The factories of Sudplatz worked, despite the loss of productivity as a result of the more worker-focused policies of the new system of workplace management, like well-oiled machines. Many of the AIs used to manage the production of various equipment left with the Sokressians, and the massive fusion plants that provided power for the Empire had long since gone cold. Thus, man, woman, and free Android worked as one. Like the AI before them, they worked as one, a shining example of the unity so sought after by the other factions of this bloody war.
The Frontline, somewhere in Karicksland
“Ready another bombardment!” a young voice cracked over the Artilleryman’s radio. He and his squadmates began the process of loading the aging Howitzer. Warhead, propellant, load. The process repeats over and over again. They had gotten so used to loading the gun that it was almost second nature, and like many other Howitzer crews, could have their gun loaded within 20 seconds. Another order came in, and the roar of the guns across the front sounded. It was time to end this war.
For tens of kilometers the thundering guns could be heard. Prelude to a massive offensive, a Sturmkrieg.
The (Temporary) National Revolutionary Council Building, Cogsport
The path towards the building’s entrance was surprisingly adorned. Due to how the fighting around Cogsport played out, the south part of the city, across the Mitte from Old Town, was relatively undamaged. Still, as the delegates from various socialist groups and nations walked down the ceremonial red carpet, saluted by Anarchist guards, they could see many smoking structures in the distance. Techoligia welcomed her red comrades with open arms, despite the chaos.
As the delegates entered the building, they were met by a small orchestra, playing the Internationale for all to hear. The building was surprisingly well-decorated for what few resources could be spared from the war effort. The walls were adorned with the flags and banners of Socialism, from the banner of the Happyland all the way back to the Paris Commune. As they finally approached the meeting room they were flanked at the doors by several guards as they inspected every representative for weapons or bombs, there was no telling if they were who they said they are. After the lengthy screening process they entered the hall and took their seats. A man in a vest and fedora stood at the General Secretary’s podium.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. Brothers and Sisters. It is with pride in my hearts that I declare this first meeting of the Fifth Internationale Congress!” Pausing for a moment to allow the congress to celebrate, he continues.
“Now then, straight to business. Issue One, the issue of the North American Socialists, also known as the Alexandrian Loyalists. We have a delegate from America here today, who has asked us for aid in fighting off the Bourgeoisie Uprisings, and the invasions by the Aztláni and the Capitalist Corporatocracy that calls itself Disney. All in favor of intervention, say Aye.”
A flurry of ayes rang through the hall, save for the Czech and Slovaks delegates.
“Motion carried. Now, onto the next issue…”
Cogsport, the Kingdom of Teckoland, 1112 AD
Karl Saewyne continued up the stairs of the clock tower, his son Sceade close behind. The old seer in the forests told him something dark, and action had to be taken before it was too late. As the reached the top of the tower, Karl sighed. His royal cape fluttered as he ascended the final steps, the somber clicks of the clockwork the only noise made as his son slowly followed. As they continued forward they reached the observation platform. From here they watched the cogs of the clock turn slowly. Once simply a symbol of progress and moving forward, Karl had used it to unify the people of Teckoland under his banner. Only ten years ago the various warring duchies, kingdoms, and city states fought over bare scraps of land, and only nine years ago he had unified them under the banner of Askaria and proclaimed the Kingdom of Teckoland. His son’s voice shook him from his trance. He looked behind him and saw a reflection of himself. His second son, brother to Karl II, the pride and joy of his wife, Bianca.
“Father, why have you brought me here?” Sceade asked. He looked up to his father, his towering form against the moonlight from the clock’s face. He was concerned. Young Sceade was never allowed to leave the castle in Dunwitch, and even at 19 he was still heavily restricted from leaving the palace in Cogsport. So for his father, the king, to bring him here, was a mystery he could not unravel.
“Sceaduwyne, come here, I must speak to you.” Karl held back tears, looking away from his son. Karl never called him by his full name.
“Y-yes father.” Sceade approached the edge of the observation deck, looking down at the endless clockwork below.
“Sceaduwyne, you know I love you with all of my heart, yes?” Karl choked on his words as he spoke.
“Y-Yes father.” Sceade’s concern grew as his father spoke.
“And you know I would never let anything b-bring you harm unless I could not help it?” Karl could no longer hide his tears.
“Yes father.” Sceade looked at his father’s face against the white moonlight.
“Then you will know how much this will pain me.” Karl set a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“Father what do you mea-” Sceade’s words were cut short as he was pushed into the clockwork. He cried out in pain as the massive bronze gears crushed his form, until all he saw was black. On the observation deck, Karl cried openly as the reality of what he had done hit him like an arrow in the chest. Filicide.
As he walked away from the clockwork and back down the long staircase, his son’s screams echoed in his mind.
”Sceaduwyne, rise.”
Sceaduwyne’s eyes shot open, but it changed little. All he could see was a black void around him, as if there was no light at all. He slowly sat up, the pain from the clockworks gone. All he could feel was the coldness of the void around him. On the inside, all he could feel was confusion and anger. His father, his own flesh and blood father, had pushed him into the clockwork and ended his short existence on the mortal plane.
“W-where am I? This is not heaven, or hell as the priests described them…”
”Welcome to your new home. Or should it be said, your new domain.”
“W-what do you mean? Who are you? Where are you?”
”Who I am does not matter. What matters is why you are here. There is an imbalance in the universe, Sceaduwyne. An imbalance that must be solved. You have been determined worthy to be that balance. For if the universe only has light, then what does it lack?”
“Shadow…” The response came from his mouth almost on its own. Sceaduwyne continued searching for the source of the sound. He stopped searching when he saw the strange symbol, impossible to describe with words.
”Good. You are clever Sceaduwyne. Do not worry, all shall be revealed to you. All you have to do is touch the symbol.”
He hesitated. What did this voice want with him? What did it mean by imbalance? As he brought his hand towards the symbol, he felt warmth that he hadn’t felt since his infancy. As his hand touched the symbol, its energy flowed through him, slowly draining the light from it as it entered him. His eyes filled with shadow and his body cooled. He could hear a voice no longer, except his own. His inner voice spoke to him. Of spirits and of shadows, of a perfect evil and of the one created to fight it. He understood it all. As the knowledge surged through his mind, he knew what his first action would be.
A curse. A curse upon the bloodline of his father. Without rhyme or reason, he would give the new blood his blessing. Male or female, it did not matter. The blood of the Saewynes would forever be tainted with a blessing of shadow.
