New Civilizations [IC | Closed]

[Earth Industries LLC]

Tristán W. Aresenault, Day One, 2900 BC,
Long Island, Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire wilderness

The bitter taste of pine lingered in Tristán's mouth as he opened his eyes, a sour expression on his face.
Tilting up his head, he was bewildered by the sights he was exposed to. A glimmering body of water with small, evergreen covered islands flecked about it. Towering oaks and slender pines stood about him, projecting an aura of solemnity and ancient authority. Tristán propped hiself up by the elbows, covered in dead foliage. On the ground were berry bushes of every kind, acorns and bark littered about,
all coated with a thick layer of dead leaves and pine needles. What in mercy? Every thought under the sun raced through the young man's head. He ran a hand through his thick, unwieldy beard. He touched his cheek, tracing the landscape of his scar. Finally, after assuring himself that he was indeed alive and whole, Tristán stood.

"Mother of the Lord, I'm in shame!"

Birds and smaller creatures fled the area at the sound of his scream. Hurrying over to the beach, he plucked a few handfuls of reeds and went to work fashioning himself a skirt. After an hour or two, he adorned his new garment and set about for a walk around his surroundings. Following the coast for about two hours, Tristán realized that he was on an island. The closest island to this was across a strait spanning what he guessed to be 4 meters. The interior of this island was mostly forest, about a square mile of it. There were a few small beaches, and at the center was a clearing marked by a pond. Curious, he thought, a pond on an island. The clearing was no more than nintey feet across at either end, and the pond was the size of a small swimming pool. A few small fish squirmed around in its crystal clear water.

"Odd," he muttered, "how all the water about here is so pristine. Almost like a Garden of Eden."

That was when Tristán had his revelation. This place, these islands, this lake, this place was the Garden of Eden. God must've sent him here as came of age that he may protect it, and it's inhabitants. It all made sense to him. The lack of pollution and noise, no people, no clothes, the perfectly preserved environment, the sense of antiquity and power in the air. He was the next Adam. Guardian of Eden and her living creatures. He was blessed.
-
A few hours later, he had constructed a lean-to shelter near the pond, and collected some wild blueberries for himself to eat. They were sweet and ripe and juicy. As the sun went down, the temperature dropped, so he stripped the bark off of a nearby birch tree and ties it together with Reed grass as a blanket. When he awoke the next day, an arrow stuck out of his lean-to.

"Neighbors?"

[Skarten]

Hokkyō,Capital of The Confederation,Near Modern day Akita

Hokkyō.The heart of the confederation,and one of the biggest cities in japan.On the center of the town,lied what by the standards of these times, a palace. On that palace, 15 of the most powerful chiefs on the koshitu debated over what to do.

"We must put a end to the Kirochi!They grow stronger everyday,and soon we will not be able to stop them!"

While the chiefs disputed over what to do,Yaroshima was thinking.
"Perhaps,this might be my chance to take power."

The author stood up and announced to the chiefs.
"This has been the biggest danger to our confederation so far.The Kirocchi must be stopped.Combat is inevitable.But,without a central commander,our armies will be disoriented and weak.If we are to survive,we must elect a Commander-In-Chief to lead the confederation's forces."
The Room went silent.This was a, well, risky attempt.Had the chiefs refused,Yaroshima's position on the confederation would have been heavily damaged.But luckily,the fear of being conquered by the Kirochi speaked louder.The Chiefs agreed.
"Very well then.I would like to volunteer for such position. I believe i am able to defeat the Kirochi with this power, and save this confederation from turning into a pile of corpses."
The Leaders of the confederation thought carefully about this.They didn't have many other options for a leader, and Yaroshima was the most powerful among them.And so,the author who came into this unknown land as a foreigner was elected Shōgun.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Part 8, Chapter 6: March to the East

August 4th, 100 AG

It was a humble village, really, about what you could expect. Normally I wouldn't have bothered to stop by, but the maps from this region had indicated that the small settlement here, between the three hills, sat upon the major trade routes north and south through the vale of the Euphrates. And an opportunity to collect information and see the wares of a nearly untouched land could not be passed up, not by myself, nor by the few members of the Eyes that rode with the company.

The first thing you noticed was the stink. Not excessively offensive to the nose, for sanitation in these relatively arid regions was paid attention to more strongly than in many more "civilized" areas- a peculiarity of humanity that I had observed many times traveling in this ancient world. More than offal or dung, it was simply the sour smell of the sweat of hundreds of bodies living close to each other, the dander of animals, the tanner's vats in the distance and their distinctive stench. But it wasn't really fair to judge the humble folk of Ammas by the standards of society further north and west. As well condemn them not for having paved stone roads built with tools that were so far out of their technological horizon as to seem like sorcery.

Sorcery. The Mesopotamians believed in it, as did due to cultural proximity the folk of this eastern tract of what might have one day been Syria. I saw the sign against evil twisted by many fingers as the company passed through the main thoroughfare of the town, though not by any who thought they could be seen. My eyes passed back in our small formation to where Commander Kuril rode only a few horses behind me, and he caught my gaze, then nodded slightly. My grip on the reins of the destrier relaxed marginally. Before approaching the village we had discussed whether the people or local chieftain might mistake the entourage for an assault, and thus bar the settlement against us. Obviously that argument or discourse had not ended in a decision to treat us as hostiles- indeed, perhaps the locals had thought that their ability to resist the amount of armed men that was in the expedition's van would be implausible. A wise assessment, if that had been their thought.

In the main central square the general turmoil of a small city was added to by the cries of merchants and traders, and the lowing of beasts of burden. Some camels, more donkeys, but most goods were still carried by hand even on the trade routes of Mesopotamia towards the verdant lands of Asia Minor and the Syriac settlements of the Imperium. The emergence of our company into the marketplace suppressed the pitches of the men of commerce for a few brief moments, but then they returned with increased vociferousness. It nearly made me smile as I dismounted. Almost nothing that I had seen from the saddle would be of any real practical value to men from the north, but these locals probably didn't appreciate that. Besides, there was always the possibility of luxury goods. The men from the Euphrates produced some artistically meritorious stoneware and vibrantly appointed pottery, which had value at least as a conversation piece, and things like heady smoked jerky seasoned with the salt of the Gulf were always welcome even to an Imperial soldier looking to supplement his rations.

"Tell the men to stay close, but that they may have leave in sections. We'll bivouac on the eastern side of the town tonight, given the local elders or whoever is in charge here are willing to accept the imposition."

"Very good Hegemon. Will you be wanting me with you for this meeting?"

I considered, then nodded. Luke Kuril wasn't exactly a man I would trust with a Great Company- too little grasp for logistics and the grand scale required by a proper campaign- but he was levelheaded and his ability to maneuver a cavalry complement had impressed me to at least a moderate degree in our ride from the coast. Men from even areas of the Imperium that had been civilized for a few generations often had trouble dealing with the concept of a fully mounted command, for horses even where they had been bred for the better part of a century were still expensive and seldom ridden by the common folk, conserved for labor or government functions. But Kuril had dispatched a bandit ambush on the road from Arak with surgical competence that made full use of his tactical mobility, a rare quality in even experienced captains.

"Yes, that would be excellent, Commander. I doubt the locals will need intimidating, but if they know ought of the roads further east, it will be best if you hear it directly from their lips."

Kuril turned away, and spoke to his second, who then announced to the men that they would be at liberty by sections. Weary grins and smiles broke across dusty faces. It had not been a hard ride; we weren't on campaign, not exactly, but there were few men who did not relish the comforts of a city after days on the road. To be fair, calling Ammas a city would be very charitable, but I was fundamentally certain the soldiers could get themselves into a host of trouble even in a settlement whose inhabitants likely only barely outnumbered the command. And soldiers who had had time free to themselves were men who resented the road less, which was all to the best.

I scanned the square swiftly, taking in the mud-brick construction of most of the dwellings and barely noticing it. We had weeks ago passed out of the range of architecture that made use of anything more complicated than rough cobblestone in the most luxurious dwellings, and bricks of mud or clay for the rest of the affair. The main 'palace' stuck out immediately to my gaze, and I handed the reigns of my warhorse to one of the soldiers before striding across the packed earth of the market square towards the large edifice.

These towns were built in much the same way. A settlement, erected on a small hill that archaeologists would one day call a Tell, surrounded by a peripheral area of farming and subsistence agriculture which itself was concentrated around small satellite rural villages. Most importantly, the local cultures all seemed to favor a central government to some degree or another, what I would consider a proto-oligarchy, with one hereditary or elected chieftain consulting with council of elders and younger men to lead the village.

Conveniently, often concentrated in a single building of meeting, centrally located. Exactly like the type of building whose doors I wrapped upon with my begloved hand in the desert heat.

It took but a moment, and the sound of shuffling footsteps came from within the door. It opened, hesitantly perhaps, but promptly enough, and I smiled warmly at a young man whose olive skin matched that of the region eloquently. He seemed taken aback by my expression, and spoke after a moment's surprise.

"Yes?"

"Good morning. My name is Viktor, and I have just arrived with the caravan in the square. I was wondering if I might speak to your elders?"

It was phrased as a question, and I added the inflection appropriate to the question in the native tongue of these proto-Semitics, but the precise wording of the request made it only cursorily a request. That flummoxed the servant- for servant I assumed he was- yet further. Luckily, that was clearly the reason he had answered the door so promptly, and thus without a good response to hand he merely opened the door further, bidding me to enter with a gesture.

My eyes took a half-moment to adjust to the dingy interior of the central building, and then I saw that my assumption had been correct. Perhaps a half dozen men of some venerable age were seated around a low table where small smoldering torches drove back the shadows, next to a man who had the thick muscles under a layer of fat of a warrior who had been formidable once, but who now held a comfortable role. I bowed slightly after stepping over the threshold, and made sure to remove any edge from my voice as I addressed the council, so apparently summoned by their leader to determine what to do about the large caravan approaching Ammas which I had arrived as a part of.

There was much to learn, and I had many hours in which to learn it.

Fortress of the Third Cataract, Dominion of Kermash

A dull thud came from the base of the wall upon which Meket stood, and the bricks shook, causing the warrior to look down worriedly. Next to him white teeth bared in the darkness, a laughing smile from his companion where the latter crouched behind the parapet.

"Don't be so afraid, newblood. The earth won't fall out from under you just because of some stones."

It was, perhaps, undue confidence in the main keep of the Fortress of Ta Chalek. After all, the stones hurled by the Theban devices had laid low the northern wall near the Red Gate well enough. But Meket was not one who wished to be accounted a coward, and so he wiped the frown of argument from his face with a conscious force of will, instead grasping his spear tighter and shuffling over towards the wall. He carefully kept his head low though, presenting now target for any bowman who might be watching for breaks in the stars. That wasn't cowardice, just a desire not to die. You wouldn't think it, not really, but even at night the Thebans were uncommonly good at picking out heads from their hoardings below.

Uncommonly good. Not that they really needed to be. They outnumbered the defense's archers by probably five to one at this point, and Chief Massema had stopped even sending his skirmishers to fire on the enemy here, saving them (and importantly, their ammunition) for when the lowlanders made an assault on the walls. When Meket's levy had marched west from Gurja to reinforce Ta Chalek, the young warrior had never even considered that the Thebans might outshoot the vaunted archers of Nubia, the land of the bow. But they had numbers beyond reckoning, numbers which had penned up even what was supposed to be an indomitable force within the thick brick walls of the fastness and were slowly whittling it away.

Someone had fucked up. And, somewhere deep down in his sandals, Meket was beginning to think that he was going to die because of their mistake.

Not that he had long to dwell on that dread. A horn blared out somewhere in the pre-dawn blackness, a familiar wailing of the stolen finery of a goat braying into the air and summoning warriors to battle. One of theirs, by the location. Next to the fighter his comrade rose, and peered over the top of the low brick wall atop the bastion, before swearing vilely.

"More ladders. And they're close. Someone was sleeping."

That was just the story. Thebans were uncommonly clever, and took a lot of killing even in a straight fight. Or, so Thassas said. Up Meket's head popped, momentarily unconcerned with the archers, and he immediately understood why the other warrior had sworn. Across the clear dirt region between the ruined outer wall and the fortress Thebans were rushing forward, hundreds of them, many bearing thick and stout ladders. They didn't lack for sack, that was for sure, and without archers here to make them pay for showing their heads there wasn't much a few men with spears could do to even bother them until they had achieved their goal; assaulting the wall in numbers.

All this ran through Meket's head for a few brief moments, a few brief moments too long. Illuminated in the light of the torches the Egyptians now showed openly, one of the bowmen must have picked out his silhouette. He didn't feel anything, but of course, he then went on to feel nothing ever again. Next to Thassas a black-fletched arrow sprouted from the young warrior's forehead, passing clean through the light cloth cap that the boy wore. Back he tumbled, boneless, never to move again, and Thassas crouched down in an instant.

They were going to get overrun. Too few soldiers, and the Thebans were cursed clever. Perhaps he could surrender.

By daybreak the Fortress of the Third Cataract, raised by soldiers of the Red God generations ago to contain the Egyptian threat, had fallen, and up from the north the Egyptian host passed like an army of driver ants.

[Ralnis]

Kingdom of Jan,
Southern Nubia, September-November

The Inocrypto forces made it to Nubia after their long trek through the desert. They had met up with Dark Realm cultists who brought along trebuchets and catapults as per their agreement with the Dark Lord of Justice. They met halfway while they were going to Southern Nubia to the Kingdom of Jan, one of four tribes who asked for Inocrypto aid those months ago. Still, the Nubians who asked for the aid of the Voodooists were still suspicious of the growing power that they had in the south, each year or month the grip of Mantu Olu slowly reaches on their trade routes they made with more news of camel caravans and Inocrypto coins being used more than Nubian barter systems as industry and development from the Inocrypto had made trade cheaper and goods to be made locally.

This, on top of Voodoo priests proselytizing with the help of growing private support to spread the knowledge of Bondye made them ever increasingly weary but the Egyptian threat made them turn to desperate measures. Bob and the other generals had sent something but they had to come up with something more effective then sending men across the desert and praying for Bondye that they make it to the front lines. Bob and Bittertooth had then send a proposal for those Nubian tribes that had accepted the deal for foreign military support.

The idea was to try and gain alliances from these Nubian factions in exchange of selling them weapons as a loan or on credit. This was better than throwing men at the Egyptian force and it gives them some allies to expand influence and trading should the Nubians win the war. The Council was a bit cautious about this, remembering stories of how their Executive's great nation of America did this multiple times only to see that this had backfired more than it should.

Still, the blast furnaces were more than capable of making weapons of good quality in commonplace. While only few in number, they bring good fortune to the economy in the future and the Republic's Steel, Steam, and Guns idea of matching the Imperium should they ever come, when they ever come. If the milltowns were willing to make weapons in exchange for economic incentives if the plan works out.

When the relief came to the King of Jan, he and his host looked at the armored warriors with awe. The Republican forces came wearing iron scale mail, carrying crossbows and lances cast in iron. They had shields of kite or large ones that were as big as their back. Others wore different garments, carrying strange orbs with fuses and spikes coming out of them. They had shovels or other packs on their backs as they were flanked by conscripts that were simple spearmen.

The King of Jan was shocked to hear the limited number of soldiers that could be sent. Though the idea of an alliance and getting weapons to fight the Nubians was something that could be worth the risk. The court asked the King to not do that as no doubt the Inocrypto would try to reach even further into the Lands of the Bow. The King gives a look and he gives a nod to think about it and will pass this message on to the other rulers who joined in the King in asking for the Innocrypto support.

The Commander at the time set up a FOB outside the city as they started to send out some agents across Nubia to understand the situation and what the Egyptian forces had fielded right now during harvest season.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Central Hall, Kingdom of Jan, Southern Nubia
Third of November

It was three glum men who sat around the table when the representative from Mantu Olu arrived at the council of kings. Well, kings would probably be a misnomer. Master Lakal of Kermash was truly a king, his dominion stretching across most of northern Nubia, but the petty Kings of Jan and Malout were little more than lords of the surroundings of their respective cities. Still, that was not to say that they were not men of renown- men who recognized the danger the recent Theban expansionism posed to their lands, to all those of the blood of Nubia.

"So, the jackal shows its face."

King Kasmi of Malout spoke first, his tones bitter. His lands lay just south of the recent chunk carved out of Kermash, and his soldiers were ill at ease here, so far from the front lines where they may be called upon to defend their homeland from the Egyptians. Not a generous man, his kingdom had been enriched much by trade south to the Great Lake, trade which was slowly being strangled by Inocrypto demands and subversion of local outposts.

The dour-faced lord of Jan did not speak, though it was his dominion to which the man from the south had been invited, merely staring into the depths of a pewter mug as if it held the answer to his questions within its depths.

"What price do you wish to tear from our corpses, jackal?" spat King Kasmi, and Master Lakal glanced at his fellow king before apparently deciding to hold his peace.

[Ralnis]

Central Hall, Kingdom of Jan, Southern Nubia
Third of November

It was three glum men who sat around the table when the representative from Mantu Olu arrived at the council of kings. Well, kings would probably be a misnomer. Master Lakal of Kermash was truly a king, his dominion stretching across most of northern Nubia, but the petty Kings of Jan and Malout were little more than lords of the surroundings of their respective cities. Still, that was not to say that they were not men of renown- men who recognized the danger the recent Theban expansionism posed to their lands, to all those of the blood of Nubia.

"So, the jackal shows its face."

King Kasmi of Malout spoke first, his tones bitter. His lands lay just south of the recent chunk carved out of Kermash, and his soldiers were ill at ease here, so far from the front lines where they may be called upon to defend their homeland from the Egyptians. Not a generous man, his kingdom had been enriched much by trade south to the Great Lake, trade which was slowly being strangled by Inocrypto demands and subversion of local outposts.

The dour-faced lord of Jan did not speak, though it was his dominion to which the man from the south had been invited, merely staring into the depths of a pewter mug as if it held the answer to his questions within its depths.

"What price do you wish to tear from our corpses, jackal?" spat King Kasmi, and Master Lakal glanced at his fellow king before apparently deciding to hold his peace.

The ambassador wasn't stunned by the vitriol that spit from Kasmi. He didn't try to obfuscate that the young Republic that laid close to the Nile source had a great hand in taking the trade of the Nubian petty kingdom. They know that soon their industry will allow for local trade to be fully dependent on them, furthering filling the coffers and allowing advancement of Inocrypto civilization. However, Nubia can always be a threat if they commit a lot of troops should they stave off the Egyptians.

" It is only two things," the ambassador recenter himself in the chair," we only wish for an alliance of good faith that you won't use the weapons against us should the Land of the Bow is freed, and that you are able to pay back for the weapons we give to you."

Seeing how the tension in the air rose sharply, he continued.

" Before you get angry, understand our position. We cannot send large forces to help you against the Egyptian threat, we barely were able to pull our elites with some allied help because of your trade concessions. However, our industry is a rising power, we have things that match the Egyptians and more so."

He brings up one of the solider crossbows to the table for them to see.

" While the Egyptians have been able to trade from other nations for these weapons, their smaller and are few in number. We have much larger ones, those that can fire further than any bow or string and even ones that can fire arrow after arrow like a master archer. The thing is these weapons take less time to train in the hands of a farmer compared to years of tradition that Nubia has. "

He takes the crossbow away and he leans forwards as he eyes all three kings.

" Let me tell you what we offer. We offer weapons of superior design and effectiveness to your armies before the next campaign. We also offer training from the soldiers that are here so that you maybe able to fare better in the next stage of their incursion. The soldiers will also help you in whatever your endeavors for your defensive goals.

In exchange, the three of you will sign a deal of an alliance to Mantu Olu, ensuring that you won't fight any Inocrypto and support us as we have supported you. Second, the weapons that we do send will be sent on credit, a loan that you must pay in the future. This is seen by my government as a sign of trust that you will defeat your sworn enemies and be able to pay your debts to those who have supported you from so far away."

[Achidyemay]

39.4.1
East Bank

A new month and time to leave Huệ be. They had spent the past two weks together, and while Everett tried to be effective, he was ill-experienced with exactly the type of administration that was happening. It was simultaneously a strange and comforting experience and Everett was happy to be learning things from Huệ over the course of those 21 days together. It was a true testament to the power of the machine that was the logistical powerhouse of Indochina, it would hum along after he was gone. An end that Everett was less and less certain was actually coming. Nevertheless, Everett poked his head into every department and committee, always quick to quell initial surprise. After the third day, he had become an apparent fixture, and after the 14th day it had become common practice to explain to Everett why things had been set up the way they were. Everett generally appreciated this. It was interesting to see the ramifications of his actions and how other people were reacting to them and he mentally filed away multiple ideas for future excursions.

That is if he even wanted to take them. Since returning, Everett had had a great time at his wife's side. They had attended sporting events in West Bank, taken in the murals and songs of the Floating City, watched ships sail around while listening to the city's chimes toll from their third story penthouse. Everett was living the lifestyle of a true patrician, and he was entirely there for it. At one point, Huệ took him aside to explain that buying shipstock for every ship in the bay wasn't particularly economical. There had been a bit of a bubble lately and she was concerned for the shipstock market. Everett laughed and suggested they produce more ships. Huệ only rolled her eyes and reaffirmed their commanding interest within the shipbuilding monopoly to her husband, then explained the shortage of timber since the Court of the Environment had temporarily shutdown their third lumber mill this year. Thankfully they had been financing those mills with outside investment on a commissions basis, but Huệ was quick to point out that money was still tight. Yes, Everett was having a great time with his wife, and he was happy to let her handle the purse strings from then on.

Currently, Everett is on a ferry to East Bank from the Floating City. Arguably larger now than the City on the Water, East Bank has faced exponential growth and buildings are a patchwork of brick and wood, depending on the price and availability of materials at the time of construction, although there is a general trend for a brick bottom and wooden second floor. Indeed, that was the design of the large bath house that Everett was making his way too. He had been meaning to visit the Sister Cities, as they were known, for a long time, and today Huệ had been called in to the Court of the Laborer as a consultant, so Everett had free time to rove around the cities. He was grateful that he had heard about the bath house the other day as he approached from the south. It was a magnificent building. The large stained glass windows and tall vaulted ceiling made it look like a cathedral. Even in the hot and humid rainy season day, the building seamed to radiate steam. The walking gardens that surrounded the building were filled with transplanted aromatic bushes. Away from the dense urban population of the floating city, there was the space for such plants and Everett relished the greenery. It wasn't quite as wild as the Borneo rain forests, but this groomed land was a good middle ground. Everett stepped inside and was immediately greeted by a server and intense humidity. Down the hall, Everett could here the echoes of children playing and splashing and shrieking. Everett hadn't brought his credentials and instead payed with glass, disrobing and allowing himself to be led to a washroom where he would be scrubbed down before being allowed to freely roam the facilities. As he entered the washroom, Everett was ready to let his hair down, the loose, waist-length braid would come out with some difficulty.


38.1.5
Port Nan

Kim had already done something naughty. The Secretary had just finished introducing her to the crew, which she was surprised to learn were mostly from the Riau trade node. This would be problematic because she did not speak any of the Bornean languages which would mean she would have to resort to giving orders in Masi. Not difficult, a standard set of Masi phrases was used for all ship commands and was taught throughout the Thalossacracy, but annoying. There were a thankful few other Vietnamese in the crew, most crucially the quartermaster and cook, although also a few riggers. She was relieved that no one from the Floating City Network was there, things would be hard enough without adding Mon-Khmer to the mix. After meeting the crew, she excused herself and snuck down to the "immediate" depot. Inside she met with Thanh, who was in charge of inventory and also one of Kim's lovers. He was a bit older than her, but still fairly young for his position. He had filled it when his father had become ill and had never left after he died.
"Hi Thanh, is everything good to go?"
"Hey Captain Kim," He used her new title with a congratulatory smile and she smiled back, "Everything is fine here, I finished switching out the crates this morning." He gestured vaguely to the sealed crates bearing the Thalossacracy's logo. They contained crucial supplies for her journey.
"You know I'm going to get fired for this, right?" He said.
"Probably, but it's more likely they'll garnish your wages to pay for the losses. They only fire people if they need to make an example of them, you're valuable here."
"You say that, but I have a hard time believing it. You better come back with some freaking amazing treasure, alright?"
She kissed him quickly, "Alright, I'll bring back so much stuff, we'll be rich forever. Which is why I'm going to have my crew load the ship tonight. I want the ship loaded while the Secretary is at dinner. My father can shmooze him all he wants, I'll be working."
"Right." He said, a small amount of skepticism creeping into his voice.

She walked back to the dock where a brief discussion with the quartermaster revealed that the Secretary had indeed left for dinner and that she should join him. Instead, Kim told the quartermaster to assemble the crew, they would be loading the ship tonight. The quarter master, Yahui, protested Initially, but Kim managed to reassure her that they could leave later tomorrow. They had to get the work done first before they could celebrate, which was more than enough for Yahui to realize Kim's plan for the night. When the crew was assembled, Kim started issuing orders.
"Hey! Everyone behind me."
"Have thing!"
"Contain and prepare thing."
"Rest-thing-on water vehicle"
Along with more specific instruction for individual objects as they were moved from storage and onto the ship. Finally, after about an hor of work, during which she glanced up to see her father and the Secretary on the balcony, she finally issued what would be her last command for the night.
"Create Drunk Art!" which, of course, means to party. And that they did.

[Arulean States]

Liam Rooney
The Ivory Palace

It was almost fifteen years to the day since he had first been imprisoned in the place where immortals went to die. Liam woke up and ate the food the guards gave him, as he had every day since he was placed in this glittering prison. He certainly didn't resent being put in here. After all, he got any food he wanted (within reason), and he could sleep however long he wanted. Five years into his stay at the Ivory Palace, he had tried to sleep for a week, continuously. He had failed, as hunger drove him to get up after only a few days, but the point was, he had always wanted as much time as he could get, and not he had it. His favorite part was that he had access to enough books to fill the library of Alexandria, and he had the time to read each and every one of them.

But most of all, he enjoyed the sense of being which imprisonment had given him. He enjoyed the sense of satisfaction it gave him knowing the institutions in place to catch someone like him, and to keep him in the prison. And he enjoyed the sense of purpose he got from helping Viktor and the Imperium with their work. He knew his knowledge would go to waste otherwise, and so he decided to give it to the only people he could give it too.

In the first five years, he had tried to escape a number of times, first trying to bribe the guards, then, when that failed, trying to dig escape tunnels. He remembered the day he told a guard, "I'm gonna Shawshank Redemption this bitch." Evidently, someone had told the guards what this meant, as they searched his room the next day, and found the beginnings of his newest tunnel behind his bookshelf. His escape attempts had concluded with a reenactment of Chicken Run, using a spoon and a bedsheet. It took him about a week to give up on that idea; he discovered that. cartoon physics didn't translate well to the real world, and he was stuck when it came to building a working combustion engine.

Though he had realized how hopeless it was to plan escape, he still relentlessly planned for nearly five years straight. Not because he thought he could escape, but because he was dreadfully bored.

When the thrill of planning escape attempts subsided, he turned to other pursuits. He tried standup comedy, but the guards were a tough crowd. He tried finally writing a novel, but even with unlimited time, he couldn't sit down and concentrate long enough to put thought into ink. So, he spent the next few years amusing himself at the expense of his captors. Using some paper and light adhesive, he fashioned an approximate replica of the mask Hannibal Lecter wore in Silence of the Lambs. He had spent an entire month pretending to be Hannibal, and whenever a guard came to deliver food, Liam would suck air over his tongue and say in his best Anthony Hopkins voice, "Hello Clarice"

Evidently, that had freaked out the guards enough, because that stunt earned a personal visit from Viktor. Liam had agreed to stop tormenting his guards, so long as Viktor gave Liam something to do. Thus came Liam's cooperation with the Imperium, his chess matches with both Viktor and the guards, and the 'entertainments' Viktor sent to him.

Liam spent the next several years losing his humanity. Or pretending to, as best he could. He thought it was working, given the look in Viktor's eyes when he'd brought up the courtesan the last time he had visited. He was sorry about what he had done, but it had been necessary to sell the illusion that he was losing his sanity.

Then, one day, Liam woke up and got bored with playing an animal. When the guards delivered his meal, he requested utensils for the first time in a year. He had taken his time, placing a napkin on his lap after sitting. He said Philmont Grace before the meal, and ate using the utensils provided. He did his best to mimic what he remembered of upper-class etiquette, and ate slowly and deliberately.

Apparently, Liam's suddenly civilized manners concerned his captors, because around noon, a doctor arrived to check his health. Liam accepted the check-up, and then requested a razor to shave the months worth of facial hair he had grown. He sat at his desk for about an hour, writing a note. When he was done cleaning up, he walked to the door of his cell and said to the guards stationed there, "I'd like to see Viktor. I have a proposition for him."

The guard stepped forward and took the letter. Liam knew they would open it. Despite living as a prisoner docilely for over a decade, they still did not trust him. The guard looked at the letter apprehensively, "I'll see that those who need it get the letter."

"Good," Liam replied. He began to walk back into the cell, but stopped and turned back to the guard, "Oh, and don't bother trying to read it. You'll just end up hurting yourself."

Liam smiled to himself, knowing the headaches the letter would give people. He'd written it in the most difficult language he could think of: Gaelic.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Central Hall, Kingdom of Jan, Southern Nubia
Third of November

The assembled kings and warlords looked from one to another, before Master Lakal spoke slowly, his voice one of consideration.

"The men of Egypt too come with words of honey, saying that for only a small price, a tribute of overlordship, they will leave my lands in peace. Their arm has grown long, to smite the fortresses that we raised generations ago to stand against them- but their arm is not yet so long, I think, that they wish for war to the hilt. We are many, just as they are many, and the roads back north are few. Their master, the Councilor, demands a gift of earth and water and gold, to show that I accept the will of their Pharoah as my own."

Lakal sipped lightly of the cup of date wine that sat before him before continuing.

"You offer weapons. This is good." A gesture towards the crossbow that the man of the Inocrypto had laid upon the council table. "These weapons I have seen before, we have taken from those Thebans we have slain. They are a fine weapon for those who cannot wield a bow, but of little worth to those who can. What they could accomplish in our war with the Thebans I see little- their great rock-throwers and numbers are more of a threat than their ability to shoot a few archers. We are not called the People of the Bow for nothing."

King Kasmi had been frowning through the exchange, and smiled nastily once the Master had finished.

"Yes, even so. You would have us send barges of bronze and silver south simply for inferior bows and the training of men who haven't fought since the days of their forefathers. I call this a bad deal, one which would make a merchant cry fraud."

[Ralnis]

Central Hall, Kingdom of Jan, Southern Nubia
Third of November

The assembled kings and warlords looked from one to another, before Master Lakal spoke slowly, his voice one of consideration.

"The men of Egypt too come with words of honey, saying that for only a small price, a tribute of overlordship, they will leave my lands in peace. Their arm has grown long, to smite the fortresses that we raised generations ago to stand against them- but their arm is not yet so long, I think, that they wish for war to the hilt. We are many, just as they are many, and the roads back north are few. Their master, the Councilor, demands a gift of earth and water and gold, to show that I accept the will of their Pharoah as my own."

Lakal sipped lightly of the cup of date wine that sat before him before continuing.

"You offer weapons. This is good." A gesture towards the crossbow that the man of the Inocrypto had laid upon the council table. "These weapons I have seen before, we have taken from those Thebans we have slain. They are a fine weapon for those who cannot wield a bow, but of little worth to those who can. What they could accomplish in our war with the Thebans I see little- their great rock-throwers and numbers are more of a threat than their ability to shoot a few archers. We are not called the People of the Bow for nothing."

King Kasmi had been frowning through the exchange, and smiled nastily once the Master had finished.

"Yes, even so. You would have us send barges of bronze and silver south simply for inferior bows and the training of men who haven't fought since the days of their forefathers. I call this a bad deal, one which would make a merchant cry fraud."

The general was about to speak until the ambassador asked for the repeating one. He huffed and complied to get one from the riders.

" The ones the Theabans used are crude, not the ones our Executive and our craftsmen knew of. They take too long to pull back, good with the force but any master archer can put more arrows in the air as his muscles allow it. Inocrypto ones are much more refined, allow for a latch on the top that can be pulled back and bolt shot much faster. This version goes to both lighter and heavier versions, allowing for riders to fire a crossbow with just as much accuracy and reload as a master archer. Speaking about riders."

Gesturing to the outside window. Riders were on camel back were practicing their marksmanship with crossbows. Their accuracy was good as elite warriors should be. Others were practicing with crossbows that fire bolts in wooden blocks and they were pulling a bottom lever to pull the string and fire the bolt. Finally, the last one came from long-range, longer than other wielder, the crossbows had scopes on them and were of the heavy variant and they were behind mock cover and fired from in defense.

There was also catapults and other supplies for building more advance siege weapons. Among those were also some men carrying iron shovels and measuring things that looked extremely careful to keep away from fire or water, instead mixing the black substance with oil and put in strange pots or barrels that are closely guarded.

" We have brought our best and also allies to help us. Of course we brought better weapons than just the normal crossbow," The general came back and handed a repeating crossbow to him.

" This is one of the weapons that we have developed. A repeating version that excels in defending walls and fortresses. These can kill many a conscript and the poison on them can make sure that, if they survive, their injuries are fatal. However, we also offer our own rock throwers, even ones that can throw rocks further than the Egyptians but it will take time to build those. To counter horses, we offer camels. While slower than the horse, their very sight and smell can turn back many a chariot."

[G-Tech Corporation]

Part 6, Chapter 10: Hammer and Iron

September 2nd, 100 AG

Harald took up his warhammer as the captain barked his perfunctory commands to form up. It had a familiar weight in his hands- it had better, having traveled with him over the better part of a continent and beyond. Still, the young man from the shores of the Baltic Sea was comforted by that weight. It was a ward against a hostile world, the answer to an argument which had come to blows, and his own. At a trot Harald moved through the column, battle formations shifting around him and the rest of the 6th Iron Guards, helmet held under one arm as he and the rest of the company moved to the fore of the army.

There the Lord-Commander sat on his dun black roan, observing the enemy through a set of field optics while talking a streak of orders that turned the air blue about him. When the blonde-haired warrior had first heard one of the most powerful men in the Imperium swearing like a sailor his ears had burned with embarrassment, but now he took it in stride, passing by the command section without scarcely a sideways glance. The one look he did spare caught Hather's eyes, and the soldier was bemused to notice a strong wink from the normally dour commander. But, as he got over the shock and strode forward with his companions, Harald supposed the idea was clear enough; Lord-Commander Hather was a man of the field, of military might, and most at home and jovial in his element. The campaign north and east into the petty Lake-King had been a formality really, a giant boxer crushing a weakling. Indeed, Harald had had to spar heavily just to maintain his fighting edge- against the firepower the 13th could muster, scarcely a conflict had had to be resolved hand to hand.

That changed today. Intelligence sources within the state of Ego had reported the rumor that the warriors of that nation-state were confident they could fight soldiers of the Great Anchor fist and blade, if they could close the distance. It was one of the few things that had maintained military morale, alongside victories in the interior of Lagoai Governate, in the face of dire news of defeats and retreats from their ally. The Lake-King had been strong enough to break away from Ego during their intercidal conflict a generation ago, and his armies had folded in less than a campaign season; the clear lesson of that conflict was that the foe which Ego faced today in the field was terrible, and outside of the context of any other with which that kingdom had ever been troubled.

Now that rumor would be laid to rest. Harald formed up with the rest of the Iron Guards by captains, their ranks four men deep and fifty abreast, a glittering wall of steel plate-mail. Unlike most of the soldiers of the Great Company, who made do with curiasses, light armoring on the arms and legs, and a moiron, the Iron Guards were clad head to toe in the some of the finest wrought Maran steel, still bearing the soot swirls of its manufacture that made it so superior to even the crucible or blast-cast varieties. It was a weight which the warriors like Harald had been trained to bear since their youth, recruited from the Schola for their aggressive and disciplined dispositions, and the soldiers relished it.

Inside such armor, a man felt invincible, and indeed, he very nearly was. A rifle could pierce it, at close range, and shot discomfit it, but the light arms that these savages and heathens bore could scarce penetrate the outer plate with a lucky strike, and certainly not the layers of protection beneath that formidable outer shell. The Baltic man's visor was still raised, as it would be until the two forces began to close, and so he had a good view of the battlefield- some poor herders or farmers must have lived here not too long ago, perhaps fleeing before the 13th's advance. The first thing that struck him, really, was how small and puny the soldiers lining up across the field from the Great Company seemed. It was one thing to know that most of the world had little concept of nutrition or sanitation, another to see veritable dwarves playing at soldiers in their ramshackle coats of mail and hauberks.

But the briefing had mentioned that. These were conscripts, drawn from the city of Chicago on the shores of the Great Lakes, stiffened by a core of regulars from the local lord, but only a core. Most of the several thousand men that had been drawn up in opposition to Hather's drive to the west were little better than farmers, laborers, herders. Many bore spears, a testament to the relative industry of the nascent nation-state here in the Americas, but no armor aside from tunics and the occasional leather vest. They would let like hot butter before either rifle fire or properly armed troops.

They were not the men the Iron Guards were positioned opposite though. There stood warriors in heavy iron mail, swords and pikes at the ready, eyes battle-hardened and trained, if worried. In their midst was a man on a tall horse, one of the few beasts to have come this far west from Europe, and across the distance Harald could barely make out his lips moving in what the warrior was certain was a moving harangue of his servants.

That's our objective, men. bellowed Captain Barleyman, and Harald nodded to himself.

It was straightforward enough. Pull down the lord, and the sheep would scatter. A stratagem as old as warfare, and one that would eloquently demonstrate to the warriors of Ego precisely how outmatched they were fighting the forces of the Emperor of Mankind. They would try to stop that happening with everything in their arsenals, of course, but that didn't matter. Harald and the rest of the Guards were the Emperor's Hammer, and they would shatter any obstacle placed in the path of that victory.

The engagement opened scarcely a minute later, when the roar of artillery from the rear echoed like a thunderclap over the Balt's head. This was a sparse bombardment, meant to frighten and provoke more than destroy, but it did its job- after the first few shells burst in the enemy lines, skirmishers began trotting forwards from the army of Ego, clearly intending to answer the devastating ranged firepower that had been hurled against their fellows. An order came from behind Harald, and he turned aside in a practiced motion, smiling broadly at one of the rangers who themselves loped up in front of the main force. The man briefly made an obscene gesture in Harald's direction, but the dun green-and-brown hauberk of the rifleman swallowed him up almost as soon as Harald stepped back into place in the lines.

A brisk crackle of gunfire began, and here and there a desultory bolt or two was flung back against the Emperor's soldiers. Crossbows, a nasty surprise if the Lord-Commander hadn't been expecting them. But even wielded with great skill they were scarce a match for proper firearms, outranged by a devastating order and not near comparable in lethality. It was only a few minutes after the bombardment had begun that the lines of the enemy skirmishers began streaming back towards their fellows, broken by the marksmen of the 13th, those that lived to retreat.

That was the moment Hather must have been waiting for. The rumble of drums came from behind the Guards, and Barleyman stepped off in an instant, the rest of the company only a heartbeat behind their captain. Running full tilt in the plate of a Guard was not for the faint-hearted, or the wise, but the brisk trot that Barleyman took up ate up the yards at speed, Harald jogging alongside his fellows, his warhammer held at the ready in both hands. Not all of his compatriots carried the same heavy weapon- some men favored greatswords, and wicked long-maces, or axes the size of a man's torso. Swiftly the enemy lines swelled in size, and behind Harald the heavy drums beat wild and fierce in the martial tattoo of the Emperor's Benediction, or, as the Iron Guards liked to call it, the Slaughter-Song.

Bolts and arrows fell lightly about the advancing company, and down Harald's visor came. It would have been too much to ask, of course, that the enemy skirmishers had all been slain in the exchange. A few more shells fell before the attackers, obviously directed by field observers to where the men of Ego were firing on the shock-company, but then they were nearly upon the foe and the barrage fell silent. Today was a statement, more than the ranged decimation of the foe would have been.

A glance behind confirmed that the rest of the Great Company was closing at a similar trot, ranks of gleaming bayonets, shields, and pikes visible in the low summer sun. Sweat started behind Harald's brow, soaked up by the leather cloth of the gambeson cap, the distance closing with the warriors of the false kingdom. They rattled shields and beat their weapons against each other in a great clamor of martial pride, but it was clear that they were unnerved by the silent host approaching them at speed. No sound did the Iron Guards make as they closed the distance.

And then it was all sound and fury.

Up came Harald's hammer, sweeping aside an outhrust spear. Another spear glided harmlessly off of his breastplate, and then the warhammer came down, spike first. It crushed through the iron cap the soldier in front of the Balt wore effortlessly, genuine steel meeting its inferior cousin, and the man fell boneless. A shoulder lowered, Harald bowled over the man behind the first, making the most of the impetus of the charge and the men behind him. His second cut down another howling barbarian, greatsword bisecting the man from shoulder to hip, and Harald pressed forward, armored fist taking a bearded savage square in the face and sending him sprawling. A snarling warrior swung a sword clumsily and fruitlessly in the confined space against the side plates of Harald's suit, and then the blunt side of the warhammer came up under his jaw, snapping his head back and crushing his teeth up into his skull.

Around Harald the press moved forward, disciplined, blades swinging from behind the first rank freeing up the warriors room to heft their heavy weapons, and wherever a blow fell and connected a soldiers bearing the sigil of Ego died. Their crude iron plates were no match for the impetus of their betters, and head and shoulders over the enemy Harald stood, feeling a vengeful giant more than a mere man. It was hot butcher's work for a minute, and then the assault was over, the foemen broken, dead, dying, or fleeing through their fellows to the rear. Tybault, one of the Balt's squad, leaned over, chest heaving, greataxe rested against the bloodsoaked earth.

"Teach them to stand and fight, that's for sure."

Looking at the carpet of bodies littering the ground near the Iron Guards, Harald could only nod in agreement.

[Achidyemay]

38.1.6
Port Nan

Kim was a bit bleary eyed as she and her crew stood before the Secretary and her father. The latter of which was responsible for the role call. Apparently it was his wish to further extend the pageantry of the affair, since he had refused to hand over the specific trade contract until this morning, 3 wates of apparel in exchange for 3 wates of tea. The 3 wates of apparel had been dumped the night prior, but Kim accepted the contract with a smile and formal bow. She glanced sidelong to where the local cartographer-turned-artist-apparent was capturing the moment. He was terrible with people, and she was confident her proportions would come out wrong.

"Out having fun last night?" the Secretary asked with a wink, "you should've invited me."
"We weren't drinking the smoothest mead in Long Lang, you were better off with my father."
At this the Secretary laughed, a high, sharp cry that was as brief as it was loud. "You are looking a bit rough around the edges, I'm glad you took the time to load the ship before you went out drinking. You'll make a great Captain." They fistbumped.
"I'm so proud of you." Was all her father said as they embraced.
"Thanks, Dad," Kim replied. She was starting to cry a bit, realizing that she was a Captain now and her life would be a far ranging one. Those tears didn't lighten when she saw her mother was also crying, when they embraced, her mother kissed her, and whispered a garbled prayer to the saints to protect her.


38.1.15
East Coast of Hainan

Quarter Master Yahui seemed tense, her mouth pulled into a deep frown. "How much farther do you intend to go, Captain?"
"As far as we need to, as far as we can. I understand your concern but I am the last person who wants to lose this boat, I promise you."
"My concern is less for the boat and more for the people who dwell within it. You supplied extra rations, this was all very smart, but we're going to need to make landfall eventually, and I'd rather do it before we need to, if that makes any sense."
Kim turned away, then turned back, then turned away again. She didn't want to waste time hunting and fishing and gathering supplies if they didn't need to be, but it was probably a good idea to be preemptive about this sort of thing.
"Fine," she eventually relented, "if I can find a good spot, we'll stop for the while. Have you lead a foraging expedition before?"
"Of course, we're not all as new to this as you are, Captain."


38.1.25
Tai Tam Bay

The air was cool and crisp as Kim reached the summit of the large hill overlooking the bay. The long yellow grasses whispered occasionally, but only talked about the wind. Kim had witnessed a few humans scurry further inland when her ship had pulled into the bay and she took out her spyglass now to see if there were any more to be found. All that remained however were a few small footpaths leading down to the water. This had been their third resupply, and things were far from getting urgent. Bellow her, the ship rocked gently in the small waves. The sun glittered along the surface of the water as Kim looked back out to the sea. The sun was limp in the southern sky and Kim rested her back against a spindly plum tree. It was far past the harvest time, but she found herself picking at a desiccated prune from the ground anyway.
"If I were a large empire civilization ruled by a spirit man, where would I be?"


49.4.3
The Floating City

"You're rubbish at this game."
"I didn't grow up playing it!"
"What do you mean? You invented it!"
Everett was stickfighting with Bailiff Theram, a young kid with the blackest eyes Everett had ever seen. He was also losing pretty handily at the marshal art. The addition of open handed strikes had caught him entirely by surprise and he found himself once again in the awkward position of everyone else improving upon his original plans. Everett would be entirely sore by the time the sun set and the lanterns were lit and he was buying Theram supper. They wouldn't get to eat together however, as a runner came to Everett with correspondence from his wife. He had been discussing a grand trade campaign into Bangledesh with her, and she was less than thrilled with the proposal. Clearly she had found out that he was putting plans into place behind her back. Everett walked to the headquarters.

The entry room reeked of tallow candles and Everett immediately greeted a representative he recognized from long lang.
"Heya pal, what's the news, what's the word, from the East?"
The boss' initial grimace was forced into a tight smile, Everett was surprised that it all fit. "Nothing is wrong in Long Lang. We just need to invest more in the North."
"Hmm yesss...." Everett's eyes squinted in concentration. "Port Nan, or Lan... San?-"
"Nan."
"Yeah, Nan, was pretty far North already, and tea isn't worth expanding that way much."
"But there are kingdoms to the North, untold riches and trading opportunities abound!"
Everett stroked his beard.
"True, true, I've heard this story before and I'm sure it's true, trading with China is generally a good thing. Get some goddamn plastic in here at least."
"What was that last part, sir?"
"Nothing."
"Anyway, we were looking to expand the node more, but the Commandant there lost his daughter after appointing her Captain, he's an absolute wreck. I feel for the guy, but he needs to move on."
"He lost her?"
"Yeah, she left on a standard trade deal and is currently MIA."
"I thought you said everything was fine in Long Lang."
"That's part of my business here, if we want to push North, we need more support from, well, you, we'll slap him with an injunction or force his removal and then we can continue full force, I think, with-"
"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" Huệ shrieked from the stairs. The Representative was quick to dismiss himself.
"I-" was all Everett could get out.
"I own this city, darling, you cannot keep these secrets from me. No matter how hard you try. Switching labels like that is a criminal offence and that stunt you pulled with Undersecretary Kanda could've gotten you arrested and her fired had she not noticed the discrepancy. But worse than all that is that you think it's okay to be gallivanting off doing who-know-what who-knows-where like you're not too old to be doing this!"
"I'm sorry Huệ, I guess I just assumed you would be here when I got back."
"You never do think do you?"
What remained of the office staff this late had stopped their work to watch the scene. Everett approached and then hugged his wife, she let it happen but didn't reciprocate.
"I'll love you forever, I'll love you for always," Everett said, scooping up one of the most powerful 68 year old women in the Eastern hemisphere. "I'm not going to leave you. I'm sorry, you're right, you're always right."
He started to carry her out, motioning an undersecretary to follow. They got inside one of the companies rickshaws and Everett told the undersecretary to order them Khanom Sai Sai and have it delivered.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Campaign Progress - September

Wisconsin Front - First Spear

After inconclusive fighting in central Wisconsin, the First Spear's assault begins to make serious progress as pressure in the central fronts draws soldiers and units of Ego south and away from the minor Wisconsin theater. With the League of the Great Sky apparently content to remain neutral in the ongoing conflict, the numerical superiority and relative proximity of supply infrastructure to Ego's ongoing campaign is telling, and casualties are lopsided as conscripts from within Blue Lagoon itself prove unable to stop the advance from the Great Lakes. Fighting dies down towards midsummer, as the major border regions have fallen to Ego's military onslaught, and the relatively unpopulated regions of the Great Plains beyond are not infiltrated, as the generals of Ego are unwilling to commit extensive military assets to such strategically unimportant areas.

Border Regions of Wisconsin seized - Light Casualties on both sides

Indiana Front - Second Spear

Though heavily opposed by guerrilla fighters from Blue Lagoon, over the course of the spring and summer campaign seasons the vast army from Chicago managed to take most of the main routes towards the capitol of their southern foe- casualties are moderate, due to the tactics used by the Elites and Turner's regulars, but with such hit-and-run tactics generally unsuited to untrained soldiers fighting wars of maneuver, progress is steady. By the start of fall the Second Spear stands poised to begin the task of cutting off Indianapolis from reinforcements from across Blue Lagoon, and though their supply lines are steadily harassed, their current provisions are enough for a protracted siege. With resistance stiffening, more Regulars and cannon being deployed as the Second Spear approaches the strategic city, the pace of the advance has slowed, but continues.

Route to Indianapolis seized - corridor under pressure - Medium Ego casualties, Heavy Blue Lagoon casualties

Indiana Front - Third Spear

Moving on a more eastern track than the Second Spear, and supported by the raiders from the Lake-King in places, the Third Spear's swathe through Blue Lagoon and Indiana is swift and bloody. With orders to burn all that cannot be seized, supplies are tight where battles are protracted, and losses to disease in the encampments are nearly equivalent to those casualties taken in the field as the defenders of Blue Lagoon engage only seldom around major settlements and trade land for time. Towards summer the forces of the Third Spear encounter a new foe- Outriders from Blue Lagoon's master, the Imperium of Man. Though more knowledgeable of the terrain, their reliance on massed volleys and large formations of conscripts supported with cannons proves ineffective against the dragoons, whose weapons outrange all but the heaviest guns and whose lethal weight of fire is capable of annihilating isolated formations in minutes. These casuatlies mount, but the assault of the Third Spear continues; ultimately, a few hundred soldiers who will not stand and fight cannot hold cities, and by the time of the first chill in the air the Third Spear stands fifty miles north-and-east of Indianapolis, unable to link up with their countrymen in the Second Spear due to heavy fortifications and stiffening resistance. With the Lake-King's forced recalled to fight the Great Company in the Dominion, harassment on their supply lines is heavy, and provisions are beginning to run low, primarily gunpowder, Summersoul, and crossbow bolts.

Swathe of Indiana seized - moderate casualties - campaign stopped short of Indianapolis

[House Dayne of Star fall]

I. The Rise of a New Dawn - 1. Sunrise

Lewis blinked. One moment he was on his computer, writing a post for an internet forum, and the next he was looking at a bright sun rising up from the eastern sky. It took him a second to realize what he was seeing. He blinked again, had he fallen asleep at his desk again? That has got to be it, he looked around, smelt the smells of fertile soil and the smell of salty ocean water. Well, he might as well explore what his imagination came up with this time. He got up from the rock he was sitting on. He looked around the flat land for a better view-point.

A worrying thought was nagging at his mind, but he pushed it away. This was just a dream, but his instincts were disagreeing with his head, something was wrong. He pushed it away from his thoughts, and starts walking towards a large hill he sees a few hundred meters away. After a moment, he was standing at the top of this small hill and saw green farmland, bordered by two larger rivers. And beyond the green fields, as far as the eye could see there was desert, great horizon filling amounts of white desert. The area reminded him of a polished gemstone sitting in a white cloth in some display somewhere. It was truly beautiful.It seemed so similar, yet he did not recognize it by name. He racked his mind, it was an astonishing view, but he did not know why this place had come to his imagination, it seemed beautiful to be created by a brain such as his.

He saw a village, seeming to be at nearly the center of all the fields that are dotting around these rivers. He began a trek to this village, again the thoughts that this wasn't a dream started to appear again. He soon found a road, sun-baked stone, which seemed to lead to the direction of the fields. He walked alone, for miles and miles, when he was close, he met a caravan, they were venturing out into desert roads. He stopped to talk with them.

"Hello, where am I?" Lewis spoke, not in English as he had intended, but in a strange language he had never heard.

"This is Aronos, we are the first people." The caravan leader responded, "However, there is something strange about you, you are different, I feel something about you. You are an outsider. You are as pale as the sands that surround us."

"Are you a part of my dream?" Lewis stared at the man, trying to see if there was something, anything that would go to show that he is not real.

The man gave him a curious look, but walked away, Lewis was even more confused, where was he being led? He kept walking the path, walking and walking before coming upon the city. The sun was high in the sky as he reached the town, it seemed to be decent sized, if not very ancient seeming.

As he entered the town, people noticed him, he looked very out of place, and they looked at him strangely. He ignored the looks, but the hairs on his neck started to raise. He remembered what the caravan man had said, that he was different in some way. His instincts were going off, even his logical brain was feeling the vibes that there was something wrong. This wasn't a dream, it was something else. He wasn't sure how he knew this, but he knew that these people were real; everything he has seen is real. He fainted, out in the middle of the square.

Lewis now enters a dream, it seemed prophetic.

Lewis sat in front of a golden palace, sat on the hill he first saw the rivers from. The village had become a city worthy to host an empire, and the farmlands had spread to as far as he could see. He felt power surging through him, golden light streaming from his body. He was the Dawn, he would bring light to this kingdom.

Then he woke...

[G-Tech Corporation]

Part 6, Chapter 11: Skyfire

October 14th, 100 AG

My eyes slid sideways to sneak a glance at the expression of Nasar where he stood placid in his chariot. It was a bit of a look down, given that the wheeled contraption the chief warrior of Uruk had scraped up stood perhaps two feet off of the ground compared to my own position on the back of my destrier, but I wasn't inclined to let him know that. Nasar had proven fair, but touchy about his opinions on Uruk herself- and now his face looked as if he had bitten down on something distinctly unpleasant in his morning gruel.

I didn't blame him for that expression, though it did cause the faintest ghost of a smile to cross my own face as I looked back out over the verdant plains of Mesopotamia. Uruk prided herself on martial strength and the force of arms she could wield. The Graf Zeppelin, where it hung in the morning sky, gave a lie to those boasts in an instant. It was never easy for any man to swallow his pride, less so when his pride had been very particularly deflated.

Another low boom from the floating warship, and a flower of fire blossomed in the ranks of the massed Ubaidi warriors. Speaking with the priest-king had not revealed exactly where the interloping army hailed from, but at the end of the day it hadn't really mattered. They were a demonstration, an example given in flesh and bone and blood. They could have been cattle, for all I cared; here, atop the low hill of Uruk, you couldn't hear the screams or the wails of terror, or the desperate voices of their chiefs urging them forward.

They deserved credit, really, for staunch hearts and bollocks that would need wheelbarrows to move from place to place. In their sandals I certainly wouldn't have continued that slow remorseless march towards the host of Uruk, not with my fellows falling about me from consuming fire and splintering iron while a harbinger of doom hung in the sky. But, then again, sometimes ignorance had a strength all her own; where I appreciated that the Graf could hang there for days, discharging death uncounted on their lines, they were not aware of her capabilities. The soldiers from whichever city-state had taken issue with Uruk could march forward trusting the words of their commanders that the evil presence would soon depart, and then victory was theirs.

But still, men could only stomach so much. The bombardment did not cease, the light five-pounder piece of the zeppelin speaking in its slow rhythmic paean of bloody murder without pausing for breath or mercy, and anon the host was only so many masses of warriors fleeing back east the way they had come. I made a mental note to compliment Captain Storvich on his gunners- the methodical way that their shells had dismantled the enemy force was to be commended, targeting clusters of nobles and leaders first and foremost to break the enemy's will to fight.

"So, your sky-bird can kill an army. This I have seen."

Ah, the statue had a voice. I assumed a neutral expression, after the manner these men seemed to hold most reputable, and nodded gravely.

"I do not deceive you, Lord Nassar, in saying that it could do more than this indeed. That was but one of the death-spitters which it bears, a light version meant for those sky-birds which must travel a great distance. Those which range across the interior of the lands I come from, those who require less fuel and time above the ground, can level a city in hours."

An exaggeration, and, as it happened, a deception. Certainly the few military airships the Imperium possessed could be more heavily armed, if they did not need to fly for a long distance or carry provisions, but even with three small pieces aboard the largest, the Compeller, a city would be a tall order. They were remarkably difficult things to dismantle from the air, especially if you had to carry your ammunition in a lighter-than-air vessel.

Not that Nassar needed to know that.

"My master will have seen this display. What, then, do you wish of him, Hegemon?"

"My request is simple- that he exempt our traders from the market-fees, and offer a pledge of protection to any who should travel or live in his lands. There is much profit to be gained for both of us if the doors of commerce are opened, and with our backing you have nothing to fear from the other lords of the Two Rivers."

The commander nodded slowly, his dour expression almost unreadable, but I was confident. Months taken to identify the right combination of king and kingdom for this offer, to gain a foothold here in the cradle of civilization, and here it was accomplished. Traders would come, few of course, but in time their numbers would grow. Missionaries would come as well, and the fabric of Mesopotamia would come to integrate the Imperium, until in vanished decades or centuries hence none would think of the two as disparate. It was a plot long conceived, though its fathers were many, and its siblings likewise numerous. Such stratagems had served the Emperor of Man across a world, and I saw no need to deviate from them now.