power over time. That hadn't been my intention when we had first met, but now, the villagers were speaking more and more loan words, some of them had even started to adopt new religious beliefs centered around the supernatural explanations I offered for how I could heal or protect them. The Dogū statues which had once been used to “transfer” diseases to the statue were now being treated little better than dolls. The day before, I had seen a child who, having shirked work, was playing with one of the statues like it was an irreligious toy. She had been scolded, not for blasphemy, but for being lazy.

“Father will just have to accept that things are the way they are now,” Retar promised, holding my hand while we watched some of the hunters erect a small barrier to the north of the village in case the Nihom intended to attack. It had been my invention, not a particularly unique one, it was probably one that the tribe's oligarch could've developed himself were he not so absorbed in petty politic. “The old time is over, you're ushering in a new age.”

“Is that all you came to see me about?” I asked, since she had pushed awfully hard for us to meet today.

Retar laughed nervously, aware that I had seen straight through her. “No, no it isn't.” her expression was unmistakably guilty, but I had no idea what she could be feeling bad about. “In fact, father is one of the reasons I came to talk to you... he wants me to get married.”

It would not be an exaggeration to say that when I bit my lip, it was harder and more intense than it'd ever been bitten before. Retar could tell by my silence that it was hard for me to take in. “Y- you see, father has no sons of his own, and neither does his sister. There are only daughters in our family, so when he dies, there will have to be an election for a new chieftain unless he can adopt an heir through marriage.” my eyes started to stare into empty space, perhaps I wanted this all to be a bad dream after all.

“I see... so are you going to get married?” the tone was unemotional and distant, though the feelings that raged inside were far from calm.

“Of course not!” Retar snapped indignantly, and part of me flinched. Maybe it was that display of emotion that kept her from becoming angrier at me. “I don't want to disobey my father, but I'm not going to marry someone, especially not after I've met you.” a look of guilt crept over my face. Retar noticed it and pulled me over to her. “I don't know what to do...” she admitted, much to my surprise. It was usually me who expressed emotional vulnerability. The last time that I'd seen her this straightforward was ten months ago.

“We have to tell him,” I replied, and Retar looked extremely worried about that prospect. “After I defeat the Nihom for your father, he will have no choice but to accept whatever demand I make of him. I will have defeated his enemies for him, I will have proved my martial prowess to the tribe, and no one will stand against me.” I looked her in the eyes. “Then, Retar, we will forge a country that will last for thousands of years.”

A plan had started to develop in my mind. Conquer the Nihom, incorporate them into the Nonno. It would expand the size of the minuscule tribe, it would add new members who could perform more societal roles that would expand production, and it would send a clear message to other tribes who heard the news. That the Nonno could defend themselves, and that being their allies were much better than being their enemies. In twenty years, we could prepare the way for agrarianism. It would be miles ahead of the Yayoi period.

“You really are something, ku-wen pon kahkemacihi.” Retar laughed nervously, thinking to herself for a few minutes. That silence seemed to be unnecessarily foreboding. “In fact, sometimes I wonder what use you have for someone like me.” she stared down at the ground, another trait of mine she seemed to have learned. “I'm not smart, I'm not courageous, all I can really do is hunt and keep the peace. Those are useful as part of a tribe, but as a person, I'm replaceable. I'm just a bow to be strung and discarded.”

“That's not true!” I practically shouted, holding onto her hands tightly. It was a wonder the rest of the village didn't hear us. “You are not replaceable, you're invaluable. No one in all of the worlds has as much value as you do. You changed my life and everything I achieve is owed to you.” she looked stunned by the admission. “There's not much that I care about, but you are the first of the things that I do.”

“If I'm a bow...” Retar sniffled. “Then I'm happy to have found someone like you to use me. Hold me however you like to accomplish your great idea. There's nothing which would make me happier than to be useful to you.”

[Civilization OP]

Thrace

This was not a mere matter of vengeance or petty disdain; this was a matter of survival. What people could survive a tide of foreign subversion, stealing away their children to take part in fruitless, and gainless activities. To create a youth which questioned all all the things which had secured their survival, and their future to come? No people could - of this, Rolph was certain. Across the foothills of Thrace, in whatever hall or hamlet he would be welcomed into - Rolph impressed upon any who would hear about the cult at Oak, and it's perverse foreign master. A man who preached destruction for the ways passed down from the gods and kin - a man who partook in the worship of a mad alien deity, whose festivals involved the most heinous debauchery and fetishism - a man who not only kept foreigners in his company, but brought them in by the dozens to his settlement - a man who insisted upon wasting hours each day to sit in silence and passivity. This was not a man, this was a demon. A specter of chaos, clothed in flesh, intent upon death and dismay. Rolph's stories were frightful to the lay Thracian. How could such a dissident have been allowed among their people? And as the weeks passed on, stories from Oak and traveled far to the West and to the South: the senseless stillness which Speer's followers take, the strange habits of Speer himself, the hedonism partaken in the festivals of Sazabius. These tales were true, and so it was known now to all good men of Thrace that there in North - in village called Oak - there lived a cult of subversion and madness. From Rolph they knew to take action. Among the men of Thrace, whose mind's had become plagued by the thought of such evil taking hold of their land, bands of mighty men had begun to form. Starting at no more than a dozen, to now nearly two hundred, their numbers grow, and their spirits burn bright - their hatred stoked by the calls to action by Rolph. They stand nearly at ready - poised to march north, and rid Thrace of Speer's poison.

---

Lotoba

As dawn broke over the horizon, the sun washed over the hills of Rome - showing the true extent of the carnage ravaged upon the village. Huts had continued to burn throughout the nigh, palisade walls had been torn to the ground, animals left either dead to rot in their pens or to frolic freely in the streets. There had been no bodies though. All those who had been slain in the raid had been collected a short while before dawn. Seventeen had died: most were adults, but some were not. Their bodies were brought to the base of the southern most hill and placed upon pyres. As the land had become awash in light, the pyres were finally lit aflame. All Romans who had survived were gathered there before the burning - nearly all having lost loved ones to the attack. Tears fell freely to the earth as the Romans watched their loved ones leave before them. This morning could only act as a minor reprieve though - for if they did not soon go about rebuilding their homes then they would surely perish. Where are you Ore-maker? Sillander thought to himself. Of all those who had been killed during the raid, the Romans had yet to find Ted's body yet. Perhaps he had escaped during the fighting, or been stolen by the Lobotan's - or perhaps they simply hadn't found his body yet. In any event, Sillander would need to be the one to find him. He knew that, as he watched pyre with his father burn, the Ore-maker was his responsibility now.

---

Along the banks of the Ganges river

Deep under the shadows of the forest canopy, and hidden among the brush, the boy sniffed the air, his eyes moving in all directions. Determining his age would be a difficult task simply by observation. The boy's face had clearly seen hardship - his eyes were seat deep into his face, his cheeks hallow and sullen, while the scars of an illness long past still marked him. His body though seemed frail like a child: His skin had turned pale from malnutrition, his ribs shown plane along his torso, and his long soft hair had been streaked with red and bronze. He was a sorrowful sight, with fear and hesitance showing each time his eyes darted across the treeline, or when ever he froze at the sound of a birds call. Yet, this sorrowful boy was a leader. As he pushed past the vines and branches which hung in his way, he turned back a beckoning hand - were in followed children, all sharing the same marks of depravity. There were seven other children in total - not a one of them yet having reached their teenage years. They were filthy, having traveled for days on end - for those who chose to continue wearing their poultry garments, mud and refuse of the forest hung closely. Their journey had been hard, their only guide being the great mother river - but they could not return; they could only go forward. No one but the boy had seen her, but all had heard stories. The Mistress of Gagne, Olivia! The woman of the river! All the slaves of Zara had heard of her or had seen her. Her kindness towards Shihna had not gone unnoticed. Olivia's tale spread among the slaves, her mystique and greatness increasing with each new telling. Eventually, the stories had come down to even the children - by which point Olivia had become no less than a servant of the god of fire. A giant of white, born from the river, sent to free the wretched of the Earth. With her, the children knew that they would safety. No more toil, nor suffering - with this savior they would finally know a place of compassion. In the cover of night, as the envoy of Gagne had begun to make their return, the children would follow suit.

That had been days ago, and the seven children had traveled since with no rest. They traveled well though - keeping their spirits high by telling one another of the joys to come when they arrived. The children then froze suddenly, a response to their scarred leaders raised hand. He lowered his hand, and held still for a moment more, before turning back to face the children, his copper ear ring shining in the sun. " We're here! "

---

Stranix

True to his word, he would seek vengeance. The first of winter's of snow had fallen the night before, and hallowed silence fell over the forest. In these woods, the primordial grudge between Ablan and Tyerin would unfold with each hunt. Stealing each others game, ambushing returning parties, harassing lone hunters. It was an eternal conflict born from a strife long ago forgotten - one which Klef had been driven into with the death of his uncle. At every chance he could, Klef joined the hunters - eagerly hoping to run across Tyerin men, but always being disappointed. On this night though, as the hunters made their way back to their warm huts - empty handed but glad to be home - Klef was not found among them. All the clan was sent into frenzied alarm - where was their clan's heir? When had they seen him last?

As they talked among themselves, debating the where about of the waygone Klef, from the deep dark bowls of the forest, they heard a loud cry; and then silence fell once more.

---

Sjælland

The start of winter marked reprieve for life - but twas not so for Raginaharjas's wife. She'd been brought in as a guest to these peoples rugged home - And soon enough, she was made as one of their own. As the years past and her word became more respected - something would happen to the Canadian quite unexpected. The Author got hitched and was happy as could be - until this day she found that her family would soon make three.

---

Nonno

The boy brought his thumb and pointer fingers together in towards his eyes, trying in vain to rub away his burning desire for sleep. His back was laid snugly up against the trunk of a cherry tree it's blossoms closed for the winter months. He adjusted the spear in his arms to act as a kind of kick stand for which to prop himself up on. The boy had started his shift before the sun had fallen, and was now well into the night. His day had consisted of nothing but hours of chopping away at the bamboo groves which populated outside Nonno - an exhausting task which left him sore all over. That guard duty had fallen to him on this day was simply a matter of poor luck. His duty was to that of ensuring no Nihom infiltrators snuck their way through this particular deer pass. He had been out in the tepid cold of the night for hours - his body exhausted and his eyes burning for relief - nevertheless, he would not sleep. Perhaps he was young, but still he knew the importance of his task. Though, to close his eyes for a moment surely wouldn't hurt? Instant relief came as he lowered his eyelids. He played for himself pictures of war and battle in his mind - the Nihom being driven before Bamboo clad Nonno - himself leading as a fearless and terrible commander! Only a few seconds later did the boy's back begin to slump, and to droop. Blissfully, in the cold night, he had fallen to sleep with dreams of war. Little did the boy know, as fantastical images of battle and glory played on in his head - that his own war was only seconds away from being over. Too late, the boy was awoken when he felt the sudden sting of sharp stone piecing into his throat. Air left him, and soon so too did his sight. The last thing the boy heard, aside from the sickening sound of his own body roll down the trunk of the tree, was the sound of food steps walking past, coming up from the deer pass...

[UniversalCommons]

Thrace-- Year 2 Month 11

This was not a mere matter of vengeance or petty disdain; this was a matter of survival. What people could survive a tide of foreign subversion, stealing away their children to take part in fruitless, and gainless activities. To create a youth which questioned all all the things which had secured their survival, and their future to come? No people could - of this, Rolph was certain. Across the foothills of Thrace, in whatever hall or hamlet he would be welcomed into - Rolph impressed upon any who would hear about the cult at Oak, and it's perverse foreign master. A man who preached destruction for the ways passed down from the gods and kin - a man who partook in the worship of a mad alien deity, whose festivals involved the most heinous debauchery and fetishism - a man who not only kept foreigners in his company, but brought them in by the dozens to his settlement - a man who insisted upon wasting hours each day to sit in silence and passivity. This was not a man, this was a demon. A specter of chaos, clothed in flesh, intent upon death and dismay. Rolph's stories were frightful to the lay Thracian. How could such a dissident have been allowed among their people? And as the weeks passed on, stories from Oak and traveled far to the West and to the South: the senseless stillness which Speer's followers take, the strange habits of Speer himself, the hedonism partaken in the festivals of Sazabius. These tales were true, and so it was known now to all good men of Thrace that there in North - in village called Oak - there lived a cult of subversion and madness. From Rolph they knew to take action. Among the men of Thrace, whose mind's had become plagued by the thought of such evil taking hold of their land, bands of mighty men had begun to form. Starting at no more than a dozen, to now nearly two hundred, their numbers grow, and their spirits burn bright - their hatred stoked by the calls to action by Rolph. They stand nearly at ready - poised to march north, and rid Thrace of Speer's poison.

At first they came in small numbers, curious about the strange man named Victor Spear. There were one or two. They told a story of a man named Rolph traveling to their village to talk of the poison of Victor Spear. Victor was not a man, but a demon. Some were outcasts, others were strange, or were touched by the gods unwanted in any village. Others were simply curious, who was this man. Diaghis had to turn some from the village as they were mad or touched or a nuisance. In several weeks time over thirty people had come to the village. Of these half were capable of being warriors. With the ten warriors from Alec, this made 25 warriors. With village members and the new arrivals there were fifty men ready to defend the village of Oak. This was a drain on the resources of the village. Not all came with food. Whoever stayed had to work in the fields or gardens.

It began to trouble Victor. The last time Rolph had spoken they had been attacked by slavers, before it was bandits, now he was spreading poison again. The fear turned quickly into action.

Victor Spear explained how a much smaller force could hold off a larger force with fortification. He drew a map of the fortress in the sand with a stick. He described how the outer wall and inner wall would protect them.

There were ten Sumerian longbows large and sturdy. They also had ten hunting bows. What little copper and bronze they had they turned into arrowheads and spearheads. In a moment of inspiration, Victor suggested that they make armor. Light armor would stop arrows from penetrating deeply or turn away a blade on occasion.

There was no metal for armor except for several copper helms. They tried boiling rawhide and gluing it together with fish glue. It was ragged and crude. It might stop an arrow from penetrating deeply, or turn away a blade if they were lucky.

Then one day a man named Daizos came. He was parched, sore, and tired. He had tried to run from the old village to Oak. He would run, then stop, then run again.

To get his men fired up, Victor spoke. He compared Daizos to a great man. "This man Daizos is a great man. He has prevented us all from dying. He has run ahead to tell us Rolph has taken the village to the south.. Proclaim this man a victor for all to know. In his swiftness there is greatness. As the Persians were defeated at Marathon so this man has helped us." Victor was spinning another tale from ancient Greece far in the future.

They sent a runner to Alec the Badger, his response was, "Prove you are men, you have brought this upon yourselves." Secretly two of Alec's men came to join Victor Spear. They claimed to be travellers who had heard of Oak. Alec the Badger was interested. Alec would make sure to come down and watch the settlement from a hilltop behind some trees.
Some of the local farmers had heard there was a gathering of men who were going to destroy Oak. A few of them sought shelter in Oak bringing spears and wicker shields.

He spoke to Diaghis, "Pick sixteen men and have them spy on Rolph"

Diaghis went among his men, Diaghis picked a man named Sitalkis who was obsessed with making himself stronger and would spend several hours a day practicing with the spear and shield. He could roll boulders, throw logs, and carry heavy bags of limestone on his back. Sitalkis picked the group of men who he exercised with. They were all very strong and new each other well.

On their trip, Sitalkes saw a group of a dozen warriors on the road. His men went into the woods to watch the road. One of the men was bragging about how he would put Victor's head on a spear. He sounded drunk. Sitalkes told his men to fire at these men. A volley of eight bows followed by eight throwing spears took six of the men down. Sitalkes men ran back into the woods. They were not there to fight, but to skirmish.

Sitalkes and his men went further south. They came to the old village. It was filled with Rolph's men. Sitalkes decided to go into the village with a few men. Rolph was exhorting the mighty men to attack Oak. Rolph gesticulated wildly and spoke in a deep voice with conviction about how Victor Spear was destroying their morals and way of life. There were many men there. He thought it might be 18 pairs of hands. After watching men with glittering eyes praise Rolph as a great leader, Sitalkes felt sick to his stomach.
Sitalkes had seen enough in the old village. He would head back to Oak with the terrible news.

On the road, there were more men going to join Rolph. Sitalkes men waited until they found a small group of men going to join Rolph. There were five of them. The men were boasting of how they were mighty men. Victor Spear's men overwhelmed them attacking them in an ambush killing all five of them. They dragged the bodies into the woods and dropped them into a ravine taking their weapons and armor. Sitalkes and the men noted that they were armed with wicker shields, spears and javelins. Sitalkes did not rest that day. They pushed to reach Oak. The quicker they got back, the better the chance for the village to survive.

Sitalkes was six hours ahead of Rolph's men.

Sitalkis and Diaghis closed the gates and added a pile of rocks to block the wooden gate.

Diaghis had several men posted next to the walls with bows and javelins. They would use the cover of the wall to throw javelins and shoot bows. The wall was not thick enough for a man to stand on or patrol on top of.

There was a second wall which had been built. Wooden stakes protruded from the base of the clay and stone wall. There was a single opening.

Rolph called out. "Come out to fight us coward. We will meet you in the field outside of the village. If you do not come out you will starve."

Victor Spear, "We will come out when you are gone. There are more of you than there are of us."

Rolph, "You always were a coward."

That night, Rolph cuts down some trees and makes ladders. Rolph had been a mercenary and fought with a variety of different campaigns. Men with wicker shields try to cover the attackers while they try and climb over the walls. Victor Spear's men at the walls fire bows and throw javelins at the attackers. The attackers are repulsed leaving four fallen men and three tipped over ladders. Eight of Rolph's men quietly slip away, not expecting to be part of a siege.

The next day Rolph exhorts his men to attack the village. This time, Rolph has cut down seven trees and made 12 ladders. His army masses and scales the walls. They are met with bow fire and javelins from behind the wall. Twenty more of more of Rolph's men fall. The massed army returns fire with flung javelins. Four of Diaghis men are killed The stone walls provide solid cover.

Some of Diaghis's men retreat to the second wall. Rolph's men stream over the wall expecting to meet little resistance. They are surprised to see a second low wall manned with archers and spearmen. Diaghis's men concentrate their fire on the men climbing over the first wall. In the moment of confusion, fifteen of Rolph's men fall at the wall.

Rolph blows a horn and the men charge the second wall at the center of the settlement hoping to overwhelm the defenders. The defenders use the cover of the wall to throw javelins and shoot bows. There are many more men on Rolph's side, but Victor's men have cover. It is easy for Victor's men to hit targets as the men are massed together and charging. Rolph's men enter the opening in the second wall and are encircled with men with spears and shields. It is one to one combat with spears, shields, and copper daggers and Diaghis men are stronger, better trained, and have practiced working together with the spear as a group. Some of Rolph's men are in their first battle only backed with their zeal. The Bodies pile up at the entrance to the wall. Most of them are Rolph's men.

After a while, there are no more men advancing into the opening in the wall. Many of Rolphe's men fear death. They are standing in a mass waiting. Diaghis's men are also waiting. One of the leaders of Satrae tribe steps forward. He is wearing a rawhide jacket with bone inserts, a copper helm, and shield. He calls out, who is man enough to fight me. I am Zutoula. Decide this with a champion.

Victor Spear points at Sitalkis and Diaghis nods. Sitalkis steps forward glaring in the eyes of Zutoula. Zutoula blinks and Sitalkis charges slamming his shield into Zutoula knocking him to the ground. Zutoula thrusts at Sitalkis and Sitalkis blocks the thrust. Sitalkis then drives his spear into Zutoula's belly. Sitalkis looks at the eyes of Rolph's men. Sitalkis, " Who else will challenge me? Your leader is dead." Sitalkis is bull necked and thick with muscle. He is staring wildly at them. A man begins to step forward and Sitalkis lunges driving his spear into the mans groin.

Seeing one of their leaders fallen, more of Rolph's men desert. They back away going back over the wall.

Alec the Badger has been watching the battle unfold with his brother and 300 men. They are waiting to see who wins. However fleeing men are an opportunity to catch as slaves. Alec sends his men out to seize Rolph's deserters.

Senefer points to Alec's men in the distance and yells, "Allies are coming to help us. They will capture you. Leave before you are overwhelmed. We have allies come to help us. They have helped us before against bandits and slavers."

Sitalkis chimes in, "Leave while you can. Captured men become slaves. "

One of Alec's men who is at the Oak village says, "That is the local king, Alec. They will destroy you and enslave you. You will not be shown mercy."

A dozen more of Rolphe's men flee. Many of the others are frozen with indecision and terror.

The people in Oak can see Alec out in the field rounding up some of the fleeing men.

Inside the walls, the fighting has stopped. There is a stalemate. Alec's men surround the village. Alec is not sure who has won. He yells out "Surrender and lay down your arms or you will all die."

His men begin climbing over the wall using the siege ladders which have been left in place. He follows after them. He calls out. "Surrender now." Rolph's men are between Alec and Diaghis's men. They lay down their arms. They are outnumbered and worn out.

Alec goes with his brother to Victor Spear and asks, "What has happened here?"

Victor Spear says, "They think you have come to save us with your larger force."

Alec laughs some more. Victory is his. "You always presume too much. Where is Rholes."

Victor, "I do not know, but his army is defeated for now."

Alec, "I should thank you. However, trouble seems to follow you. What I think you need is a good wife, someone to temper your indiscretions. You know, I have six wives. It would do you well."

Victor says, "Why do you not take us as slaves."

Alec, "Slaves are forbidden from fighting. There is conflict brewing in the north and I need fighting men. The Thracian tribes are always fighting each other. You will help me when the time comes. Thrice you have proven yourself in battle. Your men would be wasted as slaves. When the time comes for war as it may happen, your men will help me win glory. You will need men, I need more arms to equip my other brother."

That day, 23 of Victors men had fallen and 10 had been wounded, while a full hundred of Rolph's men had died and another 20 were wounded. It would have been a fight to the end if Alec the Badger had not shown.

Alec the badger took most of the weapons from the fallen and presented Sitalkis with a bronze breastplate found on one of the chiefs as well as gave Diaghis a bronze sword. In return, Victor Spear presented Alec with a Sumerian bow from a slaver, and a suit of rawhide armor. Rolph also took most of the gold. In an act of largesse, he left 50 spears, 100 javelins, 50 daggers, 50 shields, and 50 helmets telling Victor Spear that they fought bravely. Most of the food, wine, textiles and pottery are left with Victor Spear. Rolph's men would work the fields and be servants for Alec or be sold as slaves. Twenty of Alec's men and their servants stayed at Oak that day.

Alec took a tour of the town marveling at the gardens, the gymnasium, the archery target, the walls, and the well turned fields.

That night, Diaghis and a dozen men took the dogs out to find any surviving "mighty men". They found four hiding next to the river who fought to their death.

In the morning Diaghis gleaned the area in front of Oak bringing back several spears, 25 arrows, a few helms, some bits of silver, and some javelins. They continued the search in the morning making sure there were no more people. There was one straggler they found in the woods who begged for mercy. He was traded to the mines for gold.

That night, they held a foot race of 1000 yards in honor of Daizos. The winner was Sitalkis which surprised the village. Everyone new him as strong, but few thought of him as swift. Sitalkis got to wear an ivy crown and received a gold ring as winnings. The second runner to win was a Greek named Hector who had traveled upon hearing about the village. Hector recevied a silver ring.


Victor Spear told the story of Marathon against substituting Daizos as the runner. He said that they needed men swift of foot who could run for days to seek help or send messages. Some of the men from the gymnasium began to practice running on the sand next to the river. Victor would sometimes watch them. He was not a fast runner, but would try anyways becoming winded easily.

Darian, the priest, wrote a short account of the Battle of Oak describing the strategy they had used. He turned it into a legend when he read it at the council of advisors meeting.

Victor Spear had finished half of his book, The Book of Wisdom and Memory by Victor Spear of Oak Village, Village of Trees and Gardens. He decided that he had to provide an answer to Rholes hatred. During the next two days, he hurriedly cleans up the wording adding a final chapter on the Battle of Oak by Darian Priest of Sazabius.


The book opened with the serenity prayer to the gods. It exhorted men to do what was wise and not forget where they came from. It was a set of allegorical tales told by Victor Spear, a sage who led the council of the wise, and keeper of the records of Oak Village. The book opens with the story of the "Fox and the Grapes" admonishing people not to hate what you cannot have, then it goes to the "Ant and the Grasshopper," reminding people to work to have for the future, then the "Mouse and the Lion" telling people to not turn their noses up against helping people lower than yourself. From here it goes into several historical legends, the Legend of Milo and the Bull explaining strength training, the legend Marathon and the runner Daizos who saved Oak Village reminding people to stay physically fit, the story of Simonides and the banquet and how to remember, then it tells of how Victor Spear learned from an old sage how to meditate, explaining counting the breath, tension and relaxation, and walking meditation. He admonishes people to pay attention to the world to be clear headed, listen carefully, and remember. It is not a long book, but it is Victor's first in the new world. The final chapter is from the sage, Darian who tells of the Battle of Oak and the defeat of Rolphe. This ends with a reminder to fight for what you believe in. The priests of Sazabios quietly distribute the book and Victor reads it at the council of the wise meetings.

Diaghis, Senefer and a group of hand picked men headed south to the old village. Senefer had built two new oxcarts big enough for two oxen each. The old village was completely destroyed. The earth was blackened in most places. There were no useful items except for the brick, some wood, and stones of the building. They filled the oxcarts with stone, brick, and clay from the buildings. It took several trips to gather everything. These would be used in Oak to help build the walls up and have a store of building material.

In a symbolic gesture, Victor Spear headed south with some of the salt he had boiled in the clay pots. He said," Here lies the town of Rolphe, may it be cursed by the gods until the end of days. May it not bear fruit, nor may it grow again." Victor Spear took salt and spread it on some of the fields, turning it into the ground with an old wooden hoe. The trip back to Oak made him ponder about the darkness that was in his heart. Rolph's hatred had almost destroyed everything he had tried to build.

Victor Spear looked at the ladder. He had four of them now. He thought, "Truly there is nothing new under the sun. There are things that were made in the past that the future had forgotten. Masonry so fine that it did not need mortar and Roman cement."

Rolphe had fled. News of his defeat had followed him. He was not welcome in many of the places he had tried to raise, "mighty men". A few still held out for him, providing him shelter. The "mighty men" were in a minority in the end.

[Grand Indochina]

Tales of Nagatoro Le and The Foundation

Chapter I : The Stranger - Part I.

First day of arrival

On the side of the Perfume River's mouth, there lies a small village and days by days, the villagers work hard to sustain their community. In an ordinary day, the men will dispatch in groups to the jungles nearby and gather woods or hunt some games, while the women will stay behind the walls of the village and farming, crafting, taking care of children, but there are something strange today, something feels off... the men have to abandon their works and returned to the village in a hasty fashion, they carried with them an unconscious girl, who lied on the jungle floor moments ago... thank to the grace of God, the tribesmen found her before any predators, or more worse, the Bronze Men.

The presence of the girl has started a discussion involve all peoples in the village, but suddenly in the heat of the conversation, Mother Lien interrupted, "Quiet children !" she shouted. After finished examining the stranger’s body, she noticed many differences when comparing to the rest of village, her facial structure, her skin color, almost every parts of that body are all dissimilar, but in a beautiful way. Too many questions to ask, too many mysteries to solve but the girl hasn't regain her awareness yet and the sun was slowly descending, thus Mother forced to postpone her investigation by tomorrow and ordered the peoples returned to their stilt huts. For tonight, the Mother will share her home with the girl.

Through the window of her chamber, Mother noticed how the moon was unusually bright for just the night of this summer day, its so wonderful that she couldn't stop her eyes from gazing and memories of distant past began to flow back to her mind... she remembered there was a time, when this village was more populated and didn’t living in fear, when the Bronze Men didn’t exist and her family didn’t get murdered by those brutes...awful memories...

Somehow Mother became hungry by all of that, her stomach began to roar in quiet. Time to grab some snacks, she thought and proceeded to the kitchen quarter and on her way, she didn’t forget to check the sleeps of other members in her hut. Advisor Xini covered herself in the blanket like a cocoon, butler Mau was as strange as ever with his somnambulism and the guard Tach filled his room with snores, but when Mother opened the door of the room where the girl was placed...

...she saw the girl was gazing at the moon, the same way she did moments ago. She decided to start an conversation and begin with “You finally awake ! How do you feel ?”, the girl’s head turned slowly and revealed her face, lacking any feelings on it, while her eyes wide opened like thoses of the owl. She barraged Mother with questions after questions “Where am I ?”, “Who are you ?”, “Why am I here ?”, and Mother tried to stay clam from the horror she was seeing and answered as best as she could. “Why do you want to hurt me ?”, detected something was wrong in this question, Mother began to wonder what happened to this girl, but before she could give a proper answer to her question, the girl fall down and screamed.

Tach was the first person to response, when he arrived, Tach saw Mother was trying her best to wrestle the screaming girl. “Tach, lend me your strengths NOW !”, she shouted and Tach quickly used all his muscles to pinned the girl, a quiet easy task, considered he was the strongest in this village. Quickly, the Mother hit the girl’s baroreceptor and returned her to the state of unconsciousness again. Xini and Mau was there the whole time, but they only watched because they didn’t know how to react in such situation. On the front door of the hut, the villagers gathered with their torches, “We heard a scream, are you safe Mother ?”.

She gestured Mau to meet the villagers, and he quickly opened the wooden door, “Thank you for caring ! Don’t worry too much, everything is in control now, please return to your home ! Mother will answer all your questions by the morning.” As the door closed, the villagers returned to their places. Mother, Tach, Mau and Xini, the four witnesses of this abnormal event, in confusion, began to raise some questions about this stranger’s origin and started a discussion that lasted until the roosters crowed at the sunrise, signaled a new day has begun.

[Ralnis]

Prologue: Life is a Highway

You know, driving around isn't entirely bad. The journey is never the problem, it's the destination. I don't know why, I just never wanted to stay in one place. Despite that, I had to stay in my flat in Chicago, only place that I could afford with city taxes not getting any better. Still, with the world going to hell in a hand basket, people still want to find adventure.

I never got to itch that scratch. In many ways, I never really need to. Hell, finding a way to become successful enough to not worry about money anymore was my mission. That and just explore and see what the world had to offer. It maybe getting smaller but people were building upwards and new weird things were happening.

Though if I wanted to see weird things I could just travel to Florida.

However I'm not going to Florida, I'm heading to Texas. I had family in Texas and they were doing an annual reunion. I had to skip several of them since I had university and then my job but I decided to bite this time. I knew it was going to be a long journey and I'm glad I had sick days to spare. I also had some spare cash to spare on gifts on people I didn't know. It was just to appease the old people and make sure that I'm on some good grounds with my family.

I don't have to know them, or even like them, to have a little fun.

Finally, after about four or five hours of packing, I was ready to go. Didn't make it out of state that much till the sun went down and I had to hit to a rest stop before I had to take a nap.

Chapter 1: That New Isekai Smell

The first thing I was awaken to was the feeling of a dry, cold air and the smell of shit. Like really, the smell of shit hit me like I was at a farm, or the last time I was at a rave. It didn't take me long to wake up fully to the sight of that wasn't the inside of my car.

The first thing I saw was that I was inside the inside of some tent.

"Wh...where am I?" I asked myself outloud as I slowly rolled on a... bedroll?

This, with the immediate pain that shot through my body, sprang only question after question. Though it seemed that the pain awoke my senses that I fully embraced my surroundings that I saw I was in some kind of tent with a small, brass lamp with lit wick and some liquid being the only source of light.

I started to try to figure out just what happen to me and where am I. First thing I figured was that I was naked, stark naked. Already this doesn't bode well as I didn't know where I was and it was cold. I moved the bed close to the lamp as I tried to find some warmth. I was honestly afraid of going out of the tent as anything could happen to me. To tell you the truth, my mind was racing with every worst-case scenario that I know about.

I couldn't move, I didn't want to move. That didn't stop from me to go as pale as my dark skin could go as a shadow was showing up on the tarp. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't say anything as the tent's only entrance was parting with a hand coming in. My life was flashing before my eyes as my sense of time slowed down to a crawl. What I didn't expect was to see a woman messing with the opening and nearly spilling a vase with something that look like water.

I was still afraid and didn't move from my spot as she came closer. She looked like she was clumsy in how she brought the vase and some rag down next to me. She seemed young, having a shawl around her and a long skirt where it went all the way to her ankles.

"It's alright," she said as she was stretching her hand towards me,"I won't hurt you. I'm just here to wash you."

I looked at the water and looked at her for a second. She noticed I still didn't moved and grabbed the vase. She held it up to me and tilt it for me to see. It looked clear underneath the dim illumination of the lamp. I still gave her a look for a bit but she didn't move towards me. I can tell from her face that she doesn't want to hurt me so I gave her a slight nod.

She started to dip the rag in the water and started to wash me with it. She did it slow and moved in circular movements. It felt cold and irritating but she was trying her best I think.

"Where am I? Who are you?" I asked with slowed hesitation in my voice.

"Oh!" She stopped and looked at me from washing my arm,"You speak Sumerian?"

"Wha?" I didn't know what she was talking about as my mind was all over the place.

She started to try and ask me questions. Do some sort of small talk to keep me calm but I didn't know how to answer. If anything, everything seemed like a blur but she left, saying something about getting me clothes to meet her master. Master? Was she some kind of slave or servant? Just where the hell was I?

A Few Hours Later

The same girl comes back with some clothes and makes mention to try and cover up my acme and scarring. It was strange hearing some degree of disgust for once in my life. Mostly since I only had people look at me for my actions. Maybe I'm fooling myself, but I do have low self-esteem.

Going back to the clothing.

I was only given a skirt. It was a bit small for me but that's how things are with me being slightly fat. I was a bit self-conscious about my weight but could never find the time to go to the gym. Not that it mattered now as I'm following this girl to meet her master. I still had many questions as all I saw was tents and people looking middle eastern. The men were wearing skirts and either carrying things or holding spears and square shields while the women just seemed to maintain the various tents. Some of them even had kids helping out maintaining the tents.

I finally figured out that I was an encampment, what I didn't know was that I was in some sort of a desert. How the hell did I get to the desert!? Not even where my family reunion is in the desert. This just spur even more questions on the already questions that I had. As the girl stopped in front of a large tent, larger than the ones I had saw.

"Please wait a minute." She went inside for a few minutes and came back with a bow and a gesture to go inside.

I went inside to find a much different tent than the one I woke in. It had carpets and gold decorations. It even had tables and clay tablets. There was a few women who wore beads of iron and some bangles fawning over a decently built man who was in a multicolored robe with a long, brown beard. He was flanked by two men who were some sort of scale armor and helmets. Spear and shield was what they wielded so I'm guessing that it was a standard.

"Ahh, our person left for dead has awaken! Come! Don't be shy!"

I slowly came to him as he sat on a pillow and with a face full of true bliss. I wouldn't blame him if I had girls at my beck and call, bodyguards on both sides, and what seems like gold things. I still don't know what was going on but it seemed like I was inside some backwards part of the world. Those were just my initial thoughts as I needed something to grasp on as I came up with no answers.

"Where am I?" I asked him.

"Well you are in my camp, a couple of days away from the city of Ur."

I tilted my head,"Ur? That city hasn't exist in thousands of years."

The man laughed," thousands of years? By the gods no, it is here and quite beautiful."

"Stop fucking with me! Where the hell am I!?"

My angry outburst got everyone alerted and the guards rush to pin me down, pointing there spears at me. The man told them to let me go and responded with an authoritative gesture. I was let up after a second but the guards were now looking at me for any obvious signs of hostility.

"I'm sorry about that," the man try to explain,"my men are only there to protect me. However I don't know what you mean. I have been nothing but truthful to you so far. My workers had found you naked in the desert no more but a day ago on our way to Ur from Kish. I was hoping that you can tell me what happened to you."

"I was asleep in my car because I was driving from my home in Chicago to a family reunion but then I woke up in this place. I don't know what is going on but I..." I trailed off, not knowing what to say anymore.

I looked down and slowly up, seeing the man comb his beard his hand as he was thinking things through. I didn't know what to say and didn't know what to make of anything other than I just got tackled to the ground and a woman saw me naked and washed me. This had to be a dream or some kind of weird inception bullshit that I needed to-

"What is your name?"

I snapped out of my thought by looking at him.

"Your name, what is it?"

"My name? It's Luther." I said with a rapid response.

"Well Luther, I do not know what this Chicago place is but I'm sure that we can find someone in Ur that may know about you. Besides, you speak Sumerian very well. It's almost like you're a native to these lands if it weren't for that accent you have. I'm sure we can even talk to the priest or have a healer look into your boils and scaring, making sure nothing brings the plague. All that I ask of you is to work for me and making my caravan look good."

It was the best deal I could take, hopefully I could awaken from this dream or whatever the fuck this was. I didn't like being here and I just want to go back to my car and drive away, far away from this nightmare.

Chapter 2: From Biblical Times, Ur something like that

Ur, One Week Later

"You know, the first I'm going to do when I wake up is to pick up my King James Bible again. Or at least take crash course in ancient history. "

The reason why I said this to myself was that I was in a city that I never knew was real, at least outside my history lessons and the Bible. Ur, one of the first cities of Sumeria. Scratch that, of fucking civilization, was real. At least the heat, crowd of people, and sandstone statues felt real. It had been one week, give or take a day or two, since I awoke in some strange land. To me, I still don't know if this some dream or some kind of military simulation.

If any of these ideas were true, than this is a fucked up way of doing it. Yet, I bump into people and the merchant who found me, named Shab, had been relatively nice to let me work for him and his brother. They were happy to help me out, though his brother, named Aleb, noticed one thing that I managed to caught on too.

For some damn reason, I have omnilingualism.

How do I know this? Simple, because I talk to people and understood written scripts I have never known before. Ur is a big place, a growing hub for trading across the land and people come from all over to trade and live here. How it happen was I was just causally talking to a traveler and his son who came back from a hunting trip. Aleb told me that they were nomadic people from beyond Sumeria, people who spoke a different language all together.

Shab also figured this out as I was just helping him with rough translations on market stalls that came to me in plain English. Such things they thought was that I was very knowledgeable with the languages of the land. That quickly turned from me just being really smart to something more...strange.

The brothers asked me how did I come to Ur, they asked me lots of things that I was scared to answer. I told them what I said before but it seemed they didn't believe me or expected something more to me. One thing that Shab pointed out was that ever since I got here that my boils and other scaring had been going away. In any other day of the week, this would've been a great victory in of itself. Something I wanted to get rid off ever since my teenage years.

Yet that only added fuel to the fire.

There was the same tension that I felt the first time that I woke up in that damn tent. Those questions never left me, but just talking to people, seeing the city, and even having these two look at me like I'm some sort of alien reminded me that I've only been here for a week. I didn't even know how to trust myself, I didn't know what to think or how to react to these damn questions. So I did what I always seems to do best in my life.

I ran away from them stress.

I ran out, ran out into the busy thoroughfare of Ur. I heard the two pleading for me to stop and wait but I couldn't hear them over the crowded streets of Ur. I needed to find some help, some relief to get out of this damn dream or reality or whatever the fuck this is! A priest couldn't help me since they thought I had desert heat, the brothers couldn't help me since they think I'm some freak. I couldn't help me because I had no idea how to!

I ran as far as I could inside a walled city. I knew I couldn't leave the city because I don't know what was out there but I didn't know what to do. Finally I stopped at the local well, a watering hole where people gathered to talk about what was going on around their neighborhoods. I sat against the mudbrick and tried to regain myself before I stood up so other people can get their vases filled.

'"Luther!" I heard the voice of Aleb as he came to me," I finally found you! Why did you run off?"

I looked at him for a second but I just shake my head.

"Please, come back. You don't know the city very well and you running off is not good. Please come back, we're sorry for what we have done."

It sounded like that he truly didn't know what he did but he was trying to consolidate. Still, it was not a good idea to run away from my problems when I'm in a place I truly didn't know of. I begrudgingly agreed to go back to the brother's home and explain why I left.

"I have problems with...stress." They didn't say anything or give any weird looks as I continued," It's been a week and I haven't gotten any answers of what's happened to me or how I can do the things I can do. Seeing you two give me strange looks and interrogating me basic broke me."

One of the brothers offered me a drink before Shab spoke,"well it would be for the best if we kept what happened to you and what you can do a secret."

"Besides, that one priest probably didn't even asked Sin for any divination since we didn't pay her as much." Aleb said with a spit on the ground.

"Ok, then is there someone else who would have a true connection with the gods? Because as of right now I'm out of options or any way to figure this shit out. Plus I don't to take your guys' hospitality more than I already have."

The merchants looked at each other and Shab was the first who spoke.

"There is the high priests of the temples that lead the cities. However they are more city leaders than actual holy men and women."

"Well it's better than nothing. Is it possible to meet the one for Ur?"

"One does not simply go up to a high priest and ask for guidance and a prayer. They must be offered payment and be of high standing in the city in order to even be in a line to get an audiance with one would take years, if not more."

"So in order to meet someone who can potentially be able to give me some damn answers I need to basically be a rich man and famous man?"

It was there I made a face that was similar to a man trying to taste wine or a really good burger. I smiled and with some purpose, I spoke.

"Then why don't you two teach me how to be a merchant? I know your business isn't going down the drain to the point that you have debts and are barely paying with the amount of nomads immigrating to Sumeria. If anything, you will need my help in your hustle a bit."

The both of them were legitimately surprised by what I found out but I merely just talked to the people when I was traveling and in Ur. I needed to know who they were as I didn't know anything really. At least something's are truly universal, like capitalism and a good hustle.

I explained to them in my best logical idea what I could do and that back where I came from I was something like a diplomat. Someone who could make or break someone's reputation as well as knew had to make deals go right. They thought I was playing around a bit but they knew I was serious when I told them to let me prove it.

Tell you the truth, I have nothing to lose and they have everything to lose but they would at least give me a shot as their human universal translator and see where it goes from there. Thing is that I at least have a job and purpose. Maybe then I can find a way out of this damn mess.

[Holy Tedalonia]

Edward "Ted" Tomlinson
Ortez, Italy, 2999 BC, near end of the 18th month after LF

After another grueling day, I was escorted back towards the hut that the Ortez villagers had me stay at. Night befell, and the moon glimmered in the night sky. A full moon hung high in the earths tapestry above. Light shimmered through the door way giving light, for the hut, however little it may be.

It was time to escape, I’ve gotten the lay of the land, and Ive been here long enough for suspicion to be dissipated. I grabbed the bronze dagger I had stowed wrapped around my shoulder concealed under my clothes, and moved silently to the door. The guard was sitting against the other side, watching for anyone to approach the hut. Little does he know of the threat behind him...

I had only ever killed a man once, and that was during the raid whilst adrenaline and self-preservation filled the mind. This was the first time I will kill without any reason, save for personal gain. No, this would be vengeance, for the slaying the people the people of Lotoba. I move into the doorway, and lunge towards the guard. Bronze dagger aim at the throat.

The dagger landed upon the front of the guards neck, before he could react. Blood splattered against my arm, still warm and covering my pale skin with red. The man slumped downwards, falling into my arms, and I quietly lowered him to the floor.

Where did they place my sword... I thought as I snuck around the village under the night. I carefully hug the walls of huts, to conceal myself from the view of guards. Whilst I head towards the hut that was a little larger then the rest, the chieftains hut, I looked into huts along the way and found no sword. I never dared enter the huts, as I would risk being caught.

As I neared the entrance of the hut, and peeked inside. The chieftain had been facing away from the doorway, fast asleep. Next to him my sword. I conceal my dagger, knowing as I have my sword, my dagger would serve little purpose in my hand. I entered the room, silently walking towards the bronze blade. Suddenly shouts were heared, guess they found the body, and the chieftain stirred. He begun to turn, woken by the shouting. I dash the little distance needed to grab the blade and lifted the blade high to strike the waking man.

By then he had realized my presence, punching me in the gut. I drop the blade, and fall to the floor. I tried to grab it again quickly, reaching my hand out to grab it. A foot stomped on my hand forcing me to flinch in pain.

“Pathetic, to think that you could beat me,” he said as he grabbed the bronze blade.

I cough, “Why don’t you say that to my face?...”

“Very well,” he said. I felt a hand grab my left hand lifting me up, and suddenly let go. It was quickly followed by a hand strangling me and shoving me towards the wall. With the bronze blade in his other hand. He stared directly at me, with a stern face and a intent to kill.

“It was a shame you were a fighter, your skills of ore-making were excellent, however the role can be replaced, and so my face will be the last thing your eyes will see,” said the chieftain.

Damnit, damnit, DAMNIT!

Whether by a pure panic for self-preservation or quick thinking grab the dagger that I had concealed within the shoulder of my clothes, and lunged for the chieftains neck. It had missed the neck, and landed on the shoulder, regardless I pulled it out and dug it in once more, forcing him to reel back in pain. He dropped the sword, allowing me to grab it quickly and dig it into his chest.

“For the record, I would’ve kicked your ass the first time if crohns didn’t stop me,” is what I would’ve said, but with adrenaline and self-preservation in my head for the moment, so I opted not to. I pull the blade out of his chest, and began running. The guards were out now, and I needed to get going. The chase had begun.

[Kelmet]

Conner Monroe

Collaboration with Plzen

My mind hummed with a thousand different thoughts. The base idea of a coalition was simple enough, but I was having a hard time in explaining exactly what that would mean to others including my own tribe and in breaking down the tribal mindset of these people even in progressing such common interests like food and physical security.

Negotiations, if you could call them that, progressed slowly. Outside of my own village I had only been to a handful of others and I continually struggled in explaining the concept. Pooling our common manpower for construction, hunting, farming, and security. Ensuring that we all could live without fear of raiding or starvation and helping them make their villages like ours, with a palisade, watchtowers, training yards, and storehouses.

It was stressful to say the least, but as I approached this new village in the early morning I readied myself to do it all over again. I straightened my clothing, made sure my face and hands were clean and I looked somewhat presentable. It wasn't my dress uniform a laughed to myself but I tried my best.

---

Clara Axinite Rose

It was a bright but chilly day in early spring - March or early April, I would guess - when he arrived. Raginaharjas was on a hunt that day, so the gate was manned by some of the older men of the tribe. Knowing that I was always interested in the tales newcomers spun of the greater world outside of our little village, one of them interrupted my clay-mixing to let me know that there was a new traveler in town.

I first noted that he had a much lighter complexion than myself or, for that matter, anyone else in my little village. He was also blond, which was not unheard of, but certainly unusual. At this first meeting, however, I failed to note these features as particularly significant. Just another outlander or trader passing by, I assumed. It wasn’t as if unusual features were unheard of among those who traveled afar between the villages.

With bark parchment and clipboard in hand, I silently stood next to one of the wood huts that defined the main alley crossing through the village, letting the village elders and the guards perform their usual greetings.

“Greeting friends,” the newcomer said. “My name is Monroe and these men are my escorts. Could you take my to your chieftain? I have a matter of great importance to speak with him about.”

The guards were suspicious, of course. Who wouldn’t be of an outside stranger that shows up, with multiple armed men, and wishes to see the chief? But it was not the village’s custom to turn away traders and outlanders. That was, as was often pointed out, a great way to ensure they just stopped coming.

After a short discussion, perhaps half a minute at best, eventually the guards conceded. If the newcomer, this Monroe, a kind of name I haven’t heard in a while - since Canada, in fact - wanted to speak to the chief, to the chief he would be brought - alone. I recorded the newcomer’s name and the guards’ decision, then followed behind the guards as they took Monroe to elder Hildirijks.

Hildrijks, the elder to whom everyone often deferred to even though this village did not have any formal political structure or well-defined position for him to hold, and his wife could be found in their hut, busy cooking the evening meal for the hunters that would soon be returning. After being briefly told what had happened, he turned around. The lines and curves of advanced age was visible everywhere, but he stood upright and, if only subtly, proud.

“I greet you, Monroe. What tales do you bring to our village?”

“And I you Hildirihks,” he responded. “I bring not a tale but an offer, of friendship and brotherhood if you would do me the honor of hearing me.”

Elder Heldirijks motioned for Monroe to continue. Continue, he did.

“Ever one of us here in the north struggle;” Monroe gestured. “We struggle against hunger, against the untamed wilds, and against each other. There is another way, a way were all of us, all the tribes join our people in a common purpose. By working together, every man, women and child will never lack of food and we will view our neighbors as brothers, not as potential threats.”

The man was clearly idealistic. He, too, saw that the downsides of this primitive existence didn’t necessarily have to be and saw a different way forwards. In that way, I mused, he was very much like me.

“I could continue but I would rather show you my village, we have raised walls and watchtowers to protect ourselves, organized our people to defend themselves and each other. We produce enough food not only so everyone cat eat but we can also save for the harder months. I want to share this with you, with all of you.”

Now that interested me, as well as raising my suspicions. Was he just spinning a yarn? I was - is still, I suppose - an enthusiast of history. For the entirety of human existence before industrial agriculture, every society’s primary and constant concern was feeding itself. Although I was aware, thanks to the stories of travelers, that more advanced societies maybe existed somewhere to the south, this man clearly did not come from any such society.

How was it possible that his village produced so much food that he felt like bragging about it to the next village over? Even with the innovations I introduced using my knowledge of a more advanced society and the resultant substantial increase in our harvest, I certainly didn’t feel like there was food enough to share with our neighbours.

“Yours is not the first tribe I have spoken to,” Monroe continued. “All were hesitant at first but after seeing what just one tribe could accomplish, we all have to imagine what all tribes could accomplish.”

Hildirijks turned to me.

“What do you think, Clara?”

...what do I think? Was he really asking me?

...apparently it was. It was a jarring thought, to realise that I was no longer “that new woman.” After the trials of the past year, the successes alongside the failures, I was recognised here. Valued. Respected enough as a person of wide experiences that the village elders would single me out as the person whose opinion to ask for.

“I…”

I took some time to think. It was another fact of this life that I found comforting. The pace of life was far less rushed than what I was used to back in globalised civilisation. It was taken for granted that people needed time to think, to decide on actions.

“It would be unwise to decide, Hildirijks,” I eventually responded, “without hearing more details about this offer. It is easy for any man to offer ideas and visions, but what exactly is he proposing to do for us, and what exactly is he expecting us to do for him?”

Hildirijks nodded.

“What I thought also. Well, Monroe? What do you propose to trade, in order to achieve this unity of yours?”

“I offer knowledge, extra hands if you need, food as well. And me.” I said that last bit with a smile “I will be around as long as you need, I cannot preach brotherhood without willing to be a brother should I?”

“We can teach you how to ward off disease, how to remember things forever, and how to till more soil with fewer hands, outsider,” Hildirijks mentioned. “What can you teach us in return?”

“How to raise walls and towers like we have done, how to defend yourselves, better organize your fishing if you do that here. I’m not going to lie, most of what I offer is security and hope.”

“I wish to have a word,” I spoke up, even though this time I was not called upon. “If this man has held hands with as many villages in peace as he claims to have done, there would be value in holding our hands in peace also, especially if he seeks nothing from us. Just like our disputes are resolved by the decisions of the impartial in our village, so it can be between villages also. It may be difficult, but it can be done.”

“There was, after all,” I added, “always peace between villages in Canada.”

---

That last word sent ice threw my veins. Up until this point is was the same old routine but now actually looking at this women she was different, darker skinned than most but healthier and there was an intelligence that flowed with her words.

“Clara was it? You speak wisely, peace benefits all our people.”

She nodded, but did not respond, letting, for the moment, the old man think.

“Yes, yes, her name is Clara,” he responded halfheartedly, apparently considering what had been said. “Hmm…”

“A written code of law, perhaps,” she suggested. “If I remember your tales correctly, Hildirijks, most of the bloodshed between our village and its neighbours have been caused by those seeking retribution for grievances, and seeing no way to get it except by force. But if I write down, on my older clay tablets, so that they shall be protected from both rot and rain, what each village will owe the other for this or that particular grievance and every village stands by to ensure that the debt is paid, then there will no longer be a need for our villages to defend our honour with our blood.”

A few more moments passed in silence.

“If it can be done,” the old man finally conceded, “if our village’s honour will indeed be safeguarded even when our warriors do not stand by with their arms, then we will gladly reserve our spears for our hunts, and not for those who have wronged us. This, I can promise you, Monroe.”

“That is all well and good, both of you - fantastic ideas. But you and I both know, Hildirijks, that our warriors will always be needed; as our coalitions grows there will be those envious of our success and stability. If our warriors were one we would all be safer. Again, great idea, Clara. Our tribal laws are all very similar its should be no issue to unify them.”

“I will speak to the other village elders about your suggestion,” Hildirijks replied, “before we present the idea to the village at the hall. Meanwhile, Monroe, be welcome and be fed. Clara, pour out a bowl of soup for our guest, will you?”

She nodded, glancing at me with those amber eyes of hers.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” she assured me, as Hildirijks retired presumably to go find the other elders of the village. “Please, follow me.”

“Thank you Clara, such hospitality shows a great kindness in your people. You should be proud.” Taking the bowl gracefully and sitting down at the table. “What do you think, About what I said?”

“It is a good enough idea,” she simply responded. “In the long run, all considered, constant strife between people is just a constant drain on our men and time - our very not-so-substantial resources, come right down to it. Order and peace, counterintuitive as it seems, is cheap.”

“Excellent news. There was something you said earlier that caught me unawares. Where did you say you were from? You seem, rather unique.”

“I come from Canada,” she confirmed, vindicating my suspicions. “It is a land far, far away.”

Far, far away… well, that was one understatement. She did not, however, seem to have noticed anything wrong about me… yet.

“Canada, that doesn't sound like anywhere around here. How did you come to be a member of this village?”

Clara seemed to be considering my question for a short while, as she poured some sort of thick sludge into a pottery bowl. One could… one could call that ‘porridge,’ I suppose.

“Truth be told,” she eventually responded, “I have no idea. I just woke up here the winter before the last. I’ve been trying to figure out how I got here, but…”

She shrugged.

“No luck yet.”

“You know,” I suggested, “depending on how this meeting goes, you could join us. A smart women like you would be a great asset in convincing other tribes to join this little coalition of mine - well hopefully ours - soon.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she replied, offering me the bowl and sitting down on the floor across from me. “This is my place to be now, and I’ve set down my roots. Traveling around trying to forge a coalition… isn’t what I want to do here, in my new life.”

“So Monroe,” she asked in turn, “what is your story? Where do you come from? This peace you are trying to forge between the villages… it has not been done here before, at least unless there are things the villagers are hiding from me. How did you come across that idea?”

I decided to withhold my side of the story for the moment, letting Clara think that I was just another person from around these parts.

“People are stronger together Clara,” I responded, “as long as they have similar cultures, languages and values. All of us up here have that, and I have all the free time I could want. My family's ah… not around anymore. As for where I come from I am a recent addition as well, but I can't get back to my homeland so there's no point in dwelling. A pity though, that you won’t join us I mean, but I understand.”

We ate in silence, after that.

---

Clara Axinite Rose

The strange man stayed for some time after his meal, talking directly to the people in the village after the hunters that we sent out for the day returned as we tried to slowly work out the various minor disagreements, petty grievances, and third-rate differences in opinion that existed both between the residents and between Monroe and the village. After the first two hours, however, it was clear that some kind of agreement would eventually be reached.

Eventually our village’s position consolidated down to a list of requests - mostly insistences that this or that act from surrounding villages be prohibited - and Monroe responded to each in turn, promising that he would himself look into them and try to get our neighbours to accept them.

Throughout it all - I was seated near the back of the small bit of open ground that served our village as a town square, government hall, and entertainment complex and was content to keep a record of the proceedings rather than offer opinions of my own - I contemplated that perhaps the people like Monroe were the mystics who founded ancient faiths. Ascetics, those were, who had ideas and an understanding of the world outside of what was thinkable for most.

No formal agreement was ever signed; the village did not have any advanced conceptions for diplomacy of that nature. Rather, our village’s ascension to this coalition Monroe was building was sealed by the exchange of goodwill and promises.

---

After I had shaken the chiefs hand and delivered to him a rather large chunk of wood with the symbol of the coalition (three arms grasping each other at the wrist) on it to be placed in the main square of the village I said my goodbyes. But my last farewell would be to Clara making sure we had a somewhat degree of privacy.

“Clara, you are without a doubt the smartest women in the north. That much is clear, so perhaps you can succeed were I have failed. Look into what is called bog iron, it occurs in springs and swamp like areas, Should be quite prevalent here in northern Europe. I have no idea how to forge myself, but with enough time I’m sure you could figure it out, and if you change your mind you know where to find me.”

With that I left, back to my village to ass another tribe to our records of membership and place them on the ever growing map I have been making.

[Saxony-Brandenburg]

Olivia Carson
Month 24 of my new life

I thanked God when my bleeding came again the following month. For I was not pregnant- the fates had born me a child. Shihna had just settled in our camp, and her ear had stopped bleeding. We dressed it every other day, renewing the salves and bandages, and washing it out with clean water. She ate like a starved wolf, madly, before vomiting. I forced her to eat exclusively in small amounts for the next few days. I spent much the rest of our wealth on my new family. First came Shihna's tent, for her and her children, for they were whole family once more. For my generosity she swore some sacred loyalty to me, but I just called her a friend. She helped me in the gardens- clipping roots and transplanting those that did well. The prize of my garden- a coriander plant that bore unusually large amounts of seeds- I had her watch consistently. We both dug the hole to plant a lemon tree, a tiny thing, that we prayed would survive the transplant. We built short stone walls, fitted together and sealed with mud daub, to try and keep our work safe from the animals and children who roamed the village like bandits.

They arrived bloodied, soiled, a mess. I was brought to tears at the first sight of their poor souls. I welcomed the first, apprehensive boy with welcome arms, but instead of an embrace, he met me with a brow to the earth. I bent down on my knees, and opened my arms once more to him. He only stared at me, flinching at my movements. "You poor, poor thing." I spoke softly, weeping. "You are so scared, so frightened... come here, I will not hurt you. I promise I will not hurt you." Before he could however, an even younger one ran to me, tears in his eyes. He grasped at my stomach, and soaked it with tears once more. I only shook my head, and held him. "Nobody is going to hurt you anymore. Nobody." I choked out.

When the tears were dry, I bade them to the river. I had them wash off the mud, wash off the grime downstream- where I had asked none to draw water farther down from. We brought them back to our camps sopping wet, all eight of them, letting them dry in the heat of the sun. We checked their bodies for cuts, checked for open wounds. These children, the way they were tormented, if I thought about it for just a few moments it crippled my heart. We boiled water, and cleaned and dressed their wounds. Burn wounds, cut wounds, wounds on their feet. How did children get to this state? They were all frightened senseless, and to think, they walked all the way here? From Zara's tent? God, they were so brave. I hadn't the ability now or back then to do that. The children, they idolized me- but I could only find such a deep respect for them. I sat with them, when they were all patched up and resting their legs, and looked down upon them with sorrowful eyes. What was I to do now? Who would take them in? Who could feed them?

Those who I learned to love so dearly did.

Two of the children were playmates of Shihna's boys, and she took them into her tent. Ashra took in a new daughter, and two homes of farmers took in two each. The oldest I offered to live in my tent. He so kindly accepted. I guessed the boy was twelve, at oldest. He was so thin, god, I wanted him to have so much more. I renamed him Leo, because of his immense bravery and leadership. Something in his eyes, something in his words, though hoarse and weak, told me he would become an amazing leader of men. Aditya was not so quick to take root in parenthood. He was still largely a child, just as I, and we had little knowlage at all what to do. He panicked, and all that I tried to do could not sway his anxiety. The boy though, he was awfully mature for his age. He spoke quietly, and cried little. He cleaned up after himself, and sat in the corner, silent, for many hours. It disturbed me. Although many of these people thought it womanly, I sat my dear Leo down beside me that night, and for months after, and taught him to cook. I taught him the multitude of spices the people had grown accustomed to. Coriander, Chili, Garlic, Ginger. So many tastes, so many smells he did not know. It warmed my heart to teach him what little practical skills I knew. I taught him of roasting meat, I rambled on and on of bread, and he simply sat there, lapping it all up. He thought I was a goddess, passing wisdom on from above. Oh lord, I was just talking of spices! I loved this child.

Many neighbors brought us gifts to offer aid in the raising of a child. A farmer brought us several large fish every week for a month. I think Aditya felt a little patronized, but said little. We ate fish in a thick curry sauce for that whole month, and I didn't tire of it once. A few blankets showed up at my doorstep, firewood, a knife for the boy. "Taxes", Ashra would jokingly call them. Aditya called them Tithes. I knew little of what they meant, or atleast attempted in vain to. For although I loved the attention... to be worshiped? God, I was already self-conscious, now I never could make a mistake.

I took Leo out to the gardens often, and when I didn't Aditya took him to the pastures. He was still just as quiet a month later as the day he arrived, but he carried within him a resounding will and serving attitude. I'd ask him to fetch water for me, and he'd run. I laughed at him, and rubbed his little head when he returned, thanking him for the hurry. He helped me in the gardens, where Shihna and I doted on his memory of what we taught him, setting aside a small patch of earth for his own plants. They died a few months later, as it would turn out, but it was well worth it.

We had to slowly recover our flock, the dozen or so sheep I spent to Zara returned to me a much larger family than I first thought, and so every month spent with less than ideal was well worth it. Shihna took up the role of a weaver, and we spent many a hour beneath the shade of the trees over the hill while she spun the wool. She often brought her four children to our evening meals, which she happily helped me cook for. They attached to us like we had been family the whole time, bringing warm smiles and pleasant stories of the week before every time we ate together outside. Our tents were situated right next to each other, and every morning I rose with the dawn, she greeted me with a warm smile. Such a pleaser, herself, she was mortified at my sadness, and elated at my joy. I called her "sister", and considered everyone from Ashra to her children to be my family.

We often acted as one as well. Ashra invited us all to her fire many times a month, and we gladly obeyed. We traded knowledge of spices, shoots of plants, and more. I often watched over her adopted girl, and we would go to the riverbank, and practice her words with great laughter and fanfare. At least Ashra would no longer be lonely, no longer the only soul in her tent.

I sat out often overlooking my sheep flock, while Aditya stayed at home or was off trading with the neighbors. These people's women were highly respected, but often were assumed strict rules for where and how they should behave. I thought that was bullshit, but did not challenge them if they were happy. I was happy doing the work of men and women, and brushed off even Aditya's remarks that I didn't have to. I hauled firewood, I tended the sheep, I planted the millet, and few questioned me. I was their strangely gifted friend, blessed with umwomanly height, and thereby strength. I often had many a young and impressionable boy and girl follow me at my work, and soon I think I caused many a parent great stress with their spinning sons and herding daughters. But I didn't mind, and none exacted their stress as anger upon me.

It took another month before we had brought in the necessary tools to remove the formerly slave-children's marks of bondage. It took some incredibly difficult effort, to break the bronze rings and remove the studs without ripping their soft tissue. I cried when they called out in pain, if I ever made an error, but eventually it was done, and few had the bleeding of Shihna at her forceful removal by that pig Zara. It was at the beginning of their rainy season, the beginning of spring, the twenty-seventh month, when the festival of the Ganges was to be held. We dressed in our finest clothes, and filled the wind with the smells of countless spices in sacrifice. We scattered the waters with baskets of flowers- sending them floating down the waters, to beautify her shores and tell all downstream of her sacred worth. We blessed their heads with the holy waters, saying prayers above them, with a hand upon their brow. But when it was all over, the old woman-sage emerged from the crown, holding with her a crown of flowers. She smiled at me, and spoke kindly, warmly, and sweet.

"Our fields have been ever-full since you arrived on our shores. Our homes have been berid of plague, and you have warmed our hearts with your selflessness. Although we have faced hardship, you have blessed us all with your smiling face. Please, oh daughter of the Holy River, if it would be in your will, as it is with ours, will you take the crown, and rule over our people with that same smile, that same blessings, as the gods have provided? Will you take the crown of flowers, known to only I as a girl, and rule over the Gagna folk with the blessing of the gods?"

I froze, I stared in shock. I had no knowledge of leadership! And yet... how could I not accept? How could I disappoint them all? Besides, it was not like I would have to tell them all what to do, right? This was ceremonial, I assured myself, and with a deep breath accepted the crown upon my brow. The woman fell to her knees, and I bade her stand when I fell to her level. She kissed my forehead, and I lifted her up. I had little to offer them, little but hope. I swore I would do my best, in anything I did, to ensure the Goddess of the river did not look down in disappointment. Little did I know, my homely life would soon be upended.

I found myself wrought with questioning, and forced to move my hand. Many visited my tent a day, bringing with them tribute I refused several times before ultimately accepting. A strange cult it seems, had formed around me!? I was distraught, and sought some grounded relationships in my friends and family, who kindly looked upon me as equals upon their level, often teasing me of my exploits. My first will was to make it a crime to throw rubbish or to defecate in the river, and bade them to use the communal pit, or dig a hole. My second, was that all boil their water before serving it to another. My third, was that a communal pool of wealth be made, and handed out to those least well off. I didn't take any, and I lived in my tent as average I could be. If I was to be a queen, I would be an impoverished one. As the days passed, I turned in all my tribute to that pile, or sold it for more animals, to be given to those who's pastures had been blighted. Every day someone brought me a new crown- some of strong green leaves, some of delicate white flowers. Some smelling of oil, some smelling of perfume. Every day come nightfall, I gave it to whoever had warmed my day. It was little, but I think it meant a lot to the young girls, who ran through the village, feeling more special than any other gift could. The only problem came when Zara's herald demanded loyalty.

The man's name was Kira, and he was a slave of stoic disposition. He gave little word to the formerly slave children who crowded around my fire, only frowning in displeasure seeing their faces scatter as he approached. Aditya stood up defensively, grabbing his spear leaning against the tent, but Kira bade him to leave it. Zara had demanded tribute from our people, from the mistress of the river, and bade me this was the last time he would ever allow me to harbor escaped slaves of his. I did as he said, and paid the price. I was non-confrontational, and the price was... relatively reasonable. But as four fellow slaves departed with the gifts, his echoing words reached deep into my heart, and gripped it with woe. "I will return again. You will regret your actions if I see more criminal faces around your fire, mistress."

[G-Tech Corporation]

Part 2, Chapter 6: Forestry and the Future

July 4th, 2 AG

Carrock. By my estimation, it stood in the central reaches of what would be the Czech Republic in my day and age, where Prague will be founded in several thousand years. I had originally thought the river that carried the expedition here was the Danube, but I was apparently much mistaken, for a quick look at the few drawings the fisherfolk of the region had produced told me it was far from the east-west line of the Danube I knew, ending up in the Black Sea. My central European geography was a bit shaky, I will admit, so as I bid the men of the fishing shoals adieu I was somewhat out of sorts. My legs caked with mud almost to the knee from wading through the mud-flats near the trading town, I strode back towards the Winterwar's boat that had been rowed ashore by some of what must surely be the first sailors in the known world.

We had been forced to anchor far out in the wash of whatever river this was, for the locals crowded forward on both banks extremely curious about what our immense craft was and astounded by the craftsmanship obvious in its creation. Carrock had at a guess about five thousand souls within its an environs, and it stank to high heaven. No discernible organization had I been able to find in the morass of humanity that made its home here, as no family apparently had either the resources or the will to impose its regulations upon the chaos that nested in the sewage-filled streets and hovels of the primitive city. In truth I was almost thankful for the reminder of what could have been, and what I was striving to avoid in my work in the upper reaches of the Great River; as I pushed the small boat out off of the sand shoals we had beached it on bits of refuse swirled past my legs, and I was starkly aware of the differences between this squalid filth and my own adopted homeland.

As we rowed out to the Winterwar my muscles warmed to the work, though my mind barely even registered the fact as I analytically looked at the swirls of our oars in the brown water. They had been carved to my specifications, but I had only a passing familiarity with sailing; these contraptions, though paddle-like, I could already see would need some refinement in order to gain the mechanical advantage known in my home timeline. Still, it would serve for a first effort, as had the knaar itself. I had already created a long list stored in my tiny cramped cabin aboard the vessel in an oilcloth chest of what improvements we would need to make to the primitive cargo ship's design, points I was dissatisfied with or needed to discuss with the woodworkers of Mara who had created the beast. Coming from a landsman my comprehension of the design of aquatic vessels was rudimentary, but my knowledge of the road to the future combined with the observations of the crew may yet prove valuable.

The hearty clunk of the skiff against the hull of the knaar brought me back from my reverie, and I grabbed the rigging lowered down the side of the ship to steady it as the shore party climbed aboard. Trading had been productive, by all accounts of the ledger I had heard on our row back out; these downriver folk had much in the way of cloth and lapis lazuli to trade for our wrought copper goods and pottery, and the relationship may be productive indeed. The north trade routes saw little lapis, and our ability to carry crates of the stuff back up against the current with our rudimentary sail and oars would make a fortune with any favor from the Divine.

Here was far enough downstream, and the plight of Carrock had set me to thinking. By and large they seemed to be poor, desperately so even by the standards of the Germanics, who I would have thought savages without any economic system when I first came upon them. But the people of Carrock were more destitute still, and after conversations with the people of the market I believe I have pinned down the cause- the mass felling of trees to feed the fires of so many homes and for building fishing skiffs had deforested much of the surroundings of the burgeoning city, driving off the game and destroying the habitat of the wild forage that their ancestors had relied upon. With population came population pressures, and even here in the Neolithic those were evident, mainly because the people who lived in such primitive towns and villages were so inexorably reliant on their environment. Agricultural societies and more developed civilizations could to some extent survive environmental degradation due to being less linked to the well-being of their situation, but it was a sobering look at what I needed to do.

Already some areas around Kniepper and Himtalas had been denuded of trees to feed the Imperium's forges and charcoal smelters. Looking back north towards my home, I resolved to begin a program of stewarded forestry when we arrived back where we came from. The sound of the wind in the rigging and cracking the sail made me, for some reason, feel hope, for the wind blew away the stench of urban life and the bitter reek of human misery.

Part 2, Chapter 7: Taxation and Hierarchy

August 17th, 2 AG

There were angry voices raised in the Hall of Law, and a headache was already beginning to come on as I sat in my cool granite chair of the chamber. Families arguing about the new taxes levied by the state, a recent addition of mine to ease the financial burden on myself and the other merchant-nobles of the upper class of the Imperium. Within the graven stone blocks and the airy corridors the sounds of verbal fencing echoed loud, and I found myself idly wondering if studying acoustics at university would have been a worthwhile use of my time after all. But how was I to know that one day I would have to deal with these difficulties? Regardless, I decided to speak with the fabricworkers when I could at a later date, to see if perhaps some tapestries or hanging might be added to the Hall to soak up some of the noise that we had to deal with when discussion became heated.

At the moment Laars of House Menidshav had the floor, and he was ferociously defending the tariffs and door taxes in a great booming bombast. His point, as far as I could tell, had to do with the common people and lesser merchants taking up a part of the financial burden of the defense and improvement of the cities of the Imperium. I hadn't previously noted House Menidshav as being very supportive of my role in their society, but now I could see that perhaps I had misjudged them. Mentally I noted Laars' apparent converted zeal for the concept of collective advancement, and resolved to approach him at a later date to perchance discuss a position in the state for one of his family members. Such ideologues may have loyalty to my slowly coalescing regime that could not be bought, and that made it all the more valuable.

As Laars seated himself, though, the windbag-patriarch of one of the tin-mining families from Lakis stood up to rebut his points. It made sense, I supposed, that a trader family reliant entirely on export to other cities of our swelling confederation would be opposed to the tariffs. There were domestic industries, if nascent ones, for things like iron, copper, and the like within the cities of their manufacture. But there were no smelting or smithing industries of note north of the Erzgebirge where Lakis lay, and so her wealth came from selling tin south along the newly paved High Pass. As the discussion grew more heated, I rose and slowly the hubbub died down. Resplendent in a white doublet set over black trousers, I paced forward to the sunlit rotunda where the speaker stood, and my voice rang out in to the chamber.

"Father Gemis, your concerns are seen by this conclave. I would propose, and put to the vote of the peers, that tariffs on trade between the member-cities of this Imperium be rescinded." I raised my hands to forestall rejoinder as some muttering began in the chamber.

"While some may see this as a blow to the stream of income we now enjoy, this adjustment will ensure that our goods and products are protected against external competition and enjoy favorable sales in our common markets, a boon to the production that many of our families have made their fortunes from. With Calspar and Turin now soon to be joined to our banners, the Imperium's borders are only expanding, and this encouragement to trade will only bolster our collective profits."

The men of the Families upon which my rule rested were not educated in formal economic theory, as I had been, but they still saw the wisdom in the suggestion. The tariffs and door-taxes would bring in slowly but surely a supply of ingots to the state coffers, or rather the House Nemtsov coffers, and so allow my efforts to continue apace, while ensuring our fledgling currency system became more thoroughly entrenched in the surrounding cities and hamlets that had yet to take up the black and white banner. It was a measure the Fathers passed rapidly, to my gratitude.

[Pasong Tirad]

Arsenio Lacson
Árgos, morning of the same day

Sti Lárisa

Things got even weirder for Arsenio. People weren't dressed the way they were usually dressed. There were no pants, no proper t-shirts, no rubber shoes or men and women walking around in corporate attire with briefcases and backpacks. The clothes he were given were pretty threadbare: a loincloth to cover his groin, a simple rectangular tunic that dropped down freely over him to his knees, making him look like he's wearing a short dress, as well as a cloak one of the men with spears draped over him, noticing how much he was shivering. And they didn't even give him shoes.

Getting to Argos around an hour or so later didn't help Arsenio's confusion in any way. It was not a bustling city of tens of thousands of people, but it looked like a village. An actual, country village. The roads weren't paved, there were barely any people, there were no cars, no streetlights, no billboards advertising one company or another. The whole village looked like it was stuck in the past.

And that's when it hit Arsenio. Nothing here made any sense. It wasn't just that the whole village felt like it was stuck in a period piece - Arsenio's been to the Philippine countryside, he can stomach the idea that there are still relatively undeveloped parts of the world - but the whole journey there felt like he was stuck in the past. There were no roads, there were no bits and pieces of plastic here and there, no left-behind piece of trash that civilization would usually have, no random plane flying overhead, no random person or car or anything that felt remotely like it was something that came from his own time. This wasn't his time, and he began to consider that notion. He could feel his chest tighten and his breathing get quicker. He was trying to keep himself calm in front of the other people on the cart. It seems to have worked, but he was sweating. It was cold, he was shivering, and yet he was sweating. He could hear his heart attempting to beat itself into death. He was so distracted with his own thoughts that, when the cart finally stopped for him, he barely registered what the man said.

"Arsénios!" he finally heard, snapping him back into reality for a few seconds to look at the man with the spear who picked him up from the beach. "This is where you get off. Head for Lárisa, the king's settlement, on that hill over there." He pointed towards somewhere vaguely to the west, towards several small structures on a hill that formed the acropolis of the settlement - at least, if the concept of the acropolis were actually real at that time. "King Kriasos is a good man, and he's always happy to help anyone in need. Head over there and ask for an audience. You may have to wait a while, as a lot of people seek the king's aid every day, but he'll get to you soon enough."

Arsenio nodded, and feebly replied "Okay, thank you." The cart went one way, the man went another, and the occupants of the cart all went on a procession towards Lárisa. "I never got your name," Arsenio said, calling for the man with the spear.

"Diókles," the man said, "I work for King Kriasos. If you stick around, I'm sure I'll see you again." Arsenio nodded, and went on his way, up and up towards the hill, with nothing but a small dirt path to highlight the road people take towards the small cluster of structures on top of the hill. Diókles went God knows where, and Arsenio joined the throng of people, the survivors of the shipwreck, up towards the king's keep.

That alone continued to puzzle Arsenio. A king in Greece? As far as he remembered, they kicked out their king long before he was even born. And he wasn't even going to meet the king of Greece, but the king of Argos. One king in Greece? Sure. More than one? If there was a king in Argos, was there also a king in Athens? How about Sparta? Or Corinth and Thebes? Not a single thing happening made sense, and he wanted to believe this was all some trick or some dream but it all seemed way too real. He didn't remember things hazily and wasn't suddenly dropped into the middle of the world like what would usually happen if he were dreaming. No, he remembered how he woke up on the beach, he remembered the last thing that happened before that - he was taking his lunch break at his desk - and he can vividly feel every little thing about what was happening. He hadn't looked up Greece in so long, he hadn't watched any movies or listened to any podcast or looked up Wikipedia articles about Greece, there was no way his mind would dream about anything like this. No, this was real. This was actually happening to him and he couldn't understand why it was happening.

---

An assortment of small buildings met Arsenio as he neared the top of the hill, all of them surrounded by a small, patchwork stone wall and a rudimentary wooden gate at the middle. Didn't feel like much of a fortification, Arsenio thought, as the stone wall looked no taller than six feet, and that wooden gate would easily crumble with enough force - you could even see through it, as it was nothing more than sticks woven together with some rope.

The procession marched on through the motley assortment of buildings. In one of those buildings, Arsenio could see a man treating another man on some sort of cot full of blood, a doctor, he assumed. In another building, was a man on a table distributing what looked like bundles of wheat - or was it barley? Arsenio wasn't sure. And at the end of this row of buildings, there stood what he could only surmise to be the palace of the king - if it could be considered a "palace" at all. It was the largest building around, it consisted of two stories, and there was a large, wide-open door flanked by two men sitting in chairs and holding spears, presumably there to guard the entrance. As soon as they saw the throng of people coming up to the king's palace, they stood up and immediately got to work getting them to fall in line, explaining that they could see the king one at a time. Inside the house was a pretty spacious living room of sorts. There were furs on the floor where people were sitting down on, and a small fire was lit right next to a window, letting the smoke blow out freely and not fill up the room, and a small set of stairs led straight on from the living room into a more elevated room separated by curtains, flanked again by two rather bored-looking men, this time wielding what looked like a dagger or a short sword and a hatchet, all of them with blades made out of a rusty-looking metal, possibly copper. Among all of these men, there was one man who wasn't bearing any weapons coming in and out between the curtains, rushing people in and out along with him.

The guard that brought Arsenio and the throng of shipwreck survivors into the king's "palace" told them to wait in the living room along with all of the other people petitioning King Kriasos of one thing or another. This led to perhaps what was the longest morning of Arsenio's life. He watched as each of the survivors of the shipwreck were shepherded by what he could only assume was the king's personal servant into and out of the king's chamber for an audience, and for them to leave the palace happier each time. The king seems to be doing good for his patrons, Arsenio thought. He was getting bored, and that means his anxiety was creeping back up on him. He was waiting so long, and it seemed clear to him that he was being saved for last, as each and every familiar face he had seen from the beach was now leaving.

Luckily for him though, by noon it was his turn as the last person left in the palace's lobby. The man who had been shepherding people in and out of the palace finally got to him. He looked at Arsenio, and quickly gestured towards the curtains, making the weary survivor feel uneasy about being prodded. But, he followed orders, and soon the servant parted the curtains and Arsenio was met not with a rather grand throne room, but something pretty simple. It looked more like a room for meetings than a grandiose room where the king held parties and had dinners. There was a stone table at the middle of the room (more like a stone platform, really) with food, there were four more guards wielding different weapons, several more servants were talking with each other in one corner of the large room, and at the very middle was the king, sitting on the floor right in front of the table in what looked like a cushion made of furs. Several small fires were smoldering right under the several windows that were letting light into the room, making the temperature of the place rather cozy for Arsenio.

"Please, sit," King Kriasos said, gesturing to the cushion of furs right in front of Arsenio, at the direct opposite of the king's spot at the table. He did as ordered, and sat there silently, just looking around and at the king. King Kriasos, however, was staring at Arsenio. "You are not from here."

"What?"

"You're addressing the king!" the servant behind Arsenio said, which freaked him out even more.

"It's alright," King Kriasos said. "He's a foreigner, he does not know our ways. Here in this kingdom, we act more formally towards our lords. So, speak in a formal manner."

"Oh," Arsenio said. "Alright." The servant glared at him. "Alright, my lord?"

"Good," the king said, content with that level of progress. "I talked to each and every person that got shipwrecked this early morning, and none of them could remember who you are or where you are from. You see, those people who got shipwrecked were my people. They were from Náfplio, several stádion away from where you and they were found." Arsenio kept silent. None of this made sense to him. "Árgos has no enemies, so I cannot consider you a spy. So, you're not from here, and yet the shipwreck you were found in was from my kingdom. Strange, isn't it? Do you have any sort of explanation as to how a foreigner such as yourself found their way here?"

Arsenio was puzzled. If the ship had been from the man's kingdom, how did he get there, then? "I don't know," he answered, adding a quick "my lord." He said this weakly, as this was all his tired, confused mind could muster.

"You don't know?"

"No, my lord. The last thing I remember, I was in my country. And then I fell asleep and when I woke up, I was on this beach."

"So. It must have been the gods that brought you here, then," the king said. Arsenio was looking at his legs at this time, and looked up to see that the king was serious about what he had said. He was looking at him sternly, and with a serious expression. The servants at the corner of the room had now stopped their low-level chatter to stare at Arsenio. "The evidence seems to point to no other explanation. The shipwreck you were found in was from my kingdom, none of the other survivors remember even seeing you on their ship, let alone you working there, and yet you claim to not be from here. My kingdom is not under attack, our diplomatic relations with other realms are strong, we have, to be quite honest, nothing of value to be stolen, so I do not believe you to be a foreign spy. Out of all this, you claim that you were in your own land, fell into a deep sleep, and then woke up on our beaches. You are not from here, and yet you are here. What do we make of this? Would anyone care to offer other explanations?"

"He could just be lying, my lord," said one of the servants.

"That is true," King Kriasos agreed. "But, I do not believe he is lying. Look at him." Arsenio suddenly became way too conscious of his appearance, as every single pair of eyes was now staring at him intently. "He's too tired to even look at the same spot for too long!" They had confused Arsenio's antisocial quirks with fatigue. Arsenio was pretty tired, but not so tired that he'd suddenly doze off during an important interaction. "What do we do with you, then?"

Arsenio couldn't answer. He didn't know what to do, either. He just wanted to go home, but he couldn't tell them that anymore. His brain was too overwhelmed with the situation to properly understand anything. He wasn't fighting, nor was he fleeing. This was deer-caught-in-the-headlights. He was just frozen there.

"My lord?" spoke up another servant. King Kriasos gestured to signal that the man was allowed to speak. "While I also agree with your belief that he is not a spy, we still are unable to rule out that possibility. So, I propose he not be allowed to leave, but no other action be taken against him."

"Very well," King Kriasos assented. "I'm sure we can spare a pair of hands to look after him. Have Diókles do it, the man has been working harder than most people, and he deserves a lighter workload. I'm sure he and his wife have enough space in their home for him. We'll get to the bottom of what's going on, and we will find out whether or not you truly were brought to us here by the gods." King Kriasos gestured towards the servant that ushered Arsenio into the room. The man prodded Arsenio to get up, thereby ushering him out of the throne room. "What was your name, again?"

Arsenio hesitated at the curtain before answering. "Arsénios," he said, not fully understanding why he gave that name instead of his actual name - which, to be fair, wasn't really that far off from his actual name.

"Arsénios? So, you are not from here and yet your name is from here. Puzzling, truly puzzling. Make sure he contributes to the kingdom, find some work for him, make him earn his free lodgings with Diókles."

[Hanafuridake]

Grace Kinoshita

My teeth chattered and I wrapped the blanket around myself to try and keep from freezing more than I already was. It was probably going to snow soon, and I did not want to come down with pneumonia. Where was she? After a few minutes, a voice called out, slow and quietly, but loud enough to where I would be able to make out who's voice it was, and what was being said.

“Love is a torment
Whenever we hide it.
Why not lay it bare
Like the moon that appears
From behind the mountain ledge?”

That was the signal, I quickly replied with the second half of the verse.

“If need be, I'd follow you
Even to the rock vault
In the Ohatsuse Mountains
And be together with you;
Be not troubled, dearest!”

It was an overtly sentimental poem, but it was one of the main classics of the Man'yōshū that we could remember, and it served our purpose well of informing each other about the time and place being safe. Soon enough, Retar appeared in front of me, cloaked in a bear hide coat that made me green with envy (or was I really coming down with pneumonia?). “I didn't think we would have this time alone together,” she whispered, starting to remove the coat. I blushed and half-averted my gaze, although this was the main reason I was standing in the freezing cold. The warmth of a tryst can lure someone into stupid things... “Let's make the most of it before the daybreak.”

We both started disrobing, but I quickly stopped when I noticed a band of warriors scurrying over the fortifications that had been half-erected the day before. Retar noticed and turned around to see them. Fortunately the warriors didn't seem to notice us and we quickly hid behind a large rock to avoid being spotted. “Who are they?” I whispered to Retar, who shook her head. Was it the Nihom? Why hadn't the guard warned the village about their attack?

While the band of Nihom prowled the village, I reached down for a rock. “What are you going to do with that?” Retar asked, but I simply gestured for her to be quiet.

“Can you throw the rock at one of their heads?” I replied, and when she nodded, I handed her the rock and pointed to one as he started to enter the warehouse. Retar slung the rock as hard as she could and it hit the back of the leader of the band's head. At least, I assumed it was the leader, he seemed to be in charge of the rest. He let out a cry and his men spun around, alarmed that their raid had been uncovered.

I felt a wave of relief as the chieftain charged out of his hut dressed in armor and armed with a hunting spear in his hands. He let out a roar that awoke the rest of the village, scaring the Nihom, who had not expected any resistance from the sleeping villagers. An archer fired a stone arrow at the Nonno chieftain, the arrow bouncing off the armor that he wore. The rest of the village men came charging out of their huts. Most of them were tired and sore from yesterday's work, but their presence must have alarmed the Nihom, who did not know how to respond to the tough armor that was thicker than what their arrowheads could penetrate.

Retar quickly ran to fetch her own bow in order to join the skirmish which had broke out. I gasped as I saw a Nihom warrior drive his spear through the eye of one of the men I had instructed yesterday. It was a horrible sight, one that I hadn't even expected to see with the coming war between the two tribes. I closed my eyes and hid behind the rock, unable to bear the sights or smell of blood...

---

Village

The morning after the nighttime raid, I wandered around the village, looking at the dead who had been rounded together. 26 altogether were dead. Sixteen of them had been Nonno villagers, five of which were children caught in the fighting, while the other ten had been men killed in the chaos and confusion of the fighting. Some hadn't been able to put their armor on in time, others had been struck in the face with an arrow or spear.

The rest of the tribe were in mourning, some spoke about this being divine punishment for abandoning the old ways, others were too panicked about having lost their loved ones to make any accusations at anyone. An old man cried out when he saw the corpse of his granddaughter, and I had to get away from the scene.

The chieftain sat on the ground, depressed and heartbroken. When me and Retar approached him, his eyes suddenly shifted and became agitated. “Where were you two last night?” he asked, noticing our state of undress. “You said that you were the first ones to notice the raiders sneak in.”

Now it was Retar's turn to be agitated, and she tried her best to think of a convincing explanation. “Kah - Gureisu had a dream last night and she begged me to help her determine what it meant. I was sleeping when she came to see me, and didn't have time to prepare.” the chieftain nodded his head, it seemed like he bought the explanation for now.

I was brimming, not just with fear, but anger. “Who did you put in charge of guard duty at the deer pass?” I demanded, and the various guards of the different directions came forward. There was one missing... the answer to the riddle was solved when the body of the boy who had stood watch was dug out from the brushes, the arrow still lodged in his body. “You let a child stand watch...” my hands curled into fists and my eyes widened.

“I don't quite like your tone.” the chieftain stood up. An anxious Retar quickly moved in-between us as a shield in case the situation became violent.

“Wasn't there supposed to be someone guarding the storehouse?” my temper hadn't calmed down at all. This idiot had ruined months of careful preparation by one act of laziness. “Didn't you ever listen when I warned you? Are you that stupid - ”

The chieftain drew his spear in a rage, and an alarmed Retar struggled with him over the weapon. “Father NO!” she shouted, and even despite their grief, the rest of the village could not help watching the family drama breaking out. “Quit it both of you! It was nobody's fault. Father, Gureisu has been our friend. She's - ”

“She's an evil spirit come down to ruin us!” the chieftain roared, and Retar fell silent. “Since she has been here, we've abandoned more and more of our customs, our religion, and our speech. We've stopped speaking in our own tongue and following the language of some new spirit. And look at what it's got us. Why are you so eager to take her side all the time, Retar?”

“You didn't seem to be complaining about my new customs when your life was being saved by the armor made by me.” I interceded, deciding that I couldn't allow him to lash out at Retar. She was already emotionally hurt from the battle last night. The chieftain tried to say something, but the truth must have stung worse than the arrow. “Now listen, I am going to conquer the Nihom!” the rest of the tribe gathered around us, alarmed at what I had said. “In regard to the numbers who died, it would have been much worse had it not been for the armor. I will lead an attack on the Nihom within a week. And I will conquer them and expand the Nonno to cover the four corners of this land. This I swear, let heaven and earth be my witnesses!” I raised my hand in an oath.

“Listen to her, she can do it!” Retar exclaimed, raising her bow with a triumphant shout. “The Nihom tried to rob us last night, they wanted to pillage our storehouses. But we defeated them because of her. They didn't get our food, or we would have starved this winter.” the villagers had started to be swayed toward me through Retar's words, and then someone else's voice called out to.

“The time for revenge has come!” the old fool, Susam, who had created a cargo cult centered around me, proclaimed. He jumped onto a boulder and spoke to the rest. “The Nihom have intruded on our sacred land, they have wounded some of us, and killed our loved ones. You all know that I was healed through the magical power of this priestess. We should be angry at them and not her.” it amazed me that the old man actually turned out to be useful, because his revanchist declaration won the mourning members of the tribe over.

“PUNISH THE NIHOM!”

The chieftain sunk back, realizing that he was losing his support more and more now. He glared at me, which I returned with aloof contempt. That must have stung him worse than a returned stare, because he averted his gaze and ran off back to his hut. The villagers whispered among themselves that he was acting worse than a child and that he would probably die for his disbelief in my powers. While that was all satisfying to me, I could tell it was bothering Retar, who had not meant to hurt her father.

“That's enough.” I said, and the crowd quickly became quiet and listened to my words. “We have a week to launch the attack that will finally defeat the Nihom. In the mean time, we're going to need more and more guards patrolling the perimeter.” perimeter, that had been a new word I introduced them to. “You have all worked hard these last few months. For now, I will allow all of the men a reprieve except for formations. Now, let's perform the rituals for the dead.”

[Civilization OP]

Remes

Along the river Nile, centered within the green oasis of the lower delta, the town of Remes had begun to distinguish itself among the other kingdoms. For where many states and peoples bore their strength by the thrust of their spear, or by the size of their store houses, Remes would begin to boast for itself strength of the mind. For which petty kingdom along the Nile could claim for itself the art of mathematics - so as to number it's holdings and to solve it's queries? Which kingdom could boast of a written language so complete and intricate as that used by the scribes in Remes? And which settlement of similar size in all of Egypt could claim to be so industrious? None! Remes had in but a short time accelerated it's own growth decades forward. For the jealous kingdoms of the Nile though, Remes's progress was not a point of envy - quite the opposite! For these lords and despots, Remes presented only untold opportunity.

As the noon sun hung high over the sky, as the peasants toiled in their fields, and as the Desert Author continued in his quest for a forge - two papyrus boats rode up the river. The men aboard these boats held their arms close to their sides, their gazes cast outward toward the peasants in their fields showed their hostility, and all around their vessels hang an air of danger. The boats made landfall upon reaching the first dock they had found. Fishing marms and boys back from their trade scurried off the dock as eighteen men deposited themselves off of their vessels and onto the dock - weapons held steadfast across their chests. As they began marching their way onto the land and out before an assembled crowd of Remes peasantry, the leader of this band made his presence known. Stepping forward, this man would declare himself Hyksos, servant and captain tothe kingdom of Yunu: a rich and prosperous state along the upper Nile. Hyksos stood well above the rest of his men, and the assembled Peasantry; his dark hair was braided down to his shoulders, and among the braids was interlaced copper rings depicting terrible and monstrous faces; a portion of his lower lip had been cut away by an unkown injury long ago, revealing sharp and yellow teeth. At his command, two of his warriors emerged from one of the boats, bringing with them a bloodied and beaten Hemeda. The man was thrown onto the ground before Hyksos feet. While out gathering ores to the South the day before, the warriors of Yunu had captured the man. With savage torture they extracted from Hemeda his mission, as well as all of Remes secrets. The lord of Yunu dispatched the fearsome Hyksos and his warrior band down to Remes, intent upon seizing a part of these peoples's progress.

" From the Lord of Yunu, we the servants of his grace have come bearing good tidings - this town now possesses protection from the Sublime kingdom of Yunu. And for this gracious gift, our great lord asks only for tribute and obedience. Of which, I have assured him of both... "

---

Lakis

With each attempt to stand, the young man would be brought back down to the dirt by a terrible fist. Even as his eye had began to swell shut, and as blood filled his mouth, he could not simply let himself lay defeated - with all that he had, he needed to get up and fight. With what energy he had left, the young man brought up his knee and had begun to lift himself up off the ground one last time. Alas, his stubborn courage was finally brought to an end as boot was thrust squarely into his chest - sending the brave young man stumbling backwards, gasping for air and clawing at his chest. As he squirmed on the ground, each breath coming only as a violent wheeze, a woman's desperate cries had begun to fill the air

Here, on the outskirts of Lakis - the newest settlement to count itself among the growing ranks of the Imperium - malicious savagery was being put on display outside of one of the town's many burgeoning tin mines. This particular mine, found at the base of the mountain overlooking the settlement, was to be the focal point of this malign episode. Along the ground were scattered four men in varying states of injury. Three lay beaten till lame, their groans and moans drown out by the cries of a woman. She could not have been any less than fifty: her silver hair was wild and undone hanging over her face, her wrinkled eyes awash in tears, and her bony calloused hand being reached out toward the bloodied and gasping young man who had attempted to so courageously stand against the villains who now lorded over the scene. There were six men standing above the beaten and battered men, one of whom held back the woman from running to the battered youth. These men were lean and fit, their bodies covered in hides and furs, their faces concealed and covered in cloth. In their hands they held bloodied batons. The largest and most fearsome among them looked about the scene and nodded with satisfaction. He turned toward the woman, held back by one of one of the brutes. Her cries only growing more desperate and forlorn as the man on the ground had stopped gasping for air, and then stopped moving entirely. The fearsome rogue grabbed the woman's face with the whole of his hand, and turned her to face him. His dark and jaundiced eyes being the only thing which she could see.

" Now you listen here wretch! This mine is far too much for hag like you, or your vile kin to maintain on their own. Be it far better then that you were to surrender it to those more fit for the task! The next time that you're offered to sell away this burden to those more noble than yourself - take the damn offer! " With that, the brute would jab the tip of his baton into the woman's gut - doubling her over, gasping onto the ground, her captor finally letting go. As the woman's cries turned to mournful and pitiful sobs, she began to crawl over to the still and bloodied youth a few feet away. The brute looked over the hag with disgust,

" Don't make us come back. "

With a single flick from his hand, all the assembled brutes finally began to leave away from the bloody scene. Their path took them up to the ridge of a foothill overlooking the mine only a short ways away. At the top of the hill, having overlooked the entire scene, sat a young and strapping man atop his horse. His garments were ornate - a sky blue tunic and bagging trousers, gem encrusted rings upon each finger, an orange cloak upon his back which fluttered with the wind. The sigil of House Artria did not need to cling to his shoulder - for by his looks alone: his square jaw, his dark brown eyes, his shining brown hair, and his dashing smile - any man could have seen this to be a son of Artria. Indeed, atop the horse rode Herod - nephew to the patriarch of House Artria. As the brutes approached Herod, their fearsome and heinous leader lowered his mask, nodding with a smile towards Herod. Herod would smile and turn and ride forth closer to the rogues. As his horse had come along side the brutish and savage looking men, Herod acknowledged the rogues leader to report.

" Good lord, I can assure you that the old bitch has no choice now but to accept your offer. " Herod threw back his head in a laugh too delightful over news which was far too severe.

" Good work captain. For when ever I need aid with my finances, why turn to scribes and accountants, when I might simply come to you? " From his belt, Herod produced a purse the size of his hand and dropped it into the captains hand.

" Now then, you'd best return to your duty captain! I have a feeling an old hag will be coming before the guards quite soon to report a most heinous crime! " And all the assembled men let out a malicious laugh. The rogues, these malicious mercenaries, would need to store their furs and masks back to their hiding spots, before once again dawning their armor as professional men of the Imperium's guard and militia. Herod sped off on his horse, back to his quarters in Kakis - this place was not home for him, but yet simply another business endeavor. By orders of his house, he had come to ensure that the mines of this new settlement fall under the sole trust of the Artria. Though only twenty four, Herod was quickly proving himself to be among the most ruthless and cunning among his kinsmen. For what he could not gain through barter, he would use intrigue - or on this occasion - dispassionate violence. And as he continued move up through the ranks of his house, so to were spread his methods...

---

Mekong Delta

These last few days seemed to have been all that her life had ever been composed off. The small child hunched down onto her hands and knees, crawling forward and picking away at the dirt for what ever insects might move beneath. At a first glance, one could easily have confused the child for that of a monkey - her frame was small and lithe, her whole body covered in a thick layer of wet mud and leaves, bringing towards her mouth what ever insects she could find scurrying along the ground. What differentiated her from that of any primate of course though, was her hair. If one were to wash away all the grime and filth which had accumulated in it - they would find hair the color of clouds. Peeking through, behind the layer of mud, across her body was painted numerous designs and pictures of spirits and forest animals. The little girl was silent as she moved - having not spoken in days.

This poor girl had been bornhalf dead, or so her family had believed. Her ghostly white skin, her cloud colored hair, and her blood red eyes revealed plainly to them that she had been born without a soul. Her presence in this world was a bad omen, a mistake sent from the spirit world. Her family, her tribe, looking to appease the spirits which governed their lives, had attempted to to rectify the mistake which had manifested itself in this child. At the age of six, this poor pygmy girl's own family had come to send her back to the spirit world from whence she came - only to find that her cowardly mother had sent her away the night before, unable to do what was necessary! For her weakness, the pygmy girl's mother had been put to death, and for days onward the tribe would search the forest for their escaped sacrifice.

That had been many days ago, and against all the uncaring brutality of the natural world, the pygmy girl had survived. Pain had gone long ago, just like her mother, and just like her family. Life now consisted of finding enough bugs to eat, and water to drink. As the poor pygmy girl lifted her head up from her scrounging in the dirt, she saw before her a magnificent natural pool. She stood up upon her feat and ran quickly over to it's edge. Peering over the edge of the pool, she saw an ugly monkey like thing stare back at her. It wasn't her - surely! She didn't look like that! She beautiful and white - while this thing was dirty and unkempt brown! She was certain of it! Her cupped hand lowered down into the pull, filling up with water. As she slurped up the water from her hand, relief unlike any she had ever felt began to flow through her. She looked back down at the pool, and brought up another handful of water - and again, the relief came awash over her tired body. Without a second thought, the poor pygmy girl began to slowly slip herself down into the pool - allowing for it's wondrous and melancholic water to wash over her, cleanse away the filth which had accumulated over her. Sitting alone in the pool, for the first time in a long time, the poor pygmy girl felt at peace - if only for a moment.

---

Bhatavdekar

The days had passed like a blur for him - each moment fading in and out of consciousness, not sure for when he would wake up next. The young boy had not left his family hut for days, his family praying daily before the gods for his salvation, and applying frequently wondrous soap! His illness had started some days ago, were in the young boy had begun to complain of burning sensations from all over his body. Soon, red splotches and rashes had begun appearing all over his body. The pain had become so great that the boy simply passed out from the constant and tormenting strain! As he suffered and squirmed in the dark of his home, his fear stricken parents applied every remedy which their people had been taught by Jamie. For surely as the rest of the village prosper from his remedies, then so too would their son? But as the days wore on, it became clear that their hands and their minds could do nothing more for the boy but rub his body with soap. The splotches and redness continuing to wreck havoc over every inch of his body. When it had finally come to the point that he could no longer so much as drink then finally, the desperate parents made call for the man who could surely heal their first and only child...

---

Plymouth

Such disrespect - what gal - what abject heresy! Had not these lands been under the graceful guiding hand of the gods since the time before man first formed from the Earth? Were not men protected from chaos and the dark because of the righteous grace of the heavenly spirits? Why then, would any man go to such lengths to defy the gods! Through the streets of Plymouth, as the day neared it's end, the people of Plymouth would be made privy to a most ignoble sight. Walking through the streets was a procession most serious. Three men, led by the Druid Teirall, lead along a peasant farm laborer who many in the village knew as the son of Marwin - and a personal friend to Utgerd. Where this procession was headed was headed their was no doubt - directly to the residence.

His name was Yanne, and his crime was defamation of the holy grove. His grievous crime had become known throughout the whole of Plymouth since the night before - and his guilt had been freely admitted. Yanne, was well known to all his peers as belonging to the Christian minority of Plymouth. Having learned the word first from Utgerd, he would fully accept faith in Christ upon further worship in the town's stone temple. Though all Christians within Plymouth were of course devout - Yanne took the message to heart perhaps more hardily than the others. Were as his peers transformation had been slow in coming - Yanne had without hesitance taken on the radical change towards Christ, denying his former gods; and as an act of defiance against the false gods who had enslaved his tribe, Yanne had committed his defamation of the sacred grove. In the cover of night, armed with only an ax and a dagger - Yanne had snuck his way into the grove. The layman was forbidden entrance into the grove for all but two days and two nights in a year, for the grove was no less than a home for all of Plymouth's ancestral gods. When Yanne had snuck into the grove the night before, he ensured that his mark was known. Into every tree he could manage before he got caught, Yanne scrawled the mark of the cross. He had marked nearly two dozen trees by the time that Teirall had discovered him.

Instead of simply killing the boy right there in the grove ( as Teirall was certainly in the right to do ), the cunning druid thought it more appropriate to bring the matter before the whole of Plymouth. Remind his countrymen, and most especially the Christians, that these lands belonged first and foremost to the old gods. And so, Teirall marched his unrepentant up and through the streets of Plymouth - intent upon seeking the bloody justice for which the gods demanded!

---

Kenarbum

" What do you think it is? " The children had gathered around the marvelous thing, each pushing and shoving past one another to get a look at what had been found in the water. It had rained only the day before, and for the creeks and streams which surrounded Kenarbum - that meant the frogs would be out to enjoy the new and temporary wet climate; and for the children of Kenarbum, a perfect time for frog gigging! As the children passed their hours by, poking through the water and marsh with their sticks at any hoping beast which they could find - the marvelous thing had been discovered by one of the girls. It had caught her eye when the sun had first shined on it while i the water. At first it appeared as simply another rock - but when touched by the prevailing sunlight, specks in the rock had begun to shine like glorious golden lights. The girl had pulled the rock from out of the river bed and announced her discovery to the other assembled children. What could it be? Why did it shine like the sun? And why were there so many more rocks like it all up and down the river?

[Conwy-Shire]

Andre Moore - 2nd Month A.T.

---

A crisp rain began to fall on my face as we disembarked from the flat-bottomed skiff. For the past two days, a fine mist had hung over the river, only just now coalescing into liquid droplets. I waved my men off the river-craft, towards the towering heights over which Kenarbum watched. For the past two days I had led this party of labourers in quarrying stone from a site mere hours south of Kenarbum. These were not large blocks of stone worthy of complex masonry, but rather slabs and rubble-rock removed from the earth with the most primitive of technology. A small settlement lay near the quarry, from which specialised stoneworkers were drawn, but it was small enough and reliant on Kenarbum's food to fall into the larger town's orbit. All we needed to do was supply the labour force to transport the stone - and somehow lug it across the wide river.

This was in fact our second trip to transport the stone across, and as the men disembarked they wordlessly transferred the first cargo back into the skiff with the second cargo. Now came the strenuous part.

"On my count of three, we lift up the skiff and transfer it onto our shoulders," I began, breaking the relative silence of the labourers. It had been a hard two days in the burrow quarry, and I shared in their exhaustion - but we were so close to the end. "I want three men on either side."

I moved to the right hand side of the skiff, waiting patiently for the others to lumber over to their positions. Each looked tired, but thankfully the fire of purpose burned in all of their eyes and expressions.

"One… Two… THREE!" I shouted hoarsely. Even with each man straining to his capacity, it was a hard slog. A few moments later everyone had the skiff positioned over their shoulders to take the strain, and we were off. If it weren't for the revitalising rains I was sure my body would seize up, and from the panting of the others it was something I felt was mutual. As we passed up the river road it was hard not to notice the small group of people watching from the earthen ramparts, eagerly awaiting our arrival. Minutes later, having wound our way up the river road and through the southern pincer gate, we lowered the skiff. It dropped the last centimetre as exhaustion overruled our muscles, and began to rock ever so slightly. None of the six noticed however, we had all fallen to our knees, one of the men - Ahlan if I remembered correctly - began retching in the mud.

The partners - for without a marriage ceremony I could not call them wives - of the labourers rushed to their sides, welcoming the party back. With a pang of envy, I realised there was no one awaiting my return. But that was not necessarily true. The burly form of Ornui broke through the press of bodies, his face split by a large grin. Without pausing, the strongman grasped my forearm in a monkey-grip, hauling my limp body up into a rough embrace.

"I knew I could trust you Andre," Ornui boasted loudly. "And all of you, fine men. You may have a day's rest and recuperation for this endeavour." Weak smiles and muttered thanks were all the men could muster, gratefully slinking off back to their homes. But as I turned away, Ornui's grip grew stronger, pulling me away from the dilapidated home I had inherited. "I have something to show you, before you disappear." He snapped his finger with the free hand, summoning a gaggle of kids who had been hiding on the ramparts. They quickly went to work, emptying the skiff of its contents with delight, before absconding with the lightweight rivercraft back towards the river. Only then did Ornui loosen his grip on my arm. "Don't worry about them, they'll take it down to its storage ditch. Come with me."

He turned on one heel, heading a short ways down the main road before arriving at his house. Inconspicuous amongst the other homes of the town, it differed only in being slightly larger, and with a cleared space along its western wall. That space was where the quarried stones were headed: a new meeting hall to bring the town together - and a symbol of Ornui's growing power. But it was inside that Ornui took me, away from the damp smell of petrichor. The grin on his face grew as he walked to one side of the large interior room and bent to scoop something up. Bringing it back, I saw what looked like a pot, impossibly thin by ceramic standards.

"The traders from downstream finally returned, bearing these strange and wondrous items." He proffered the object towards me, waiting for me to take hold of it. It felt cool to the touch, abrasive and rough against my sore fingers. "Wondrous isn't it? Hit it with your fingernail and listen to the sound it makes."

I complied, slightly concerned at the strongman's childish obsession. A deep *ding* resonated out as I struck it with my fingernail. Realisation hit me instantly. "Metal." I whispered to myself, but Ornui's keen ears were quick to pick up my words.

"Metal… hmmm, you know what this is sourced from?" The childish curiosity on his face was replaced with the more shrewd look by which I had come to know him.

"It is sourced from the ground, through layers of earth before it can be extracted in an impure form. I know little of the exact procedure to draw it forth thence, but the procedure would use fire if memory serves… And when combined with copper, it produces an incredibly strong metal: Bronze. Did the traders tell you where they got this?"

"They said it came from the same mines they use to raise their sacred stones; their menhirs." He raised one hand to stroke his chin thoughtfully, ideas racing behind hazel eyes. "I shall keep an ear out for this copper you speak of. Now that the traders downstream are back on the river it shouldn't be long before we hear from those upstream." He eyes went distant and began nodding slowly to himself, then came sharply back to focus on me. "Yes, I shall do just that. In the meantime I suggest you take that rest I suggested earlier, we'll have to go out and see how the spring-planting is going now that the farms have been consolidated."

I groaned at the prospect of more walking so soon after the last mission. "Surely, we could train up some more townsfolk to spread the load more evenly?"

But Ornui simply shook his head. "Maybe in future, but for now it's just you and me friend."

---

[Hanafuridake]

Grace Kinoshita (1 year, 6 months)

The time had come for the attack on the Nihom tribe, the Nonno warriors, clad in their bamboo armor, wielding spears and bows, were filled with a mixture of visceral hatred and confidence. Now was the time for revenge. Most of them had had a loved one who had been killed in the treacherous raid that had taken place last week. It was important not to let this hatred + confidence equate into foolhardiness.

“It's such a nice day to waste on war.” Retar bemoaned, sitting on a log with her bow in hand, a bamboo helmet on her head modeled on the Kofun period. “We could be frolicking in the woods or enjoying fishing right now.”

“We can't allow the actions of the Nihom to go unchecked,” I replied, looking around as the Nonno were finishing preparations for the strike on the tribal grounds of the Nihom. Part of me understood her trepidation. It wasn't so much about wasting the day as it was not wanting to see more signs of bloodshed again. “And besides, today marks a new era, with us at its head.” she smiled and reached her hand out for mine, which I took a hold of and cherished.

This was the final moment of my old life... I would no longer be an innocent who had never harmed another human being. I would have the blood of at least two or three dozen people on my hands. They might have started the conflict, but that wasn't going to make the images of the war dead leave my memories...

“Please, Lord Buddha...” if there were any time to pray, it was in the foxholes. “Grant me this victory. That's all I ask.”

Almost as though the universe were listening, the minute I finished whispering that prayer, the warriors had finished preparing and were now ready for the assault. I could see the chieftain at his hut staring at me. He didn't have to speak a word, I could tell from his eyes what he was thinking at me: “You are going to regret this, you witch.”

An excited boy, who must have been around sixteen, approached me. “Is it time to unfold the banner?” I nodded my head and he enthusiastically helped me roll out the banner that I had created for the miniature army. It was primitive and blue, made from some dyes that Retar had taught me to make. On the front and back were embedded one character, large enough to be read for some distance.

花

“What does it mean?” the boy asked, having never seen kanji before.

“Hana (Flower).”

---

Nonno-Nihom War

As we marched through the brush and toward the Nihom settlement, our scouts uncovered a half-dozen of their hunters, who returned fire as our less armored scouts fired on their position. Some of the arrowheads bounced off of the warriors' bamboo armor, others became lodged in, but very few managed to hit the mark. These were hunters, not warriors, organized warfare was an alien concept to them.

While the first wave of hunters were dealt with, Retar focused her men on the village. “Fire!” she shouted, and the warriors raised their bows and released the arrows, sending them over head and into the settlement where the Nihom were. There were panicked cries, thank goodness that the children had been rushed inside. It was more merciful than what the Nihom had afforded our tribe. Our tribe...

The boy from earlier was one of the first to march into the village, triumphantly holding the banner, he had the enthusiasm of a puppy that had just opened its eyes. “Long live the Great Tribe of Hana!” he exclaimed, much to my surprise. It seemed that he had spontaneously decided to adopt the Japanese name for the tribe. This must be what those foreign exchange students are like when they first learn a word in the language they're studying.

The Nonno - Hana - whatever you wanted to call them, scoured the village for resisters. A few came out with weapons, they were quickly killed or apprehended. “Let go of me!” a woman exclaimed as two of the Nonno had disarmed her of the spear she was carrying. I gestured for them to tie her up, which they quickly obeyed. From her speech, I could tell that the Nihom spoke a dialect similar to, but different in some ways, from the Nonno language.

“You are all receiving your rightful punishment!” I declared, the Nihom seemed surprise that I could speak as easily in their tongue as I was able my own tribe. “You fired on one of our men last year who was on our sacred land, and just a week ago, you raided our village, killing several of our children. If we were to repay you similarly, we would have to take a child each from you for what we suffered...”

The villagers became worried about the prospect and tried reasoning with me. “We were hungry!” one of the women, with a child at her side, cried out miserably. It was hard not to feel sorry for her, but I tried to remember the scenes from the village where I lived. The dead... “To the north are ferocious dog-like people who attack us and drive us from our land when we try to hunt.” another tribe? Interesting.

“But... I won't stoop to that.” I stated, much to the surprised relief of the village. “If you will agree to swear an oath to become tributaries of the Hana tribe and abandon hostility toward us. We will allow you to hunt on our land, and to harvest food, in exchange for a small rate to be paid to us. When the time comes, we will vanquish the Dog People, and you will have your own lands back. If you prove yourselves to be loyal vassals.” with little choice, the Nihom agreed, but I was not going to take their word alone. “Who is your chief?”

The tribe pointed him out to me, a young man, about ten years older than me. “Your family will be taken as hostages by me.” I stated, and he was understandably not pleased by that news. “If you are loyal vassals and do not rebel against your merciful lords, then they will receive care and education in the tribe, as a symbol of our good will. If not...” it was not pleasant to think about, but it had to be made clear. “You will be without a family. Don't mistake my mercy for weakness.”

---

Road back to Hana

“That was amazing, Gureisu!” Retar exclaimed as we walked back to the village, most of the warriors singing its new name. “I didn't realize that you could be so powerful.” behind us, the children of the Nihom chieftain were in tow. The three were not happy about their new situation, but had fortunately not broken down into tears. They seemed glassy eyed, almost as though it was taking them awhile to adjust to what had just happened. Well, who could blame them? “We didn't even suffer a single casualty.”

“This is just the beginning.” I replied, looking up at the sky and thinking about how things would turn out. We conquered the Nihom, we had developed a relationship with them. Was this going to be the birth of an empire? I was worried about jinxing the hope. “After we have turned Hana into a fortress, we will expand across the island and subdue the Dog People. There's so much more I want to sho - ” I was stopped all of a sudden by Retar kissing me on the lips, in front of the entire brigade. I didn't want to resist, but this was highly compromising. “R - r - r”

“Oh what does it matter now?” Retar giggled, her feelings pouring out like a volcanic eruption. “We're in love! And we're going to conquer the world! The Nonno - the Hana - will last longer than any tribe that came before us. If only we had a child, then she could be its ruler.” wait, a child? That was a bit soon to be talking - wait, what was I even worried about? We couldn't have kids anyway. The rest of the warriors watched with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

Then boy from earlier bursted into a song which soon was picked up by the rest of the band on the march home.

“The Kamuy from the Eastern Lands
Conquered the Nihom to the North
But Retar the Chieftain's Daughter conquered her.”

I was going to wring his neck later...

[Burgerlandia]

Jason Thatcher
3000 B.C, 3 months after arrival

Remes, Southeastern Nile Delta

Inventions Introduced:

• Written Language (Latin alphabet was combined with Egyptian phonemes and grammar to create a rudimentary language that is superior to the crude symbolism used prior. Currently practiced by five members of several hundred present in the village. Teaching is in progress but will likely take months to years.)
• Irrigation and More Crops (To be done. Present in small amounts in larger Egyptian towns such as the capital but not yet in Remes.)
• Copper and Bronze Forging (To be done. Kiln/forge drafted. Working model to be built out of mud brick.)
• Mathematics (To be done. Addition and subtraction exist in parts of Egypt though the practice is not yet widespread.)

Today was likely the last day of harvests, according to Amr, as the amount of standing grain has depreciated to only a few scattered clusters. More importantly today would be the day I could begin my work as a proper engineer in peace. Omar and I were in the fields cutting a small group of surviving emmer, to be preserved via drying. The pounding sun was useful for more than just its sweltering heat and cancer-inducing radiation. Today was particularly brutal, a weight of solar energy seared my back - protected by only a thin layer of linen. "Thank the Lord this is almost over." I chuckled, Omar looked up from the pile of grain he gathered, "The work never ends, Jason. Only the tasks change each season." he replied. "Right..." I mumbled to myself.

We were interrupted by a rustling noise as Sef walked hurriedly through what fields remained to meet us. He bore an expression of concern, his beard scrunched and his eyebrows furrowed. "Has anyone seen Hemeda? He went out last night to gather some copper as merchants were supposed to pass through today. Though, he never returned to inform me of his results." Omar and I glanced at one another to affirm our own confusion. "No, perhaps he just forgot to stop by?" Omar theorized. Sef wasn't satisfied with this, and continued, "That is very unlike him. Hemeda is as reliable as the moon is in the sky." The worst scenarios began to dawn upon us given this comment, what fate could have befallen Hemeda? He's been on the route countless times with nary an issue, his experience should provide a safety net against silly but lethal blunders such as losing his way or terminal dehydration. Only variables such as a venomous snake crossing his path at the wrong place at the wrong time seemed like potential causes. IF he is dead, that is. We still don't know. I try to remedy Sef's panic with surface-level reassurance. "Hemeda is a component and intelligent man. He's fine, I'm sure of it." Sef attempts to level himself, exhaling and nodding slowly. "You know what, let's set out and lo-"

"Look." Omar murmurs. He faces away from Sef and I, staring not at us but at the village. We jolt in the direction to match Omar's gaze. All the villagers... gathered? They're in the distance so identifying what exactly is causing the commotion eludes us. Sef gestures an arm in the direction of the village, "Let's go see what's happening." We take off. Running through the sand feels like swimming against the current at times. The ground lacks solidity and responds to your steps by giving way, making it difficult to gain momentum. It wastes energy and reminds me why I do cardio on the treadmill at home and not on the beach. Fuck, I can't think about Pauline now. The goal has been and always will be, 'return home,' but until I figure exactly how to do that I must apply all the knowledge accumulated by humanity over the millennia past where I am now and make life easier. Advancing this village will secure our safety and prosperity in a world where savagery is the norm. After all, three months prior one of my now 'friends' nearly ended my life here before it even began.

We make it to the village in record time despite the complete lack of traction the surface beneath us gives. A horde of villagers reminiscent of the one a few days ago has formed, though this time they are not OUR audience but instead are regarding something else - or someone else. The crowd gives way rather easily as Sef, Omar and I push through to the front. They pay little attention to us, as the scene in the front is plenty enough to focus on.

Hemeda: bloodied, bruised and barely conscious. A man: smug with yellow teeth, braided hair and decorative copper. And soldiers: staring at us as if we were sheep.

He speaks. "From the Lord of Yunu, we the servants of his grace have come bearing good tidings - this town now possesses protection from the Sublime kingdom of Yunu. And for this gracious gift, our great lord asks only for tribute and obedience. Of which, I have assured him of both..." Silence. He continues, "This man was found to be possessing OUR copper for which we punished him. To avoid his unfortunate fate all copper gathered henceforth belongs to our lord; Shabaka."

The figure in front of us radiates dominance, and I can't help but lower my figure to appear less imposing and noticeable. Given Hemeda's poor state of health and the man's bloodthirsty demeanor I can only assume that critical information was spilled. Information that had up until this point been restricted to Remes. It was my goal to remain relatively low key. Though in retrospect with hundreds of villagers and many neighbouring settlements this wish was but a pipe dream. Maybe Hemeda kept some information hidden? The important stuff: the fact that I'm supposedly holy and what blessings I've brought to Remes thus far. I've used my divine cover as leverage to operate as I wish in Remes, I can't get bogged down by being 'just another peasant.' But men like these live to exploit. This protection is nothing more than a synonym for, "Hey, you now exist to produce for us." Fuck this is a set back. Omar whispers to me, "Jason you must stay calm. Our village has been in situations like this in the past. Our subjugation into in Hor-Aha's dynasty was bloodless only because we did not resist. I'm sure the great Pharoah Djer will not tolerate this rogue kingdom's acts." Omar does speak the truth. The Kingdom of Yunu essentially declared war Djer's kingdom by annexing a tax-paying village. A potential casus belli for the Pharoah? One can only hope. Under Djer's rule we've at least been given semi-autonomy, but now we exist only to produce for this Shabaka character.

"In addition, your friend Hemeda here has spoken some very interesting words. According to him, you have the honour of harboring a man of divine nature? Can this man step forward?" the lead soldier says. FUCK! HEMEDA! It turns out the intelligence I saw in him was quickly snuffed out by his beatings. Shit, what the fuck do I do? These men probably don't worship the Egyptian gods, right? Will they just kill me outright once I take a step? I don't move, my feet glued to the ground by my crippling fear. I survived death once by a whim I can't die now. Pauline is too young to be a widow...

Omar and Sef say nothing as I remain still. Hemeda hasn't spilled my name or appearance else he'd be eyeing the crowd curiously a lot less. Twenty seconds pass. Twenty of the slowest seconds of my life. The head soldier sighs and throws Hemeda to the sand. "My name is Hyskos." the warrior says as he takes steps towards the crowd. "You do not know fear until you have heard my name." More steps. He draws his blade. "And you do not know consequences until you have disobeyed me." He grabs a nearby villager by the neck, and he squirms in his grip.

The sound of blood splattering on sand is one I'd never thought I'd hear. The impact of the body falling afterwards seems to ring in our ears for an eternity. A wife cries, a child weeps. The crowd remains silent.

I just got a man killed in my name. What have I done? I eye to the left as his severed jugular pours blood which the sand soaks up greedily like a sponge. A scream wells up inside of me but I shove it down with what remaining willpower I have. A mere spark remains - I use it to take two steps forward. I look at the ground as I alone have moved.

"Excellent. So you are the holy one. What is your name, patron of the Gods?" Hyskos laughs, his deep voice reverberating across the silent dunes. "... Jason." he sheathes his blade, still stained fresh with the blood of the unknown villager. "Jason. I've never heard of such a divine name." It's not divine, Hyskos. It's a normal Canadian name. Fucker. "I hear you have blessed this village with knowledge. Will you do the same with our kingdom?" he asks, as if I have a choice in the matter. To placate the man, I simply respond, "Yes." he gives me a friendly whack on the back which almost knocks me off balance. He suddenly gets close, face to face with. His mouth contorts into devilish curls, bearing his stained teeth at me. "Then we will do great things, Jason."

[Gremand]

It was late in the day I found the girl. I was going to the pool to perform a ritual cleansing, along with my teacher-guide. The girl was sitting, peacefully, in the water, muddied slightly. I am not sure now who rushed forwards, which one of the two of us startled her into standing. The three of us stood silent, for quite some time, simply staring in a circle, unwilling to break the silence. It was my teacher-guide, who made the first gesture of peace.

"We've food, if you'll come with us."

With the silence broken, the child began to walk, slowly, towards me. My complexion, although darkened by the months in this sun, was still closer to the pale, slightly dirtied white of the child's. There was another pause, before the child nodded, moving silently to the side of my teacher-guide, still taking occasional glances at me. Both of us adults new there was going to be more to do tonight than simply meditate.

Many of the group questioned whether or not to keep this girl, Qui, in the camp. Our group of 10 came to a decision relatively quickly, choosing to keep the girl near us for now, in case some other group in the area had lost her while traveling, and wished her to be returned. I had not met any of the neighboring groups, but some of the others talked of perennial conflicts, usually over religious and property disputes. The group did not want to disrupt the girl's family and cause another feuding war- it had been some time since the last battle, before I had come to this world, and I rather agreed. I was not good at fighting.

Around three weeks later, a group of villagers arrived. They were armed with bamboo sharpened spears, much like the ones used for fishing, and wicked, large stone knives. While not immediately attacking my group, they threatened my teacher. It was at this point that I came out of hiding, ready to help defend my group, and the leader immediately turned on me. The next thing I knew, a spear was stabbed through my hand. I'm not sure how exactly I stood standing, arm outstretched, keeping the point from impaling anything worse than my hand, but the next thing I knew my instincts to fight were taking over and I was ripping the spear out of his hands, still impaled on my own. It was at this point, I believe, that I screamed, enraged and in pain, and was promptly punched in the stomach. The battle started.

I will admit, I was incapacitated for most of the fight. I did not see my teacher-guide get stabbed through the stomach, did not see their leader fall onto his own spear, did not witness the moment where- I am told- Qui hit her own father in the head with a thrown stone. I remember the aftermath, however, the panicked retreat downstream, dragged along and stumbling-running where I could. The group did not follow, for reasons I do not understand, even now. I remember seeing only four of my compatriots, where ten had stood not an hour before. But most of all, I remember the girl's miracle.

The following night, there was a luminescence within some of the wounds. At first I chalked it up to delirium, but then I caught sight of one of my companion's faces- also in shock, gazing at the scratches on his hands, faintly glowing. There was a conversation, asking why this was happening, what it meant. I was to see it as some kind of good spirit, angels glow, probably caused by a bacteria, but I didn't know how something from my old world got to this new place. This was not, from what I could tell, exactly the same as the angel's glow either- the color was more greenish, not blue. Either way, all of my surviving compatriots lived through the fevers which were to come for them, and the girl's status was elevated from demonspawn, like me, to a displaced spirit of some kind.

We arrived at the lower camp around three weeks later, and the rice was coming up nicely. While they were surprised and happy to see us, the realization as to why we were decreased in number drastically reduced the mood. We decided to fortify the encampment, and I, far away from my fish and unable to do anything for their sakes, began to work on another project. The creation of a necklace, from the scales of a snake, as a gift to the girl for her perceived miracle-working. Seven scales, each in a different color, arranged in chromatic hue, woven onto a thicker cord.

Thus ended the first year.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Viktor Nemtsov - Part 2, Chapter 8: Iron Like Water

September 8th, 2 AG

I look out from the top of the tall brick structure, and my eyes swept across the fields of grain up the river towards Mara, where I could just pick out my house overlooking the town. Below my perch atop the eyrie of piled stone and blasted clay the Great River flowed south towards the distant plains of Czechia, or what the people of the vales of the Erzgebirge termed the Widelands. No ships passed up and down the swiftly burbling river now, for our trade with the south was still little and infrequent, but soon that would change. As I peered north again my keen eyes could barely pick out the wooden tones of the drydock on the southern edges of Mara, where carpenters were yet laboring to put together a sturdy barge for the transport of river goods.

But I digressed. Turning my mind with a conscious force of will back to the matter at hand, I rose from my squatting position and climbed back down the ladder to the base of the tall brick structure. My arms and legs were more nimble than they had been when I first came to this land of the past, and as I arrived at the base I wasn't even breathing hard. Months of hard labor to survive and build a new civilization could do that to you, a happy side-effect of my busy days and nights. Wiping the accumulated sap from the ladder off on my thick leather apron, I nodded to the dozen men waiting at the base.

"Everything looks to be in readiness. How is the air coming off of the heating chamber?"

Eyes turned towards the foreman, a worker from the steel mill near Kniepper that Peter had chosen for his expertise in the forge. The grey-haired longbeard, named Tomas, cleared his throat with a crackling sound that bespoke mild pneumonia.

"All is in readiness Viktor. Branches kindle at the touch of its breath, and we have the carts ready to add to the main flume."

I smiled, for that was what I wished to hear. I motioned to some of the men to follow me, and we crossed quickly around the base of the structure, to where the waterwheel dipped in the Great River spun heedlessly. Its mechanism had yet to be hooked up the two great bellows placed at the bottom of the edifice, but with some groaning and hauling we engaged the gears. The reciprocating process had taken a dozen tries to get right, to allow the waterwheel to drive the bellows in a cyclical fashion without catching on itself, but this arrangement seemed to do the trick. As both of the immense leather sacks inflated and deflated, I heard the bellow of the top of the furnace begin, air rushing out of the top of the structure at great speed.

Hopefully that would serve. With the noise already growing to be formidable, hot air drawn through the furnace by the bellows roaring almost as loud as the din of a battle, I signaled the worker who stood at the mid-point of the structure to begin adding the mixture of iron ore and coke to the blast furnace, and with a bit of struggling and unheard swearing he too had engaged the gear mechanism that crawled up the side of the structure. With the creak of bronze gears, an expensive addition but a necessary one, baskets of iron ore and coke mixed began to wheel up the wall of the brick tower and dump their contents in to the top of the blast furnace.

Anxiously I stood at the base of the furnace. This was our third time attempting a similar process, and getting the specifics right was proving to me difficult than I had anticipated. Creating pig iron had never been something I had had to deal with in depth as an engineer, with most steel being provided as it was. But the theory was something I had been forced to learn, and had been painstakingly piecing back together from trial and error. Our first cast hadn't had enough air- the slag and iron ore had been less than fully combusted when tapped, and the half-molten slurry was useless from a material standpoint. The second had been done with charcoal, and we hadn't heated the furnace fully enough for the combustion of the flux to cleanse impurities from the medium-grade hematite.

This time, though, when I tapped the slurry, out of the brick channel poured a stream of smoking white fluid, good pig iron ready for the crucible and carbonization. It was a good day, I reflected, for such auspicious events. With the fall harvest close at hand we could begin the large-scale production of scythes for sale immediately, perhaps even sell some of them on credit. More food begat more stability and a satisfied populace, a state of affairs I could get behind.

[Holy Tedalonia]

Edward "Ted" Tomlinson
Near Lotoba, Italy, 2999 BC, early start of the 18th month after LF

I had ran from Ortez for 2 days straight. Well, I slept cautiouslyin between, but you get the idea. They were still hot on my heels. They knew Id make a run for Lotoba, and often I met warriors of Ortez.

Even now I run from them as they chase me. Two men eager to enact vengeance for their fallen chieftain. Pain swelled inside me in the belly. Grueling as it was I grit my teeth and continue with speed. I knew the risk, I could pop a swollen section of intestine with this pressure and stress on it and bleed out within, killing me. But what of it? I either die of Ortez men or I die of blood loss from crohns.

I preferring perhaps thatd it be atleast valorous preferring battle over running away, I turn around readying my blade against the two men running towards me. One swings for my nape. I duck and aim for the leg, only cutting the surface, and not the bone. The other flings his sword from above, allowing me dodge to the side. I hit him with the hilt of the blade.

The first lunges for me once more, this time aiming for my heart. I had little time to react, and the blade slice into the side of my torso, forming a wound. I stab him in the stomach, and quickly pulled the blade out. The second swings once more this time from behind before I could let go of the first. Had he finished his swing, Id be a dead man.

A blade pierced him from the back to front. A interloper, perhaps, but one blessed by god. This man was someone I recognized, Sillander.

"Ore-Maker looks like you found trouble," said Sillander smiling happy to see the Ore-Maker once more.

"Aye, Men of Ortez, you and I have no love for them, worry not," I said.

He frowned, "they have bronze blades, I imagine they are of your making?"

"That is true, they had forced me to make them. I however crafted my own weapons to aid in my escape," I pull out the dagger, "the dagger blooded by the life of the Chieftain of Ortez."

"You killed Chief Arthin?" His eyes widened.

"Aye, 'twas a battle I wish not to relive," I said, "he nearly killed me, but god protected me. Hows Viluthin?"

He hesitated, "H- hes dead... during the raid he was struck down..."

Pain struck me, the man who took me in was dead. Who did it? Arthin? A Ortez raider? Anger swelled inside me.

"Who did it," I asked barely holding my anger, "did they take Lela too?"

"No, she was not slain, and the killer is not known to I by name, was a Ortez raider though. The murderer didn't even kill my father honerably, stabbed in the back," said Sillander.

"Damn it," I shouted kicking a tree, "we ought to burn their village to the ground unless they tell us who did the dead! They will pay in tenfold!"

"No, we will not mess with Ortez no more. We stay on Lotoba till we recover," said Sillander.

And that was that, for now...

[The Surge Empire]

Edward McGray

Land-Fall: 0 days, Five hours.

I am here for a reason, a reason unknown but a god given reason, it is. and it will be fulfilled.

My life was in shreds, at one point I'm in the air force, then I'm working for SpaceX, only to be 3rd on the chopping block after the catastrophe, that was Hawk 13. Layoffs have become the norm in the office in those past weeks, I was at home for an hour or so, it was just after my fifth date with my girlfriend Amalie Spencer, our relationship was as good as it could be, 3 months in, we were doing so well. and I just dozed off. now i'm in this god forsaken barbarian land. what the hell am i'm going to do.


this new world that i'm in, I stuck in, so I must leave my old life behind and begin anew. while my old life had been filled by tragedy. this one will be filled with hope. no longer will I be a servant, I will be a leader. but from my countryside surroundings and the lack of a city in the distance, I say i'm in the past or deep in the countryside, but as i'm buck naked and I wasn't before. I say the past, by some sort of magical occurrence.

but bow that I'm here I guess I make the best of it. I walked aimlessly for 4 hours straight, i luckily came up to a small village, when i opened the door of one of the houses i was surprised to the helpfulness they gave me.they told me their names, I called them by their lastnames which was Cornip, what surprised me more is when i heard them talk in some sort of strange language, i knew what they meant and when i responded, I was shocked to learn i spoke it as well. I asked them for an outfit and a night's rest. they had a spare outfit, I supposed it belong to their eldest son, who from what I understood was killed after a buddy of his, attacked him in the tin mines. the food they gave me wasn't great, but it filled me up, and it had a good taste. so I could live. the next morning I would plan to learn more about the mines.

Land-Fall: 1 days, ? hours.

After dinner, i suppose it was, at the Cornip residence, i went exploring, it was dark out so i coundn't find anyone, but i found a feather, some mud and tree bark. and so I made this journal of sorts, it won't last long, but I won't need it too. this morning I was able to find some more people. I saw someone selling what I presume to be copper, and when I asked about where I was, they told me I was in devon, it ewas possible that I was in Devon, England, and that meant tin, and wiith an aboundence of stone tools and a lack of iron, I would assume i'm in the bronze age, presumably the start of it, and copper plus tin mean bronze. this was going to be splendid. If I ever get back home I would have a world of knowledge to share

[Civilization OP]

Dublin

As the denizens of Dublin manned their walls, ready to take on what ever fiends had been prowling among the trees, they would find for themselves a most disappointing surprise. The violence which they had been expecting, the reason for which they had constructed their palisade, and for which many men secretly yearned - did not come. The men of Dublin would steel themselves behind their palisade for a full day before finally being released back out into the countryside. The bandits and fiends who had been spotted from earlier were no where to be found... as were nearly a dozen cattle from Senga's herd. Their tracks lead north - deep into the primordial wilds and woodland from whence the bandits had came.

---

Copenhagen

While away on his quest to bring unity among the barbarous peoples of the north - old habit had begun to play out in Monroe's adopted home. At the first sign of blood in his cough, Asger knew that his time was coming - and as such had made his intentions for legacy known before the elders of his community. Upon his passing from this life into the next, he would be succeeded by his son - Thulmor. Yet, the chief would become quite surprised at the resistance from his council of elders towards the idea. The wisend heads of Copenhagen's people protested against the simple Thulmor taking the helm of leadership upon Asger's passing. For the elders, a far better alternative would be that they choose from among the denizens of their community the next leader. Asger guffawed at the lunacy of the request, and seethed with anger when they refused to abandon their insolent position. At an empass between unstoppable ego - the meeting had finished when Asger demanded that the elders leave his hall.

Soon after, all of Copenhagen would hear of the debate which had raged between their leader and hallowed elders - and just as quickly had sides begun to form. In the time that Monroe has been away, the divide between supporters of a Chief's right to legacy and the supporters of the elders prerogative has grown deep among the closely nit community.And as the mysterious foreign aide makes return once more to their settlement - each side is looking to find an ally in him.

[The Empire of Tau]

Civilization - Isekai Edition
Part 1 - Whelp

Hhm, this was not good. I’m naked, I’m in a field, and I don’t know where am I. This was not the best of dreams. Yet, I don’t think this is a dream anymore. Everything feels real as one could explain. If this was real, well...time to quickly panic because I’m fucked. Well, Let's not panic right now, maybe I can find a city...

A few minutes of running, hysteria, and realization later…

Nope, there appears to be no form of morden structures about. I did find a small village on a river though. Hhm, so, no internet, no home, no luxury of the modern age. I’m fucked. I may be 17 years of age, but I look like a poor-boy who looks to be 15 or 16. I can’t even open a jar of pickles. Ye, no, no, I’m just fucked outright. I’m going to die here. I don’t know how to bloodly survive in this place. I never would have thought that I...Huh?

Oh, there appears to be someone right next to me. Ah, right, another point. I’m pretty sure that I can’t speak whatever language that is spoken in this time...Oh wait. I can understand her. How the hell can I understand her? How, why...you know what, I’m not going to question it. Screw it. I’m just not going to question it at this point.

Anyhow, I got invited by this young lady to the village. Lets called her amy. Said village is not that big, a few lads or so. There’s tents and a few mud buildings in construction. Small farm-fields and what-not.

The folks eye me, given that I’m a stranger and have darken skin then one could expect, but they don’t really mind what’s going on.

A older man, looks about 20, let's call him Bobby, hollers at me. He asks if I could help him carry some firewood back to his hut. I simply do so. Bobby then tells me to collect some sticks and various other tasks. Bobby tells me that I’m not a bad helper..

Well, I guess I’m living in this place now. I just got feeling that I’ll be staying for while….

[Saxony-Brandenburg]

Olivia Carson
Month 28 of my new life

"Leader" was used in the loosest possible terms. I was a kind figure for the people to look up to, and I did everything I could to fulful that role. I was kind, I was brave, I took upon the stature of "leader", even if that meant to repress my own emotions for the time being. I often cried at night, but I could never take that as paramount, as the servant of Zara came back with a demand list- to send back the harbored slave children, or be put to the sword. We had a month to decide, before his warriors would take them by force. I sat in my tent sipping a light flower tea when I heard the news, and almost choked when it reached my ears. I knew I only had two choices, to fight the order, or to flee these lands. Zara, the tyrant- Zara, the bull- Zara, the fearless- Zara the undying. He was a Goliath, even for the likes of these men, standing at just over my own height. How could one stand up to him? How could anyone defy his wishes and wish to live? No one tribe could, that was certain- but if... if somehow many could come together, in defiance of his lordship, maybe we could... maybe we could.

I first met with the people of the western lands, who's wealth had been envied by Zara. They had received many times greater the tax burden that I had, as he attempted to starve them of their wealth. They had brought great amounts of initial wealth, but found themselves unable to create more from it, their power trickling away by the month. We sat upon a fine rug as we discussed our people, and the taxes. They were a small tribe, half that of my own, and debated the fleeing from these lands- but as it turned out, they had little idea where to go. They may return back to the west, but risked conflict with their old neighbors, who they had fled in the first place, leaving such a move practically redundant. But they were terrified of Zara. I offered them all protection, and an end to the taxes- if they would stand up against the bull. I plead my case, I begged, but they would not relent- not without others they could be confident to aid us. And so- I left, for the people of the Northlands.

The people of the northlands were a reclusive folk. They were primarily pastoral, and held little material goods, not that they had any desire for anything beyond more salt for their mutton. They had done decently under Zara's rule, but the tribute was still uncomfortable. Their only pain was in their pride, which was so wounded by these men, that their relative prosperity was a twisting knife with every bent knee they made. I slowly devised a plan for the liberation of us all, one where, if I made enough concessions, perhaps all would be appeased? Perhaps... perhaps we could find a resolution smart enough, and thought out, to pressure Zara into relenting.

This was wishful thinking.

The offer was made to the two other tributary tribes to gain an alliance. It wasn't an amazing solution, especially not for myself, but it was something. We would form a pseudo-alliance of peoples, four in number, and pledge to defend against any outsiders, and harbor the others in safety, should they be in our domains. The Northerners would become the leaders of this coalition, and all would meet in their lands in discussions, thus, regaining their honor. The people of the west would be given some of the northerner's flocks, and some of the copper tools we had traded with the people of the mountains, so that they may prosper from their newfound liberation. We were given little, but the promise that all slaves in the camp of the bull may be given freedom, and that was enough for me.

And so it was that we made our move.

I hadn't the authority to make any formal treaties with my people, well, nobody knew they would need such a thing. Alliances and grudges, that was of little importance to those who labored every day to put food on their table- it was enough to speak of common defense and an end to tyranny and tribute to gain my people to accept the treaty. The other two houses, however, still needed prodding. No more taxes, no more kings, the valley would be split with each community wholly independent- and I could do nothing to prevent the sale of slaves wholesale, save for all those currently in chains be set free, to do with as they liked. It wasn't a great victory, and might just create a new king of the northern lands, but it was a decision nonetheless. And I had to defend my children, whatever the cost.

And so, it came to be upon the night before the king's demands were to be met, that we began our move. the watchmen were horribly drunk, with only their slave there to actually stand guard. Shihna came to him, and begged him to allow her, and some more of us through. We promised not to hurt a soul, but to free many, in a mass raid not on their flesh, but on their minds. The slave, who only cared for his life, relented, and ran into the darkness as to not face retribution from his masters. And there we silently descended- putting out cooling fires with bundles of earth, concealing our movements, softening our steps. The night had been a feast night, and with the men all passed out from alcohol, the servants were the only awake. We decended into their tents, the tents of the unwed slaves, of the hand slaves, of the personal slaves of Zara, and bid they come with us, and we would secure their freedom that morning. Many were relenting, and yet many were not, and ran into the bushes at this one chance. I cannot say we freed them all, for many a slave-wife slept beside their captors, unable to free themselves, unaware what happened outside. And yet, a few did, and rolled themselves out from under the walls of their tents, joining us, awaiting the dawn far away, where we promised to meet with them again.

The dawn broke, and the enraged screams of the firemen rung through the valleys, terrifying the hardiest soul which stood atop the hill overlooking their camp. Warriors and leaders of the three tribes, who had come together to collectively demand change. That fear was not unjustified, as a mob of great warriors met us at the base of the hill.

"Zara of the firemen!" The elder of the Northmen called. "You have dishonored our families for the final time! We come to you with demands, or else face the god's retribution, and an end to our ties!" The beast lumbered forwards, a great club, ordained with feathers and bells upon the pommel, a beautiful, bloodied, murder weapon. He looked behind him, and saw a mass of men so thoroughly confident, so thoroughly lofty, that to do anything but crush these traitors would be dishonor. And so he spoke to us. "Oathbreakers!" He began. "You come on this day, seeking to be released from your obligations! If any man still stands upon this field by noontime, let his head roll, and his wife be mine!"

All looked to me as he spoke, the pressure did not work. Many were terrified, many were angry, but I spoke unto them with the saddest of tone.

"Should you stand and fight with me, I ask only this upon you: the end of the tribute, and the freedom of his slaves. We will take back what he has taken, every. ounce. We shall restore glory to your homes. We shall end the burdens that keep you from the lands of prosperity, and I will take nothing of mine, and rather offer it to you all, if my people may be spared their share, so that they may live in comfort. That, and nothing more for I. That is the will of the Goddess."

I had spoken well, for my standards anyway. I hadn't known what had taken over me- perhaps my stature gave me confidence, but upon the noontime that evening, both bands of warriors still stood facing each other. Two forces, whose honor and morals prevented they leave, whose futures depended on this day. I did not take the field, I only thanked them, kissed the earth, and begged the Goddess that she be kind to them, and left for home. They did not take this as dishonor, to them, war was a male activity- although the goddess may overwatch them. I could not bear to see them fight, and so I left to meet with the freed slaves, and see what their next moves were. When I arrived, however, I found even women and nigh child armed. I begged them to not get involved, but they would not bare to listen. If their freedom cost the lives of my people, so would they use their lives to continue the fight for freedom. And so, they left, leaving me in the worst guilt I had ever felt- torn between life and freedom. All I could do is watch the people rally to the field, and stare.

I believe they saw me on that hilltop, on my knees in prayer. I was never truly religious myself, and hardly believed a word I said as it came to spirits, or gods and goddesses, but I begged whoever could hear me to protect my people, to keep every man on that field safe, and alive throughout the day. The wounded would be many, and I feared my own husband's downfall, who stood upon the right flank with a sling. The freed slaves I saw from my vantage point, crept around the back of the camp, and prepared to convince even more to join their number as the battle began. At the blast of a horn, it began, and it was too horrible for my eyes to look upon the conflict at my own hands.

Wait... what had I done?

The screams of horror lasted for hours. I fell unto my knees, and could not open my eyes until the dust had settled. Good god, what had I done? As it turned out, these grievances were far more than my petty words. My will was merely a straw on the back, with theft, rape, and murder in deeply family ties had already built up this conflict. My petty treaty didn't convince them, I was merely following a trend that was culminating in this war. I hadn't any real control, and as I thought upon the proclamations of hatred, screams of unforgotton crimes, I broke down, and could not rise for a very, very long time. But when I threw myself into the valley below, down the grassy decline, I saw what had been made of it all. So many men, women, and children had fallen, writhing in pain. I saw a few corpses, I vomited, a lot. We had been victorious, but at what cost? I saw a cluster of freed slaves, but even they bore their victory with a sorrowful sigh. Few had truly died, but this land would be shaped forever. I came upon a group of warriors, of three houses, who were squabbling over who to divide the loot unto. I screamed at them, and promised none would get it if they did not help the wounded. They did not listen. It took me and nigh twenty others to tend to the immediately threatened, I ripped to pieces my beautiful cotton clothes to hold the bleeding, choosing to be naked rather than see any bleed to death. We made camp in their camp, we rested in their tents. We were going to spare the fire people- the plan was to overthrow Zara, and banish him, and let the people join us in an alliance. I found Zara's head on a pike, and many fleeing refugees on the horizon. What had I done? What had I done? Had it been worth it? What if I had stayed on the field? I couldn't stand it, and shed tears as I worked. None asked me why, all knew the answer. I kept mourning even as my husband came to me- bruised, sore, with a black eye and bleeding lip, but alive. I kept mourning, and working- to try and save people of all tribes, until I passed out from exhaustion. A slave-girl I made promise to wake me up splashed river water on my face, and I kept at work for two more days straight. Nobody knew precise losses, but as we limped home, we found that we had to cart six bodies with us. Six bodies to be burned, and their ashes to be scattered back into the mother river. But in return, fourteen slave girls joined our village, and six children more. I allowed many of them to sleep in my tent, while I slept by the riverbank. Someone lent me a crude undyed wool skirt. None brought be a crown of flowers for days after. Not until the last ember on the funeral pyre was burned. Even still, I refused them. I fell into a depression. My actions- so morally gray were they that I could not justify them one way or another. It ripped up my insides, and allowed me the pleasure to vomit whatever I ate for days. My tears flowed like rivers, and I soon found the slave girls of the fire people sitting around me, trying to comfort me, as if I had lost a child! Who was I, to deserve it all?

I would be known from then on, as the mother to all, and a mourner of any death.

Many of the best workers, the strongest farmers, would be crippled for weeks to come, and more and more the women of the village came to work the land. I taught them what I knew, for they had taught me with special exemption. I suppose a pseudo social change began by my example with the children, and bled into the adults. I hadn't spoken a word on it formally and yet... somehow, I think I had inspired a wave of equality among the people, much greater than could be seen in the surrounding tribes. I didn't comment on it, hell I hardly spoke, but as the women of the Gagne people tended the fields, herded the sheep, and lifted the timber alongside their brothers? I think I could feel a sense of hope upon the horizon. I had a new goal. To bring true equality to the people of the valley, one person at a time.

[Theyra]

Ikram al-Zaidi
Sari, Iran
Year 1.5

"Anahita, everything ready to go? I asked as I got my things.

"Yes Ikram, we already to leave". She replied while getting on her horse.

Today was the day that my trek to see this so-called ocean was all set and ready to go. The scholars of the village had finished their research into the stars and one was coming along to help navigate if needed. Though it not be needed and hopefully we can find our way there and home fine. Lucky, there is a fishing village that lies near the coastline that sometimes comes south to trade and I have met some of the traders and it seems that these fishermen have figured out about how to salt their food. Every time they have come south, they often trade their surplus fish and I can taste the salt in it. Been about what seems likes years since I had tasted seafood and I do not know what it was but, it good. When I realized we could ask the traders to let us tag along to their village, I opted to do that instead. I did not know how long till the traders would come back but, other events happened in the village to keep me distracted. Both good and bad events happened in the village.

The first part was the village elder, Bahram who was the leader of the village died in his sleep. The village mourned his loss and his burial ceremony. The villagers discussed among themselves who would be best to lead the village. After the debate, Bahram's daughter and only child, Nasrin were chosen to be the next leader of the village. I liked that decision, she was a good warrior and from the time I have been in this village, Bahram had taught her well on how to managed and lead a village. As for my personal feelings for her... she has chosen someone else to live the rest of her life with. A fellow warrior named Taghi, I had no hard feelings over it, just accepted it and moved on. Though I still felt a small trace of regret over her. The first thing she declared was a reminder to who founded this village, someone by the name of Sariin. She officially named this village Sari for their ancestral honor.

The second degree she made was that I would become her adviser. I accepted and boy did the pressure of helping this village become tense. Now that I would be advising the leader of Sari and really involved with leadership. I did not know if I was ready or could but, I have to do my best as an adviser and that is what I am going to do. Which Nasrin decided that we should focus on maintaining a military force to properly defend Sari from attackers. I felt this was not needed since building the wall and having better weapons and armor did discourage most from raiding ours. I guess she is concerned about the ones that still try to raid us, two other rival tribes to the south and east. They are still trying despite our improved weapons and well the ones that come from the east seem to make it up with having fervor. I am not sure if it is a religious fervor or anything thing else. Just they at times send their reavers at us and we lose people. which one project I thought about doing was making a better bow. Like a composite bow and after guesswork and trials. We found how to make them and have helped to repell attacks and hunt for food.

In the meantime, until the trader would arrive, I had been busy. I have been teaching some of the villagers on how to play chess. It was a slow start but, once they got the hang of it when things went well and I started to lose. The new "chess master" of the village was the same scholar that was coming with me to the sea, Zahra. Short Brown hair and gray eyes, She and I have established a good rapport and she helped me to realize that I was over thinking about the sundial. The sundial was installed near the center of the village and I have set up how time was going to be measured. It took the villagers sometime to get used to counting time but, eventually, they got used to it.

Turns out that some people have heard about Sari's strong walls and weapons and have decided to come to the village in hopes of having a safe place to live. Nasrin was wary of these newcomers and in order to see if they can be trusted. They are to first have to live outside of the walls and after a year of no trouble, they will be allowed to live within Sari. I was not totally in favor but, she was... very clear that this is what she wants to do. At least she is willing to guard these newcomers and had the builders build huts for them. Now that the Sari has better copper weapons, I figured I would find a way to make better housing for Sari. However, I am no architect so I and the scholars will have to trial and error some building materials. We eventually found a way to make mudbrick blocks and Sari would be remade with these mudbrick buildings.

With the buildings being made, one thing that I did try to do about the Sari that I admit that while I wish for the villagers to develop their own culture and way of life. I did want to influence a positive change, one of equality and meritocracy. Though the people of Sari were already on that path when I came to them. Men and women fight alongside on the battlefield each other as equals and they are not picky about who does what like hunting. As long as they are willing and capable, you can do it. I was happy about this and could only make sure that the villagers stay like this and do not change their ways or even spread this culture to others. That in itself would be hard, well depending on how a different village feels about equality and meritocracy.

Back to the present me, that was about to leave the village. The traders from the north had come and agreed to us tagging along and Nasrin allowed me to leave. Now I can see this so-called ocean and maybe get a clue to where I am. At least I get to see the outside world and a thought entered my mind as I mounted my horse. Maybe we could get the fishermen to share their salt or even invite their village to join with others. Nasrin might think that would be a good idea, more villages under Sari control means more manpower but, more ground to defend. I will have to see how the fishermen's home village is like and ask her when I get back. Now I was focused on just getting to my destination and once I get back, then I will see what the next step the village of Sari will take.

[Kelmet]

Conner Monroe

Copenhagen

As I returned home I was in an expectation cherry mood, Another tribe had joined to coalition and with each tribe that joined it made it all the easier to convince the next tribe to join. As I ordered my retinue to add the name and location of the new member to our maps and records Asger's son Thulmor ran, tripped then stumbled up to me tears in his eyes. "Monroe, my father, you must come." As we rushed to the cheiften's hut he explained the situation, I had never been to fond of Thulmor myself and we had been rivals for his fathers attention and good graces for the past year.

We entered into a scene were Asger lied in bed with several healers attending to him. But before he could say anything a sudden coughing fit over took him.
I rushed to his side "Help me turn him on his side, and get he get some water?" The healers helped me and Thulmor rushed to get water from a nearby bowl but in his hast he ended up dumping the bowl across the floor of the hut. "Dammit!" I snapped at him "Go get more from the well quickly!" My sudden anger surprised even myself and he stood there stunned for a moment before leaving the hut. Now in the suddenly quiet tent the coughing fit died down and Asger was again breathing regularly again by the time Thulmor returned. He handed me the cup and I helped Asger slowly drink.

"Thank you Monroe." Asger stated as I wiped the blood of of his face with a rag the healer had provided. "Leave us." After a few moments of inaction the tent soon cleared of healers. "You as well Thulmor, I must speak to Monroe alone" those words seemed to sting Thulmor a little, but he eventually relented and left us alone. "He told you everything I hope?" I nodded in affirmation. "He is my only son, I know he is not suited to the task of leadership but I hope you understand my choice." "Yes sir I do" I responded " But nepotism, picking family over what is for the greater good is not the way."

"What would you have me do Monroe?" But before I could respond we were interrupted by another tribesmen "I'm sorry for interrupting but Monroe, the Elders would like to speak with you, as soon as possible." I looked at the cheiften, "We will talk more later, you should rest." As I left the healers returned to there duties, but Thulmor stood there and as my escort and I moved away I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. My escort lead my to a larger hut on the other side of the village. As we entered the Elders and several armed tribesmen stood in greetings.

The oldest among them, Einar spoke first "Monroe greetings, I'm sorry your return home hasn't been as smooth as you would have expected. I assume you know by now our disagreement with the cheiften on our peoples next leader."

"I do, I also understand that you don't have someone in mind you just don't want Thulmor." Einar nodded "The boy just isn't right for leadership, you must have seen it yourself. We do not wish to disrupt our traditions but this simply must be done." I signed in disappointment "You have no plan, and no actual ideal replacement. You choice is dividing our tribe, blood could be shed." Einar shifted unsteadily "With Thulmor as cheiften our tribe will suffer."

I took a long pause, Realizing that that the current choices presented to me we equally flawed a third was needed. "If I could get Asger to choice another to replace him would you support him, keeping our traditions and community intact?" The elders spoke among themselves for a moment before allowing Einar to speak for them. "If his choice is not Thulmor, the chief will have our support." I nodded "I will send for you when I'm ready."

I returned to the Cheiftens hut and again the room cleared for us to be alone. "So Monroe, did they convince you to betray me as well?" I sat next to him on the bed "Asger, you took me in when I was lost and broken. You were the first to support my dreams of coalition with other tribes and the closest thing I have had to family since I mad this land my home, I would never betray you" He sighed in relief "But" I interrupted " You know that they are right. Thumor cannot lead, hes a fantastic hunter and fishermen but he does not have the skills or the support to rule. You need to choice someone else."

He paused for a long time and I half expected his to order me out. "Our traditions say it is him, there is no other choice." It was then reveled to me, the third option. "What if there was another choice, no matter what with these two options there is a chance violence will erupt between the sides. But three is a third option." These last words sparked a odd mix of curiosity and hope in the old man. "Adopt me, name me your son and heir. That way our traditions are kept and the eldars are satisfied. Thulmor wont like it but I swear I will treat him as my own brother."

"Thulmor, come in here" Asger nearly yelled with a spark of life he hadnt had since his health had started to decline. "Yes father?" Asger paused "Monroe will you give us space?" I nodded and left hoping for the best. Some time later Thulmor found me in the common hut, adding to our map and planing my next journey. "Monroe, can I talk to you alone?" I agreed and the few others assisting me left. "I know I'm not meant for this. When I'm out hunting and fishing I'm just more comfortable then when talking to others. I'm just not good with people. But you are and I understand my fathers decision. I'm to be your brother, I know we have had our fights but you were always there for me when it counted." The only thing I could think to do was hug to poor kid. He was to be my little brother and I kinda liked that idea, feeling a connection with someone I had not had in since I had made my new home here.

As we traveled back to the cheiftens hut a small crowd had gathered outside. As we made our way threw the crowd and made our way inside the room was filled to the brim. Asger, his healers several other tribesmen of importance and the village elders were all crammed into the room. I could tell be the expressions in the room Asger had already informed them of the most recent decision. Asger was not to die for a while, but when he did it would not be Thulmor who became cheiften but I. In the meantime however there were still tribes to be brought into the coalition and in a few days I would again leave for another journey but this time with more authority behind my name.