New Civilizations ( IC, Open )

[Cainesland]

Mountains, Cove
Crimea
2969 BC

Bostwick, Co-Aedile of Mountains Cove stood outside the new hospital, formerly known for being the hall where chiefs from across the Single Market came to form the supranational entity. Currently the facility was home to the largest concentration of plague victims in Mountains Cove. Fortunately Nestos was able to provide assistance. This was ground zero of the effort. Their doctors, combined with what those that possessed what counted for medical expertise had pooled their resources to try and contain the spread of the epidemic.

To their credit, the backing of the municipal ephors for pushback measures was having incremental gains. One such measure, that Bostwick supported, was the adoption of plague gear. Bostwick now dressed in a waxy leather outfit meant to cover him head to toe to try and reduce his risk of catching the plague. Bostwick, as well as many medical personnel, and many others had been issued with masks, gloves, boots, cloaks and other equipment to try and reduce contact and spread of the disease.

The outfits were given priority to be woven by the weavers associations throughout the Single Market. Although Bostwick encouraged people to wear what they could, not everyone wanted to. He tried though.

Unfortunately, other problems were coming up. To afford the sudden expenses, a debt needed to be established with the weavers association. The debt was administered by the grain stores, increasing the clout of the metalworkers, farmers, and weavers associations in the Single Market. The plague was affecting the labour for agriculture, ranching, fishing and transportation, leading to risks in the food supply in urban centres and upset associations, if not resolved this could have negative consequences overall.

The law, culture, economics, diplomacy, and now defence were pillars which bounded the Single Market together. With the trade threatened there was a danger that hunger in cities could lead to protectionist sentiments that could grow if not dealt with as well. Coupled with all of this there was word that the Condominium was feeling pressure from its status as a shared territory that bordered the Imperium. With the risk of invasion like happened 5 years ago. If the Imperium military did invade, its strength was well known. He couldn’t just do little, as he did that five years ago and he lost a province. Having to evacuate many of the People from the Single Market back to the Single Market from Romania at that point with Nestos help.

Invasion was a consistent source of worry. Not just from the Imperium. Plans needed to be in place in case the northern companies left Bostwick and sought to expand, or if other tribes grew jealous and wanted to invade. On the plus side he had access to a largish force of trained and well equipped soldiers. They had worked together in training in the past to strengthen their common relations, allowing for both a shared cultural bonding experience and a chance to grow their combat knowledge. Working with allies towards combat and supplies improvement could also be seen as a benefit. On the other hand with the plague supply lines might be more difficult to handle and the strength of the military may be weaker with illness, and depleted numbers to work farms and staff medical facilities. It wasn’t weak, but Bostwick recognized it wasn’t what it could be without the plague.

After leaving the grounds of the Diplomatic Hall, Bostwick made his way over to New Commonwealth - Mountsains Cove’s premier printing manufacturing facility and home to the HQ of the printers association in the municipality. It’s head had recently become one of the previous Commonwealth refugees following the retirement of its last head. The large building had a stone base and a timber second floor. White plaster covered the building in a Wattle and Daub style. Entering the building he noticed that most people inside were covered head to toe in the familiar suit.

“Hello, Bostwick” A man with a distinct accent called out from behind an office door. “Hello” Bostwick called back. Their voices muffled by their masks. “How can I help you Bostwick?” Bostwick approached but kept an arms length distance. “I was hoping to speak with the senior printer”. The man nodded and said “I will let him know you are here”. As the man made his way to the back, Bostwick considered if the Commonwealth residents might have had any ability to help with the pandemic or military matters.

[UniversalCommons]

The Countryside (Gerin the Fox)
Gerin the Fox a guardsman had watched the wagons enter the city. They were bringing in a cure for the city, a blessing. He watched how the blessing helped the city. Then he looked out from a tower and saw camps with wagons there were many of them. Enough for a thousand or more men camped outside the walls.
Then the council died. He felt a chill as he heard the story of a madman spitting poison and the counsel dying and being quarantined by Dotos, the same man who had brought in the wagons. Dotos had come in with Ranvald.
When he went in to take the blessing himself, he noted the foreignness of the people in the wagon. They were not from the Nestos League, but a foreign place, the Imperium. In his troubles, he went and visited with a servant of the council. When the words Ranvald and Dotos rolled off the tongue of Gerin, the supporter of the council paled.
Dana, “This is of interest to us. Ranvald and Dotos are rising in the Noble Council. Dotos has started acting as if he is the Lord of the City. I want to hear more.”
Gerin, “ I know little else. I thought I saw the lion symbol of Ina tattooed on some of the men. If this is true we cannot completely trust the guard.”
Dana, “Come with me. Your tale must come out of the city to the countryside where we can rally our men. You are loyal to our cause. There are still men in the guard loyal to our cause.”
Gerin, “Yes, I believe that Varna should come first, not the scholars, not the Imperials, but the the people of Varna, they should be ruled by a council picked out by the people.”
Dana spat, “The nobles, they are cruel men. Ranvald is one of the more traditional men of the council. He tries to protect and care for his tribe, but is like the warriors of old, he has little respect for the common person, the farmer or fisherman.”
It is good you tell me these things. Dana led Gerin to a house in the old section of town where they met in secret. All had taken the blessing, but did not believe it should belong to the foreigners. It should belong to the people of Varna. Gerin's story was recounted and recorded to be whispered by people of the Storytellers Association.
Gerin left with Dana and several other men. They took a fishing boat and sailed it past the city into the countryside. They went to places where small groups of Varna First! Met. To farm halls, mining camps, hunters rests, and tree farms. Some places had held out well, following the guidelines of Salt. Others were abandoned.
As the followers of Varna First! in the countryside talked to them, they recounted how recently raiders from Dacia had come south and burned some farmsteads. The Imperials could not be trusted to keep raiders from Thracian lands.
As the people talked it inflamed them. Their anger came out in speeches and oaths of war and revenge. Some of the older men recounted how the nobles had once been warlords, men who treated farmers and commoners little better than slaves. One even told a story of how his father when he broke a clay bowl threatened to sell him to fishermen of the Black Coast. There was a time when the Thracians sold their own children.
These tales would encourage people to join the scouts or start preparing for war.
Men of Foresite (Aesop)

There are men of foresite who see danger before it happens.  They went to the gates and found the roads full of wains or filled with Imperial camps . In the harbors they saw many foreign ships from Salt and other places.  It was not easy to take a ship from Varna. With each passing day, it became more expensive.

Aesop offered a way for them to escape the city with a portion of their wealth, to be taken far away to a land free from the Imperium, on the edges of the Nestos League, a settlement called Moon for a price.

With the scholar came extra men using the opportunity to take extra berths on the ships. Men of wealth, jewelers from the gold markets, accountants, miners of silver and gold, grain merchants and others left the city under the guise of being scholars.

Aesop saw a time when the scholars would be forced to leave. He quietly chose those he thought might be valuable to his purposes and tried to recruit them. A few agreed, mixers, botanists, and even a pair of Followers of Etana.

By all appearances, the ships were filling and the scholars were leaving. Some did not go to Oak, a few went to Mountain Cove to tell their story of exile by the Imperium. They told a story of hatred and anger directed at them.

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 10 Month 11 Chinese Imperial Calendar

The land exploration missions had left at the start of winter with the expectation that they would be able to cover more ground through jungles, desert, or cold steppe when they weren't being burned by the sun. The sea expeditions had left later due to a series of storms that delayed them and were well out of sight of China by now. Aaron's curiosity at the outside world therefore now turned to curiosity about his world. The political chaos that had once prevented him from working on his numerous little projects had now faded away, and his first focus was his steam engines. Three total had been constructed and put to relatively reliable use in Luoyang but they were little more than novelties. Their boilers has to periodically be coated in sealant again and they could only work at low pressure due to the lack of a blast pipe and the perhaps excessive caution that engineers operated them with. They were right to err on the side of caution though - every steam engine that was built was tested on a raft due to the risk of explosion. Fortunately the men keeping the boilers that made steam for heating had nothing like that to worry about. It was largely through those heating boilers that Luoyang and other cities gained experience in constructing steam based machines. They were also deeply appreciated during the winters and to heat public buildings without needing a fire in every room was an incredible thing to most people.

Aaron set about modifying one of those heating boilers to work as an actual steam engine. The large size of this engine allowed Aaron to try and fit a blast pipe in and to use a new technique that Chinese construction workers had devised for holding two bits of metal together. What they did is put a fire up on their construction site and heat what they called "iron nails" but could better be termed primitive rivets. They'd then take the hot rivet and bang it through a hole in each iron beam they wanted to fit together. After getting it through they'd bang the other side of the rivet flat too before the metal cooled. It was a crude method that was far from perfect, but Aaron was grateful for it. Previously iron structures had been held together by what were basically pegs with the end bent to keep it in - a loose connection most of the time that could not take enormous stress. This was part of the reason why many Chinese buildings that used iron as a construction material did not use it to bear heavy loads.

But a boiler assembled in this way could take some stress, certainly more than the old boilers that were held together with often poor quality bolts. The other components of the boiler were assembled alongside it and this time would include a set of larger and easier to clean copper tubes for the interior and much thicker walls for both sides of the boiler. Two weeks later after Aaron had bumped his head on one part or another of the iron thing while working too many times to count it was ready, and very carefully Aaron's group of engineers began to feed it coal and water. In the modern era this would have been considered a small and very crudely made steam machine. The boiler was barely large enough for a man to stand in if it was put upright. But for Aaron, it was one of the largest practical machines he'd been able to design.

As one man worked a water pump and another watched a pressure gauge that looked more like a thermometer than anything else. As Aaron and the others sat happily on their raft as the single wheel attached to the side of the machine began to turn they tested the large valve gear. A minute at "full power" - which was just as far up as Aaron was willing to push it - and the radius rod of the mechanism came loose. With the wheel rapidly slowing down and a key component of a device they were testing broken they stopped shoveling coal and prepared to shut the machine down. One of the guys picked up an oar to bring the raft back to shore.

Then without warning a horrible cracking sound came from the boiler, and a small piece of metal was flung from it into the water. Then another. Recognizing what was happening the men, including Aaron, dived into the water. The boiler exploded with a sound like a thunderclap a moment later and sent shards of metal and coal flying into the winter air. Birds flew up from the trees and the raft bobbed up and down. A copper tube that was thrown into the air fell down in front of Prime Minister Tan, steam still coming off it.

Aaron was grateful that he and everyone else was alive after that, and for the identical back up that they'd built alongside this engine. This first engine alone had been fantastically expensive. China was a society where iron mining was done by hand and where refining iron cost much less labor than it took to dig it up. That was part of the reason why China was so eager to trade finished iron goods for iron ore and brought Aaron to his next major project.

The formula for gunpowder involved sulfur and charcoal. That Aaron could remember, the third part was what he was scratching his head about. The charcoal and sulfur were easy enough to find, but the third part had to be identified. So while Aaron built his steam engines and kept the empire functioning a group of priests Aaron hesitated to call chemists were brought in to work on finding the "explosive powder" that could revolutionize the Chinese mining industry and by extension make Chinese iron production much easier. These particular priests were associates of Hu Tai - the sometimes rebel, always oppositionist, philosopher that was popular in rural China. They'd been brought in by Aaron's wife Xuan because they were the best at their trade and they certainly seemed to focus on it - to the detriment of their relationship with Aaron's people in the government headquarters building. They would only leave the "lab" they'd been given to gather materials and refused to let anyone else in that room unless Aaron would order them to. They'd also covered the walls in charms and their loud chanting, which Aaron was absolutely sure was not necessary for their experiments, was very irritating in the middle of the day. They did produce results however, and they had already came up with a few formulas for medicine that Aaron was sure had saved a few lives. The explosive powder they had been brought in to develop originally was something they would only work on if Aaron promised not to use the material for war, which he did. They were making progress slowly, taking one material or another and trying to form a powder with sulfur and charcoal.

---

Qin Province was, since the political reforms, large and prosperous. Every day the Yellow River fed her crops, the mountains fed her great blast furnaces, and central government soldiers aided by the provincial militia kept order. The governor was a man named Zhang Min, and he was popular with the people for his infrastructure and housing projects. Popular among the Chinese population, that is. The tribes settling in Qin province had no love for a man who they considered to be another agent of the strange tyrant of a strange country. Some tribes that settled into towns and cities and were there to stay liked the man, of course. But that was because they understood the way the empire worked. The tribes that came in and lived in villages with their own people as they always had did not understand why their hosts sometimes wanted them to do labor they did not understand. The tribes, who could barely even converse properly with their Chinese hosts, found themselves put to work digging up strange rocks. The Chinese said those rocks became burning liquid that was shaped and hardened like water turned to ice into weapons, but the tribes that lived on the peripheries of Qin province never saw that and barely believed it. The Chinese came into their villages too to tear down tents and build houses. No matter how the tribes objected, the Chinese could not or would not listen to them. The tribes simply set up their tents again, but the Chinese came again to tear down the tents. The Chinese took it as an insult that the tribes would not accept their gifts of houses and "civilization' while the tribes asked if they could move a house with their herds of livestock.

Eventually the Chinese pushed too far, and the tribes would try to leave their troublesome hosts - with the iron tools, textiles, and other items the Chinese had provided them in what the tribes interpreted to be a legitimate trade. The Chinese disagreed, and to see people they considered an investment that had yet to make a return leave within only a year of staying in China was unacceptable. The tribes found their way out of the country blocked by the provincial militia, and those that refused to turn back found themselves forced to.

To the Chinese and tribes that had settled in the towns those people were acting unreasonably - China had given them writing, houses, and all the other benefits of civilization at significant expense. It only made sense that tribes that refused to understand that and follow the laws they had agreed to by being in China should be moved to place where they could do no harm - namely, China's interior. It was also standard Chinese practice to split up rebel communities and send them to opposite ends of the empire so they could never coordinate and rebel again. There were few complaints when the same was done to tribes that "rebelled".

Outside of China knowledge of these issues was common but nomads kept coming in. Hunger during winter made working for the Chinese preferable to starvation or the conflicts that flared up during those times. Those tribes that chose to settle in cities and towns usually would not want to leave China - but those weren't the tribes that were outside of China to spread the good word of civilization. Outside China the perception of the empire would always be negative unless you had a Chinese iron merchant in front of you. It was this perception of an empire bent on domination and expansion and the prevalence of iron weapons and tools that fueled the creation of the first nomadic and semi-settled confederacies to the west of Qin Province and their consolidation.

[Arlye Austros]

Lukas Voigt.
The Cantabrian Shore.
Four years after Slumber’s End.
2.996 b.C.

Lukas’s feet stepped on a small huddle of tied branches which served as a line marking the outside and the inside of safety itself. He stepped on the bound bundle of dried wood and fell within the confines of the settlement. Safe again. And he was thirsty.

“Has Kir’dall returned already?” He asked the old woman who was sitting by the nearest tent. He still couldn’t remember her name, so he just dubbed her “The Warden”, for she was just closer to that entrance that passed through a small line of trees after the crossing of a creek. Truth be told, she couldn’t ward a thing. She had outlived her life by far, and while slow-moving a sickly looking, everyone just assumed her just be there as part of the world. Some even joked the old lady would bury them old. Yet he couldn’t recall her name.
“Loukas!” She ashamed his memory. “No. He hasn’t. It seems you are too fast to be done with your hunt.”
He looked down, frustrated. In all those years he hadn’t grown used to hunting. Not that he particularly hated it. He just didn’t have the patience. Besides, it was somewhat frustrating that they had settled, at least for now, at the very shore of the sea. Somewhere north of Spain.

Oh, for he had finally figured out where he was. No longer did it matter to him. But he sometimes had nightmares, not quite specific. He just vaguely remembered the overwhelming fear and confusion, and it would echo through the day after he opened his eyes. Those were the “bad days”, and the people that had adopted him seemed to understand.

They never asked where he had come from. They seemed t have assumed he was from the mountains. Perhaps because that’s where they first say him. Perhaps because he had, more than once, argued to R’algata they should head there. He was, truth be told, more useful there, at least vaguely. He could easily find his way, or get shelter in caves, or even climb walls. He had been, in his spare time, working on bone and hardwood tools that could, in theory, help him up a cliff. But just in theory, and he grew frustrated as the huddle of bands seemed to prosper as they harvested the shores and ventured into the gentle waters of the bay to catch fish. R’algata denied his suggestion, saying that, regardless of differences, they were safe there.

He never told him what was his extended family ran from when they crossed paths in the forests between the hills about two days to the south. Only that they sought protection in numbers, and that they knew they could get it in the shores. They were hunters, and they often headed to the southern edges of their group of three dozen tents, to search for game that they could take down with javelins, or to check the traps they would set every two nights in tight spots. Lukas had learnt from their trade after joining them. It happened the third time their paths crossed, and he knew he would have better chances of survival if he sought what they looked after too. He lurked south of the settlement, past the creek, and waited for R’algata or one of the other hunters to come near. Then he appeared to R’algata’s son. Funle. He wasn’t startled. They called him “The Stranger of the Hills” that day, until he asked for their protection. R’algata, his two eldest sons and his brother and his sons deliberated. They also asked some of the women for their opinion, and finally they seemed to agree. Since then he had learnt how to hunt, despite his own frustration and sense of uselessness, barely bringing anything to eat every day.

That day he walked into the plain, where four paths crossed after passing between four edges of the encampment, carrying only two birds. Probably old birds, some kind of pheasant that seemed too weak to fly along with the others. Again, he tried not to feel the look of others as he passed through the crossing and towards the tents of R’algata’s group, which the others called “The Southerners.” Lukas passed between the fur tents and left the catch on a slab at the center, under the void sight of Gulom, the eldest woman of the Southerners, and the first of them to arrive to the Camp. She was sitting, blind and carrying a stick, sucking on a seashell which she then tossed aside on top of a small pile of empty shells.
“Even I can tell that’s not a great catch. Is it you, Loukas?”
“Yes. And yes. It was less than not great.”
She smiled in silence before giving the young man a reply. Lukas pierced the ground with his spear, the only taint that head would get, probably.
“I feel your voice. It’s not that of a proud hunter. But of a child that can’t bear his slow progress under the shadow of a great father.”
He stretched his back. After all, it was a long walk. “Yes, but I am not a child, Gulom. Just some stranger that you adopted into your family. And I don’t like feeling like I can’t pay back the kindness. There is nothing I can give you back.”
Gulom’s eyes, milky and pointless, pointed at the ground between them. It was her “rest stare.”
“And you think I am too useful and pay back the kindness they do on me each morning? I am blind, child. I wouldn’t hold it to them if they decided to leave me back there in the forest.”
Lukas noticed Funle’s face passing outside the circle of tents, heading elsewhere.
“I thought you arrived here first.” He asked the lady, half interested in her point, half out of courtesy.
“Yes. My nephew, Hanjella, carried me alone, risking his life. And R’algata would have done it himself if he didn’t have to look after everybody else. I was only a weight in their backs. But I was the first to cross the line into the Encampment.”

Lukas didn’t feel the need to reply. He just sighed and entered a tent he had se tup for himself. Smaller, but sturdier at the same time. Though he did need some help gathering the canvas to lift it up. Inside he changed his clothes, putting on a lighter woolen tunic. Luckily it was summer. He walked out and headed for the crossing, noticing half a dozen rabbits had been laid on the slab. Funle, no doubt. Outside, a group of fishermen irrupted with their catch, filling three baskets and exchanging them at the crossing for tools, leather, clothes and vegetables. They were lucky. Fishermen were the powerhouse there, not extremely proficient, but the best around. Lukas noticed vegetables were rare, as very few had small crops by their tents, many times not making it through a coastal rain, and a few times vegetables came from far away. South and east. He scoured for other things. String and wood of different kinds.

He had barely seen bows in the encampment. Most hunters seemed to prefer the javelin. But he figured a bow could be extremely useful, and Lukas could vaguely remember the basics of how to do it.
And how not to. It was his sixth attempt already, trying different techniques to bend the wood and accumulate tension, keeping the bow sturdy and flexible. He gave up trying a recurve bow on the second attempt, and was just attempting the most basic flatbow. This time he eyes bull nerves, which were a new commodity oddly offered in the crossing. Yet he had nothing to exchange it for.

“Winter is about to come…” He commented that night as the Southerners sat around the fire. They had cooked the part of their hunting they wouldn’t exchange, including Lukas’s petty catch. “Will these tents hold?”
R’algata was chewing through a bone. He had first tasted the ribs of the deer. Once he tossed the bone into the firepit he replied.
“They will. Most of them. I hear some collapse during the winter winds, but these people are used to that.”
“Nobody ever gets hurt?” He interjected again. He could tell the other one, a man in his early gray years, didn’t want to talk while eating.
“Sometimes, children who sleep to deep, or old people who can’t outrun the falling beams. But never too serious.”
He allowed a small pause, letting R’algata get another rib bone. Lukas himself reached for a slice of flesh that had been baking on the slab.
“We could build sturdier tents. Places that can stay for the entire season, and even the next.”
Some eyes fixed on him. “I could make them.”
“Why?” Funle, the old man’s son, asked. “We already have tents. And we may be on the move after winter.”
He realized it was a different concept for them. “You are right. But maybe you will be back, perhaps to winter, or to trade the game. And you will need a place to stay. Wouldn’t it be great that it was already there, built and waiting?”
The young man shrugged, obviously not interested. R’algata cut off any other conversation.
“We shouldn’t waste any time making other dwellings. We already have what we need. Better to focus on hunting as much as we can before winter. ”

Five years after Slumber’s End.
2.995 b.C.

“Are you sure about it?” Funle asked as they walked through the forest, following the column of hunters, walking downhill towards the shore under the waves of sunlight and shadow. Lukas carried six tied-bunnies, hanging around his neck, and a clean javelin in his hand, as he walked by the other one.
“I am. Your family took me in and cared for me. But I need to go into the forest again.”
“You never quite told us who you are, Loukas.” He shrugged. “I don’t expect to understand now.”
He was determined to test himself once more and head into the wilderness, away from the Crossing for the winter.
“You yourself feel it. The Fishermen are growing more powerful, making their rules, like not crossing with spears to the shore, or working the wood without their permission. They know what power is.”
“Yes. And I still don’t fully understand it.”
Lukas chuckled, and tapped Funle’s spear with his own. “Power is that. It gives you power over the animals you hunt. And power is what R’algata has over us.”
“He is a good leader.” He replied almost defensive. Lukas nodded. “yes. I know. But, nevertheless. He has power. I am not saying he would hunt you down. But he knows what he says goes, that we trust him.”
“And you…” Funle looked at Lukas, head to two, as they kept walking between branches. “you would run away from it?”
“I am not forced to stay, except for gratitude. But I fear I am a burden to you all. And its not R’Algata. It’s the Fishermen. We can’t build, we can’t try new ways of hunting, we can’t exchange without their limitations. That is power.”
“They give us food.”
Lukas shrugged now. “And R’algata takes care of you. It is still power. And I want to walk away from it a bit.”
They passed the crossing of the creek, and entered the last line of trees, beyond the bundle of wood and the place Gulom rested, buried not far from the Warden.
“Will you come back?” He asked. Lukas nodded.
“I am sure I will. I won’t be far.”

But it was far. He walked for two days after saying his goodbyes. He fiered they were going after him. That R’algata changed his mind, or that the Fishermen would force him to stay, as he knew they wanted to difficult moving around. But after the second night he knew he was clear, and wandered into the mountains once more. And again, since many years, he felt free when he pierced the rock with makeshift hardwood and bone axes, and pulled himself a small wall of rocks towards higher ground.

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 11 Month 5 Chinese Imperial Calendar

Aaron's kids were both three years old now. It was difficult for him to believe that he came to this world as a much younger man just over 15 years ago. He hadn't aged a day either. It was sort of disconcerting to see his friend Tan at work every day looking much different than he did back then. He was nearly fifty now. Aaron himself was almost 40. 40 years old! It would not be too much longer until Aaron had spent half of his life in this other world. He wondered often about his family back home. If his home even existed at all, with the changes to history Aaron had already put in place. There were no empires - real empires at least - before his according to every credible source Aaron could find, and there was no evidence of any civilization beyond the bronze age. The most advanced cultures Aaron found were only making bronze in their earliest stages. This meant that the date was well before the earliest Chinese dynasties and empires. Currently due to the presence of bronze and the social organization that already existed before him along the Yellow River he believed himself to be sometime around the year 2000 BC. If he knew more about archeology and ancient Chinese history he'd probably be able to figure out the date better. The presence of the Japanese time traveler at some point in the past 30 years also meant that Aaron was far from the first traveler to visit the distant past. The existence of Japanese Buddhism could also indicate that other time travelers could be from anytime from more than a thousand years in the past when Buddhism first reached Japan to equally far in Aaron's future. If time travelers from Aaron's far future were around it was possible that they could know more about the process that brought Aaron and the other traveler here or even be the cause of it themselves. For all he knew this was some parallel universe that was being colonized or explored by them and his sudden arrival here was an accident. It was also difficult to miss the fact that Aaron seemed to be ageless and hadn't got sick in the slightest since his first day here - Aaron was clearly not like a normal person anymore. That apparent immortality had deep implications, but Aaron chose not to consider them for now.

It was often in times when he sat on the balcony of his apartment in Luoyang's government center that his thoughts went in this direction. The bureaucracy he and Tan had set up no longer needed constant oversight in the way it had before. There was an office for that now, and both he and Tan had been spending more time with their families. Tan wasn't working so late into the night on laws and Aaron was able to see his children more when he wasn't trying to build a steam engine. He had also been trying to get some production of paper started, though that was very difficult considering Aaron was mostly figuring it out himself and had very little other than the scattered bits of knowledge he had about the process. So far he'd only managed to make brittle mats of dried wood pulp that were of little use. Aaron had taken care to document everything he knew and was trying to learn in bamboo books however as the awareness of just how much the country depended on him began to grow in his mind. If Aaron were to suddenly die absolutely everything of importance that he knew had to be written down somewhere. In large part his notes already had most things he cared to write down in them - but many of them were in english and were references for Aaron and not really manuals for the future. There were mountains more of work to be done and Aaron wondered if there was so much that one day before he was done his children would be old enough to help.

---

In Governor Zhang Min's Qin province the life in the cities was similar to how it was across China. Travelers from other provinces frequently had difficulty telling the difference between their cities and Qin Province's cities. It was a commonly repeated joke that a drunk traveler could wake up in the streets of a city far from his own and walk down identical streets to an identical house to his own and only realize he was in a different city when the house he thought was his was occupied by someone else. It was very nearly reality for many people.

The people in cities often worked in proto-industrial set ups for the processing of wood or production of goods. Even the little slips of bamboo books that priests, including the Buddhists, wrote prayers on were mass produced using cutting machines and sometimes the prayers themselves were mass produced with the printing presses. Artisans who once turned clay they dug up with their own hands into pots that they made with their own hands or only a pottery wheel to help them found themselves directing teams of people in mass producing pottery with standardized tools and techniques designed to make the process as easy as possible. Many workshops used a mechanism mounted on a curved wood rail that a worker could simply move up and down along that rail to get a desired shape to a piece of pottery. The quality of some of the workshops that employed people who before a year or two ago were basically just peasants or even hunter-gatherers was not as good as it could have been but compared to what most people had before the empire the new pottery was just fine and easier to get too. It was the same way with clothing. Where once people had to do difficult work weaving together clothing by hand they now had to do slightly less difficult work on looms that incorporated a crank system that would move what in the modern day would be called heddles up and down. There were a variety of set ups for this, some that could be attached using belts to a water wheel system, but the most reliable and simple was the hand cranked versions. The systems that attached to water wheels were among the most advanced there was perhaps one workshop in Qin Province that could use such machines as they could only be manufactured in Luoyang or Jinan where woodworking machines to produce the components existed. Any component that was to be produced in a standard way usually had to be made in a workshop that had standardized tools for producing those components and a somewhat competent engineer to oversee their production. Even a small difference in the diameter of a gear could break a mechanism or cause it produce a faulty product. Even worse was the human element. A number of workshops that made all plows in Fenghao and for much of Qin Province once not only broke the presses they used by using them too roughly but also broke the plows they were trying to make by breaking them into two pieces. Believing that this was supposed to happen the workshop's plows were only held together by the wood bracing that was supposed to let the plow be attached to a harness and wheels for farm work. The defect was only noticed after several years of work when a local farmer was able to compare a plow from that workshop to a plow from one from a neighboring city that had been shipped in to meet a deficit of functioning plows. It might have been funny to a modern man to see such a stupid mistake being made on such a large scale but the humor of it would disappear when he realized how common such mistakes were. In the neighboring Jin province an even worse mistake was made with a new printing workshop that was operated solely by illiterates who produced every book they copied backwards and frequently printed characters upside-down. This mistake went on for months before anybody noticed because the man assigned to quality check the products before they were put into boxes and shipped to a warehouse was also illiterate and could only check for broken bamboo slips or other more physical manufacturing defects.

Zhang Min was needless to say not a cheerful man when the topic of attempting to fix these sorts of problems came up. Most of the governor's work in fact consisted of trying to solve those problems. There were never enough literate engineers or administrators to go around for local governments like his but thanks to a few recent improvements the central government could sometimes send him someone to help out - for a time at least. It was a difficult job made more difficult by the constant sectarian conflict that flared up on the peripheries of his province. Those governors that did not have to worry about securing borders in the interior of China had it much better than poor Zhang did, and in addition to the constant struggle of keeping things running Zhang had to deal with the worst of the extreme amount of migration that China was attracting. Some tribes came to give up their nomadic way of life for a more stable settled life while others wanted protection from their enemies. Organizing the movement of migrants and their settlement had required the set up of a new government office and a large number of bureaucrats dedicated to only doing that. The constant shortage of people that could speak the migrants languages had also caused a great number of problems where communication had to rely on interpreters to interpret interpreters. Such communication difficulties didn't make integrating these people who would almost universally end up being farmers impossible, but it made conflicts between them and different tribes and the government difficult to solve. Frequently the solution was simply to move anyone involved with a conflict away from the other to opposite ends of the province. Sometimes Zhang would basically pay a tribe to stop complaining about some issue by delivering more silk or soap to their community. Other times the tribes were too well integrated into China's economic system and understood that they could just leave the province to go live somewhere else. Either way, it was one less problem for Zhang and one more problem for his neighbors. Though he'd never admit it sometimes he had his men deliberately direct migrants into neighboring Jin Province or put them on boats to go deeper into China's interior where the central government or one of the interior governors could deal with them. Fenghao was already overcrowded with migrants and housing construction was barely keeping pace after the central government sent more engineers to oversee the gangs of migrants that were often building their own houses with no idea of how to do so other than to copy what they already saw.

Despite the difficulties of governing his vast province with his overworked bureaucracy Zhang would give up his position for nothing. He didn't need to either, local councils were generally satisfied with him so long as their stomachs were full and the wonderful machines that made their lives easier kept coming. A man from a town called Yueyang in the provincial assembly even backed Zhang on the grounds that his religion, which actually had came about due to a miscommunication with a Japanese monk, held that the blast furnaces and machines of the cities were actually sacred. The strange habit he had of having priests rub sacred oil on farming equipment going to his town did not bother Zhang so long as he kept supporting him. The real thing that kept Zhang there apart from the job security was the power. To watch a city built up simply because he had ordered it and had the city's people behind him was the most incredible thing to Zhang. When he had been born to change the world in the way the empire had allowed him to was unthinkable. To direct such changes would have been even more unimaginable to the young Zhang, but it was always a fantasy of his. As a child he dreamed of growing so large he could pick up the mountains like someone could pick up a rock and skip them across the sea like skipping that rock over a pond's surface. Perhaps one day a machine could come out of the Pale Emperor's Luoyang workshop to enable him to do even that!

[Existentialcrisis]

day 1...
I woke up with a murmur, and then a jolt, wrapped in some fur insulator on a floor. I made to yelp, but then a hand was placed over my mouth, for a second. That wrinkled hand pulled away sharply. I could feel the breaking, charred taste of flames on my lips, but I was too weak to protest. I went to move my hands, but they were still, for some unknown reason. I could not feel my appendages, which I guess hung as loosely on my side as chunks of meat. But for now I was as cold as a icecap, the onset of blue seeping in, though the flames was making short work of that. We stared at each other for a while, the wanting of talk setting in. several times I was close to talking, but each time a guttural motion silenced these moments, and pain set in where numb was absent. Eventually they made the first hint of conversation of the breaking of the ice as you could so speak.

“Don’t talk, we will try our best to explain”.

That was not that much of a explanation, but they were going to explain, so I calmed down enough. They said where I was, but the name was alien. It was like it was pre indo European, a demented Basque I would think. It was surprising I could understand them perfectly except the name, it was incredibly incredibly unsettling. They then put a shallow cup of warm water which slid down my throat like a snake, emptying into my stomach. I was rapidly warming up, and from the light outside the tent, for want of a better word, the sun was rising, banishing the moon down to the cavernous stomach of space. I asked a question despite their previous warrant against it….

“do you have a phone?”

There was awkward staring and then the asking what a phone was. I safely assumed I would not leave here that easily. I asked where we are generally, not specifics, They talked about a large marsh, a wetland to the east, where the river empties into the great body of water. Then a chain of hills and mountains where wild goats roam, with yellow throats and face patches. I wasn’t the best on ecology, but I was fascinated bye that. It matched the description of the chamois, a small alpine bovine that lived in the alps of Italy and the Pyrenees, so definitely Europe. But what European would not know about a phone? The cities of madrid , or rome, or Valencia, cosmopolitan names to humanity were absent to them. Italy and sain were nonexistence. They had about as much knowledge of the world as some Americans.
I asked when I could leave, and they seemed startled….. Why?
…. The monsters

Day 2...
I asked what the monsters where, and they claimed they were reptiles that pretend to be logs and then pull you underwater. Every culture has there version of the dragon, from quetzalquatol in Mexico to the flying snaked beasts of china. But there was something that seemed real about these, from the missing persons to the swamps that expand beyond the horizon that they could lurk. Crocodiles used to frequently make the migration from north Africa to tracks up north. For example in the 1700s a nile crocodile in Mallorca was taxidermied and is on show at the museum to this day. There was tales in sicilly of crocodiles and it would be no rare occurrence across history. But wouldn’t there be an outcry in the present day? A maneating reptile living in a swamp in your nation would surely be exterminated…. But these men and women and children are in fear of the kabana. Access in the swamps is limited and men who brave out are deemed as foolish or revered. One must wonder wonder what other settlements would think, that this is absurd?

I learnt that this is a tribe, that subsist of the frogs and the deers, of the shorebirds that flock to the marsh. It looks like some primeval world, where the ground crawls with cranes and avocets, spoonbills wandering over empty pastures and clouds of shorebirds scattering over the landscape. This is a ecological bounty waiting to be harvested, and harvested it has , with a string of larger tribes in the region, having an edge over hunter gathers in less productive lands, as such restricting their sizes.
They showed me their canoes, which were frail, but very thin and adept at traversing through the swamp, before revealing to me one last boat. This one was discarded like a toothpick, its bitter hole snapped like a house of cards. The structure containing a palm sized bite and a blunt force breakage, clearly this displayed a story, and a intriguing one none the less
They asked me where I was from, and I said a land called britan, with giant cities and metropolitan scapes. They did not know what one was like, so I described it basically as a region where houses are as numerous as trees in forests, and the game cannot live. A great state has arisen of this as well as the nationstate of France spain and Germany, giant tribes that once spanned continents and islands, that made death painless, and had increased the life of man to 90 summers. They were astonished, and I answered more about this place I called britan, about roads, and about how driving on my side of the road is infinitely better. About weapons that can kill men instantly, and bombs that can wipe entire forests and nations such as these to ash.

They offered me honey and sweet things such as some sort of fermented jam, but I refused as I looked from my vantage point, observing the dynamic landscape. I obviously had accepted some clothes from earlier, but really that was all. To be fair they were kind people, I was a stranger found on the shores of the marsh, with no clothes, a foreign accent and ideas, a mindset of a world gone. And yet they accepted me, and I repaid them, with knowledge. I in detail described my world, where nation-states act almost as a unit, but dissimilar. The nation state was a act of self-preservation, where as you exceed your critical mass, you become an idea, and a idea can never be destroyed. Where every entity is at each other’s throats and arrows the size of houses and trees fly daily, pelting across the middle east.
They were especially interested in the history of my homeland, and I explained what I could. Where canoes the size of mountains sailed along the sea, blowing enemies sky high, and the fastest travel is projectiles that can hold men and fly faster then the speed of sound. They were puzzled bye my land, and probably thought I was making some of it, but they believed enough, for the detail in. I told them about antiseptics were carbolic acid and alcohol, In which faces nodded and they attempted to offer me some sort of fermented beverage, I politely declined..
There was some picking on mass of wild onion, and even some replanting, but it was wasted, its sparse and patchy growing made me think about the limits of farming and cultivation. One could find no tilled fields of the stuff, instead its chaotic of a mess of digging into the ground feebly and releasing whatever seeds were made from neglect of picking up the prize. We ate later of prey that you could find here, now a waterbird , possibly a coot, discerned bye the white bill and crest that adorned the gutted poultry. There was barely enough food to go around, caught for the biggest tribe in the region to feed the gullet of this eden.
I definitely thought I was in spain at this point, from the flora and fauna, to the peoples tounges replicating a voice of something like basque , but with less steps. I rapidly gobbled up the information they gave me, from how to set snares and traps, to never trying to row a boat upstream. I failed at most tasks they set me, my snares broke, and any fish made my hands turn to butter, the catch melting through my hands. But in some ways I managed to help. Nothing much, but I could prepare food , like those from a tortoise or a small bird.

[Existentialcrisis]

Day 2 continued
Walking through the swamp, I constantly whipped my head around as hard as I could. There was something less then unreal about monsters when people vanish, and there are people worshiping the dead, with tears in their eyes. I found a rocky bank and sat down contemplating where I am. Where is the rest of civilisation… or civilisation at all. For all we know this uncharted and unknown world, interspersed bye monsters and weird goats from spain, could not even be on earth….. so why! Why me I screamed to the heavens as I crashed onto my knees, the tears swelling onto my eyes. I clumsily picked myself up from my perch, and picked up a small stone, before pelting across the water the stone, it skimmed a little , before depressed began to sink to the floor. A foreign wave accompanied it to its end in the still marsh, before turning back., I stood the tears clouding my vision, before picking up a larger one and yeeting it over the bog. This time a brown force rose to intercept it , but it was lost in brains translation, the sheen of my tears all but mitigating the sight. I pummeled the ground with my fists and saw a large rock on the ground. It was a large effort to pick it up with one hands so I switched to two. I could see the sphagnum bog mess had drifted out towards my,bank, and I wanted to take out my rage on the sky and the world, this cruel world. I heaved it up above my head and with all my power, I managed to impact with tremendous force.
I was stumbling backward when I waited for the inevitable squelch, onto to hear a almighty crunch and snap. And then the squeal. I would think some crocodile would roar or do some thing more stereotypical , but it squealed letting a nervous pitch , as it picked up its tail and raced away, clawing its way through thick mud in a contention of its cowardly call. I could see it was about 2-3m, and then I was scared. I wiped away my tears and waited for a few minutes in the most deathly still silence. I then bent over like a crooked figure and picked up what I could salvage, of a small object bobbing in these waters.
It looked like the top of a jaw, with some row of teeth lining it. It has a pebbly texture on its top, and a smooth and pink bottom. I cradled the little thing in my hands, before beginning to walk back. This time my eyes were even more pierced then the prey hunted. I took to the driest of land, and circumnavigated using the long route, across the bog. It was nearly the end of the day bye the time I had reached the camp the mouth in my arms had stopped leaking its crimson reality, and had set in stone, or bone as it could be called.
I did not show them at first, I helped with the tribal chores. I was still very much a foreigner, but I mean would you deny someone offering you help? I skinned a deboned a fish, a very log and painstaking process that took up man hours, ones that could be sent hunting for ever more food, or as messengers to other tribes. I guess after that they must have realised what I had wrapped around in small fur, because I was called forward to the chief.

“may I examine what you have….”

I passed it over, and the elder of the village, a old woman passed it over. Then she called the village hunters, who murmured approval. Then the elder turned over to me, and said that when the boys need to become men they spend weeks in the country, hunting a savage game, a preadator like an eagle or lynx, wolf or bear, and then present proof of their capture to take their role among the men. The more ferocious the beast they slay, the higher in the tribal knitwork informally acknowledges your power . i never told them the truth for some surprising reason. The heir of authority commanded respect, and I attuned to that. I never told them I did not actually kill it, and it visibly ran away. I just sat there and took it.

“you are always welcome here”

day 5

I walked through the flat land, where wild onion clawed at my legs in embrace, their flowers dessicating, plump seedst clinging to he parents. And so I stood here, collecting as much as I can possibly attain. My plan was grand, grander then had ever been thought in history of this small tribe clinging to survival. With my plan I aimed to give one thing to them which they needed desperately, lest a freak drought or loss of the game crash their chances for survival. And that was cultivation. Here all the links of the chain could make cultivation more efficient. Lots and lots of flat land , and I mean tonnes of it. Of days that could be spent picking crops , and not searching for rapidly exhausting hunting grounds could be great. In fact maybe they could elevate their status, among the other tribes and help others in their advancement, enabling the people of this delta to manage their own destiny, their own peoples, instead of being locked in this semi nomadic lifestyle.
I walk back to the camp , past a group of younger women deboning some sort of fish, maybe a pike. They call at me, and I turn around and smile. Tears swell at my eyes at how happy they are, there innocence and their world , their own world. Perhaps this place isn’t that bad after all, perhaps I can stay. I have now finallised my plan. I will tend to the fields for five seasons, each time getting more people to work with me, and expanding the produce, until eventually they can self support themselves in conjunction with their staple food of meat and these alimum cloves
Later I clasp a clump of onion seeds as I hold them in containers, and let my hand. They flutter for a second, just a second and then spray across the ground into little furrows hand made, bye some flint tools. It will take about 2-3 days to complete the entire stretch at land working at about 8 hours per day, as the land stretch is 200 bye 200 meteres. The rain begins to fall and I look upwards to the sky. The cleansing rain washes at me from above, dissolving my sins and thought, my pain and my recollection in a watery grave. I began the long walk back to camp, as it is lethal to stay out at night, and it is very very rapidly getting dark.

[Existentialcrisis]

Day 14
My hands groped at the weak topsoil, pulling up the seeds of grass, and yellow rattle, swishing back and forth in a almost mechanical motion. Now the fields were planted, I could do with only taking some time here and now tearing the weeds away. The most terrifying of them were dandelion, they were unkilliable, and tearing the roots was not the end of them, the little golden orbs given the omens of potential failure, I mean tit was not that terrible, the edible shoots of those bulky things could be consumed as well, and they were plug in the hole with other more dangerous flora. Its lucky we don’t have anything such as bindweed.

I began to make friends , which I suppose was inevitable, I helped people with everything, but I still laboured ferociously at my own tasks. I earned respect as the person with a version, you could say I was blessed in ways bye spirits. I knew my place , and tried to not tread on peoples toes, to hurt or damage reputation or feelings. I tolerated everyone, and everyone commanded my respect. How they could thrive and cling on a society such as this was beyond me, and becoming clearer. I spent some of my idle days talking, and ferociously chewing up information, of a land to the south and north, of the peoples of this strange world, we shared and exchanged experiences and fascination, mine with the natural world and their laws and orders which govern them and nature, and theirs with this strange paradise where the universe has been banished and replaced with metal structures of war and assimilation, where entire tribes contest huge swathes of land, and has rich history.

We sat down and ate together, telling each other what we did that day, I mostly laboured in the field , a prison of my design, literally, but also having setting a few snares and collect rainwater. Other people were astonishes at my commitment to this tiny plot, looking at small seeds and shoots and plucking weeds , lots of weeds, which was a issue idf have to look too until they begin to sprout. Luckily garlic was a pest-free crop essentially, things like slugs and snails are appalled. Idont know what id do if they get as much pests as most other food.
I learnt more and more about their way of life, of hunting for game like the partridge and moorhen. My snares got better as a example, and I learnt the art of killing. I made contributions to the now and not the future, or my gift . Only time would tell what fortune or portents whould present themselves, as the rain began to patter down and cleanse me again.

[Cainesland]

Bostwick
January 2969 BC
Mountains Cove

Bostwick approached the former resident of the Commonwealth. He looked busy working on the next issue of the newspaper. After some pleasantries Bostwick got to what he came to ask. “Were there any medical improvements when you were in the Commonwealth?” He hoped something they had developed would help the single market. “What do you mean?” He asked. Bostwick considered for a moment. “Did you have any ways to, or people that specialized in, helping people with sickness?”.

The man nodded. “Yes, we did have some remedies. But that’s not my area of expertise. I was more into mechanical elements than being a medicine man. But I’ll ask around and if you come back later I can tell you if anyone has experience in that area”. Bostwick smiled, a gesture that would only come through in his voice with his mask on. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I will leave you to your work”. The man nodded and said “thank you and have a good day”.

After saying a final goodbye Bostwick left the doorframe of the mans office.

It was a Thursday and Bostwick headed to watch the cadet training. The walk was quieter than normal. Although he saw one of the sheriffs getting involved in a dispute and 2 soldiers taking 2 deceased from the direction of the hospital to the graveyard. It was saddening to try and yet still see some deaths come about.

As he walked back to the town square, where practice was currently being held, he wondered how the plague started. His thoughts drew to how plagues in the past started. Sometimes it had to do with close contact with animals and other times it had to do with poor hygiene. Often it also involved urban communities with tight living conditions.

Treating the symptoms was being aided by Nestos medicines, and limiting the plagues spread was being helped by the suits. But treating the cause, that would be another matter. Six years ago he had stated interest in building a sewer, performing a census, and updating the guard uniforms. Other issues have come and gone since then. The uniforms were updated, and the census was done. The last town census was done last year and showed a population of 540. But not everyone in town had access to the sewer. Really only the main road, some side streets, and the area closets to the sea had access. That was only approximately 20% completed. Most of the town lacked access to sewers near their home. It was hard work and costly, people were needed for other stuff. He suspected that lack of sewer access was harming the health of the town making them more susceptible to the plague than otherwise.

It was another reason the old diplomatic hall was chosen. It’s access to the sewer made keeping it clean an easier task.

As bostwick arrived at the town square he took a seat in one of the set up distanced chairs. The Last census had indicated about 56 kids between 12 and 18, and he had no reason to suspect it was to far off that number this year. Almost that exact number attended training every week. Give it take a few who were busy or otherwise occupied. The children and their officers wore the waxy coat, gloves, boots, pants, and a mask under their bronze armour, acting as precautions against the plague while training.

Bostwick watched from afar, having passed the torch of leadership previously to another, and noted how things were going. The younger kids were having some difficulty with the drill, dovetailing a bit as they turned a corner, but the seniors had it down pat for the most part. They saluted the officer as they went by him and then formed back up. When they split up for lessons Bostwick went back to his office.

[UniversalCommons]

June 2969

Aesop pondered what to do next. The army of the Danube had suffered terribly. Hundreds had died. They had to disperse the troops to ensure enough would survive until the arrival of allies. They would continue training in small groups, foraging, practicing small unit tactics, archery and survival and wilderness skills. If they gathered in large groups many more would die. They needed to keep a low profile. The Danube had become a land of devastation with the plagues and raiders.

He had too many men to deal with. He had to slowly move them out into positions which would not stand out. With so many dying from the plague, there were jobs to fill, but these had low wages and hard conditions with the economy being in shambles. The plan for a night attack into the harbor had slowly faded away. While they could have executed it, it would have been bloody, easily half of the men could have died. Elements of it would be used later when the allies arrived. Some of the men had headed south to Salt of Leaf where it was safer, cleaner, and more civilized.

There were positions for some of the men who had been experienced sailors. They would help with the unloading of ships and watch the harbors taking note of when ships arrived and left. Aesop needed more information about the Great Ships of the Imperium. They had vague descriptions of the ships, but more exact information would be helpful. The gold and jewelry market still functioned barely. There were less people buying jewelry and gold. The prices were low enough that they could be exported to Egypt, Ur, and other places far away and turn a profit. One of the naturalist scholars under Aesop learned to look at gems and jewelry with a lens, an innovation that let him choose better quality materials. Aesop's funding was low in this time and he felt a need to supplement his activities with entrepreneurial activities.

He had used his contacts with Varna First! through intermediaries to arrange for a few of his men to serve in the city guard. There were still positions open because a dozen guards had died of the plague in the previous months. Normally, this would have been a desirable position except for having to fend off the mad men from the Temple of the Body Parts. A guard had been stabbed in his liver by a fanatic recently another guard had suffered burns when the fanatics tried to burn one of the Blessing wagons.

The Varna First! movement had grown. A few men had survived to make it out of quarantine. The council had not been formed back. Several of them quietly left town talking to more people in the countryside. The Council in Exile grew spreading out into the countryside. Life became harder for the common man, the economy was not doing well, there were jobs, but these were often hard and dangerous, clearing out the burnt out neighborhoods, doing construction on the walls, working in the public gardens, the fields, and orchards, and helping repairing houses which had been taken over by the Noble Council.

Food and quality clothing had become scarcer even with the help of the Imperium. The Noble Council was conservative and demanded that for a man to receive a stipend they had to work from sunup to sundown. Not every man could, some of the lame or sick fell through the cracks. Some of the nobles also took over the choicest of the rebuilt buildings, then gave the best of the second pickings to their loyal followers, leaving little for the average man.

Walls were plastered with posters saying Varna First!, and leaflets could be seen floating around Varna with the words Varna is Varnans!, Foreigners Out! with crude pictures of the City of Varna or caricatures of Foreigners. There were also crude pictures of nobles standing over farmers or builders with whips or cudgels. The imagery was stark, simplistic, and primal.

Small things from the Imperium filtered into Aesop's root cellars, a worn out imperial greatcoat, a pair of boots and socks that a soldier that had left at a courtesans house, a wagon wheel from an Imperial wain, a length of rope, and other odds and ends. One of the scholars took apart the different items and took notes on how things were put together. He had notebooks full of pictures describing the wains and the inside of the wains for the Blessing. Several of the books had been sent south to Salt.

Aesop had many different things he had to do. He was busy all the time. He had designated a second in command, Homer, but even with a second there was too much to do.

[Suriyanakhon]

Holly Long

Daungg Kyaayyrwar

Two weeks had passed since the day of the fight but my life had changed drastically since then. Hlaing and Phyu Lat's mother, insisting that I had lived too much like an unmarried woman, made me move into the chieftain's hut. Although the residence was much larger than my old one, part of me would miss my quiet little hut, but being able to live with the two of them was worth it. Although that didn't mean I was going to like everything about my new home...

“You're so bony and angular.” Lin Kyi complained loudly. I winced as she continued trying to force me into the dress that she had sewn for me. “Don't you eat? Is everyone in your land such skeletal beings.” my eyes watered a bit as she finally managed to seemingly fit me into the clothes. “There, I'm done,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Don't let anyone say I didn't do my duties.”

I clasped my hands and bowed. “Thank you, mother.” I replied solemnly. In the communal household, all of the wives of the chieftains were the children's mothers and I had to treat them all like my own family.

The grim older woman looked at me and then cracked a smile. “Oh come, come, how could I be irritable with such an angel.” she said and patted me on the arm gently. “Enjoy your dress dear.” I smiled and nodded before leaving for an evening meal with them all.

I was now a member of the chieftain's family. My status in the village had changed and it was noticeable from the way that people referred to me. While I had maintained a cult of popularity among some of the young women and girls of the village because of my meditation lessons and stories, even older men and women began to treat me with an unnerving amount of respect. The honorific “Shin” Holly started being applied to me. Some were certainly envious and I could tell, especially the younger men. I had married not only one but two of the chieftain's daughters, a position which came with a significant amount of prestige and influence within the community.

We all ate around the fire, all of us being fairly quiet, the chieftain and his three wives being the front and foremost. Yarzar the chieftain, Nyan Aung the mother of Phyu Lat and Hlaing, Lin Kyi the mother of the chieftain's two other daughters, and Htet Aung the mother of his sons who's eyes always seemed to shift like a fox's. Lin Kyi's daughters always acted coldly toward me and while Htet Aung's sons were more outgoing and friendly, there was undoubtedly an abyss between us. Could we actually be called a family?

Finally, one of Lin Kyi's daughters spoke. “Did you enjoy your hunt father?” she asked.

“I did,” Yarzar nodded as he finished eating the fried noodles. “We killed many a deer and a tiger.”

I frowned but said nothing, thinking about the wildlife of around the village. “Did you see any birds?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation toward something much more pleasant. My sister-in-law looked at me with something that resembled amusement and contempt, but Yarzar seemed neutral toward the question.

“A few birds of prey, no good omens.” Yarzar replied grimly. “The seers are saying that the nats will be angry about the promised daughter being married early to a mortal and that the village will suffer a drought.” I winced without intending to. From what I had learnt, my fate wasn't going to be death for romancing the intended bride of the naga king... unless there was a disaster. A drought could mean the death of me, as Lei had told me the normal punishment for such a crime was to be bound into a bag and executed with clubs.

“O-oh... never mind the priests, father.” I waved my hand frivolously, trying to pass it off as a bunch of hearsay. “They always say this or that about the other world.”

---

Village shrine

The ancestral shrine of the village was secluded from the rest of the community in a sunken lane with statues of serpents representing the ancestors of the villagers who had been transformed into humans because of prayers to the gods. According to their legends, the newly transformed people wanted to settle in this land, but could not because it was the home of the peacocks, who were the mortal enemies of snakes and had the protection of the sun. In order to trick the peacocks and sun god into letting them live here, they made the name of their village Daungg Kyaayyrwar (“Village of the Peacock”) and kept the name ever since. It was a silly legend, but hearing the story somehow made me smile. But some legends were better than others...

If I were going to survive in this world, I needed to prove my worth to the village. In a way, I had to become more than a god to them, I had to prove that my ways were superior to the old ones that they had. It wasn't going to be easy, and there was a real risk that I was going to end up dead before all was said and done, but if I could improve the lives of Hlaing, Phyu Lat, and even Lei, Shenden, and the other girls of the village who I had become friends with, then it was worth the risk.

After Yarzar and I had paid respects to the ancestral nats, he finally spoke. “Hlaing tells me that you've been talking about how to gather more rice,” he said and I nodded eagerly.

“More than how to gather more rice, father.” I replied chipperly. “Follow me and I shall show you how.”

We walked several miles before we finally reached the destination, a small jungle clearing where a herd of elephants was residing. “Elephants?” Yarzar asked. I nodded. “Why elephants?”

“The village can use an elephant to plow the fields,” I explained, remembering the time when I was in Omkoi and saw the farmers use the elephants in place of tractors. Of course, that was out of tradition more than utility, but now, I had a real use for this. “We'll need the strong men of the village to capture one, and it'll take time to train, but Dangg Kyaayyrwar will be able to plant more rice than it did before.”

He stared at the herd for a long time and I worried for several minutes that he would refuse, but he nodded his head. “Very well, we shall try.”

[G-Tech Corporation]

Part 6, Chapter 9: The Halls of Phoroneus

July 29th, 31 AG

It was only a few hours travel from the harbor where the greatship had dropped anchor and we rowed ashore, but I could already say that I was not too fond of the roads of the Argoii. Perhaps in better times they might be passable, but the dry heat of the season had rendered them so much choking dust. I must have looked like the chimney sweep from a minstrel show by the time we arrived at what passed for a city center, and were ushered into the halls of the local king, a man named Kriasos.

A few young men came forward with bowls of water to refresh us, and my guards and I were more than happy to wipe the grime of the short trek from our faces and hands, and a small girl of perhaps eight or nine winters quickly cleaned our feet one at a time. It was a nicety I had not expected, and enjoyed all the more for it being unlooked for. The hall was simple, even by the standards of the League - their innovations and influence were only lightly felt in this region of the Peloponnese. Strong timbers framed the hall, and light adobe mud-brick radiated warmth in winter and prevented heat from accumulating in summer, no doubt. There were brick tiles over the home of the king, and to my surprise an impressive fireplace of fired clay framed one side of the central building, clearly recently added.

That must have come down from the north. There were many things here which betrayed a minor, if lucrative, amount of trade with polities in that direction, likely by sea coming up from the port of Nafplio; carefully shaped clay bowls, decorated with inlays, thick padded linen armor which most likely came from the Illyrian reaches, perhaps even Segestica herself. There were weaving mills there, and caravans passed west to the Adriatic coast not infrequently. Bronze spear-heads on the four guards in the courtyard of Kriasos also denoted trade - those weren't locally made, not unless the settlement of a few hundred souls which clustered around the base of the Argopolis was significantly richer than it seemed.

The man on the throne, though, was what interested me most about this room - and his attendants. The house was curiously constructed, and one had to ascend a staircase immediately upon entering the hall to address the king, whose reception chamber was separated from the antechamber by thick tan curtains, which must have been expensive to procure. His throne, in this case, was merely an impressively fashioned pillow of thick furs, which sat at a low table. He gestured me forward as I passed through the curtains, and smiled politely. A half dozen men of various ages sat at a table nearby on similar seats, likely advisors or bondsmen. There were no women to be seen - this was the custom, apparently, of the Argoii. The female members of my entourage which had come north from Nafplio had been courteously but firmly turned away from entrance to the antechamber, and waited now without.

"Please, sit."

It was not a command, but certainly an expectation. I did so, my knees protesting being folded into the pretzel configuration the cushion required. I was too used to the luxury of actual chairs, or at the very least a bench. The man studied me, and I studied him back for several moments, before he spoke. His accent was thick, but not incomprehensible.

"You are not who I expected."

I smiled. It was a common refrain. A man rose from the back table, and began repeating the king's words in League trade-talk, but I waved him off.

"I can get by well enough in your speech for us to communicate, I'm sure."

The gift of tongues rolled off of my lips, and Kraisos' dark eyebrows knit together in a momentary expression of bewilderment.

"That you can. By the gods. If I did know where you came from, Viktor Nemtsov, I would say you hailed from the Argopolis. How can this be?"

I shrugged my shoulders, and fingered the cross embroidered over the breasts of the pale sable doublet which I had chosen for this meeting.

"This is a gift of my Father, the one true God. To speak to all men as they speak, so all may understand me and the words I bear."

The men at the rear of the chamber were all looking at me attentively now, weighing, measuring. Perhaps they had anticipated just another diplomat, and a slow cumbersome waltz around translation, niceties, and misunderstandings. Frank conversation, not in the least. One in particular, a young man with thickly tanned skin at whose feet a dog laid placidly, was nearly bent double to bring his ears as close to me as possible.

On the king's had a half dozen gold unadorned rings clacked against the table. His frown was plain to see.

"I have heard of your god. Many men preach many gods these days. Some say there are gods that walk the earth, even, standing as mortal men."

I shook my head at that.

"There is but one God. Men are men, greater or smaller, brave or cowards - men all the same."

One of the king's advisors or servants spoke, an older man with a scarred face. His hair might have been blonde once, but age had dirtied it with honey and mud.

"Afrodíti Areía has given us victory over our foes, laid low the impetuous men of Tolon, broken the fleets of the League when they came near our shores. It is not by man's hand alone that we triumph, or by the hand of your god."

I spread my hands wide.

"I am not here to convert you. You believe as you may believe. I can only speak the truth as I know it. I have seen but one God, and He ordains all things, great and small, from shipwreck to war to birth and the long ages of men. It is he who gave me the tongue behind my teeth, so I may speak to you as even your father does, and you will hear all I have to say."

That set the man to pondering, and he held his peace. It was a wonderment to many, myself not the least, and to such a marvel there was little reply.

Kriasos made as if to speak, but then the young man spoke, his voice sharp, staccato. I was interested to see that the interruption was tolerated by the king of the city, even if he did shoot a somewhat irritated glance in the advisor's direction.

"What then, Viktor, do you have to say?"

A touch of a smile might have slipped across my face there. Something about how he said my name was so downright sassy. It was good to see people with fire in their bellies when they met individuals most viewed as physical gods.

"I'm here to offer you something valuable, and an opportunity. Simply because the Imperium of Man values strong friends. You've heard of the Red Plague, I take it?"

The king and the men behind the table did not exchange glances, but there was a minor stiffening of their postures. Kraisos frowned, as did the scarred older man. His words were terse as he spoke.

"Heard of it yes. We've seen it, more. Men came ashore here who had it. We were forced to kill them, lest they spread it to us. All of Attica knows the north roils with this foul pox."

He stopped, and I nodded, continuing.

"You are right. The great lands of the League have a scythe played across them. One man in five is dead, the others scrabbling for food, medicine, fleeing into the countryside to avoid death. The opportunity I offer you is this - Argos is great, but not as great as the League. And yet, now is a fine time for it to be greater. My father has blessed me with protection from this plague, and this protection could allow your warriors to march unhindered by this scythe, to seize lands and gold and slaves from the decaying corpse of the League."

The older man was sitting forward now, though his young companion's face was white. His hands clutched the table, red showing about the knuckles. A sensitive, soul, perhaps. Kriasos spoke slowly.

"A strange offer, Viktor of the Imperium. What think you, Diokles?"

Ah, this man must be a military sort. A captain of what passed for an army for the Argoii, perhaps. Important enough to sit in council, and be consulted, but not a king or respected firstman.

Diokles searched my face, as if scenting for a lie. His lips were drawn tight, a slash across his face. His mien was taunt for more than a minute, Kriasos waiting for his thoughts, before the man sat back and shook his head slowly.

"You may have this Blessing, Hegemon. There are many strange things which come down out of the north. But..." He frowned, looking over at a wooden figure who stood within the curtained chamber. "...strength bought from foreign men is never without price. You say you seek only strong friends. Will you offer us a daughter in alliance, to be joined to the women of Kriasos?"

I shook my head. I hadn't even considered this option, but rejected it out of hand. Vladimir's children were young yet, and in no position to be married off to foreign chieftains, even if my son would have condoned such an action. Even if he did, to waste the few daughters he possessed on the people of the Argopolis would be foolish. She was a regional power, certainly, and had a formidable army, but her navy was nothing to speak of, and compared to the host of the greater powers she was a gnat. A gnat which could worry the League, fragmented and divided as it was, but no more than a gnat.

Kriasos turned back from his advisor.

"We have a saying here. The wolf may be party to the lion in slaying the lamb, but once the mutton is gone, he will be next on the dish. No man may count borrowed strength his own. Afrodíti Areía may give us these lands, if the League is as weak as you say, but we need to blessing of your Christ to secure our hands and make us hale. The gods watch over their own, and we come of a line of heroes."

I could see it was a final decision, and merely inclined my head to the king and his court. There was no arguing men out of religion and pride - they were not rational arguments, and assaulting them with weapons of logic was a fool's errand.

"A fair answer. Not the one I looked for, but fair nonetheless. I do not retract the offer though - you can find my servants at Tharsatica, if you find yourselves beset by illness. You have seen but a taste of the Red Plague - I warn you, it is terrible."

Here I raised my shoulders and shrugged.

"But your will is your own. That is ought which I had to bring to the attention of the king. I believe it is the custom here to argue about gods while at table and with good wine to lance the sharpness from tongues?"

Kriasos laughed deeply.

"Now you sound again like one of the Argopolis. Come, we will retire. Evening meal is preparing, and you are welcome at my banquet."

---

June 28th

"It is good to see children in the city again." Andreos grunted as he squatted down near the cookfire. Some of the other men nodded, and Parita smiled.

"It is. It makes you feel like we are doing something worthwhile, to see little ones play without fear."

She had been busy, very busy lately. Though most of those who still remained within the walls of the city had already been shielded by the Blessing, outbreaks of the plague amongst those returning to the city were not unknown - far from it. That, and the more common maladies, like the pale fever, the black pox, and consumption of the breath, had kept the medical staff of the mission in plenty of work. Many of those who returned from the outlying settlements had suffered in their exile, living in insufficient housing, or with too little to eat, or the wrong types of food. Men could only live off of root and river water and wild game for so long before their health deteriorated, and their children were the most acutely effected.

But bit by bit they were returning, and Odessos was looking more like a city. Dozens flocked through the gates every day, tired goodwives and exhausted children coming for the promise of a return to normalcy, all for the price of a blessing of a foreign god. Not all even called Him foreign any longer. A small meeting that Doctor Thomas had established a week ago was now attracting nearly fifty members, and had had to move to a larger hall, one that one of the defunct Associations had once boasted.

"Well, not without fear."

The words came from a man Parita did not recognize, and she shot him a quizzical glance. Andreos snorted.

"Herrman is from up north. He sees trouble behind every rock." Some of the men around the fire nodded, but others remained quiet.

"It isn't borrowing trouble that isn't there when you see it with your own eyes. You were there when the guard cleared out the brigands, same as I was."

Parita now turned her gaze to the black-haired man, who deigned to explain after noticing her eyes.

"The guard found two dozen men, camped out in a burnt out warehouse down by the docks. Hard lads, with weapons that had guard sigils, but certainly not part of the guard. Thick calluses on their hands, or at least that's what the captain said once they were dead. Some of the refugees had complained after hearing noises coming from the warehouse, and it was good they did. Ten to one they were looking to slit some throats in a fancy house and burst through the gates one night with their loot, then disappear into the hinterlands. Cerratus has ordered some of the lads to run searches of some of the less traveled districts, to make sure we don't run into more surprises. Banditry, what filth."

He spat, then smiled an apology after realizing Parita had flinched. She didn't feel better knowing that there were dangerous men in Odessos. The city wasn't vast, but it had only perhaps one in two families of what it had housed at its height, even with people slowly trickling back. If you were blackhearted enough, and didn't fear the plague, there were plenty of places to hide.

"We've orders to start checking people at the gate alongside some of uh, what's his name? Maarven? Morwen? Ah, Morwen's lads. They're Odessos born and bred, the Tumuscelli, and stout, even if they do have those shaggy long beards which make them look like bears. They'll know who is supposed to be here, and who isn't."

Partia nodded, glad someone at least was doing something. She slept uneasily that night, jumping at every sound, but when dawn came her throat was still where it was supposed to be. She supposed these black stories just put black stories in your heart. She couldn't believe anyone would actually rob and murder refugees and plague survivors.

---

Lethwin was not a happy man. A half dozen guard recruits, and the Eyes had them quietly disposed of for being too close to the Namscet, the southerners who were in the back pocket of the League. It wasn't hard to replace the men, not with times as hard as they were - a guard post was a hot meal, steady pay, and a warm bed - but someone was up to something, and he didn't like it. The Eyes were being even more perspicacious than usual, and he didn't like the way some of the guard were grumbling about the disruptions at the port.

And these Varna First men. Some were amiable enough, sure. They said they saw the Imperium as a counter-balance to the League, trade with the north as a means of freeing Odessos from the stranglehold of the Scholars. When he asked them to repair the walls, or help distribute food, or clean up the streets, their ad-hoc organizational structure came in very handy, and they were more than willing to help. "Anything to get the city back on her feet." But the Imperial commander couldn't shake the ice that crawled up his spine when he saw the more reticent members of their organization. They were rabid xenophobes, and pretty much anyone who wasn't born into the Thirty Families was best off as a slave or dead, in their eyes.

As an outlander who had never even heard of the Thirty Families before he arrived in Odessos, that sounded like nonsense. But if men with long knives believed nonsense or reason, that didn't make them any less dangerous.

They were, though, as mentioned before, useful. The harbor watch had pulled in nearly twenty men off of a "fishing vessel" who had incendiaries and orders from a man with a name he didn't recognize, but the Eyes had found very interesting, and the Varna First men had found interesting enough to inform on. Questioning hadn't proven very effective, and the best he could tell was that they were here to do something with those incendiaries - but any fool could have figured that out. Putting them on a ship north to Constanta had been the best way to deal with the rabble-rousers, but more would come. This League, the Hegemon had warned, was a ramshackle effort - but snakes which had no head were the most difficult to convince they were dead.

He needed more men, and better. The recruits were willing, even eager to get the city back in a state of law and order, but they didn't have the stomach for the more unpalatable things that that order required. And if Odessos turned into a hive of agitators and brigands looking to make a quick buck off of the chaos, the list of palatable things to help restore order to the city would only get shorter.

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 11 Month 10 Chinese Imperial Calendar

As the central bureaucracy got stronger and more accurate pictures of China's condition were being drawn every day. A survey conducted over five months had managed to allow Aaron to estimate the size of his empire - an almost unimaginable country that well over one million square kilometers. Almost two million, if the larger estimates were accurate. The literacy rate was also something that could be estimated and it was put at around 15% defined as being able to write and read in Chinese fluently. The polls that had been used to tell this information were likely inaccurate and could overestimate or underestimate the literacy rate depending on a number of factors. Aaron suspected that in cities and towns where parents often educated their own children the rate was much higher, where in the "gaps" between major towns and cities the rate was much lower. Those gaps could only be identified now that the administration system across China was stable and growing. China was less so a contiguous state when viewed from the administrative perspective and more of a chain of settlements with gaps of minimum control between them. Along the road from Luoyang to the city of Ji alone there were gaps of many kilometers for which no regular administration or government existed. The people there were content to deal with China as more of an insurance agreement where they would contribute food in good times and take food during bad times. It worked well for them and the provinces were glad for the extra labor. However, the demand for iron tools had been increasing as the Chinese economy extended its tendrils into those territories. The city of Ji alone had doubled its iron production in the past few months and had begun asking farmers to work in iron mines instead of grow grain. The province was a net grain and rice importer at this point and population movements in that province had indirectly promoted the development of more productive farming towns in Jin and Qi provinces, both directly south of Yan province where Ji was. Luoyang had experienced a similar growth in its iron industry as had many other Chinese cities near sources of iron. Blast furnaces had even gained a religious significance in much of China and regulations had to be made in Jin and Yan provinces against sacrificing goats and other animals to them by throwing them into the furnaces through the top and into the molten metal. Goats were now thankfully only allowed to be sacrificed outside the furnaces outside of normal operation hours.

The rapidly rising demand in iron did not necessarily mean there was a shortage crisis everywhere. Most communities in the "gaps" were mobile hunter gatherers or only seasonal farmers. Most iron demand from them was from groups that left their areas to become what were essentially migrant workers. They would go north in the summer and work in iron mines and then travel south in winter to work in the fields and paddies of the Yellow River. One tribe had even almost in its entirety begun moving freight for the Ministry of the Public Stock and adopted their own flag - a black banner with a hammer and sickle for the country and a white circle that represented the moon that they worshiped. Unfortunately not all groups wanted to assimilate like that and during winters when food was short there were frequent disturbances and minor revolts. That instability was contrasted by the stability that was to be found in the towns that an increasing number of China's rural population was living in. The migration from outside of China and from the hinterlands of China itself to new and old towns was where the real risk of an iron shortage was. It was largely only due to the decreasing number of farmers that China needed that iron production could be sustained and even then the state was digging into stocks of iron five years old or more to meet demand at times. It was this that led Aaron to lift his head from trying to find a way to make bolts for steam boilers through rolling rather than machining bolts and turn towards developing explosive powder for mining and increasing agricultural yields with guano fertilizer. Speaking of guano, a priest working on Aaron's explosive powder project had been able to develop a powder that would fizzle and crack when exposed to a particular blend of bat guano and cave mineral. The only known source of this was in a cave northwest of Luoyang and Aaron had asked the priests to work on figuring out if it was the cave minerals or the guano that created this form of fizzling powder. Other caves were being tested for having minerals or guano with similar properties. Aaron had no idea if this was the correct path to gunpowder but it was what was working so far and before the year was out he hoped to have something workable that could be produced in high quantities for use in iron mines.

Unknown to Aaron the migrations around China and the general consolidation of villages into towns and hunter gatherers into groups of migrant workers had begun a religious revolution in China. The movement of people all across the empire and the increased reliance on technology that seemed like magic to the average Chinese rural farmer led engineers to almost be regarded as prophets in many communities. The message of a better way to live was one many religions brought around and it was natural that people would put the images of blast furnaces and metal harder than anything they had before into a religious context that made them easier to understand. In some languages the word for "engineer" became similar to the word for "magician" or "spirit tamer". Local priests also caught on, incorporating local legends into this mythology around technology that was arising around China. Legends about spirits that lived in mountain rocks became legends about spirits that lived in iron ore and could be fed coal and special stone in blast furnaces to become metal that men could use. The small and weak steam engines that were commonly shown off in cities and towns became the basis for stories about how men in Luoyang had managed to tame spirits and work them to turn wheels in the same way an ox was domesticated to pull a cart. Accounts of tribes approaching steam engines and sacrificing livestock to them were growing more common as well. In some of the more developed towns attempts to declare the Emperor or his close associates gods or divine beings had to be actively fought by provincial governments and the central governments. In less developed parts of China especially on the peripheries religious leaders calling the Emperor an evil spirit in a human body or a devil bent on enslaving men to dig up metal to feed to spirits that breathed fire likewise had to be fought. Accounts of this were unlikely to reach Luoyang and knowledge of how widespread the practices were was likely to be suppressed at the local level as they were considered extremely embarrassing by administrators. Even so, the changes in people's beliefs continued and the will of an administrator could only push such large movements slowly in one way or the other.

[Cainesland]

January 2969
Bostwick Pendragon
Mountains Cove, Crimea, Single Market

Bostwicks doctors appointment had come. Doctor Mallory, or as some refer to him, Medicine Man Mallory or triple M. Like every other person in Mountains Cove they get at least 3 checkups a year. Bostwicks are usually in early January, May, and September.

“Hello Medicine Man Mallory” Bostwick greeted him in the waiting room. Both wearing their protective wear like masks. “How are you feeling?” Bostwick answered positively. “How are you?” Doctor Mallory answered the same. “Have you been having any symptoms? Any coughing or vomiting?” The doctor asked trying to gauge the situation. Bostwick shook his head no. “Any dizziness, dry throat, watery eyes?” Bostwick shook his head again. “Some headaches” Bostwick said “But that may be do more to stress and sleep trouble than anything else”.

Mallory paused for a moment. “You may have a humour imbalance”. <Pardon?> Bostwick thought. “I recommend you drink water, eat honey, and lay down”. Bostwick nodded. “The water will let your body be more adaptable, like water in the waves, the honey will weigh down the problems, and laying down will help evenly distribute the issues. When that is done the body will more easily be able to resolve what you are having trouble with”. Bostwick nodded again. Somehow the Doctor gave good advice and an incorrect explanation at the same time. “Thank you Medicine Man”

Before Bostwick left Mallory asked “Anything else?” Bostwick said no, and thank you.

Bostwick went home to rest as the doctor requested. On his way home he thought about the education system. The upcoming generation has been able to become familiar with science processes like precipitation and geography, basic mathematical concepts like addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and geometry, literacy has been growing from the previous 5%, and music and art are being enjoyed and doing well. But that’s been taking a hit. Education can’t just be delivered remotely. It’s kind of a part time thing.

He kind of felt bad. The kids have been wearing their protective wear for learning but it’s probably not as conductive to a good learning environment. But the other options don’t seem that great either.

[Conwy-Shire]

Andre Mulcahy,
Zarouos|Modern-Day Syracuse
7th Month|2969 BCE.

*Crunch*

The crackling sound of Maro's teeth tearing through the bread crust snapped my attention back to the present. Barely supressing a smile, I watched as he received a sharp nudge in the side and a reproachful look from Noeme for his offence, before she resumed our conversation.

"As I was about to say," She started before throwing a meaningful glare at her partner, whose cheeks showed only the slightest flush of abashment. "Kyah and her family seem to have adapted well to tending their fields, this 'Riparian buffer' of yours is growing strong along the southern edge of their plot and the Enapos, and the Alder rows between the grains all have healthy shoots. They expect…"

I nodded gratefully as Noeme continued listing how the new farming families were going. Having leaned heavily on both hers and Maro's connections to even organise the clearing and seeding of such a vast amount of land, I had turned more and more to them to introduce my 'changes'. If I could persuade them, I could persuade the whole town in a week, or so my thinking went. So I had begun to allocate at least one part of every day to them, often speaking of my old home, and the more basic wonders of the modern world. Today I had brought them my most recent attempt at bread for their evaluation, and a report on the farms as we progressed into the depths of Summer.

Of course, as they learnt more of the old me, I began to learn more of them too. They had six children who had survived to adulthood, two daughters and four sons, which though I considered excessive at first glance seemed to be the average number in this region. It was hard to imagine that infant-mortality could necessitate so many offspring, even though my logical side could still rattle off select mortality figures for some of the more unfortunate modern-day states.

Ach, I was daydreaming again. This seemed to happen more and more frequently, a side-effect of this whole traumatic trip. When I looked up again, Maro was brushing the crumbs of his small palm-sized loaf from his worn, calloused hands.

"Mmmm, this one was much better than the last few Andre," he patted his stomach contentedly. "Much softer in the centre than the others, I think I could get used to this one." I smiled at the kind words, this final method for making bread had been a full month in the works, trial, error, and trialing over. The trick was enticing yeast into the dough, and with a new field full of young, wild grapes, I decided to take a gamble on their sugar-content. Funnily enough it didn't seem to make too much of a difference, between those grains which were simply left in the vicinity compared to those with immersed grapes - both results were satisfactory. The other, more grueling, secret was that I now quality-tested each batch of ground flour, for my studies at University made clear the dental risks posed to the first agriculturists by stray coarse seeds in their bread.

"I'm very glad to hear that Maro, hopefully with time, and some more precise tools, we'll get the recipe down to an exact science." At the mention of tools, the carpenter looked up with interest.

"And how are these bronze tools coming along? I haven't heard from young Gahros all day; he'd better not miss the evening meal because of your experiments." I smiled ruefully at the father's concern for the youngest of his four sons - I reckoned him about my age - who I had recruited from his regular duties to become a nascent metallurgist. For now that had mainly involved building a brick furnace, purposed for melting the copper we acquired from Drapand, and the tin that was now regularly traded from Argos.

My grasp of the theory was sketchy, and incomplete at best, but I understood the need for crucibles, super-heating the metals within, and hot-pouring the molten mixture into a sand-mold. The particulars and fine-tuning I would leave to Gahros with minimal supervision, for what we may lack in scientific knowledge he would make up for with youthful enthusiasm - and powerful family connections.

"I'll be checking on his furnace soon - I think he was also getting a second opinion on the brickwork from one of Galt's kids; but I'll make sure he doesn't skip the evening meal," I promised, noticing the proud look in both Maro and Noeme's eyes. Was recruiting their son an underhanded way to gain their support? Sure. But with these two local power-brokers on my side, getting home would be a much easier - if still distant - prospect.

[UniversalCommons]

July 31 AG

The Guard House (Varna)
More of Aesop's men joined the guards. It was not hard for some of these men to pass they physical. Aesop sent the guards a few masters of the Upright Way, they spent time learning the fighting moves of the guards carefully practicing each move until they could do the moves, then counter the moves. They did not try and stand out. It was a quiet, meditative practice for them. They had been taught to master several different fighting styles, Egyptian, Sumerian, Elamite, Aegean, and Thracian.

The new style intrigued them. They had not fought in the European style. The closest fighting style they knew was of the Aegean. They would carefully inspect and clean their weapons and armor listening to Lithwen's instructions quietly. The chain armor which they were given was different than lamellar which they were used to wearing.

The Gold District (Varna)

Tegyrios had been successful with his lens. He had been able to identify many better quality gems. It would be a secret kept in the gold district. A key to a steady source of income that would be used to buy housing for some of Aesop's men.

In the Gold District, Aesop's contacts grew. They helped him move more gold out of Varna and opened the gem market to him. There were a number of wealthy merchants who remembered the time when they had a better living under the scholars. They were careful with their tongues. In time things would get better, but now they needed more customers.

With the greater opening of the harbor, more merchants had been able to make it to the market. Merchants with wealth who were willing to take risk, could buy gold, silver, agates, jasper, amethyst and garnets at prices lower than the markets.

The Empty Quarters

Some of the spaces in the empty quarters were deadly. There were lurking men of the Temple of the Body Parts which Aesop's men steered clear of. They tended to live in cellars like rats and come out at night. Somehow, their numbers never lowered. There were a constant stream of men and woman who wanted martyrdom.

There were homeless men and women who could not afford to live in other places as well. These men formed camps. Many were from the countryside. They simply had nowhere else to go.

There were also thieves and smugglers from the harbor who once ran contraband and now stole things from the dead selling them in a night market. Every kind of bric a brac and weapon could be had for a price, even people. For a price, rumors were available, and other forbidden things. It ran from sundown to sunup. Blankets covered the streets or large baskets. If you listened carefully, the latest rumors coalesced here or the people who had ill intentions and nowhere else to go. It was a place to lose your fortune, or slip into oblivion.

Then there was the old cunning woman who had planted a huge garden and invited a group of drifters to stay in the empty district. They had painted their houses blue and surrounded them with flowers and vegetable gardens. There was little that the old woman did not know. She was a kind of unofficial mayor of the poor. She would sit out on her porch watching things go by. Her house was filled with memories from better times. Her husband had passed and she had once been part of a chieftains family, but it no longer mattered to her.

A few of Aesop's men lived among the drifters waiting for a better place to stay. They kept away the flotsam, the thieves, opium addicts, charlatans and did some of the heavier labor. When the men came looking for people who didn't belong here, they found a variety of people that did not fit in. A wandering bard, a few poets, some free spirits, a fake doctor, a fortune teller who used the bones of deer and sheep. It was a place that attracted strangeness. Some people claimed to have seen fairies or ghosts here.

There was a space near the walls overgrown where some of Aesop's men lived. It had plenty of extra building materials lying around. They could easily spot people coming and had planned escape routes in case anything happened. They had covered a large hole in the wall which led to low boats which they could take if necessary.


The Harbor (Varna)

The men in the harbor had seen a Great Ship come and leave. It was of magnificent build with large sails. They had drawn its coming and leaving, noting its design. They had even collected some paint chips that had fallen on the dock and filched a piece of sail. The chips would be taken to the mixer who would look at them carefully with a lens taking notes. Mixer Carl had not seen anything like it before.

The men took note of the different ships coming and going. Some came south from Salt and Leaf, others came from Constanta. Most were from the Black Sea. Others were from Turkey, older cruder ships which sailed much more slowly. Some of these ships had refugees from the conlicts in Turkey where the Sumerians had come to take land from poor tribesmen.

They watched the different captains taking note of fishing boats. They even saw a few smugglers operating more openly. They brought in what would have been contraband, opium, unregistered fire wine, untaxed books, Kraken and other extremist religious texts and similar goods. The men noted the names of the ships, the Doris, the Rose, ships that could be bought for their needs.

Kug Bau (Abdera)

Kug Bau had arrived in Abdera after managing to switch from a boat with goats and beer to a faster ship. He had a change in luck while he was pretending to be a wandering sailor. One of the newer fast catamarans needed a deck hand and he took the chance. It was harder work than anything which he had done in his life.

By the time he arrived in Abdera, he had two earrings in one ear, a close shaved head and a pointed beard. He wore a tunic and loose breaches and carried a carry sack. With him was a bouncer from Sumeria.

When he went to the Ministry of Translation they thought he was dead. He insisted he was Kug Bau. It took several hours of arguing before Scholar Ishtar came out to look at him.

Scholar Ishtar, “What are you doing here?”

Scholar Kug Bau, “I am here to see Penelope. The broadsheets say she is here.”

Scholar Ishtar, “What happened to you?”

Scholar Kug Bau, “I was in Ur and I had to flee. I found out that the Temple of Inanna holds the cure to the plague, but the Asipu would not see me. I learned that there are some substances that can help the plague from the Apu like ginger. I have some of the roots. The Apu have a strange name for it, the roots of the bitter tree. I do not understand their language sometimes. The roots are from far off Harappa. It helps, but if given in too great quantities, the patients will die. The medicine has to be given in small amounts, carefully measured out over many days in a dilution of honey and salt water.”

Scholar Ishtar, “This is good news. We should be able to help people a little more. I wonder if there are followers of Inanna in Anbar or the surrounding area.”

Scholar Kug Bau, “I have my notes, they are dirty and old, but readable.”

Scholar Ishtar, “Follow me, we will rewrite them so we can understand them a little better. It is good to see you again. You look different.”

Moon

Many people came to Moon seeking to escape the plague. They had very careful quarantine and only accepted people after a long wait outside the harbor. Moon had filled up fast enough that they created another colony Sun, not far from Moon. They feared if there were too many people in Moon, they would catch the plague.

Moon and Sun were colonies supported by affluent escapees. They had excellent amenities and a good supply of soap, and protective gear.

Other colonies sprouted on the coast of the Levant, Berry and Nut. People were seeking places far from the center of the Nestos League, places where they could be safe and start over. Some only had a shipload of people.

[Arlye Austros]

Lukas Voigt.
Mountains south-east of the bay of Irún. Western Pyrinees.
Eleven years after Slumber’s End.
2.989 BCE.

Lukas waited as the darkness ensued, resisting the cold wind of the sea that came to hit his body covered by a boar pelt over a set of flax-made tunic and underwear he had worked for about two years prior in a village at the mountains. It had been his companion for many cold nights, and as the dusk set in, he knew this one would be another one.

But he might not actually suffer this one alone, for a change. His little encampment stood some meters to his left, under the cover of a rocky outcrop that seemed to cut through the vivid green canvas that covered the mountain. It was a special place, he could tell. This mountain was probably the highest peak not covered by a forest, and it allowed to gaze on the region to the north, on the shore to the northwest, and into the valleys to the south. Only to the east did the mountains cut his gaze. Lukas now looked north, as the line was, as the passing of the minutes went on, lit with dots of flickering light, and continued its ascent, fighting the battle against fgravity and passing through the small groups of trees that dared exist under the punishment of the cold breeze. It had been so long now.

He decided to climb that mountain days before. It wasn’t particularly difficult as a dozen that he had before, nor would they give him anything in exchange for such a feat, as many villages had offered, asking him to take something across a range, to look for a lost head of livestock, or find the grave of a lost relative, as it was the case two winters before the coming one. He had departed south, making several ins and outs of the mountains south of the ocean, connecting caves and meeting people for a little time. He had crossed into the highlands to the south, where grass and tree gave way to a more arid landscape, though still inhabited by many men and women. There he heard news of the peoples to the southern edge of the world, who were starting to come together and build things of rock, and from those buildings stories of death and terror went out to the world.

And then he found those stories funny and colorful. The language in which these people could explain the world around them. So then he headed east. And he began offering to go around, to get something or give another thing. In exchange they would give him food, shelter, clothes, and in time even more valuable things, like tools and precious stones, which he was quick to dispose of for other tools. He also learnt things, like the canvas of peoples that lived in the region around the mountains. Herding communities that cohabited with hunters in the hills. They seemed to be rather similar, and to them also the people that lived north of the mountains, as they claimed to be related, at least distantly.

And so the stories became the language he himself used. He heard stories everywhere. At every settlement, at every small encampment and with every group of hunters was an old man or woman, much like Gulom for the Southerners, and each told a different story. Yet all of them made sense, somehow. Lukas became a link between these people. Bringing news, things and gifts, and sometimes even people across the mountain, taking them through safe passages. One of these group was so grateful that they even gave him a spear made of colorful rocks and sturdy wood. He had taken them away from their would-be-killers, some rival clan that swore death to them.

And two months before that dusk another word came to him. That the fishermen of the far shore to the west had become powerful. So powerful that the hunters of the hills were expelled from The Crossing. He moved north, and went to every camp. In time he got their trace, and realized R’algata’s group was actually behind him. A fishing boy in a creek told him that a relative had spotted their smoke to the west, and that they would probably keep moving between the shore and the hills to the east. So he offered one of his best, although at this point useless for climbing, ropes to the boy. So that he could deliver these hunters the message from Harskorre, as they started calling him. He then set for the mountain without trees.
The line of torches was nearing him, and he lit his own torch, struggling with the wind a bit, then waved it in the night for them to see. Some voices replied, and minutes later their faces appeared in the darkness, somber and tired, but smiling.

“We heard the Harskorre called us. But I could only hope it was you, Loukas… It’s been so long.”
Kir’dall. The eldest of R’algata’s sons, saluted him. He nodded and gestured each of the them to find shelter by his fire, at the other side of the edge of the mountain. Soon they sat around the light and away from the wind, and only then Lukas spoke.

“And I heard what happened in the coast. Tell me of it.”
The other one nodded. “I would rather not. But you ought to know.”
He explained that there was a dispute over hunting grounds that escalated. The Southerners and other hunting clans protested, but the Fishermen, totaling eight clans, were numerous and well-prepared for a fight. They had been travelling through the shore exchanging goods and fish for weapons, like good spears and sturdy skins.

“Then they killed one of their own. The bastards killed a girl and blamed it on some of our boys. Before we could do anything they had killed them. We insisted they had been innocent, but they used that to blame us for the death as well. My father was amongst those who protested.” He followed. Lukas imagined what happened.
“He is not here.”

Kir’dall nodded. “Nor is Funle, or Hanjella, and two of his sons also died. The fight was fierce. But in the end we had to run with what we had on us.”
Lukas could see the affliction in their faces. They made up to twenty men and women. No children though. Kir’dall may have been able to read his mind. “Many of the little ones didn’t escape. They either didn’t understand what was happening or were cut off from our escape. The others became sick and died not a moon after, too tired and scared they were.”
Lukas had been roasting food which he had hunted during the last days, setting traps. Mostly rabbit. Kir’dall smiled bitterly.
“You are a better hunter now.”
He nodded. “No. I just had time to be ready.” He replied while passing them something to eat. Rest now. I will keep watch. Tomorrow we will talk.”

He gazed upon them as they conciliated some sleep. Many seemed to hold nightmares as they closed their eyes. Some times one would wake up and look around, confused, then return into the cover of the human warmth that their group provided. Lukas thought what needed to be done. Kir’dall asked him to tell what he had been thinking, as they watched the sea to the north slowly turning grey from black, as the sun announced its coming.

“I have heard that to the south great cities are rising. Houses that come together, like The crossing. And that they are strong. But not friendly or safe. I have been able to loosely connect the tribes that live in these parts, and there are many. They are somewhat similar. I believe your people can find peace here, away from the sea.” He waved to the south and the east.
“We are not mountaineers. And what these people do to the earth. It’s not our way.” Kir’dall spoke of farming. Lukas nodded.
“I understand. You can offer your hunt to the people who live in these parts, and I can strike a deal so they leave you alone. But in time, the Fishermen will come.”
“They are fishermen!” Kir’dall waved his head in protest. “Will they truly come to us and seek our death?”

“For what you told me, they may do that. I think they don’t want to be at peace. They must have heard of the cities in the south and must want the same.” Lukas spoke not looking at his friend, cording his weapon. “We have to be faster than them. Stop them on their feet and knock them down. The hills are our advantage. And time is still on our side. But they will come, not just for us. For all.”

“I never imagined it would come to that.”
Lukas managed to bend it, and the bow was finally stringed. He placed an arrow, made of wood and a bone head, and held it tight on the knot. “I hope I am wrong.” He tensed the bow and sighed, then released. The arrow was shot into the sky, headed to the sea, and landed between the branches of the forest below, making a constant sound as it pierced the air. “We will need more of these.”

Valley south-west of Irún. Northern Iberian Coast.
Thirteen years after Slumber’s End.
2.987 BCE.

The line of men and women crouched behind the makeshift fortification, a hip-tall stone wall that was barely visible on the front, covered by loose branches and leaves. It was also sturdy. Lukas had to dig memories from a dream almost gone. Secrets of how to place weight in the proper way in an elongated structure. It took him time to adapt it. But it worked.
Was this what his life was reduced to now? Crouching in a forest that shouldn’t exist, hiding? To his side a man holding a pole looked around. He bore the head of a boar at the end of the stick, and it was covered in red paint made of red-ochre river dust. And beyond this was another, and another, and another. All of them waiting.

They had worked to this moment for a long time. Lukas had gone here and there, like never before, to prepare the small settlements, and warn as many as he could. Few listened. But then the men in their boats came. The Fishermen, though they called themselves “Lotianza”, the League of Clans. They also called themselves “Ataustu”, “The Agreement”.
In these months of work, Lukas had learn what they were. A union of families amongst the fishermen ho had grown greedy. They were able to set themselves as traders, unbeknownst to the other clans in the Crossing. And when they grew powerful, they agreed to take absolute power. Five clans were chief; The Ad’mazu, the Horgazu, the Sokaje, the Meigasa and the Hasealdi.

They had used the hunter clans as enemies to unite everybody else against them, and once in charge they had retained power for themselves. Not contempt, they went into the sea, and began trading. However they soon demanded abusive exchanges, hospitality and tribute. It didn’t take long before they burnt a coastal settlement.
Lukas’s warnings returned to their memory, and months before they began appearing in droves at their encampment in the mountains.
In the meantime, Kir’dall and the Southerners had been working, making bows and arrows and preparing for a fight. Their twenty-something group didn’t stand a chance until men began showing up for shelter, and women too, and they joined to fight.

By that time the Ataustu had been wandering through the shores without balance. They stayed and demanded service and tribute before moving with armed bands to the next place. They then returned to the Crossing and fortified it. Under Lukas’s advice, they played tame to them. But once he gathered his strength he began searching for a place to trigger a trap. He recalled a vague tale in school about an ambush, and decided to try it. Runners went around, coordinating and returning with news on the Agreement’s moves and presence in the region. Then he found the place.
The valley runs parallel to the sea, with a range covered in forests rising north of it over five-hundred meters. In between, three or four thousand steps of forest from north to south, as the valley connects two bays between two mountain ranges. The perfect spot. With ample space for the invaders to get lost in the woods and find themselves trapped.

Also the perfect place to work in secret. Kir’dall dispatched people to work on the small fortifications. Curved stone walls no taller than a small child. But enough to offer some cover from projectiles and a barrier that needs to be sorted about before fighting. The circular structures were to be made at night, under no light but the absolute minimum, and well within the line of scouts to warn of any intruder. One by one the valley was dotted with these fortifications, unable to be seen from one to the other, but close enough for both be visible from between them, to be trapped in the difficult terrain, riddled with marshes and thick woods.
Lukas left the training of the small force of fleeing villagers and hunters to Kir’dall and other leaders amongst them. Soon he had a hundred archers and expert spear-throwers at his disposal, and another hundred spearmen. Three dozen boys and women wielded maces and javelins and wanted to support them.

It had to work now. Lukas could only keep telling himself that. The trap was set and the prey was coming into the jaws. It had to work. Maybe this was how he would die.
He heard a faint singing. The boy’s voice was overwhelming in the silence and expectation, and everyone in Lukas’s formation looked into the direction it came from, following it as the invisible singer made it through the trees from the road ahead. Then he appeared. It was the same boy from two years prior. This time he carried a spear, instead of a fishing hook. Lukas whistled, and the singing stopped as he approached the ambush, sure of his own safety.

“My brother is leading them, Harskorre. They are a little more down the road, and will come little after sunrise.”
“Well done, Igún. You should go to the reserve.”
But the boy crossed the wall and joined the formation. Not until my brother is clear.”
He decided not to deny him that, and so the wait resumed.

He had hoped for fog, but sadly, the air was clear even at that early hour. The sun, much like the day he spoke with Kir’dall, wasn’t up yet. But the light around heralded the day. And that had been an eventful night. The villagers in the western bay had burnt the ships, attacking the Sokaje party as they slept. The village then was set ablaze after evacuating everybody. The three parties in the eastern bays, Meigasa, Hasealdi and Ad’mazu men, had been warned as they moved through the settlements for tribute. They depended on those ships, and suddenly their retreat line was gone. Soon they marched, but not before the passages at the shore were destroyed with massive boulders. At night they made it back east, then south, then again west. All while watchers in the heights kept close look at warned Lukas with runners that rested not a moment through the night.

Now he had to wait, with a quarter of his strength known to be ready at the other side under Kir’dall’s command, along with most of the Southerners. The trap was ready.
And the prey walked into it. He heard another singing. This time it was echoed by adult voices, that seemed to choir the voice of the boy. Igún’s little brother. Lukas felt the line at his sides tensing in expectation. The chanting grew louder and once more the faces looked towards the veiled choir.

A whistle came from the right and the front. They were in sight and awaiting his command. Lukas signaled his whistler to wait. A woman who had her lips ready to kiss the air and sing.
The chanting went on. First the boy, then the raiders. The boy again. Then the raiders.
He waved his hand once more. And the woman whistled.
There was another duet, and then the boy said something. There was a silence and he sung once more. And he was replied after every call.

“I like the sunset in the bay.”
“I like it reeking of the flesh.”
“Of gifts that father brought today.”
“Oh father, bring us as today.”
“Oh, hey! Oh, hey. But bring us crab and clam instead.”
“Oh hey! Oh hey!”

And another whistle. Dissonant and fast. Then screams.
“Where?” Somebody yelled.
“Ambush! Kill the brat!”

Igún sprunt out of the fortress as soon as his brother appeared running between the trees. The sounds of the ensuing battle erupted across the forest, and the screams of falling raiders were the most in them. They boy ran towards safety, but Lukas could only watch as a larger figure appeared behind. The axe fell on his back as Igún, the older brother, screamed, spear in hand. Lukas followed with his boy.

“Igún, wait!” he called. But too late. The man, fur-covered and skilled with the axe, swung the spear aside, then knocked the other boy to the ground. Lukas aimed, but Igún was unceremoniously killed before his eyes, before he could put down the target.
More raiders appeared, advancing towards the frontal fortifications. But the defenders could easily push them back. Lukas decided to regroup as a dozen advanced towards him.

“Back!” He yelled and waved, rushing back to cover. The pole with the bloody boar rose up, and the hunters and armed people inside the stone circle yelled in excitement, some throwing spears and stones at the attackers. Lukas aimed another arrow. Then the wave struck the wall, and spears came to meet it.
The battle took only a while. Lukas noticed it was over when the other side of the valley launched its attack as planned. He had depleted his arrows and grabbed his spear, looking at the overall area between the dense forests. “At them! Go!”

He jumped once more over the barrier and ran towards the remaining groups that resisted between their own circle and the nearest one to the right. Those closer to theirs fled, but they continued to run at those that looked away, and fell on their backs.

When it was done Lukas ran towards the clear at the very bottom of the valley, just by the river. The last of the Sokaje, who had resisted the most, routed away to the west, getting as far possible from the ambush. Lukas had to stop a pursue.
“No! Don’t follow them. Hold!” He insisted. The listened to him, but barely, as those further to the flanks only turned when noticing they were alone in their pursue. “We have this day. It’s only the first. Send messages to the encampments and villages. We will bury the dead and make ready. They will come, for sure.”

[Joohan]

WHAT A STRANGE WORLD

In Tibet, Luther’s Caravan

“Are you sure we are going the right way Master Nara?”

A voice from one of the explorers spoke to the short tanned man in merchant robes as they continued walking the valley.

“I’m sure, the river that leads out of here will be in three days from the current position and then we follow it to the end point and it should lead us to the Yarlung Tsangpo. Follow that point and there shall be a bend, we go west from there and we shall be at least at the northwestern end of the Yellow River and we follow that into China.” Nara looked back to the man who spoke.

“We’ve been at this leg of the journey for three years, Master Nara. We’ve seen more tribals than actual cities throughout our journey. While I don’t wish to spread doubt among the others.-”

“I know Pukoah, I know.” The tanned man closed the map and sighed,” we’re down a third of our men from sickness and tribal attacks. Injuries are getting high and vegetation around here is low. Not to mention that we need to at least cover half of the distance of the Yarlung Tsangpo before another winter traps us.”

“At least you have your wits about you Sir.” The Indus man sighed,”that and your sword arm. Where did you learn how to fight like that?”

“I used to be among the slave armies of Ur during their petty wars. The things they teach you in the killing fields of Mesopotamia between the two empires over gods and pride is nothing these mountain raiders have seen.”

“Aye Sir,”

“Just tell the men that once we get around this mountain we can rest at the river point and see about restocking some supplies for food and any tribes that we can trade with.”

Nara had taken a sigh as he moved with the oxen and horses through the mountain. The caravan was nothing more but a gamble as he decided to leave Ur as Luther, shadow emperor of a world power before he couldn’t take it anymore. His mind ever focused on the present as he had to use as much wealth as he could gather to pay the various warrior-kings and warlords of Indus.

Even as he finally sat in the camps and saw the Yarlung Tsangpo at night he felt at ease. The best sense of peace he had thought he never could have ever since he became the ruler of Sumeria. He never thought he could travel like this, even if it was a gamble to find another Immortal. If he couldn’t get the caravan to return with any goods that indicate that an Immortal Country was in China…

Then it’s my fucking head if anything. I’m basically trying to pave the way for one cultural group to connect to a country that may or may not even exist. He shook the train of thought out of his mind.

Luther, as Nara, cleared his throat before bringing out his encyclopedia and his charcoal pencil to continue writing on a half-written page. The pages were filled with the history of the Indus and the Immortal known as Jarvan(or Jarvin?) who had led a coalition of southern city-states against the north in the Indus.

The very culture was threatened to be united underneath another bloody Immortal but the person disappeared. No one knows what happened to them but the coalition was destroyed and the Indus became more militarized.

“That’s the third Immortal that just disappeared like that.” Luther whispered as he stopped writing,” there not even killed, there’s not even a body for their group to find. They just...disappeared. Like they just weren’t useful by whatever brought us here in the first place.”

He closed the Encyclopedia,”I wonder if the other Immortals are trying to gather information like I have. If not then the Encyclopedia Brotes is the only book with Authors that these natives will at least understand what we are and how much of a mystery we are ourselves.”

The next three days they reached the river Yarlung. The caravan itself was not happy with more inhospitable landscape but providence was on their side somewhat. The tirbes that came to them both traded and raided when it came to contact with travelers through their lands. Tibeten oxen had become more or less a barter currency for the caravan.

Luther even helped some raider tribes to attack their rivals in exchange for the plunder. He wasn’t happy with spilling blood, even got the shakes again. He tried his best to hold back killing strikes and just injure most of what he had to fight. His instincts that were developed with the Unification Wars had made a man with short stature become the biggest threat in a fight. It made him hate himself even more and wish for his death even more.

Eventually the caravan had made it beyond the river valley and found grasslands. Rolling hills of green that the caravan made themselves extremely happy when they found it. It was before winter time and they were tired from the constant battles and trading with the tribes beyond them. Luther had looked beyond and saw a group of people who was feeding them camels on the very valley itself.

“Camels? Here?” Luther said to himself before he yelled at Pukoah,” Pukoah!”

“Yes Master Nara?” Pukoah yelled back.

“There’s some people there grazing some camels!” Luther pointed to the group.

“Camels? All the way out here?”

“That;s what I’ve been questioning.” The caravan master looked down on the group,” they don’t look like a raider but we can’t be too assuring.”

“You wish to go talk to them Master Nara?” The Indus man asked.

“Absolutely, those camels alone want me to ask questions. See if we can get some for the trip.”

The caravan itself started to move down around the rolling hills. Wheels met grass instead of rock but they still followed the river as it was charted. Luther kept his hand on his steel sword but in a resting position but still ready for anything. It was here when Luther had his eyes wide when he saw someone different from the other Tibetan people he was getting used to over the past three years of constant traveling. The man was taller than ever one of the men and white.

He stopped midway and held up his hand to stop the caravan. Pukaoh and the others were confused as he stopped the caravan. Pukoah noticed that their caravan master was shaking and his eyes were wide.

“Master Nara?” He touched the short man and the caravan master jumped,” are you alright? You were still standing still and shaking again.”

“I-I just saw something there..” He shook his head,” let me do the talking as usual but let’s hope that these people are friendly to outsiders.”

With a nod from the Indusian caravan hand Luther turned on his heel and took a deep breath. He then smiled and waved at the people with both arms up.

“Hello over there!” He spoke in a Tibetan tongue.

…

“ And you have said they speak the tongue of Kester? “

“ That one did grandfather, though I know not if any others among them do as well. “

Dorjee stroked the wispy white strands of his beard with an arthritic hand, regarding the six strange men who had come out from the valley of the Ausong, and were presented before him. The rest of the clan pretended to still be going about their daily chores, even as they stared ceaselessly at the alien travellers while they passed, with the children not even offering that courtesy. Among them was a redskin, belonging, perhaps, to one of those tribes which infrequently made their way through the land of snow and blue mountains to trade the descendents of Kester. The other men though it was much harder to tell of their origins; one of them was quite dark in complexion, though not to the same hue of a redskin, i’d liken perhaps more to a mixed black man. The rest were varying shades of brown and beige, with dark hair and eyes, prominent noses and thin lips; their racial features were all over the place, giving me little hope in trying to pin down origin.

They were not native to this land though, evident by how uncomfortably they wore their garments. Something like a jacket or cloak was always worn round the waist of a man or woman during warm summer days, wrapped round a long sleeved tunic, gloves either upon the hands or tucked into a belt, and a fur hat ubiquitous.The clothing sense of these people were in utter disarray, with barely any uniformity among them. They wore cotton, linen, and other too breathy shirts underneath fur and hide coats which they surely only picked up along the way from wherever their home was. Their footwear were either open toed sandals or moccasins which exposed the top part of their feet. Metal hewn jewelry, whose shine had been depleted by a film of sand and dust was worn freely about the fingers, round the neck, and even in the hair of some. The more elaborately decorated clothing of which I could see I assumed to be their usual garb, but it seemed more fitting a warmer climate than the cold wind swept hills they now found themselves upon. I did not see a scarf or pair of gloves among them that they did not surely get from bartering with our neighbors - though on the hip of the one who I fancied perhaps a blackman, and who appeared to speak the language of the Ana, was worn a sword and scabbard.

I stood to the side of Dorjee, Amalaa, and Hazugual, as Dote answered what questions the elders levied toward him, arms folded across my chest, and for the most part silently regarding the scene. It had been the children who hung round our herd that had first informed us of the strange bands coming out of the Ausong.

“ Michewa boy, as they came from the valley, did you see any of their party carry weapons? “

It was Hazugual, looking grave more than usual, who had asked Dote the question. He paused for a moment, processing that Hazu had called him, Michewa boy, as opposed to his real name.

“ None that I saw, or recognized that is. They-... “ He waved his hand for a moment, trying to find some way of saying what it was he felt, before looking over toward me,

“ They appeared sick - in a way that is common of red skins and those south the blue mountains - did they not? “

The language of Kester did not have a word for lethargy, or more accurately, altitude sickness, attributing the sluggishness and tendency to faint with some kind of natural weakness to those not native their land. I nodded in agreeing with him, quipping,

“ Yes, they all looked like me some time ago, weary in the eyes and slow, not yet used to the bitter air. If I may though, - “ Holding up my left index finger, I lowered it down pointed toward the black man’s sword.

“ That one is carrying a weapon, the long tool at his side. My old clan used to make use of such things. “

That he probably understood everything we were saying didn’t phase anyone of us. The rest of their band was nearly a mile away over a hillside, while these six were in the middle of our camp. In addition to that, the Ana have never been exactly one for polite company either. Not even skipping a beat, from probing his children on the strangers at his doorstep, to elder caretaker, Dorjee turned toward the group of strangers,

“ What brings you here this day? “

The short caravan master who seemed to move the fastest out of the bunch came up to them with a weary and tired smile.

“We come from beyond the mountains in an expedition to find trade in a land of the far east. Beyond these mountains but my men and I aren’t used to the mountains and we have been ravaged by sickness and raider tribes all the same. We were hoping you could direct us to the end of the river valley or somewhere we can find rest.”

Dorjee looked out toward the west, where the sun had only just begun descending past it’s middling noon height, before turning back toward the caravan master. “ Assuming you wish to go to the end of the Ausong, you’ve yet still some weeks ahead of you. The eastmost edges of the holy river are found in the valley’s of Sangda, though from there they then descend into southern lands. To go east then is to travel over yet more mountains and to wile past the glaciers to rest atop their peaks. To what end though, I could not tell you. “

Hazugal lifted an eyebrow at the lot of the foriegn gang before lowering his question, “ You lot are southerners no? Those who live below the mountains? “

“Actually yes, south and west beyond the holy river. We are following the short one there.” One of them points to Luther, who ignores them,” as he said he was looking for a place called ‘China’ and that there’s a country flowing in silver and iron.”

“Of course we have to make it through to the end of the river right now. Should be at the bend of the river where we must travel north up into a desert I believe to get to a river known as Yang Ze.” Luther said out loud.

“ Desert to the north?... Red man, does this one mean Gurhala? “

Given that this wasn’t my native language, I was still getting used to hearing a lot of things for the first time. As Dorjee continued prodding though at the group in their travels, I rolled what again what I’d thought i’d heard. Strewn together among so many other Kesterian words, I almost hadn’t recognized the English word for China.

“ Excuse me grandfather, but… where did you say you were looking to go? “ I butted in just as Dorjee was trying to pry at the helpless redskin, the present Ana casting curious stares toward me and my inquiry ( for how could I of all people know this land better than they ?).

The Southern man looked at the tall white one,” China? Have you heard of it?”

China, he had most definitely said China. Not Zhuong-guo, as a native mandarin speaker would, but he’d specifically said the westernized version of the name. It was without an accent, and instinctively I knew it to be a proper noun, a place. He meant China, or at least some place which happened to share the same name.

“ I… think that I have. Beijing, Mandarin, communism, all that? “

“Uhh…” the Southern man looked to the Caravan Master,” Master Nara? What is Beijing, Mandering, and Coomunisum?”

The Caravan Master shrugged his shoulders,” I don’t know honestly. I heard Beijing was the capital but that was three years ago. The man who talked about it died unfortunately. But I don’t know about the other stuff.” He looked towards the white man,” you seem to know about it and you’re just as a foreigner as we are. Can you tell me about the place?”

“ I-... actually didn’t know, uhm- I’m not really sure. I’m not from here you understand. Um… Where are you traveling from? “ It was difficult to keep my voice from wavering in anxiety. I’d all but given up hope of even being on Earth a few months ago, now, these guys seemed to be going to fricken china!

“Most of us came from a city called Harappa in the land of Indus.” The Southern man then pointed to others,” those who came with us due to help or hired hands from around the western part of the holy lands as you call it.”

“I came from Ur.” Nara spoke as he was eyeing the shakes in the man.” Which is the capital of a country called Sumeria, though it’s goin through some hard times due to problems and the expansion into a region called the Levant. But it’s a shame you can’t tell us more. Though you do remind me of someone.”

The short caravan master looked up and down at the white man and then snapped his fingers,” oh! You remind me of those men from Europa!” Then he started to scratch his stubble,” but why is a man from Europa so far here in the East?”

I couldn’t help my eye from twitching just a bit, and my voice perhaps came off a bit more gravely than i’d intended. “ Where is here exactly? “

“I do believe this land is called Asia? A strange name for a bunch of cultures but many called my land the Near East or something like that. And the name of these mountains is called Tibet, Tiabet? A much shorter name from the Himalayas or Hijamaias, whatever they are called.” Nara answered while eyeing the man,” are you alright there? Did I say something wrong?”

Oh my God, I thought, i’m on Earth; and for the first time in over a year I might know where I am. The name China couldn’t have been a coincidence, I reasoned, because everything else he’d said were also places I once knew. Albeit, very strange and old places. Indus? Sumeria? I wasn’t exactly shaking anymore, but my head felt like it was full of cotton balls, made weary once again with the sore ache familiar to madness. I put a palm up to the side of my temple before speaking again.

“ No, you are fine. I just need to go and sit for a while. “

“I uhh, alright. Is there anyone that we can talk to about trading or any information where we can go to find this bend? Might be a good idea to stock up on something other than oxen and their milk when we go into this desert, not to mention we need some information on the tribes of the area. “ Nara asked the man.

…

The bartering voices faded behind me as I shyly left the scene, taken along a path known only by my feet. I’d become distinctly aware once again of the bitter taste of the air, and it made my whole body sore. I rubbed the sides of my head with my hands, trying to physically churn the information I’d been given into a pattern that made sense! I’d found a pile of salt bags stacked neatly outside the entrance of a yurt some couple dozen yards into my escape, and was pushed inextricably by the sudden urge to collapse into them in a heap of weariness. They weren’t exactly bean bag chairs, but they would suffice for a temporary mental break. With a spin and falling back first, I collapsed into the stack as gracefully as my six foot four frame could, sending up a plume of the Namtso’s white dust about me.

Those names couldn’t have been a coincidence. One or two names, perhaps, but he’d raddled off the names of nearly a dozen places i’d heard of before. I take it back, salt bags were even better than bean bag chairs, the firmness of the crystals inside made it feel almost like I was sitting in an extra firm loveseat. My head tilted back, faced toward the incredible blue sky, I tried making a map from the clouds, to visualize the hypothetical earth the caravaner had laid out to me.

We are in tibet, past the Himalayan mountains. Sure, that makes sense geographically speaking. The entire southern portion of the horizon is made up of gigantic blue mountains, the landscape is almost totally barren of anything that isn’t grass and shrubs, and our elevation is definitely way above sea level. I don’t know much about Tibet, but that sounds alright.

I could see it, forming in the clouds, a round long strip of white, with a single blue hole in the middle, representing me. I squinted my eyes though, and turned up my nose at the sight of a larger cloud beginning to come into my view.

Except we should already be in China.

Over a year i’d been here, having travelled over hundreds of miles of land, and not once did I see even the faintest sign of civilization or modern society. I knew Tibet was supposed to be poor, but they weren’t stuck in the neolithic for God’s sake! No roads, no metal, no agriculture, nothing more advanced than bone and rock for tools! My attention was caught by the sight of dozens of tiny smaller clouds which hovered around the larger cloud, and I started putting names to them as well.

Indus, Sumeria, Ur, Harappa, Europa; those were not modern names. I don’t think anyone seriously still called Iraq Sumeria, and I was pretty sure both Ur and Harappa had disappeared thousands of years ago. Though his use of the words Indus, China, and Europa were pretty telling.

I lifted my head up, turning away from the sky to try and see if I could visualize what that caravan master looked like in my head again. Needless to say, I was quite disappointed to see Dote slowly making his way over toward me, a breeze fluttering his tunic some as he slowly plodded my way - my time to contemplate the crazy ticking down with each step that came closer.

He’d said Harappa, which was definitely a city on the Indus river. The problem here being, he also said Indus, which was a greek take on the persian word Hindu, which was just another take on the ancient Sanskrit word Sindhu. He’d definitely meant the same river when he’d said that, but he used a word which hadn’t come about until an eon after the city of Harappa had been turned to ruins.

Same for China and Europa, two latin words. I’d heard once that China was derived from the Qin dynasty, and of course latin preceded the hellenistic period of things, same for Europa. This guy was throwing around hellenized and latinized names over a three thousand year time period. That meant either he, or who ever was teaching him, had to be some kind of westerner, who might know what the hell was going on.

“ Hey, what in the hell has come over you? “

Ever the gentle therapist, Dote had finally made his way over to offer me his support and beyed ear.

“ You tell something vaguely helpful, then walk off like a dementia riddled elder. “

I stayed quiet for a moment, looking back up at the sky and the map of fading clouds I had made. The wind was beginning to blow it all out of place, and I was losing track of where things had once been. It was fading in a swirl of blue and mist, and it seemed that I was lost once again. I let out a deep and tired sigh before I finally answered him.

“ Perhaps that is exactly what has happened, I have lost my mind. “

I tilted my head back up to look at Dote, who in turn looked back toward me with an unimpressed glare.

“ Cryptic and dramatic, i’m impressed. I hear Hazu’s looking for a new wife. “

“ Do you remember when your lot found me that night? Naked and alone? How i’d told you that I did not know where I was or how i’d gotten there - and that my people were nowhere to be found? “

I nodded my head over toward the direction of the bartering caravaners.

“ Well - they might have those answers. The one among them who spoke our language had said certain things which only would make sense were he one of my people, or had been taught those words by one of my own. “

Dote seemed to consider my words, looking over his shoulder toward the direction of the caravan, though they were out of sight. He cocked an eyebrow before turning back to face me,

“ The brown skin may be one of your kind? I don’t exactly see the resemblance. “

“ My kind had every manner of tone and hair - our bonds were made by upbringing, as opposed to lineage, and it may not be him, but some hidden teacher. “

Putting his thumb and forefinger to his chin in contemplation before speaking again, I swore I almost heard something of an edge to his voice,

“ And what will you do if one among them is able to give you the answer you seek, Itzhag? “

I surprised myself when, as I went to respond to my friend, I found my mouth empty of words. What would I do? I really didn’t know anything yet, and depending on my circumstances, it was impossible to say what my next course of action would be. Leaning my head back onto the bags of salt, I looked up toward the swirling sky once more, my map gone, and any semblance of where I was dashed to the winds once more.

“ That depends on the answers I get Dote. “

...

Luther sighed at the people. It wasn’t his fault but they just didn’t need anything that wouldn’t be of any use. The law of supply and demand was against him but that didn’t matter so long as he got the information needed to lessen the trip through the mountains. Even with his body, he could feel the effects of the Mountains getting to him but he perhaps could adapt better than those who didn’t live in these high places.

The Immortal that left him was the only example of this for he knew, with all his soul, that the man was not from this place and it didn’t seem to affect him. It also meant that he still needed to know the limits of his new body. He’s been through enough war and hell to know that it was capable of sustaining blows that most people shouldn’t but those were small amounts. He knew that diseases don’t affect him and he was capable of having higher tolerances but still.

“Master Nara.” One of the hands called to him,” what do we do now?”

“We still need to gather information and then rest before making our way forward. I doubt most people know of China but the Pale Tall Man would be worth it. “ Luther said to them.

“Alright, I’ll let everyone know to hitch the wagons and rest before we continue then.”

Luther just nodded as he started to look over the valley. His lungs still hurt from breathing such thin air as he saw nothing but green. He wished he could see more of it but he wanted to be as far away from Sumeria as possible. Over these mountains was a new life and introspection he could have and he hopes that he didn’t spread terror like he did last time.

…

“ These redskins are so unlike their usual more helpful kinfolk. “ Dorjee tutted to Hazu, as the two began walking back away from where they’d had their spat of unsuccessful negotiations with the Sumerian caravaners. Hazu nodded absently, his eyes seeming to play about the scene in bore surveyance. Though the Sumerians had offered them items which, had they been offered anywhere else in the world no doubt would have been regarded luxurious treasures, were of little use to the hardy highlanders: airy cotton shirts were of little use on the windswept plateau, and lowland animals could not hope to survive long in the bitter air. Hazu had been mildly impressed at the worked red and gray stone he saw the lowlanders had fashioned into many of their tools, and which he’d only seen once before at the last Phobalhan, but the caravaners were reluctant to part with it - leading to an overall disappointing affair. Save for the skins and long strips of dried and salted meat that was customary to be handed over to parting guests, nothing of significance was to trade hands that day between the alien peoples.

“ I am fairly sure that the one called Nara was not a redskin, grandfather. “ Hazu offered up half-heartedly to Dorjee, who as expected only shook his wrinkled head.

“ But of course he was grandchild. His was not skin of gold like us, so what else could he be but a darker toned red skin? “

Hazu was hardly paying attention to the mutterings of his patriarch by this point now. Though he certainly respected the position of the man and all he’d done since the time of his own childhood, Dorjee was getting on in years, and his mind was not so sharp as it had been only a decade ago. Though perhaps disrespectful, secretly, he tended to simply tune out the old man’s ramblings these days.

His uninterested demeanor suddenly changed though, as his eyes narrowed into slits and the sound of rushing blood filled his ears, all upon making the sight of Dote and myself coming up toward them. He’d not upfront said it, to me or anyone I was close to at least - but I knew that Hazu hated me. He hated Dote, and indeed the entire Michewa clan for that matter ( a feeling I knew first hand was reflected by the Michewa onto the Perma ), for a seemingly ancient and endless list of grievances thrown upon each other - the latest being Jampa’s affair with his new wife. As for his loathing for me, it had only recently come into being, following the still fresh events of my failing to save his daughter. I’d managed to save Dote’s cousin, another Michewa, but had let his own blood be dashed against the rocks and drowned in the river - something I felt he surely thought had been intentional on my part. Though he’d kept his tongue mostly silence since the black day of her passing, I knew, just from the sight of him, that a black sickness slowly ate away at that man.

“ Grandfather, if I may - have our guests gone back to their camp yet? “ I inquired of Dorjee.

“ And what if they have, boy? What do you expect of them? “ Hazu interjected before Dorjee could answer, but the elderly patriarch seemed either to miss or completely ignore the hunter’s challenge to me.

“ They should have begun the walk back only just now. We’re gathering their hospitable provisions now. “

I nodded gratefully to the stooped elder, before turning back to face a quite perturbed Hazugual. I kept my voice as even I could, in spite of the predatory gaze the hunter shot toward me.

“ I ment to try and assist them with their travels. I left earlier so that I might conceive of the landmarks which one of them had spoken of. I am certain that I would be able to - “

But Hazu didn’t even wait for me to finish my explanation, pushing past me on his way toward the provisions.

“ Do whatever you will, boy. “ He called back.

Dorjee had been correct in saying that the caravaners had only just left, as it had only I and Dote a short jog to catch up to them in trek back, stopping just a few short yards behind them. The sun was beginning to fade with the evening, and as I pulled my ox hair coat from round my waist and drape it over my shoulders I called out to the caravaners - this time, reciprocating their courtesy, and shouting out in what I felt had to have been their native language.

“ Hold please! I am sorry to delay you further, but I think I may be able to help you in your travels. “

The caravan was starting to hitch their tents a little bit further from the group and set up while they were stopped. Nara was called to the man and he went in front.

“We weren’t leaving, don’t worry!” Nara spoke in the same tongue with his hands up,” we were just setting up camp for a few days to get our people some rest before we make our trek outside of the valley. These mountains are making us sick and the raiders around here would want to pick us clean if they see us in such a state. But you said that you could help us?”

“ Yes, I do believe I may be able to. “ The language I spoke didn’t sound even vaguely familiar, and as far as I had noticed, I’d not recognized a single word. Dote looked at me from the corner of his eye, as if you ask why I’d shifted into the unfamiliar speech, but I only answered him with a shrug of the shoulders.

“ You said earlier that you intended to cross over a desert to the east, after passing beyond the Ausong and out of the Sangda.. If what you have told me though, in as far as to where our place truly is, then you will not find a desert to the east. Beyond the Sangda should be a land of smaller mountains, and a great many rivers, nearly as vast as this one.”

Nara scratched his beard as hmm’d to himself,” no desert? But only smaller mountains and many rivers? I could’ve sworn that is what he told me…” He looked up to the man,”is there a very large river that could take us east?”

“ Among those mountains, yes! There should be many which could take you east - though I would not know the exact place of where to find them. Many small streams feed into one another and form great powerful rivers. Out from the lands in the east are hundreds, perhaps thousands of such streams, and I would not know which leads to the river Yangtze that you desire - only that it’s source is hidden somewhere among those hills. If I may though, “

I raised an index up toward the blue mountains that dominated the southern horizon.

“ You and your party would most probably do well to travel along the shorter southern face of the Himalayas. Your path along the Ausong will take you along some of the thinnest air that is to be found in this land, and I am not sure how much of your companions and your animals would survive the journey ahead of you. Take it from me, I also lived in lowlands like you all once, and it has taken a great deal of time to get used to this bitter air. “

Luther looked at him and opened his map and had a detail map of the known world. Here the Pale Tall Man could see the known countries and lands from Egypt, Sumeria, Nestos, the Single Market, the Imperium, Aksum, Yanbu, Elam, Dilmun, the Levant, tribes in India, Indus, and the current marking of the caravan in red die. Here he traced his finger around and went south and saw the current course.

“You're right! We would need to try and make a course correction before we die out here.” He bowed before the Tall Man, “ thank you. Thank you so much. If there’s anything I can do to repay this knowledge, please ask!”

“ Where did you get… er, perhaps… yes there is something you could help me with. Where did you learn about the world from? “ The map Issac had seen was surreal, both in it’s borders, and in it’s not at all shabby outlines - totally unlike what he should have expected from a seemingly primitive people.

“I-I learned it from someone like you.” Luther said as the shakes returned,” a-a man who took me in as I was but a slave. He saw me as someone with potential when he was someone who never aged and always looked like he was in his peak form. He was a ruler, one who ruled from the shadows and tried to mean well to the people that came to accept his influence but it was a losing battle. He brought them prestige, wealth, knowledge, and power but they always wanted more.”

Luther started to scrunch up the map just a little bit,” however he couldn’t take the pain of war, he was not built for it. Yet he took up the sword, train with it and sought to fight against the traditions of a people that were hard to get out of. Yet his mind was weak and tired. “

“He...He tried to take his life.” The caravan master started to choke up tears,” only on the fifth time he succeeded and I was left with his knowledge and his pain. So I took up his last request and to find a way east in order to see if there were more of his kind there.” With a thin smile he looks at the Tall Man,” like you.”

“ Like me? “ Issac scrunched up his face toward the caravanner, cocking his head to one side as he tried contemplating what it was he’d meant by the purported connection.

“ You mean… “ He held up an ungloved hand, and with a finger he pointed toward the backside of his palm.

“ White? “

“White, black, red, yellow. It didn’t matter the skin color. What mattered was that you were taller than any of us, you spoke in my tongue like you were born with it. And you seemed to switch between them so easily. Not to mention your shock when I told you the names and believed you came from the region of Europa due to your features.” Luther said as he brushed the tears away.

“My Master called him, you and others alike Immortals. Those who are able to live without aging, sickness, have toughened bodies and knowledge that allows them to guide nations and change history.” He explained.

Issac bit the inside of his cheek, not wishing his expression to betray his actual feelings. And now we’re back to the crazy nonsense. . “ Interesting… well, I am very sorry to hear about your master’s passing. I hope that you accomplish his mission, wherever it is you travel to. Thank you, Nara of Sumeria. You’ve helped me greatly. “

Luther couldn’t do a cold reading on the Tall Man, his mind trying to calm itself over the loss of his home and the stress from war. As he took his final breath he sighed. Centering himself before speaking.

“ Don’t mention it. My Master once told me that those who had come to this world would have their first years in complete disbelief before they started making their country. Though I may not see what you make within the decades you live. I do have a request if you humor me.” Luther looked up.

Issac nodded politely, urging him to continue.

“If you by chance make ships and make your way beyond to a location known as the Horn of Africa. There is a Kingdom known as Aksum, if it still is around by that time. It is neighbored by a trade kingdom called Muraback I do believe. Anyway there is a man there by the name of Andrew. He is like you and my Master but he is a father with eleven children. They would probably have children as well by the time you see them but…”

Once again the Caravaneer shakes,” if you can give them a message for me then that would put my heart at ease.”

Those are some pretty specific and wide spanning instructions “ Uhm, yeah sure. “

“Tell him that I’m sorry that I couldn’t visit again. That...That God has given me a purpose to walk away from it all. If..If you can forgive me, then please do so. Just pray, pray for the future and to help me find my path with the Savior again.” He makes a big sigh with a faint smile,” can you do that for me?”

“ If I meet him i’ll.. I’ll tell him that. “ Fat chance of that though, Issac smiled to the Sumerian.

The Sumerian didn't say anything and just smiled before he said, “thank you, Immortal” in English before he left back to the camp. Within a few days the caravan was leaving to where the Pale Tall Man showed him and going further south and into lower lands, people still died but they didn’t take to the sickness and would eventually make it to see the first borders over the mountains and see the small hills and many rivers.

From here, Luther had figured out that the Immortal wouldn’t give his message to his only friend but it didn’t matter. He knew that he had a path to walk if he was to be redeemed in the eyes of the Lord again. He eventually had plans to “kill” Nara and sneak away from the caravan if there was an actual country ruled by another Immortal. He needed to be alone when entering something as advanced as an Immortal state due to others being privy of those around them and of the outside world.

…

Utterly perplexed, I watched in silence as the caravaners walked away, over the black peaks which hid the Ausong from site, then down beyond, for as well as I knew never to be seen again. What a strange man, I shook my head in pleasant disbelief, ‘ thank you immortal ‘, he’d said - i’d almost not recognized it as having been said in English! Who had been this fantastic master of his, I could only wonder.

The hills by now had been draped in the brilliance of the golden hours, my favorite time of the day, and paired with all the insanity i’d just been made witness to: a discussion of global geography with a Sumerian leading a caravan of Harrappans into China on a mission handed to him from an immortal modern man, I could only smirk and chuckle. What a strange life? I’ve actually gone insane it seems! I thought in sardonic irony.

I looked over to Dote, who’d been left out of the entire exchange between I and the strange traveler. His eyes were wide and mouth half open already, his mouth struggling to keep up with his rapid thoughts and interrogating me. Disseminating through all the babble, he rested upon a single thought for his first question, and he asked it with much longing in his eyes.

“ Well Itzhag, did you get the answers you had come for? “

I surprised even myself when the first sound I heard out of my mouth was a giggle. Facing him full on now, and placing my hands into my coat pockets, I shrugged my shoulders at him.

“ I have no fucking idea. “

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 12 Month 4 Chinese Imperial Calendar

While Aaron was trying to speed up his industrial revolution with the steam engine, the rest of the country was trying to drag itself into the modern age. The military had been reorganized with the central government army formed into two permanent groups of about 2500 men. With China's provincial militias usually using better equipment and having better training concentrated central government forces were more in demand than distributed forces. Each central government "Legion" looked similar to its roman namesake. Increased training standards and the need to fight larger enemy infantry forces had led to the once elite central government swordsman becoming the mainstay heavy infantryman of a Chinese army. His sword had also begun to look more like the Roman gladius - which was a shape that was easier to make for China's smiths than the longer single edged swords that served them well during Long Ten's Northern War. Their shields had also grown in size and quality and were frequently painted with the number of their legion (one or two) and a hammer and sickle. Both legions used large red shields that had white stripes going down them vertically. The first legion had only one stripe in the center of their shield while the second had two stripes parallel to each other. The hammer and sickle and legion number as well as the soldier's name was usually painted on in black or gold color.

The first legion had been tested against southern tribal coalitions and in the winter of year 11 defeated a coalition of Ba tribes in the south and even conquered several, forcing them to move into Chinese territory and work on irrigation works. The Ba tribes that had been conquered were promised that after two years of work they would be given a choice of becoming Chinese citizens or returning to their homeland no better or worse off than when they had left. Compared to what usually happened in the situations when a semi-nomadic tribe was conquered (complete destruction) the Chinese were being merciful - this relationship also served as a test for other campaigns Aaron wanted to do. If tribes could be forced to work in China and then convinced that Chinese civilization was superior to theirs and that they should join it the empire would not have to expend effort in trying to govern the ungovernable hill tribes in their native lands, it could govern them in Chinese territory. There was no reason to expand an already massive empire if Aaron could "play tall" for a change.

The Shen in the north were also becoming a problem. Their slaving economy had made them large but it had also driven tension with the Chinese Empire and the independent northern kingdoms. The Xiliao had tried to strike an alliance with the Chinese before they were conquered by the perceptive king of the Shen and by the time a Chinese reply to the Xiliao offer reached the city of Xinglongwa that the kingdom was based out of the city had already fell and the messenger wisely turned back rather than allow himself and his message be captured. The Shen could not challenge China in open combat but they sure could cause diplomatic problems. The provincial militias could usually manage the border, but slavery kept on causing diplomatic issues that required the stationing of the second legion in the city of Ji. After every new conquest "King Chun of the Shen" made there would be civilians and defeated soldiers who dreaded enslavement fleeing to the south and into Chinese territory. The Yan Province's iron mines were happy for the labor, but the Shen were very unhappy and frequently mounted raids on border communities to try and recover slaves or take replacement slaves. It used to be that these events would precipitate both sides raiding the other and neither side willing to mount a campaign to destroy the other due to the costs involved, but with the formation and stationing of the second legion at Ji the Chinese had a clear military advantage.

General Pan who commanded the second legion had been given permission to begin a campaign aimed at the Shen city of Tuhe that was 65 kilometers from Chinese territory in the early spring after a Shen raid had killed fifteen Yan province militiamen to demonstrate this military advantage. It was only discovered later that King Chun believed General Pan was in the south with the first legion and not the second. Had he known that the second legion was under the feared Pan Yazhu he may have been able to give more of a fight. Instead his army which had only just returned from a campaign in northern Korea was defeated outside Tuhe. Though Chun upon seeing that Pan was commanding the Chinese army retreated and managed to preserve the vast majority of his army Tuhe was lost. The entire city's population was subsequently moved out and after its slave masters and elites loyal to the Shen had been killed the common people were given a choice. To stay in Tuhe to rebuild their city that was presently being burned down in the typical style of Pan Yazhu or to come to China where they would be given the rights of any citizen if they worked for the benefit of the empire. Roughly half of the population chose to leave and General Pan returned to China having brought more lives to China than she lost, and King Chun returned to his capitol at the city of Hou a very unhappy man.

To the west a semi-nomadic confederation which had adopted the Chinese name "Xianyun", as it was a convenient word to refer to all of them, was rising. There were talks between Chief General Lu and some of his most senior men about moving the first legion to the western border rather than the southern but so far Luoyang had fairly good relations with the Xianyun who were happy to stay out of China's territory and support trade moving through their territory so long as China stayed out of theirs. The Xianyun's conquests along the upper reaches of the Yellow River made some military planners nervous but as long as the empire still had issues dealing with southern tribes and the northern Shen Aaron was unwilling to dedicate half of the central government army to "solving" the Xianyun problem.

The world around China was rapidly developing and Aaron suspected that trade was carrying the products of his civilization far beyond the places they were made. The Xianyun according to many accounts found a significant part of their wealth from taxing trade heading west and a number of goods had reached the Ministry of the Public Stock in Qin province whose source could not be identified. The return of the western exploration expedition that had launched a while ago would eventually inform the empire about that part of the world but until then Aaron was left with some neighbors to deal with between sessions of work on his steam engines.

[Speyland]

Chapter 0
Shingo Osaka
Kerala, India

Oh, my head. I have a headache. Why is it hurting so bad? I forgot my homework! My skin feels warm, and my body feels light, as if I'm wearing nothing. I slowly stood up and looked around my surroundings. I could see palm trees and hills lurking around me, and it appears to be a beach from where I am standing, seeing the sands covering my feet and the waves passing by. Wait a minute. It doesn't seem to be Okinawa. Have I been kidnapped? Where's my mother? No, it has to be a dream. I looked at my body to see if I'm wearing anything. No way. I'm wearing nothing! I'm naked! I need to find something to wear or else somebody might think I'm a streaker or something! It is not good! I'm panicking!

But before I could do anything else, I heard some noise coming from behind one of the palm trees. Is there someone following me? My body sweats from the fear that is affecting me. Before I knew it, I see two people approaching me, smiling at me for no reason. It's a man and a woman. They're not Japanese for sure and are wearing clothes while I don't. Their clothing seems to be made out of cloth. They're wearing sarongs. Unlike my skin tone, theirs are between light brown and dark brown. They're foreigners to me. I spoke to them about this mysterious place. Of course, I covered my private parts in embarrassment.

Me: Don't look at me! I'm naked!

Man: Naked? It's normal.

Me: Normal? Are you out of your mind!? I'm naked, for crying out loud!

Woman: No, really, it's a normal part of our culture. You don't have to feel embarrassed. The only thing that's taboo and embarrassing is disobeying one's family, betraying said family, and disrespecting the chieftain.

I stopped covering my private parts upon the woman's statement.

Me: A normal part of your culture? I see. So are you saying that being naked isn't taboo?

Man: That's right. You don't have to be afraid. We're not embarrassed and ashamed. The gods told us that nudity doesn't bring shame, and bringing shame from being naked determines their aspect of all people. So nudity is a normal part of being human.

Me: I don't understand it, but I kind of do. How interesting but strange.

Woman: May I ask your name, stranger? Where are you from?

Me: My name is Shingo Osaka, and I'm from Okinawa, a prefecture of Japan and is located on the Ryukyu Islands.

Man: Shingo Osaka? That's a strange name.

Me: Well, that's my name. You'll understand it better.

Woman: Okinawa? The Ryukyu Islands? Japan? Prefecture? We never heard of it. Have you heard of it?

Man: Not at all. I never heard of a place called Okinawa before. What's a prefecture?

The woman shrugged.

Woman: No idea.

Me: You don't?

Man: Is it a tribe or something? We never heard of a tribe called Okinawa before nor Japan.

Woman: Neither do I.

Me: Okinawa is not a tribe; it's a prefecture. A prefecture is similar to a state much like that in the United States of America. Also, Japan is not a tribe; it's a country. You should be familiar with that, don't you think?

Man: I never heard of the United States of America before. What's a country?

Me: Do I have to explain that term to you too? It's like you haven't been to a city before. Were you even educated about countries of the world in general?

Woman: What's a city? Those terms don't ring a bell for us. What's even an education? It seems like you're speaking in a different language.

Me: Speaking in a different language? Wait a minute, can you understand me? Also, why am I not speaking Japanese? Why haven't I realized it before!?

That's when I realized that I was speaking in a different language even though I'm not speaking Japanese. I was subconsciously speaking in a foreign language, but I don't know my speaking language. Is it a work of magic, or am I going crazy here? Who knows? I don't mind it anyway, so I kept it to myself for now. There's no need to panic now. Discover now, ask later.

Man: I mean, we can understand you just fine. You speak the same language as us, so that's obvious. Also, what's Japanese?

Me: Well, never mind that. Can you show me the way to that chieftain of yours? I need somewhere to live, at least so I can take my mind off of this insanity. Besides, this place seems nice so that I can relax here for a while. It has got to be a dream, so hopefully, I'll wake up soon.

Woman: I don't think you're dreaming, Shingo.

Me: Of course, it has to be!

The woman looked at the man in confusion about my sanity.

Woman: Is he feeling okay? I don't think he is mentally stable.

Man: Don't worry about it. He'll be just fine.

I then snapped out of my manic zone, looking at the two people with serious expressions.

Me: Lead the way then.

Man: Okay then. Just follow our lead. We'll introduce you to the chieftain from there.

I listened to the woman whispering to the man's ear even though I couldn't make out what they were saying. It probably doesn't have anything to do with me, though.

Woman: Are you sure this is a good idea? He looks foreign to us. I haven't seen a person with pale skin before. Did he come from the gods?

Man: I don't know. We have to find out.

Me: What's that?

Man: Oh, it's nothing. It doesn't have anything to do with you. You're more than happy to pledge allegiance to our tribe if you wish unless you're here to stay with us for a week and then wander somewhere else.

Me: What tribe?

Man: The Thankappan tribe.

Me: The Thankappan tribe, you say? I'll consider it.

Man: Let's meet the chieftain, shall we? First, we'll go into the jungle where our tribe is located at. Oh right, you can't go around being naked around the chieftain like that, so we'll provide you with some clothes for you to wear.

Me: Understood.

Man: By the way, please be respectful to the chieftain. He is also a brahmin.

Me: A brahmin?

Woman: You know, a brahmin who believes in the essence of the gods and sacrificing animals for them. You'll see once you get to know him better.

Me: I'll be careful.

Man: We're heading out now.

I followed the two people to the Thankappan tribe, which is headed by a chieftain. I agreed with meeting the chieftain. However, I have a terrible feeling that some danger is lurking within the jungle, and I don't know if I should stay in their tribe for a week or more. So far, they seem friendly, and I don't have a problem with that as long as they don't do anything sketchy. It's not one of those barbarians they see on television nowadays, so they're nothing like them. They were able to find some clothes for me to wear, only to find fig leaves. I don't have a problem wearing them anyway. There weren't any dangerous animals around, so we were safe. As soon as we reach the Thankappan tribe nearby, I couldn't believe my discovery of learning more about this place. Just what lies ahead for me?

[Saxony-Brandenburg]

‘Big Men’

“At the time of the shearing of sheep, and the dates are upon the tree, the people of the hills look to the gods and each other to thank them for the year. When both wool and food are abundant, and the labour has been done, great bounties are held by mighty clans, while the weak often must beg and ask for food. Yet it is through the generosity of these great men that dignity of the community may be assured, as the gods accept their offerings to their faithful worshippers.”

Layla flicked her gaze across the many Sheikhs, who stood with their heads high. A few of them cast looks between each other, giving them pompous grins of pride. “But whose pride is most deserved?” She thought to herself, unable to see the carts of bleating sheep and heaped rugs behind each of them. The mid-day sun casts its rays down across the Kabbah courtyard, the tall stone idols of the gods of Sumer and Hejazi peoples looked upon them all with judgement. Their shadows just barely covered her, their gaze almost transfixed on her words, as she awaited the presentation.

She shuddered, remembering the fear of the gods she held as a little girl. The old, ancient smell of them reminded her of death, and her grandmother’s funeral. The smell of dried blood, the smell of burning Frankincense, the smell of dying flowers. It was so overpowering in its sanctimony, she still was not fully used to it. In an odd way… it reminded her of Miss Olifia.

Yet the Sheikhs were not alone in their presence. Alongside them, crowded dozens of family members, minor chiefs, and the herds of regular attendants for the festivals. The dancing, the singing, the poetry and wrestling would be soon after, and this would be the somber series of rituals before drunkenness was socially acceptable. They all seemed to look on with interest as to who will give what. Afterall, it is said that generosity shows a man’s good character, and character was prized by the gods, and rewarded with blessings. Even if this was untrue however, a cynical reason stood obvious. Many of these men were on the city council, and those who were not could do well to win the votes of the public through ostentatious gifts to the gods and general public.

Layla had been smart however in her pitch. Each of the gods dragged before them were associated with a particular kind of offering. Not merely gold or meat, but tangible items which Miss Olifia labeled ‘Capital’, not that it had much meaning to her beyond the category, yet they all had one thing in common, that you needed them to produce anything else.

“Noble men and women of Yanbu, it is now time to pronounce before the gods and community the offerings we give. Though the number of gods among us here today number in the dozens, we will honor those to which we all share, that the community of faithful grows stronger in their unity. Let us start under this direction, then with mother Allat. She, whose names are many across the world and tradition. The men of Jericho, Canaan, and the great north know her as Asherah. The people of Sumer have many named gods of her likeness - Ninhursag, Gatumdag, Nin-imma. Yet all know her blessings of fertility, for man and the land. She, who waters the pastures of sheep green. She, who guides rulers and protects the ruled. She, who sings crops to grow in the fields. She who blesses mothers with an easy birth. What do we offer to her? Sayyid al-Ghaim?”

The man, Malik ibn Azfal, had grown much in the past few years. His beard and short locks of curled hair were now entirely gray, while his skin and muscles became softer, more plump, and far less gaunt. She wondered if his clan’s newfound prominence somehow gave him new winds of vigor, or if it was the better diet.

“I supplicate myself before Al-Ilat, and offer her six ewes, five bags of seed-chickpeas, three bolts of wool cloth, and this beautiful blue robe to adorn her stone form.” He gestured with grandiosity with his long fingers to the wagon behind him, and once handed the flowing cotton cloth, held it aloft before the crowd. “Woven in the far off lands from which only stories tell, it is a fitting garment for her idol this year, is it not? She should dress as much like a Sheikha as a goddess.”

There were a few cheers from the audience, some applause as he returned the dress to his cart. They all looked to the next woman, quite a young one, the daughter of the recently deceased leader of the al-Sakhr clan. She looked down at the floor, perhaps ashamed of herself. It took her a moment to snap back to focus, the shame disappearing behind a mask of pride that perhaps only Layla peered behind for a moment.

“I, upon behalf of the tribe, have brought for her sacrifice four ewes, two rams, and five bags of barley seed-grain for her glory.”

The crowd seemed to understand now, and far less few cheered. It became awkward for a moment, as she coughed, and rolled her shoulders with anxiety. The next in line was a middle-aged woman, with wild and barely kept hair. Sayyidar al-Knudar was not a woman Layla knew personally. The few times Layla had seen the woman, it was seeking religious interventions from the temple- primarily in the form of Oracle readings and exorcisms of Jinn. The superstition practiced by her went beyond the normal for Yanbu, but not so much that she would be a social outcast. Much the opposite however, as she was a famously popular member of the community. Layla had heard her husband had died in the war with the Christians, which motivated her zealotry and aggressiveness. Perhaps that was how some people processed grief.

“I, Zeinab, daughter of Geshem and wife of Yahdhib, supplicate myself before Al-Ilat.” Very dramatically, she stepped forward and kissed the feet of the stone statue, much to Layla’s shock. “Oh divine one, the families of the al-Khudar clan offer you our sacrifices. And they number in the many for this bountiful year you have blessed our fields. And the many bushels of dates we have harvested from the town’s fields. And the many bushels of grain we have done likewise, that both we and our neighbors have shared in abundance…” Layla began to grow annoyed by the woman’s flowery language, until she at last got to the point. “... which is why we gift to you today these sacrifices: four cows, plump and not gaunt- with good bones and full of milk. four female goats who are of birthing age, and four she-camels who have good teeth and hair. In addition!” She exclaimed, raising a hand. “To the seeds of coffee plants, numbering enough to plant two long rows of plants, six bags of barley-seed-grain, and three bags of chickpea seeds!”

The crowd erupted into applause at the show of things. Twelve animals in total, and all of them female. Not only this, but most of them were large beasts far more expensive than simple sheep. The two before her looked upon the woman with jealous eyes, but said not a word as she basked in the glory. “My flock is owed its size to the divine, so let me give back my due for my success, hm?” There was something so wild in the woman’s selfishness, like a lioness boasting about her prize, knowing few could touch her.

Layla nodded slowly, turning her head to the side. Along one of the courtyard walls stood a semicircle of craftsmen, watching her. She gave them a nod and a wave, and off they ran towards one of the many rooms off the western wall.

And so it went with the first round of offerings, the rest of the tribes offering less than the impressive offer of Sayyidat al-Khudar. Sayyid al-Barakat offered twelve large brewing urns. Sayyid al-Amal offered two oxen and a diverse number of seeds, including foreign varieties said to give double the corn. Sayyid al-Teen gave six goats and three large bundles of dates. Finally, Sayyid al-Mahjar, who seemed very unhappy to be there, gave only three thin rams.

“Thus do we turn our attention to the next goddess, and remember the elder sister of Allat, she the wisest weaver, the great crone, Manat. Manat, who envisions the lives of men, as a weaver does a cloth, and through the folding of days into nights brings into being. She who knows all men’s destiny, which is sent to her through the skies above. The lady who accompanies the honored dead, as their life is snuffed out. Who punishes those who desecrate the dead with improper burial. She who sees the passage of time, and who resides within the lingering shadows of dusk.”

And for the lady Manat Layla saw them offer in similar numbers and portions to the previous goddess. Yet in her name was offered goods such as Frankincense and Myrrh for the anointing of the dead, and bleached-white cloth from stale urine for the wrapping of the dead. And in addition to that was given a number of short, portable looms for the weaving of cloth and rugs, alongside bone and copper combs for the brushing of wool. Spindles, too, alongside bone stays and small wheels for the spinning of yarn. Quality needles of bone and metal were also given, in quantities enough to allow many to do clothwork when it was needed. Layla noted that this time, to great surprise, was Sayyidat al-Sakhr. She who gave less than most to Allat, now seemed to have plenty of instruments of the weaving trade to give. Layla wondered if, perhaps, this came more from a personal specialty in the art, or an attempt to reconcile with the death of her mother through the worship of the goddess of death.

“Next upon the list of spoken gods of Yanbu, is the mightiest one of all. Al-Uzza, whose sworn name amongst the people of Sumer is Innana, the queen of heaven. Wild woman, who rests her image in Uruk and Yanbu, inspiring passion within the hearts of soldiers. Bringer of victory, of justice, of revenge. What can be said to sing your praise? What can be given in your honor?”

Tools of war and feminine beauty were next to be placed before her. Most numerous were the dresses, from which there were three, made from the imported dyes of red and yellow. Stitched and patterned woolen garments, alongside bronze bracers and chest plates of overlapping copper squares to adorn her military beauty. The most prized iron spearheads were placed before her, foreign, yet unmistakably fitting. Finally, the swords of fallen heroes and family members were offered to her, placed at her feet as a final sign of remembrance.

“Oh proud Hubal, he who is also known as Ninurta or Ningirsu to the peoples of Sumer. Mighty warlord of heaven who leads his hunters to fat game. Lord of Girsu, of Lagash, of Nippur, slayer of the demon Asag with a talking mace. He who communicates to men their destinies when arrows are thrown at his statue. He who brings the rain upon the desert, he we honor with our next sacrifice.”

And before him was placed a great number of bows of the fine, foreign variety. With smooth varnish and beautiful curves, alongside which was a number of bronze-tipped arrows for the hunting of large game. Fat, toothed heads made them heavy, yet deadly when cut into the flesh of a monkey, or a deer, or a lion no doubt.

“Last but not least among them do we dedicate to a Goddess, old upon this earth, yet young to our people. To our Sumerian friends and neighbors, she is amongst the highest praised Annunaki. The lady of Lagash, whose holy name we utter only in praise. Who, once taken down from her rightful spot atop lofty ziggurats and shrines overlooking the bay of Lagash, resides now to look over the harbor of Yanbu. The lady that shall return one day. The lady who is heralded as the bringer of justice to the masses. Lady Nanshe, who has blessed us with protection from the red plague with her innumerable rituals and prayers, that those who house her cult may receive this gift. What else may be said of your presence? That you look down upon the salt-water and rule the seas and bays of your people? Be it in Yanbu, or Lagash? The sick pray to you, no matter their tongue. The enlightened go to you, be it tooth or cut, broken bone or sour stomach. What offerings befit such a goddess?”

An odd assortment of goods were offered thereafter to such a goddess. While Sayyid Al-Amal and Sayyid al-Khudar refused outright to offer anything to her, the others were inventive in their welcoming of a foreign goddess outright. Fishing nets, boning-knives and spears accompanied books of medicine, preserved urns of spices and herbs. Necklaces of coral, and driftwood were handed up, but for what purpose became clear as Layla grinned knowingly.

“It is with these offerings that we welcome lady Nanshe officially to Yanbu. While her worship is banned across the seas, no longer will she be a nomad, her name fleeing with her followers. Today, her image shall reside within the Kabbah, alongside our divine triad of al-Ilat And so it is that we have commissioned our masons to construct this image of stone, which shows her tale to the people. We owe her such a debt, that we might have been spared from the waves of plague which ravage her home cities. Such is their punishment for ignoring the Lady of Lagash.”

And with that, the bringing of a foreign goddess in great image into the Kabbah, that a great deal of murmuring and gossiping began. Out from the side, the carved image of the goddess was pulled forth. Made from black-stone, the nearly human-sized replica of a woman caused many to quiet in awe. For she was made with coral for eyes and nails, lips and nose. Her hair was streaked with what looked like gold, while her newfound jewelry was placed atop her. Then, with ever so carefully a move, they hoisted her beside the other major Gods, standing as regal as those ancient native gods. Dressed in the sumerian style of layered pleated skirt and tasseled shoulders, she was unmistakably a foreigner. Yet foreign gods would soon become accustomed to, Layla hoped, just as those foreigners had been who washed up on their shores, and learned to join Yanbu society. Layla held up her hands now, waving to get the attention back to her.

“But before you depart for the rest of the festivities, dancing and singing and games of sport: it is my honor to give to the clans of each who have given most a token of the temple’s appreciation.”

From another room, a number of small, forearm-length statues were handed to them. The first was an ox-bone statue of Allat, holding a blade of barley in one hand, and a bundle of dates in the other. She was gifted to Sayyidat al-Khudar for her number of quality livestock. She was milk-white and smooth, with simple accented features such as a large bosom and a wide grin. The second one was of Manat, made from ash-gray stone, handed to Sayyidat al-Sakhr. She held a spool in one hand and an open palm in the other. The third was a much smaller, but solid-bronze statue of Al-uzza, accented with a thin iron spear, no bigger than a needle, and a circular iron shield, no bigger than a single stone coin, given to Sayyid al-Barakat. The armless, yet tall statue of Hubal was also gifted to Sayyidat al-Khudar. Finally, the driftwood statuette of the foreign goddess was given to Sayyid al-Teen, who had notably married a woman of Lagash origin not half a year prior. Layla noticed his wife stare at the image with wonder, perhaps seeing the image of her goddess for the very first time. She whispered in the Sheikh’s ear, and her husband handed her the statue to gawk at with pride.

All around the crowd began to speak once more, muttering about wealth and power. Layla knew that piety alone did not motivate their actions. Pride and attempts for future elections always were just as great a factor, if not more, for these sorts of actions. Yet Layla cared not for any cynicism, because the temple would do with them as they will.

“The temple thanks each of the mighty clans of Yanbu for their contributions. It is with a great and welcome heart that the temple thus pledges these goods, but for those which adorn the image’s of the gods, back to the poor clans of the city. Made by the hands of the people, it thus returns to the people, as a sign of the gods’ benevolence! Take for the many less fortunate the gifts of the gods. That your families will know not hunger, that your homes will know not poverty with these tools. Now go, drink! Sing the praise of the most generous, the best and noblest among us!”

[UniversalCommons]

Interlude (Scholar Guru Aprus) June Year 31
Victor Spear received a very strange letter. It was given to him by Penelope.

Penelope, “We received this letter in the embassy at Ur. It is addressed to you. It came with many strange things, herbs, spices, beads, stories written on palm leaves, scrolls describing plants and the logic of the sages, and colorful cloth.”

Victor Spear, “I recognize this it is from the scholar in Harappa, Aprus. I have not heard from her in ages. It is a curious thing, this small outpost in India.”

Penelope, “How is she in Harappa, I don't think we even have a map to Harappa.”

Victor Spear, “Apparently a trader named Arjun helped her get there. He is seeking additional scholars who are willing to go to Harappa. However, he must speak with them first to see if they would fit in with the local customs.”

To: Victor Spear, Speaker of the House of Wisdom
From: Scholar Guru Aprus

We greet you with great joy. Our world has changed considerably. There was once another man who ruled Harappa, Guru Javin. However, one day Guru Javin disappeared.

While I was in the School of Botany, Medicine, Exercise, and Wisdom, The House of Sages, Guru Javin was giving a speech. Something in him changed, he seemed to look past us and see something which we did not see. He stepped off the platform he was standing on then began walking.

He did not stop walking until he reached the jungle. People followed him into the jungle, but he did not stop going. He disappeared to never be seen again.

Guru Javin was a great man, he seemed to have an aura which drew people to him. People wanted to listen to him, he spoke many languages, and was very energetic. Some people claim he was unaging and immortal, a veritable god. I met him and he did not seem a god to me. He helped fund the school which we built next to the exercise yard where my husband teaches exercise, running, and stretching.

Suddenly, many people did not know what to do with themselves. They wandered off in great numbers. The plan to invade Mohenjodaro and seize the great bath stopped being a concern of people. People began to question the need to conquer. Guru Javin's army broke up.

Arjun hired some of Guru Javin's army to protect his caravans. He turned the elephants to logging and clearing land extending the holdings of his farms and orchards and clearing timber.

For the first time in many years we are at peace in Harappa. There are more pirates down the river and raiders have come from foreign lands. Instead of attacking other cities, the warriors from Javin's army have sent some men south to deal with raiders who come to steal our spices and our people.

Our school has grown considerably. We have sent you some woodcut books on the logic of the sages and plants. We wish you great pleasure in receiving these books We hope you will read the insights of these learned men. We hope to bring you happiness and freedom from suffering.

People have come to see me as a great teacher. I have been compiling the medical knowledge and knowledge of plants around Harappa and Mohenjodaro.

You are a great leader of men and wise man, we seek additional scholars, sages, scribes, and learned men to go to Harappa. Arjun's men would meet them in the spice markets of Ur and Uruk.

Arjun, the man who brought Ajax and me to Harappa promises pearls, beads, spices, fine woods, medical knowledge, and books of wisdom if you would recommend exceptional men of wisdom to come speak to him. He has heard of the Sumerian wisdom of the Stars, the secrets of plants and agriculture, and wishes to help his people by bringing teachers into his lands.

His wealth grows and he is a great merchant among his people.

May peace be with you.

Scholar Guru Aprus

Victor Spear, “I am no longer speaker to the House of Wisdom.”

Penelope, “She does not know that.”

Victor Spear, “It is a little embarrassing. I am less than I was before.”

Penelope, “No, you are not. You are immortal and with time rise back to where you were. You are not like this Guru Javin who got up and simply wandered into the jungle.”

Victor Spear, “I once had a dream of a world library. Look where I am now.”

Penelope, “Your library has not disappeared. You will get a chance to make it grow. Possibly more of a chance, if you are not constantly working on new contraptions.”

Victor Spear, “It seems every time I turn to my books, people want to fight over something or take what is not theirs. The price of having the greatest library in the world is high. I can still build my dreams.”

Penelope, “Write the return letter, I looked at the plants and there are a few very interesting things. Maybe, we can grow them in our greenhouses.”

Victor Spear, “Alright, alright. It will be a distraction from the plague which occupies all my time.”

[Orostan]

bad post please ignore

[Speyland]

Chapter 1
Shingo Osaka
Kerala, India

So just to summarize things: I woke up on a beach naked with no memory of ever finishing my homework, a man and a woman came up to me with open arms, and I agreed to go with them to the Thankappan tribe despite them not knowing anything about Okinawa nor Japan, and I'm yet to meet the Thankappan tribe's chieftain. So that's it for now.

Once I arrived at the Thankappan tribe, I could see that it consists of huts and wooden buildings. So it's a village. Just where am I? I don't see any modern technology at all, and all I could see is something straight out of the Stone Age. Have I been sent back in time? No, it can't be true. Even if I were to travel back in time, it would've been a dream if it wasn't for this. It's too good to be true. While walking past the villagers, I saw two men holding a wooden coffin. Fortunately, I didn't see an actual dead body, so I wasn't traumatized by it. I asked the woman about it.

Me: Why are they holding a coffin? Did someone die?

Woman: Yes. It might've been tragic for them. Sometimes they die an unfortunate death, and it happens commonly.

Me: How did they die? Who is inside the coffin?

Woman: I have no idea. I wasn't informed about their death, so I'm unaware of it.

Man: Neither do I.

Me: What are they going to do with the dead body? Are they going to bury it?

Man: No, they would either go to the ocean and dump the dead body from there, or they would burn it with fire.

Me: Cremation?

Man: Yeah, that one.

Me: Why would they do that?

Woman: It's a part of our culture. This tradition has been passed down since the beginning of humanity. They'll be reborn in a different body, whether it'll be a human or an animal. Every life matters. Every karma matters.

Me: Karma? I think I heard about it before.

Man: Karma decides the total of a person's actions, determining the person's next incarnation between the cycle of death and rebirth.

Me: Is that so?

The man and the woman clasped their hands in prayer to the coffin. Strangely, I did the same to pay my respect to the dead body hidden inside the coffin.

Man: May they rest in peace. May the gods protect them.

With the coffin out of our presence, we continue to find the chieftain. I felt regret for someone suffering an unfortunate death. Ever since my mother was diagnosed with motor neuron disease, I couldn't escape being depressed because I wasn't expecting my life to be this unfortunate. Even she won't tell me about my missing father despite asking her about it several times. My classmates also bullied me since I first entered the school, and it has been a never-ending cycle for me. Trying my best to suppress negative thoughts, I tried to hide my tears away without the man and the woman noticing it. Anyway, we're very close to the chieftain's place, and I'm looking forward to meeting him. Well, wish me luck.

[Orostan]

Aaron Dawson's Story

Year 12 Month 8 Chinese Imperial Calendar - 2965 BC

Aaron's efforts to create a functioning steam engine had got him a small boiler about two thirds of his height. This boiler had a firebox under it and had a bottom held on by two circles of bolts around the rim of the base which projected slightly over the firebox it rested on. The upper third of the boiler was occupied by a smoke box that allowed smoke to escape while steam was pumped off somewhere else with a pipe attachment point that had to be cast on its own and was held on by its own set of bolts. Each set of bolts had to be checked before the boiler was used and the last two identical prototypes had both been destroyed by the boiler fracturing between the bolts that held it together. The first try had resulted in the boiler splitting in half and the upper half flying about five meters into the air because there weren't enough bolts holding the upper half of the boiler to the bottom. The second try the same thing had happened but less violently. A crack had formed between bolts that let the steam burst out. Thankfully Aaron and his friends had become accustomed to jumping into the water at the first sign of trouble on their lake raft tests and nobody was hurt, except for Aaron who jumped to late and received a nasty bruise on his shoulder that made the joint hurt for the next week.

The last boiler had been tested successfully but could not be pushed as far as Aaron would like. It would work alright, but it was a bitch to maintain and could not generate enough pressure to be useful. The metal would simply fracture and the more Aaron looked at the bits of debris that stuck out around the beach of the little lake he had been testing his creations on the more he was convinced that the metal was causing his problems.

Storing the boiler in the back of his workshop underneath a parchment drawing of its design Aaron occupied his time on other things. Looms were becoming more common around China, and there needed to be improvements in methods of driving them from waterwheels. Paper was also another project resting in the back of Aaron's workshops with half a dozen other devices Aaron had tried to get working at some point or another. At least his steam boiler work had got China a fairly good and scalable pump design for moving water - it sure made irrigation easier and could be powered by a windmill if constructed with the correct crank and wheel. It was also one of the simpler little things Aaron had made, all it was really was a lever that would move a plunger to displace water and force it upwards. A simple valve would allow this pump to fill spaces and move significant amounts of water. It had helped to improve a number of public baths and was being implemented to help several irrigation systems near Luoyang but it was a very small innovation compared to what Aaron wanted.

Moving on to the issues confronting the country, Aaron found that Tan and a gaggle of other bureaucrats had finally managed to work out exactly how much iron China needed in the future. As quite a lot of data was exchanged and used on the local and provincial levels by the MPS or not even recorded it took months of effort to build up a reliable and easy to use system for collecting data about Chinese iron ore production and consumption. So far production was keeping pace with demand, with it being reported that new iron mining techniques that relied upon weakening stone by drilling a series of regular holes into it and then hammering iron cones into them, causing stone to fracture along a line of those holes. This could be done faster than the method of fire and water fracturing that was common across China but it also required some degree of skill and could be more dangerous if done by laborers who had no idea what they were doing. Fortunately, most of the iron industry had some idea of what it was doing after 16 years although the quality of goods coming out of it hadn't changed. Although iron was being used to make weapons and tools on a scale that had never been seen before, bronze was still regarded as the "king of metals" by many due to the fact that it wouldn't break if it hit a rock. Efforts to expand bronze production however were hampered by the severe lack of tin in Chinese territory although copper was commonplace. Because of the severe lack of bronze it became commonplace for bronze to be put to military use. In situations against opponents with minimal armor it held up just the same as iron, and was less likely to break when made into a sword.