Fractal Realities [Closed]

[Midlonia]

I used to enjoy it when it was quiet. When I could sit somewhere and read and only really hear the gentle sound of the wind and my own breath. Even my own heartbeat and that swish of a page as I turned it. I could sit for hours in the library of the Midlonic and just enjoy the quiet as I read anything I fancied.

Now I fear the quiet.

We all do.

Bull and Finch pub, Davenport Road, Swadlincote, Greater Kingdom of Midlonia

The man sniffed as he walked along the road, hands deep in his pockets, flat cap pulled down and his collar up against the stiff breeze. Despite it being the high summer, the cold front had swept its way in from the sea and had blanketed Swadlincote, the great capital of the Midlonian Kingdom, in a thick bank of fog. Skeletal structures of buildings and chimneys still loomed large in the fog despite it all.

As he walked, there was the constant sound of ticking, clock pieces had been attached to every other lamp post and their clacking and clicking could be heard. There were few cars on the road, people couldn’t risk driving much any more. Shank’s Pony, as they used to call it, ruled the roost if you weren’t fortunate enough to be in the military.

Albert Drecht had been in the military once, he was after all Porphyrian and that was just a route many took to raise their station. Porphyria after all, was a land seeped in centuries of tradition.

Far too much tradition, as Drecht felt and so he had moved to the Home Island itself, he’d even had a half decent office job, import and export before… well.

Before.

The pub itself was a small, brick built common affair with clean tile signage proclaiming its name.

Pubs in Midlonia were places of gathering and socializing, finding ways to unwind with friends after long days of work. Sometimes to simply sit quietly and enjoy your drink. Albert began to reach for the green painted wood and glass doors when it opened to reveal a figure clad in long brown leather robes wearing heavy boots with hobnails, they clacked as they hit the tiles, then the pavement as Albert moved to the side, ducking his head down a little bit and pulling his hat a little tighter to his head.

The person’s face was that of a clock, it’s minute and hour hands pointing ramrod straight across the three and the nine,like a moustache. Crude, uneven eyeholes had been cut out, and dots like tears drawn down the rest of the face.

On the figure’s front was a wall clock, it’s pendulum swinging back and forth as it clicked, a carriage clock hung by a leather loop to the side, bouncing as the person moved along and that one ticked, then finally, slung over the person’s back was a cuckoo clock of considerable size. Each clock displayed a different time, Albert noticed as the figure merely nodded and walked down the street the way he himself had just come. The cuckoo shooting out to greet Albert as the figure receded into the mist.

“Bloody Tickers.” Albert muttered to himself as he pushed open the door and headed into the light, and more importantly, the warmth.

--------------------------

I’m not even sure any more about how many are left of us, or how much is even left. We’ve lost all contact with most places. Akuma went first, then the Western Isles, Asteldia, Rephidium and Tataria now seem to be all that’s left. The world seems to just… end at the Jericho Mountains.What should have been rolling deserts instead is just endless, grey seas.

--------------------

Albert sighed and sat down at his usual table in the far corner, pint in hand and his cap pulled down, he looked down at the pint glass with its amber nectar within. Lifting it carefully to his lips he drank greedily.

Three things hadn’t been rationed by this point: Beer, fish, and chips. So by the time the middle of the afternoon rolled around, most people were drunk or getting there.

Albert pushed the ticking carriage clock to the far end of his little table. Every table had one, clocks of all sorts, alarm clocks, carriage clocks, wall clocks leaning drunkenly against the walls. Conversations were somewhat quiet, but still somewhat audible.

A man at the bar coughed and cleared his throat as he shook out a newspaper, thin and from poor quality paper it ripped from the simple attempt to shake it as he tutted.

“‘Ere. Another half million sunstones for the general public this month, so it says.” He crinkled his large, pock marked nose as he placed the paper down on the bar itself to read the article.

The large woman behind the counter with wild, bleached blonde hair sneered as she grabbed a couple of glasses with a clink.

“Bet most of them’ll go to the bloody military families, or their mates.” She put the glasses down with a heavy clank.

“Y’know. I eard that abs ain’t effected by it.” The Old man said as he turned the paper a little gentler this time.

“Ar? Where’d you hear that then?”

“Mate of mine’s lad is in the military, says the abos don’t get the stones because they’re drinking eachother’s blood.” He sniffed. “Even t’Ghouls’re drinking blood now. Summat special in the blood, ‘e reckons, they’ve got them powers n stuff ent they?”

The barmaid glanced briefly across to Albert when that was mentioned.

Albert tensed up and hunkered himself down a little further, quietly drinking his pint some more.

But it was then he realised it was too quiet. Everyone around him had tensed up. All of the clocks had stopped. He put his glass down and it clinked with a dulled echo.

The barmaid looked panicked, two younger lads who’d obviously had a skinful if the pint glasses littering their table were anything to go by stood up suddenly, they were eyeing the bar behind her, expecting it to become possibly available the moment the clocks returned.

The Barmaid, eyes wide, panicked. “He’s an Abo!” She shrieked pointing to Albert. “You heard the old git, right? Drink their blood and you’ll be fine!”

The two young lads, both rather thin with sunken eyes from the abuse of the booze took a moment as the thoughts processed through hazy brains. Then they grinned at each other and turned to look at Albert.

“Bollocks.” Albert muttered to himself as he downed his pint.

------------------------

I’m not proud of the choices I’ve made.

Had to make.

The Greater Kingdom that once was, certainly isn’t what’s now. But we have to protect what we have. We have to find answers as quickly as possible too. I doubt we have much more time with the way things are now. Something will give before we can save the Kingdom.

-------------------------

The bar stool swung heavy and smashed into Alberts shoulder, breaking as he went down, all four of them had decided to try and get him, it seems. Desperate people and desperate times lead to this sort of thing. He felt a boot crack into his ribs as he was down, and he felt one of them break for certain.

“Quick, make him bleed!” The old man shouted, he heard glass break somewhere in the distance. Albert’s hand scrambled on the floor of the pub as his hand found a broken stool leg, he gripped it as he heard some footsteps get closer

Old, dusty combat training kicked in, muscle memory that he’d thought he’d have long forgotten as he rolled towards the sound and thrust the broken end upwards towards the figure.

Only it never connected.

Albert panted slightly as the bottle top with its jagged edged bounced as it hit the floor and rolled away.

The clocks were all ticking quietly again, but he was the only one now there. The others had vanished completely.

Slowly, and with a groan, he pulled himself up fully using the bar counter. He dusted himself down and clicked his tongue as he noticed a rip in his top. He sighed and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow with another grunt of pain. Then, his eyes glanced at the shelves of booze behind the bar itself, and he smiled a little thinly.

Moving around slowly, he looked for a blue plastic crate used for glasses being washed and placed it slowly on the counter. Then, puffing out his cheeks he began to grab the various bottles of booze off of the shelf. Rum, whiskey, even a rather nice Midlonic Scotch which was still (mercifully) being made up in Mercia to the north.

It wasn't the best year, in fact it was bottled only two years ago, so had barely matured, but….

Beggars and choosers.

He opened the bottle and took a long swig from the bottle and then raised the glass to the scene of the fight, and poured a little out on the floor.

“A bit to you lot and all.” He said with a cough.

He picked up the loaded crate with a grunt and left the pub, letting the door slam shut behind him.

-----------------------

For now. I am hoping there’s an answer lying within the old history books. And even items and articles themselves far ol-

Sir Herbert Pelios Institute for Cartography and Colonial History, Barham Road, Swadlincote, Midlonia

“Your majesty?” A rough voice said with a distinctly Commonwealth twang.

The figure placed the pen down slowly on the desk. Piles of books surrounded the desk and the small terminal glowed they were hunched over the desk and slowly, straightened and looked around to the large Ghoul which stood, comically filling the doorway and then some. His blue shirt was dusty and dirty, and the cigar which was frequently in his mouth and lit, was still there, but the end was black and cold.

“Yes, Quintus?”

“Might’ve got something.”

“Show me.”

Red hairs fell about as the figure moved books around and cleared a space. However, the ghoul placed down a small red leather bound book.

Sighing and running both hands through her bright red hair the Midlonian Monarch sighed exasperated. She was young, around 20 if not a little younger and her pointed, fang like teeth were gritted in frustration. She was tall too, her legs folded a little under the desk. She was herself half Ghoul, a partial descendant and the first abhuman monarch to rule the Kingdom in nearly five centuries.

Ellanor II of the house of Hykar-Svard had been expected to lead the Greater Kingdom to a new golden age, a shining beacon. Instead, the whole of the Greater Kingdom had shunted itself off into some sort of Fractal reality. Even now, there were calls for her to step down as the Queen, to rid themselves of the curse of abhuman monarchs on the Midlonian Throne. Her own Sister, Princess Julianne, driven wild by the loss of the whole family bar them was even leading the faction to call for her head and for her to take the throne.

History had taught the Midlonians a long time ago to have an abhuman monarch meant disaster and decay. In many corners, they had been proven right. It gnawed at Ellanor herself every day and had resulted in her seeking answers, or some way to stop it all to prevent the return of pogroms against anyone not seen as “pure” human.

Which considering how badly intermingled Ghouls and Porphyrian bloodlines were with the wider Midlonic population was quite a worrying possibility.

Ellanor frowned hard at the journal placed before her. “Phistelwaite’s journal? I’ve already read the final entry on the terminal. It had nothing except the damn spire.”

“There’s an entry after it, kept out of all digital archives. This book itself was actually vacuum sealed.”

Ellanor looked at Quintus, then back at the journal lying before her. With another look to Quintus, who simply shrugged and gestured to her to look at it.

Slowly, fingernails bitten to the quick, she opened the book and flicked through to the very end.

Neatly written in copperplate script was an entry for the 4th of August, 1845.

The entries on the terminal ended on the 3rd of August.

I think I have spoken to God.

Or the Devil.

When we returned to the spire we found it open, as if inviting us inside. Thus no need for dynamite.
When we entered we found writing floating around inside. Reams and reams of text, only we didn’t need to translate it at all. It was in English. Perfectly neat and legible as if it were done by some mechanical process or master calligrapher. What’s more, it was outlining events centuries hence from now, wars, events, conspiracies and monarchs whose birth we shall not see for two centuries or more.

Within was a figure, not an Angelis, certainly not.

No, the form was a human but there was something off, he was so serene within this alien environment of ours, sat as he was in a chair of brown leather apparently thinking and reading the floating texts, organizing them, reorganizing them and in some cases destroying them entirely by a flick of his hand.

He seemed surprised but not pertubed by our presence and let us be. I ventured some questions towards him after some time, and he answered them.

I don’t think I can repeat what was said to me, it still doesn’t feel real. Knowing what I do now. If even a third of what this figure says is true then they can change our reality seemingly at whim, he might’ve even done it while we were there and none of us would have noticed.

We’ve all agreed to cast off with the boats tomorrow. We need to leave this place and waiting for the Greater Royal Navy to return in November shall take far too long.

We must just. Go.

Ellanor stared at the final page.She knew she was clutching at straws by this point, she just damn well knew it, but if this person was out there, and worse still, not even that far away.

It was madness, puerile madness, surely? But still there she was staring, staring at the pages before her as if seeing the figure there in their comfortable sounding chair looking curiously at the writing. Heck, even words that described her situation right now.

Finally she found the words, the words she knew that every other time had lead to people going missing. The lead people right into the heart of a storm lost long to history, but who’s shocks were still being felt every time the clocks stopped.

“Is the Jaipur ready?” She asked as she finally closed the book and then turned in the small wooden swivel chair.

“She is.” Quintus said, the big Ghoul reaching to take his cigar out for a moment to roll it in his fingers. “Probably need to be loaded for wyvern though, won’t we?”

Ellanor chuckled and shook her head. “Probably another wild goose chase though, just like the Tatari’s Chamber of God.”

“We did need to be armed for wyvern for that though.” Quintus noted with a nod as he bit back down on the cigar.

“We’ll see.” Ellanor said with a long sigh as she did her long hair back into something that resembled a pony tail. “We’ll see.”

[Midlonia]

The Castellion, Swadlincote

Princess Julianne slowly paced along the great hall. Her arms were clasped behind her back. Her blonde hair cascaded down behind her, covering the white lace of the dress she wore.

At the far end of the great hall itself sat the two thrones of the Greater Kingdom, both made during the Roaring Fifties of the 1800s they were vast and ornate affairs covered in golden leaf depicting doves, elephants, camels, wyverns, and even an aeronauticus hippopotamus, all creatures great and small, all under the dominion of the Empire back then.

Now the throne almost seemed a cruel joke. A mockery of the grand past that had been taken away from them by the Quiet.

She could hear the footsteps behind her, she already knew who it was and didn’t need to turn to look.

“How are the plans progressing, Lord Jasper?” She asked as she continued to stare at the throne before her.

Lord Jasper was a lithe Akuman male with olive-brown skin and a beard which reached the middle of his stomach, his turban was carefully wound and woven about his head with a glowing, amber stone set in the centre.

A sunstone, the only guaranteed way to stop disappearance to The Quiet.

“The ancient throne has been recovered from the stores, your highness.” Jasper said with a slight bow as he spoke, thought Julianne didn’t turn to face him. “I have some craftsmen checking over its structural safety now, but their initial assessment is it’s excellent.”

“The crown?” She finally turned to look at him.

“The iron circlet has also been recovered, the moonstone one has been placed into stores out of the way.”

Julianne nodded and then smiled slightly to Lord Jasper. “Then most preparations are set.”

“The archbishop of Derby has refused the invitation though, your majesty.” Lord Jasper said with another bow, averting his eyes.

Julianne bristled slightly at that and glanced instead to the large windows to the side where the mist and the fog continued to hang thickly.

“What of the archbishop of Swadlincote?” She finally asked after her anger had quelled to a dull roar.

“He has agreed to attend the ceremony, your majesty.” Jasper said, slowly raising his eyes, then half wishing he hadn’t. “As have the Lords Clerical that used to sit in Parliament, and the human lords. You have their full support. Obviously the abhumans are calling it treasonous.”

“Treason?” Julianne snapped, causing Jasper to bow his head a little again. “Is it treason to see your sister, the supposed Queen lose herself in books as ever and refuse to lift a finger to rid us of this curse? She runs about on wild goose chases whilst not understanding the simple facts that stared her in the face? Abhumans cannot rule the Midlonic Throne, it brings curses, curses like The Quiet curses that have seen billions, billions lost to existence itself because of an accident in her blood causing her to be an abomination in the eyes of God? No. No they are the treasonous ones for assuming their station was far greater than it is.”

She breathed slowly, her body shaking a little in rage, her fists clenched.

Jasper coughed. “Well, as said anyway your highness, the Mainland Division has already left the capital, it’s heading was along the Northern Motorways, we beleive they’re heading either across the central mountain range, or to Porphyria.”

“Let them flee then. I was under the impression the Mainland Division wasn’t made of cowards, but obviously I was wrong. What of the lifeguards?”

“The Blues and Royals will be assuming the duty of Lifeguards, your majesty. The Lifeguards appear to be mostly split, with the majority also headed with the Mainland Division.”

“Fleeing like rats before a fire.” Julianne muttered to herself.

“The military, however, seems mostly loyal. There is little apparent dissent as a result of The Quiet. I think most of it is just desperation to not see any further losses.”

“Then tomorrow we hold the ceremony.” Julianne said rather airily. “Come, we shall take tea and meet the new dawn tomorrow.”

Lord Jasper bowed once again and smiled, he waited for the Princess to pass by him first before he turned and followed her. A maid was already bowing having overheard the princess and heading to set up things for them. While the loss of most land had hit hard, they were still finding ways and adapting to the situation to ensure that some little luxuries could be had. They had however, become so few and far between even the Princess could not take a traditional tea with cakes and biscuits more than once within a week.

The hope was that would change tomorrow.


GRN Japiur, Northern Midlonic Sea

Ellanor pulled the thick waterproof coat tight as the white froth of the waves broke over the very edge of the Jaipur’s deck. She wore hefty combat boots that thudded heavily onto the deck as she hauled open the bulkhead and stepped inside.

The Japiur was a type of fast, small war ship that the Greater Royal Navy had developed as a cheaper way of fighting pirates. With modern systems aboard and a crew of just 40 she was sleek and modern comparatively to other craft. Normally the Jaipur was seen shadowing the Midlonic, the grand floating palace the size of a cruise liner than had been a favourite of the previous King and her father, Henry II. But the Midlonic was slow, while the Jaipur was fast.

Right now, Ellanor needed speed.

The boat rocked as it hit another rough wave and she grabbed hold of another doorway as there was a slight clattering of loose items moving around elsewhere.

The mess was to her right and she headed inside, a few sailors were already there eating and talking quietly while eating a basic meal of bacon, eggs and a single slice of brown bread. The Midlonian Life Guards were a combined service of the armed forces dedicated to protecting the Midlonian Monarch, dedicated as they were by a personal oath to the monarch and monarch alone.

Eleanor slumped as she sat down on one of the empty benches, her head in her hands as her braided ponytail slowly fell over her shoulder to in front of her.

An aluminium tray clattered as it was placed in front of her, the same stuff everyone else was being served, bacon, eggs and a slice of brown bread. An enamel mug of nettle tea was also placed next to it.

The bench then groand very slightly as Quintus sat opposite with a grown and mutter of his own. “Bloody midget engineering.”

Ellanor snorted a little for a moment, then slowly raised her head up to look at the old Ghoul. “Not hungry.”

“Don’t make me hold yer down and feed it to yer.” Quintus replied as he shoveled a fork full of eggs into his mouth.

“You can try.” Ellanor muttered, which gained a raised eyebrow and a look from Quintus, but she picked up the mug of tea and took a sip, then her fork as she stabbed a piece of bacon and brought it to her mouth. “Am I doing the right thing?”

“Yer doing what you feel is the right one, tryin to find answers instead of blaming people. That sets you apart from way too many others.” Quintus said before he ate the piece of bread whole and chewed loudly.

“Just feels like another wild goose chase, like that room in Tataria.”

“T’weird one with the Grey Goo Ghosts?”

“Mmm.” Ellanor put her mug down and picked up the bread, taking a small bite and then hiding her mouth behind her hand. “I’m wondering if Julianne’s right t-”

Quintus’ fist slammed down into the table, leaving a noticable dent and causing the whole mess to fall silent with the sudden noise.
“Yer get that idea out of yer head now. I know times been tough but there’s no excuse ter hate yourself or blame yerself fer this situation. Something’s happened ter all of us with this fractal reality bullshit and it ain’t yer fault. Got it? I will box yer sodding ears if you keep that crap up n’all. Yer not cursed, something changed here that lead ter us all bein this way.”

“I… uh. Yeah.” Ellanor blinked and then took another sip of her tea.

The ships’ intercom chimed as people continued to eat and do the jobs necessary to keep a ship and its crew running.

“We’ve now entered the Cursed Isles Archipelago. We should arrive at the island within the next six hours. That is all.”

Ellanor stood slowly, both hands down on the table and straightened herself up. “Right then, equipment check?”

“Yer, I suppose so.” Quintus replied. “When you’ve eaten yer lunch.”

Ellanor dropped her head and chuckled a little before picking up her fork again.

[Midlonia]

The Cursed Isles, North Midlonic Sea

The Jaipur had been docked with a wooden jetty that was in disturbingly good condition despite not being used for nearly 2 centuries. It was a quirk of the cursed isles which had led to most exploration and most shipping from being banned here. Things didn’t rot, they didn’t age. Food never went off and nothing here grew.

It was as if here nothing at all in normal laws applied and any attempt at fathoming how this worked resulted almost always in yet more questions being raised.

There had been numerous attempts at exploring and cataloguing these islands over the centuries and all of them had failed in one way or another. These islands were a nightmare where people were swallowed whole never to be seen again. Much like now for the Midlonians, it seemed. The isles curse had somehow pushed itself across nearly all of what was once the Midlonic World.

Ellanor strode down the gang plank, her boots slamming heavily onto the wooden and metal clad ramp as she cradled the large 13mm rifle in her hands. She had a deep frown on her face that ordinarily would scare those around her into submission.

The Captain of the Jaipur, however, was not one of those people. No, Captain Jameson had seen this princess grow up into a monarch so faces he’d seen her make when she was 12 was really going to stop him now she was 24.

“You most certainly should not be the first to go, your highness!” He barked with all the professionalism 30 years in the Midlonic Navy gave him. “Allow the Life Guards to scout ahead first for God’s sake. If you get lost to this cursed place then we’ve an actual bloody problem!”

Ellanor finally growled and rounded on the Captain who’d followed her down the gangplank.

“If I don’t put myself on the line how the hell can I look anyone in the eye when I say I’m trying to fix this? Our family’s long been meddlers and the hands on sort, Captain and you know that far too well.” She jabbed a finger at the ship behind them. “The day after the city was retaken my grandfather went in on a ship similar to this one. While there were still insurgents taking pot shots at our men! My father then went and fought a Sand Dragon, a sodding Sand Dragon! One on one! He still has the scar to pro-” She yelled in annoyance and threw her rifle to the ground for a moment. “Had he had the scar to prove it, but he went to Akuma with my Uncle, Mother and Aunt and then the whole fucking continent dissappeared!” Tears were dropping down her face at this point and several other Life Guards looked away.

The Captain sighed as Quintus picked up the 13mm and offered it back to Ellanor who took it with a slight sob.

“Yer fergot I’m looking after her, William?” Quintus said as he offered the rifle back to Ellanor who took it and held it close. “I ent letting a damn thing take ‘er, not whatever we’re here looking fer or The Quiet.”

The older looking Captain rubbed his chin with his own grumble. “Fine, but the moment, the absolute split second there looks like there’s any kind of trouble, you come back to here. Got it?”

“Yer, I know. I ent going to let anything happen to her, you know it.” Quintus lit his cigar and let out a smoke ring which floated lazily upwards. Quintus gave just as lazy a salute as Ellanor trudged off into the interior of the cursed island. Her boots crunching on strangely grey dust which didn’t really move with the wind, and left her boot prints perfectly preserved behind her.

The Castellion, Swadlincote, Midlonia

The heavy cloak felt stifling around her throat and shoulders, it was heavy and so warm despite being made from simple wool.

How the hell had Ellanor done this the first time? Next to her, a basic sceptre and orb, dull metal, forged of Iron and gemstones. Nothing special, nothing magical. Nothing corrupted. There would only be purity, and with that they would purge themselves from all the curses that held sway over them. Lord Jasper opened the door from the Great Hall and closed it quickly behind him.

For a split second she saw them all. The Lords, the ladies, the barons and baroneeses, and most importantly, the cameras. It was being broadcast across the whole of the Kingdom, on every TV that still worked. Power was even being provided to sections that normally would have been allotted for load shedding. Groaning the power grid certainly, but it only needed to be for 40 minutes.

40 minutes and everything would be fixed.

Lord Jasper smiled to her, a reassuring smile as he looked her over and checked everything was just so. He offered his hands and she nodded as he pulled a little bit of the cloak and smoothed it, and he did the same to her plain white dress underneath.

He checked again and nodded with a smile. He then took a pillow from the footman who was carrying the original crown of the Midlonic Throne. It was a simplistic iron circlet studded with a red ruby for the Midlothians and a green emerald for the Mercians.

“Back to the beginning.” She murmured to herself as the doors opened.

The hall hushed itself as she stepped forward, demure, small and feminine steps her hands were clasped gently in front of her as she kept her face completely neutral and somber. Slowly as she passed, they all nodded one by one and bent down completely onto one knee, even the women were forced down onto their knees. This was how it was done a long time ago. No pomp and overt ceremony, no gross grandeur and hideous displays of wealth and rubbing in the face of others how much riches and power they had to show off to prove it.

No, Julianne understood, this was real power being displayed. People bowing completely into submission and humility before the throne. And understanding from all to all. Power is a beast to be tamed and those who wield it should be kept humbled by it. The thone stood before her. It too had been replaced by the grotesque golden and red thing that had been before her just yesterday. Instead it was a simple carved wooden throne, only one animal was carved into its body and this would rest just above her head.

The dove, the first pact with God that had blessed the country before they had all strayed and strayed so far that The Quiet had come to guide them back. She was sure of it, so, so sure because that was what was in the Book after all.

The bishop of Swadlincote stood before her, he was an elderly man with a kind smile and twinkling eyes, his bulbous nose was a red as ever, hanging by his side was an incense burner already smoking away as he began to swing it before her. He began to recite his entire sermon, and it was here she would remain, stood humbly before god for another 20 minutes.

[Midlonia]

The Great Spire, Cursed Islands, Northern Midlonic Sea

The dust kicked up as Ellanor walked slowly towards the spire. The islands had always been… weird, she’d read about it time and time again through her own time, the books on the Midlonic covered all sorts of subjects. Time and space barely seemed to apply, and there was all kinds of madness to the space itself from the reports over and over as people twisted and turned to find places that seemed closer was far away and at the heart of nearly all of them was The Great Spire.

It seemed to stretch forever into the sky, Phistlewaite figured it was 1,500 ft or more. Ellanor could see now that no, no it was impossibly high. The clouds that perpetually seemed to cover this place hid its true height and there was possibly no end to it.
She had read how tall structures were made and this…. thing defied even those basic known methods.

It also seemed they couldn’t get closer to it, despite every time they turned in a new direction it was there once again. No matter which way you turned, North, South, East, West. There it was.

It was infuriating.

Turning in a different direction once again, the tower loomed in the distance. Ellanor threw her arms up and screamed, her eyes screwing tight as she yelled herself nearly hoarse with a scream of annoyance. The place was avoiding her.

She felt a big, strong hand shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes and turned to look at Quintus who, shockingly, looked almost as grey as the world around them.

“What?” She asked as Quintus seemed to stammer a little, the cigar was hanging limply from his mouth.

“Ah blinked.” Quintus murmured. “Ah blinked…. An….” Quintus found a rock to sit on and rest his hands in his head. “If ah believed in gods I’d be preying to them right now kiddo. Lemmie tell ya.”

Ellanor looked around her, she’d lost the spire! It was gone, then she looked upwards.

The spire towered above them, the building itself was truly collosal and she realised herself how small she was. How small even the Midlonian Empire’s megaprojects of the previous eras was nothing compared to this spire itself.

It almost seemed to be made of a kind of polished blue…

“No…” she murmured to herself. “It can’t be…”

Moonstone, the whole spire was made of Moonstone. The amount here must be in the millions of tons. Possibly billions.

She shivered involuntarily as the reality of that situation sank in. This much moonstone would make someone fabulously wealthy. No wonder the isles had long been such an allure to people, and if they were affected by those with psychic signals as much as something like the gem in Navarrok was…

A door opened, an impossibly tall door. 50 stories high easily, almost as high as some of the tallest buildings seen in Swadlincote. Slowly Ellanor stepped forward, foot by foot, inch by inch, grey dust dropping away from her in small clouds as she moved further forward.

Quintus looked up, and found himself alone.

Interior of The Great Spire

Ellanor ran her fingers along the crystallized walls, each piece of the building seemed to be made of Moonstone, it was bizarre and incredible. Inside it seemed almost like every piece was made of volcanic style hexagon shapes sticking up almost at random. The floor was similar but was beautifully polished and it shone a little as she walked by it, shimmering each time her foot touched a new…

...shape on the floor. Suddenly Ellanor looked up and saw text floating in the air describing herself looking at the very text that floated before her. Tentatively and feeling enormous unease she reached a hand out and touched it...

The text tumbled to the floor and Ellanor stared at the jumbled lettering on the ground that had described her every movement, she unshouldered her 13mm rifle and brought it up, closing her eye a little to try…

...and block out the same text which appeared describing her movements.

It might be futile, but she was the daughter of the Soldier-King and was determined to go down fighting.

She moved down the corridor, seeing weirder passages of text appearing that didn’t describe her own situation, but others, people in some sort of shop in a town called Brighthurst, a place she’d never heard of. Another of a girl in space fighting monstrosities with everything around her steam powered and sleek. And old man, bent on training and melding the men to fight for their all in the ruined world they’d been forced to inhabit.

So many different… worlds? Was this really how The Quiet was manifesting itself?

“Urgh. I never get writer's block. I always get too many ideas in completely the wrong order.” It was a male voice, ahead of her she was sure. Tightening the grip on her rifle, she moved ahead into a wide, open area who’s ceiling she couldn’t see, around the walls floated text, seemingly endless reams of it.

Stood right in the centre looking up and frowning was a man. A rather fat one a good head height below her at least. Brown hair with flecks of blonde and a two grey hairs right on one eyebrow sticking out slightly which looked strange. The man sighed and pursed his lips as he continued looking up at one of the big blocks of text which floated around.

The man scratched his chin and yawned, then clapped his hands.

“Oi!” Ellanor shouted, her rifle aimed at the man’s head.

“Who the fu-” The man turned, looked and his mouth dropped open slightly. “Ellanor?”

Ellanor’s finger twitched to the trigger itself and she raised her rifle just a fraction to show she was aiming. “How do you know my name?”

“Oh, well, I created you. That’s why.” The man replied with a shrug. “What are you doing here anyway, I stopped writing about Midlonia, pfft, oh a good three years ago.” He turned and walked backwards a little, the hexagonal shapes in the floor rising to create a seat which the man sat in with a small sigh of satisfaction.

“Three?” Ellanor snapped, stepping forward but keeping her rifle trained on the man. “Writing? What are you on about? The Quiet’s been plaguing us for 15 years.”

The man rubbed his eye. “Huh. Oh well.”

“Oh well? OH WELL?” Ellanor roared, her fangs bared and snarling. “People have vanished entire lands, gone! And your responce is Oh well?”

A couple of pages of paper were suddenly in the man’s hand. “Lands vanishing? People gone?” He began to leaf through the pages and smiled a little as his pale blue eyes darted back and forth.. “Oh now this is some cool stuff. Tickers? Hah. Oh that’s such a cool idea.”

“Oh I’m glad our misery is so fucking amusing to you.” Ellanor snapped.

“Sorry sorry, it’s just I thought I’d tapped this story dry for quite a while now.” The man waved his hand a little dismissively and Ellanor’s desire to just shoot him rose quite a lot. “No, doing that won’t do you any good.” He murmured as if reading her thoughts.

Ellanor glared at him, but lowered her rifle slightly. “Ok, who the fuck are you? The journal said you were some kind of God. I’ve seen these kinds of tricks by others with the technology though, it’s all smoke and mirrors and clever things like that.”

The man continued to read the pieces of paper, as he dropped each one they vanished completely from the room, Ellanor stood there feeling foolish as the man simply ignored her while he read. She was at a loss of what to do and after a minute, cocked her gun again making an audible clacking noise, the ejected round clattering and clinking as it hit the floor and rolled away.

“Oh!” The man looked up and placed the paper on the arm of the chair which extended itself to let the paper stay near his hand. “Sorry, was just reading what you’d been up to to this point.” He scratched his chin and pursed his lips. “Hrm, how to describe who I am to my own creation….” He coughed and bit his bottom lip in intense thought.

“I guess you can call me The Writer.” The man said as he finally crossed one leg ontop of the other as he looked up. “I write stories and… they happen.” He laughed. “Or rather the ideas come to me and I write them. All a matter of perspective, I suppose. The Dreams Dream The Dreamer always struck me as an interesting concept.”

“So, you exist because… I exist?” Ellanor ventured, her rifle now slack in her hands.

“And in turn you exist because I do. Symbiosis, I guess you could call it.” He scratched his rather big nose and continued. “You are part of my longest running story, Midlonia, or the Greater Kingdom.” His finger tapped his knee. “You’re all characters in that story and that’s been running on and off since… oh, let’s see. 14 years by my time. Yeah.”

“Except you, what? Stopped writing us?” Ellanor said, her head tilting back a little like she used to see her Auntie Naiya do when she was younger, and it was something she had herself begun to mimic when she was annoyed but trying to keep calm. This caused The Writer to smile a little as he watched her. She instead glared at him with a cold gaze.

“Sadly. Yes. I began to feel my stories were tapped out in that setting. On top of that new opportunities opened up for me to write new things.” He licked his lips a little. “Interesting to see it affected you so much. Normally nations come and go in Fractal Reality with no disruption but instead... “ he leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “I wonder if it’s a way of getting me to write for you again.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure we all enjoy up and disappearing on existence itself just to get the attention of someone who got bored.” Ellanor snarled again. “You speak in such nonsense I can see why Phistlewaite felt shaken to his core.”

“Hah, Phistlewaite, blimey, yes he was interesting to talk to, for a throw away historical character. George Elliot though, oh now he was interesting. I wonder if going back to go forward again might be a good thing…”

“You can’t just erase us like that!” Ellanor shouted again, he rifle twitching a little. “You can’t just wipe the slate clean whenever you please! Those people had friends, family, hell I had friends and family before all of this!” She choked a little. “You cannot throw us away like that just because we’re boring to you now! If you’re this supposed God, this Writer that ensures we exist then you have a responsibility to us! We have a right to live just as much as you do!”

“Well the Angelis got boring so got written entirely into a far more interesting role. I mean, sheesh, high technology elven like peoples with wings somehow not winning against a bunch of idiots with muskets?” The Writer waved his hand.

“Now here they are instead, a relic, archaeological curiosities that we’re in because it makes an interesting setting and a long standing mystery for you people to play within.” He looked around him. “Maybe it’s time for the Midlonians to go through similar, to make things feel fresh again.”

“No, no I can’t let you do that!” Ellanor raised her rifle again. “I just can’t let you drive us to extinction for someone else to pick over our bones and coo at what we were.”

“So convince me to pique my interest in telling your stories again.” The writer replied coldly, the eyes had lost all myrth now, one finger pressed to the temple as he looked over Ellanor slowly, not at all concerned by the 13mm gun pointed right at his chest. “Though you coming here yourself to yell and scream at me was very good. Very good indeed.”

Ellanor’s eyes narrowed for a second, then her rifle lowered itself slowly, almost involuntarily. “This the point where I have to play you in a game of chess, or sleep with you or something isn’t it?”

The Writer barked with a cruel laugh. “Nothing quite so drastic, you have to make and keep a promise. A simple one.”

Ellanor gritted her teeth and nodded slowly.

“Make. It. Interesting.”

He fixed her with another look and a grin that bordered on sadistic and then clicked his fingers.

Cursed Isles, Northern Midlonic Sea

Ellanor felt herself being shaken by a large rough hand, and then suddenly cold water being dumped on her face which caused her to awaken with a gasp and a cough.

“Oh thank god.” Quintus murmured. “C’mon, we need ter head back. This place… is just too weird.”

Ellanor got up slowly and rubbed her face to make it a little drier before she stood fully and dusted herself down, only instead of clouds of grey dust she found herself relatively clean. Around her were small plants and grasses that had somehow grown in the moments between her talking to The Writer and waking. She looked slowly around her. The Spire was gone, as were the clouds, replaced instead with crystal clear blue skies and a very gentle, very warm breeze.

“We need to get back to the ship.” Ellanor said. “I…. I think we did it.”

“Ner, I think you did it.” Quintus said as he lit his cigar.

Ellanor smiled a little weakly and began to walk back in the direction they had come.

[Midlonia]

Cursed Isles Docklands, GRN Jaipur

The sky changing to clear blue and sudden growth of plantlife had caused several of the Life Guards to move about grabbing samples and such for later study and use. They’d been doing this for some years now. Every so often The Life Guards would find themselves in some sort of situation and taking samples had become the go-to, otherwise there’d be a lot of complaints from either Pelios… or what remained of the Blacklights who studied such things.

Captain Jameson slammed the phone receiver down onto the console and muttered. “Bastards.” His XO a man named Blenk was a rough hewn man with a touch of Ghoul in his blood stood nearby, a perfect statue but Jameson had worked alongside him for long enough to see the curiosity in his eyes.

“That was an order from the Ministry of Defence on behalf of ‘Queen Julianne.’ Ordering us home and to leave behind any abhuman crewmen.”

That statement caused the Ghoul to actually move and look at him. “What.” The man rumbled quietly.

“Abhumans have been determined as a cause of the break, due to them not being affected by The Quiet’s results, therefore in order to preserve the Kingdom all Abhuman forces are hereby dismissed and advised to leave the Kingdom. Fucking crazy.”

Blenk growled.

The phone rang again and Jameson picked it up. He listened quietly for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Tell them to standby, Chesspiece is due to return shortly.”

It was at that moment there was a high pitched whistle and Jameson moved, the phone still at his ear as he saw Ellanor and Quintus returning, looking at the growth that had appeared so suddenly.

He clicked a couple of buttons on the command console in front of him and there was another high pitched whistling. “Your majesty, your presence is required on the bridge. It’s a call from The Dominion.”

There was a ragged cheer from outside as the crew also heard the announcement. Ellanor and Quintus picked up the pace.

“What of the bad news.” Blenk rumbled.

“That will be before she talks to The Dominion, obviously.” Jameson muttered and scratched his beard.

Ellanor arrived on the bridge a couple of minutes later, she had a wide grin. “The Dominion? Auntie Naiya?” She held out her hand for the receiver and Jameson held up his hand for a moment.

“There’s been… other announcements, your majesty.” Jameson spoke gravely.

Ellanor’s hand dropped for a moment and tilted her head back a little.

“Julliane is attempting to usurp the throne, her coronation happened at the same time as the changes here.”

Ellanor stared at Jameson for a moment, and blinked very very slowly. She found her arm coming out so she could lean on the nearest console, Quintus’ big paw clasped her shoulder and guided her to a chair which she sat down in heavily.

“That’s the least of it, however, your majesty.” Jameson continued. “All forces have been ordered to remove all abhuman personnel from their ranks, on account of them being part of, or responsible for The Quiet.”

Ellanor leaned forward and placed her hands over her face and breathed heavily.

“The Midlonic is headed this way, however, and it’s via them we’ve gotten the call from The Dominion. Apparently they were expecting Henry to be aboard. Time hasn’t moved as far for the rest of them it seems.”


The Queen rubbed her face and sighed. “Any clue so far on what the reaction is?”

“Some are jubilant, others are saying you finally found something and it’s Julianne trying to take the credit. Porphyria, Wesnomia and Mercia are all telling the Usurper where to stick her declaration, as are Asteldia and Tataria. The southern ceremonial Kingdoms and Rephidium however….” Jameson shrugged. “It’s going to take a while for things to settle, let alone realise where people stand but the capital appears to have been flooded with police and military, all chanting and hailing Queen Julianne.”

Ellanor found herself biting her finger at the knuckle as she tried to think. With the capital clearly gone there were few options open to her.

There was Derby, the capital of Mercia and it was nice and close to the capital, but it was an ancient city, filled to the brim with old buildings and narrow streets.

It was also only a few hours from the capital and where Julianne seemed to already have a lot of people ready. Porphyria was defendable in comparison, but with the turning against abhumans, could she really rule from the seat of the last, hated, abhuman kingdom to try and rule the Home islands? The people behind Julianne would have a field day pointing to the history and playing on those fears.

As she was looking out to the wide ocean before her, the speck of the Midlonic came into view, and with a jolt she realised the answer was staring her in the face. Of course it was. It was far far larger than it needed to be, theoretically so it could become a hospital ship in the event of war. It also meant it had the rooms, the capacity even for her to run an entire government from.

The Queen Upon the Land, and The Queen Upon The Sea came to her mind and she choked out a little laugh. The other three on the bridge looked at her and she waved them off.

“I’m fine, just something that occurred to me. Dad always wanted to live on the Midlonic, looks like I’ll be getting the chance.” She finally stood up and smoothed out her clothing a little and let out a long breath. “Let it be known I condemn this attempted usurpation of the throne, and that from this point on the royal capital is the Midlonic for the duration of this crisis. Send that out to anyone loyal to the Crown.”

She held out her hand for the receiver as Jameson picked it up again. “I’ll talk with the Imperatrice.” She smiled a little thinly. “Cast us off and head back to the Midlonic, I suspect we’re going to Devras for a bit.”

-----------------------------

“We’ve got contact,” Volpe confirmed, nodding to a concerned Naiya. “But it doesn’t appear to be in keeping with our usual responses from them. Something’s up.”

“Understood,” she replied simply, waiting for the next communication. Being at sea wasn’t unexpected, not for this family. But she trusted Volpe’s instincts on this. Reappearances were rarely without some sort of surprise.

Ellanor tried to figure out what she was going to actually say but instead decided to just be blunt and upfront. She’d clearly been hanging around with Quintus for far too long, on top of all that it wasn’t like she’d needed to refine her diplomacy with everything that had gone on.

“Good afternoon Aunt Naiya, it’s uh, it’s been a while.”

Jameson looked from where he was and then slowly placed a hand over his mouth, rubbing his beard slightly.

The voice had changed. Matured. Where was Henry? “Fanged god, its good to hear your voice, Ellie. Are you ok? Your family? These thrice-damned buckles … you’ve been missed,” Naiya said, more quickly than she’d intended. The concern was clear in her voice.

“Short version? Good to hear you too, not the best and not great. In that order.” She began to pace a little bit before the cord pulled taut and she turned to walk back. “We’ve been through a bit of an event, it’s… 15 years on from when we were, there’s less of us. It’s really hard to wrap my head around and I think I’d rather talk at more length about it over a good meal and definitely a good drink.” She stopped and looked at the blue skies. “Dad and Mom… are gone? Well, not, gone, but kind of… disappeared? It… eurgh.” She shook her head and heard the line crackle a little bit.

“Then to kind of ladle on top of that Julie’s trying to usurp the throne, we’ve lost contact with about half the country, Sued and Akuma are just gone, I’ve gone around every corner left to find an answer and then I found it in the Cursed Isles, you know, the freaky islands north of the Home islands? Now they’re not cursed any more and stuff is growing here for the first time ever. The Great Spire is gone, like it was never there and now I get to live on a boat possibly for the rest of my life or reign, whichever’s the longer. You’re the first people we’ve had contact with after The Quiet which is what people started calling it when the clocks stop and people vanish, and it’s just so good to know other people I consider family are out there.” She found herself panting a little bit, the receiver a little loose in her hand. “But, uh, I can bench like… 280 now. So… that’s, uh, good?”

The Dominion Imperatrice stood rigidly, trying to parse all the information coming over the line. Fifteen years … so they were older than the boys now, by just a bit. And their parents, gone? Disappeared, along with half the … how? Usually a transition like this was in its entirety, not in pieces. Had reality found another way to break? Her mind was running in several directions at once, though her initial thoughts were as usual, of family, emotions. The rest were focused on what she knew of past history for Midlonia, the oddities surrounding it, the places she’d wanted to see for herself and hadn’t had the opportunity, of reigns and siblings, rule of law and the rest, references remembered about ascension …

“Two-eighty?” Came the first words, and she immediately cringed. “Ell, whatever’s going on, you know we’ll help however we can. Time hasn’t gone quite so quickly here, but it has progressed. As you said, there’s a lot we can go over better in person. You’re always welcome here.”

A pause then, as she bit her lower lip and glanced over at Volpe, who shrugged slightly in return. “Things may be a tad … tense here at the moment, so with your permission, I’d like to be sure you have an escort from my people. You may want to give your crew a heads up that there’s some unrest currently in the capitol, and granted, elsewhere, about foreign entanglements and the like - but we’re taking care of it, and working to get things settled before any of it gets out of hand.”

“Just make them aware, yes? We can always provide anyone you want with protection, if you find it necessary,” she finished somewhat lamely. None of it sounded good, and she felt as if she were offering a safe harbor with one hand while putting up fences with the other.

“Well, I have the Midlonic still, so it’s not like I need to crash on a couch or in a spare bedroom.” Ellanor laughed a little, but it was slightly hollow. “We can stay out in the bay for the most part, just try and blend in with other tourist ships or something.”

“Closer to my palazzo might not be out of order. There’s those stairs, you remember, down to the water. Would be simple to have a smaller boat go back and forth, and avoid the crowds entirely if you like. My place is as secure as I could want. And I’m sure the boys would be thrilled to see you and anyone you bring along”

“It’d be nice to see them too, it’s been… difficult as you can kind of tell.” She scratched her nose. “Well, we’ll set sail and come to you then. Not sure if the Pelios method of navigation works again now we’re back so I can’t… what’s that, Captain?” Her voice quietened as she moved her mouth from the receiver. “Captain Jameson says about a week, week and a half by the calculations, if they hold.”

“We’ll keep watch,” Naiya assured her. “Do you mind if we take a closer look around the area there, see what our sats and drones might pick up? We can relay any data directly to you. Might help you get an idea on what’s what, or if nothing else, how foreign tech works or doesn’t where you’re at. Anything to assist.”

“That would be great, Auntie.” Ellanor replied, relief evident in her voice. “Getting some idea on things again would be a huge help, trying to figure out who’s siding with who might help as well.”

“We could make some arrangements, if you’re not opposed to more … covert attempts,” Naiya suggested carefully. She had a number of things in mind, some of which she would have to be very, very cautious about.

“I think…. I think we uh.” Ellanor trailed off a little as if someone on the other end were gesturing or talking very quietly. “Will have to talk about that in detail. Uh. Nose to n-” She coughed. “Uh, face to face. Yeah.”

“Not to worry. You’ve enough on your hands without me trodding all over your sovereign rights. We’ll stick to the innocuous efforts for now. Travel safe, dear - we’ll have things settled in no time. You can do this, Ellie.”

“Yeah, yeah I can.” Ellanor replied. “I’ll…. See you soon, ok? The Boys too, though I guess they’re not going to be totally boys now either, huh?”

“Oh, you’ll all be surprised I think,” Naiya replied, trying to lighten the farewell slightly. “Take care of yourself. Naiya, out.”

Ellanor replaced the receiver and looked to Jameson who let out a long sigh. “The Dominion? Sending in spies?” The Captain shook his head a little. “We need to plan that out more. They’re not like our own intelligence officers, more like Mafiosos with a playbook completely unwritten but somehow understood.”

“Oh.” Ellanor replied quietly. “But, it’s… Aunt Naiya, she wouldn-”

“She could, is the problem.” Jameson replied and surprisingly to her, Quintus nodded. “This is where things get complicated now, you felt no need to understand diplomacy too deeply because your only focus was on The Quiet. Now… now it’s going to be…. Different.”

Ellanor looked to Jameson and Quintus, two figures who’d become like fathers to her, and she slowly nodded. The blades of a chopper cut through the air as it flew in from the Midlonic. Looks like the next week or so as she travelled would be… interesting.