The Holy Unified Republics of Romalia
Capital City of Romalia
Grave of the Founder
Office of the...
Capital City of Romalia
Grave of the Founder
Office of the...
Five Elements: Travelers of the Void (ZnT)
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The Holy Unified Republics of Romalia
Capital City of Romalia
Grave of the Founder
Office of the Pope
Two letters set on the desk before the young man. One fresh from the decoders, a message from the field in the distant sky. The other was an official diplomatic message from the palace of the green country. He did not know which he liked less.
The former had flown in on an messenger bird a mere two hours ago. Considering that it came from what was supposed to be the depths of a warzone, the young Pope had been surprised that it had been sent by bird at all. After all, birds were typically targeted in such situations, no matter what side they might come from. Even with victory close at hand, the rebels would surely want to control messages sent out. Besides which, his aide was supposed to deliver his final report on this matter in person. That he had ignored this command, as plain by the code and handwriting, rather than return on schedule, did not bode well.
The Pope decided that this would be the first trial he'd face. The situation in the war ravaged flying country of Albion took priority over whatever the Tristanian princess and her pet cardinal saw to put before him.
A Report To His Holiness Pope Vittorio Serevare of Romalia, St. Aegis the 32nd and Shield of the Founder, from his loyal Adjunct, Commoner Priest Ser Julio Chesare of Romalia.
It is with apologies that I send this report by bird rather than person, however I have been forced by circumstance to remain as the Church's observer. I made this judgment based on the fact that the side I was observing is routing en masse.
Vittorio had reread that line several times to make sure he was not mistaken. "Routing... but at last report the Royalists had been driven to New Castle." This was problematic: the Church had been moving forward with the idea that the rebel victory was imminent and that the Church leaders would need to gather in the Grave to consider how to integrate the newborn Ascended Commonwealth of Albion into the current system once the Albionese royals had been executed.
Though I am sure it is difficult to believe, as I myself can scarcely comprehend it, but the Royalists have been delivered by foreign aide.
Vittorio glanced briefly at the still sealed letter from the Tristanians, "...No, they do not have the forces for such a thing."
Indeed, I do not believe 'foreign' can fully describe the aide in question... however I assure you, what I describe is absolute fact, confirmed by my own eyes.
They came down from the sky, from far above even Albion, as I was relaxing on the back of Azzurro, trailing at the back of the Commonwealth forces. It was an army but not those of the loyalists... nor of any nation I know. This army consisted of a full hundred gigantic steel golems, each of which floated above the ground, as heedless of gravity as Albion itself, plus another much larger than the rest, of particularly rotund shape.
An attempt was made by a particularly brave rebel noble to hail these golems. The apparent leader of their number, that unique specimen, floated above the rest and responded in a voice that boomed across the field through some sound strengthening magic. It spoke in highly basic Romalian, as if it were a particularly poorly trained diplomat, and had this to say:
"We are United Terran Systems. We help Wales and Henrietta. Surrender or die."
It was at this point that I decided I'd best separate myself from the Albionese and watch this play out from the sidelines. This turned out to be the correct choice, as the commander in charge of the Commonwealth's forces, General Thomas Pride decided that, being at the head of forty thousand men, he didn't need to fear one hundred anything, strange golems or otherwise. The fool bade his forces attack the newcomers.
What happened next, I shall never forget. Not in one year, not in ten years, not until I pass from this life. The hundred golems fanned out at a speed I could not have imagined of anything their size, forming a circle around the rebel host. Then... the hands of each shifted and folded, forming strange cylindrical shapes. And then, I swear, the musketfire began, for that's what their hands had become. Except each hand was many musketeers, a number beyond counting, firing at speeds unimaginable with no sign of reloading. They tore through the vast host, shredding it into many pieces. Men, women, and beasts died in droves... and then after only 10 seconds, they ceased fire.
Again the leader, who still floated apart and took no role in the slaughter sent out his message. "We are United Terran Systems. We help Wales and Henrietta. Surrender or die."
Of course, this time the message was ignored by many because sixty percent of their army had died in seconds, causing the rank and file to panic along with most of the animals. It was utter bedlam as they tried to escape... though that stopped quickly as the ring of golems fanned out again and dropped near the ground, enclosing the horde in. The beasts fled just fine, but any man or woman who tried to pass was quickly put down.
I tried to intervene on this as subtly as I could, guiding the animals through the humans from afar, but I did so minimally so as to protect classified information, save for the messenger bird I bid my way. Eventually it all stopped anyway, with the surviving Albionese kneeling with their arms in the air, surrounded by their dead, most of whom looked more like meat piles than actual corpses.
The leader of the golems finally came down, and this time pointed a finger to one part of the circle, "Mages there," it said, before pointing to the other side, "others there."
They couldn't hurry to obey fast enough... though I wonder if that was really to their benefit. A few moments later, what could only be a ship came down from the clouds where the golems had come from, landing in the ring amongst the dead and dying. It was a great hulk of steel just as the golems were, and the back of it opened up, becoming a ramp.
The lead golem spoke again. "Mages inside, others leave. Go to homes, go to fields. Do not fight again." With that, it suddenly turned to me, floating off in the distance, believing foolishly that I'd escaped notice. "Colors Romalian. Go to Wales and Henrietta. Location New Castle." I could only thank these colors you gave me to mark Azzurro for my continued existence. After that, the golems paid me no more mind.
The Albionese survivors were broken men and women all. The mages shuffled obediently on to that strange ship, while the commons simply broke ranks and were allowed to flee in any direction they wished. Once the last mage had been swallowed, the steel beast closed its jaws, and returned to the sky alongside the hundred and one golems.
After that, I made for the nearest village, grabbed the first pen and ink I could find, and now speed it your way. I pray this bird reaches you, Your Holiness, for you must believe and understand these things that I have witnessed. There is a new player on the board, and whether Tristain and the Royals called it, or it simply found them, the Church must change all plans. I do not know if there are secrets in the Grave that can protect us from what I have witnessed, but I hope I can at least prevent any conflict before it begins.
I beg of you Your Holiness, denounce the Commonwealth officially, and be wary.
The moment Vittorio read the last word, he tossed the report aside and tore open the second message. "Flying metal golems, muskets of untold power and speed, steel airships, just what have you done, little Henrietta and cursed, old Mazarin?"
From the Desk of her Royal Highness Henrietta de Tristain, Princess Regent and Heir to the throne of Tristain, to His Holiness Pope Vittorio Serevare of Romalia, St. Aegis the 32nd and Shield of the Founder
The nation of Tristan has recently come into diplomatic contact with the mighty nation known as the Terran Systems Alliance. Though its people hail from a distant land indeed, they have seen fit to answer Our call when Our cousin and ally, His Royal Highness Crown Prince Wales Tudor of Albion, would have soon succumbed to the forces of the heinous Oliver Cromwell and his Reconquista rebels. With their aid, it is Our firm belief that His Highness shall soon be able to retake Londinium, bury his late father, and take His rightful crown.
In exchange for this aid, We have offered Our new friends and allies help in the form of mediation. Specifically, We are calling for a Grand Council between the nations of the Kingdom of Tristania, the Ascended Monarchy of Albion, The Holy Unified Republics of Romalia, The Kingdom of Gallia, and the Germanian Empire.
We know that We can count on His Holiness to fulfill his obligation to aiding and abetting peace in the realm of men by joining this Council in Tristania, to convene in four week's time.
Vittorio stared at the page for a moment, then crumpled it into a ball.
It was a rare moment of frustration for the Romalian leader. "My Windalfr speaks of metallic death golems from beyond the sky and Henrietta the Humble all but commands the Pope's own presence at a meeting of her design, and in the Royal We no less. What madness is this?"
Together the letters independently confirmed, at least, the existence of some new player. "United Terran Systems..." The young pope considered it for a moment, and was quickly forced to a conclusion. "I shall have to go. If I do not see this meeting with my own eyes, there will be no purpose. And if I do not show up and the others do... it will seem as if Romalia is not living up to her obligations."
He couldn't help but smirk, "Is this Mazarin's hand? Or are you really so full of surprises little Princess? I suppose we shall see..." The smirk turned to a frown, "One can only hope it is their work, and not that of another."
---
The Kingdom of Gallia
Royal Palace of Versailles
Private Audience Chamber
"And so, having witnessed the decimation of Pride's forces through the Alviss I'd placed with him, I deemed the Albion occupation a lost cause," the kneeled figure finished.
Leaning back in his chair, King Joseph de Gallia placed his feet on the table in front of him, leaning back as he examined the ring in his fingers. "And so, like a good crow, you tore the shiny jewelry off poor old Cromwell's finger before flying back to the roost."
"...That is correct, Your Majesty. I also silenced Cromwell and destroyed records of our communications."
"But you didn't find the Founder's Music Box, is that right?"
The kneeling woman seemed to sink into the floor, the shame was so obvious, "Yes, forgive me my lord, I feared that if I remained, I would risk exposing us."
The shaggy king dismissed this, "It's fine, I don't care so much now. We know where the Founder's Round Mirror and Founder's Prayer Book are at least, and I'm sure that the Music Box will turn up, they're going to be turning Albion upside down after all this." The King reached into his coat, pulling out an envelope with a broken seal. "More interestingly, there's the matter of this little invitation."
"...An invitation, Your Majesty?" The woman asked, turning her face up to her summoner for the first time since the conversation started.
"She's called a Grand Council, which unfortunately I'm obliged to attend. Fortunately, it seems to center on the very metal friends you have informed me of mere moments ago."
Panic spread across the woman's face. "My lord, you must not go! If indeed the Tristanians command those titans, they shall surely destroy you!"
Joseph laughed, "Ah yes, and how the people would morn. And yet, I'm sure they'd find the strength to survive without me. Certainly, I have no attachment to my life, why should anyone? No Sheffield, I shall be going. It's... far too interesting."
"...As you say, Master Joseph."
----
Germanian Empire
Capital City of Vindobona
Imperial Hall of Emperor Albert III
"A new nation? What madness is this?" cried the Emperor, shaking the letter at his council. "From where I ask you, from where?"
"That we don't know, my Emperor," replied Spymaster Johannes von Rintelen, "but my informer of the Black Lodge stationed near Newcastle confirms strange metal ships and flying golems coming and going, interacting with the Royalists there."
"And what about this marriage of mine?" Albert asked.
Chancellor Mercurino Gattinara spoke up, "Sad to say My Emperor, but it is likely Tristain shall withdraw that offer. Without the Reconquista hanging over them, I doubt Mazarin is going to let his precious Princess wander into the arms of a Germanian, Emperor or no."
"Bah," the fat Emperor spat, before taking another swig of ale, "always the hard truth with you Gattinara. Fine then, they lay the rug out for us, but shame on us if we get it swept out from under us. Guess we'll know for sure at this damned Council."
"Then you will be attending?" Supreme Commander Eugen von Savoyen asked.
"Course I'll be attending!" The Emperor snapped, causing the military man to recoil slightly, "Can't let these Brimiric bastards thinking we're some side show. They sent us an invite, so I'm going to go. Otherwise I'd just be sitting here, drinking and whoring myself into an early grave."
Naught but silence met that remark.
The night sky was alight, but there were few stars to be seen. Such was the sight that greeted Vittorio as his carriage, and those that followed it, rolled towards the capital of Tristan two nights before the day of the Grand Council.
Great lights rose up from the city, which was surrounded by a variety of odd metal structures placed on the ground, as well as the ships and golems that his familiar and aide had described, which flew through the night sky, all of them covered in what appeared to be mage lights. The area surrounding Tristania had become a star unto itself, and the light blocked out the heavens.
Above it all, and as the young Pope noted, whilst sitting alone in his carriage, directly above the palace itself, floated the greatest of this metal menagerie, a great bulk of steel which doubtlessly took the work of many mages... or so some might think.
Some, but not Vittorio. With his secret power, his "World Gate," he had gazed beyond the veil of time and space, and seen a "land without magic," one dominated by smoothed stone and mass produced steel and glass. That place did not have the power of the host gathered around Tristania, and yet with time perhaps... well, such was speculation.
"I fear what you may have called down on us in your haste to save your prince, Henrietta...."
---
After the Pope came in the night, the mad king of Gallia arrived the next morning. In contrast to the young holy leader, who came with a small entourage of cardinals and the servants who attended them, the ruler of Halkegenia's second largest nation seemed a sight almost as strange as Tristania's occupiers. Though a monarch who was rich beyond the wildest dreams of all but a few, he drove his own carriage, and within the carriage, should anyone look, was nothing but a few pieces of luggage which he'd packed and loaded himself.
Well, he wasn't known as a mad king without reason.
"Up, down, and all around they go, faster than any airship, and without any sails to speak of, what a laugh." Joseph deadpanned, enjoying (for lack of a better word) not having to fake actual amusement. "The little girl claims she sent me an invitation, but I get the feeling she's a guest in her own palace, if this is-" his musings were brought to an abrupt halt when a golem dropped down from above and blocked the road. After bringing his panicked horse under control, the king raised a hand and hailed the metal titan, "Greetings to you!"
The golem's single eye stared at Joseph, a crafted face that betrayed no emotion, but a voice echoed out from it which seemed perfectly human, if a bit stilted. "Hello. Please state your business in coming to Tristania."
They're running checkpoints? My, that seems to confirm who's running this show. All the same... The Gallic monarch produced his invitation from an inner pocket and waved in the air with the royal seal of Tristan in plain sight, "My business is likely quite bad my friend, but then, official business usually is. King Joseph de Gallia's the name."
The golem was quiet for a moment, then floated to one side and indicated the distant city gate, "Your invitation seems official, and you match the description. Orders are to inform you that there will be no meeting with Henrietta before the Grand Council, and that the Pope of Romalia has arrived already. You will stay in the palace. Continue."
Joseph stared into the unblinking glass construct of the checkpoint guard's eye for a moment, then shrugged and put the letter away, urging his horse forward. Once a fair distance from the checkpoint, he resumed his theorizing. "The Princess isn't greeting a fellow monarch, her city is occupied and guarded by clearly superior forces, and every ruler on the continent is set to be in the heart of all this by tomorrow. I am coming because I can't honestly say I'd care much if I get caught in what appears to be a deathtrap. I can however say that I can't imagine why that sneaky little priest dared crawl out of his fortress... not that I can imagine said fortress availing him of much."
Joseph cast an empty eyed gaze skyward at the enormous ship casting its shadow over Tristan's capital, "I suppose I'll find out tomorrow. Hm... I wonder if the drunkard will make a showing?"
----
That very evening, said drunkard, the Germanian Emperor, found his whole host blocked by five of the flying golems.
"I repeat," said the golem in the center of the line, "You have brought too many people. Send some back, or you will go no further."
"And I repeat," countered Emperor Albert III, his head sticking out of the window of the royal coach, "Piss off, I don't take orders from you."
"Your Majesty," a weary chancellor Gattinara offered, "Just send back a few coaches, the palace shall have accommodations enough to not require our full-"
"Oh save it Mercurino," Commander Savoyen interrupted, "It's a waste of time and you know it."
"Right!" Albert sloshed, taking another swig from his trusty mug, "I'm an Emperor, and if the Brimirics or whatever the hell these people are think I'm not going to show it-"
The Emperor's rant was interrupted by a piercing screeching from the lead golem, which caused nobles and servants alike in the grand train of coaches from Germania to cover their ears for the few seconds it went on.
"What in hell's bells was that?" Screamed the Emperor, leaning back out the window.
"I have regained your full attention to deliver this message: Our superiors have authorized a show of demonstrative force. Please, be alarmed in an orderly fashion." As multiple nobles went for their wands, the golem shot into the sky and turned to face the forest off the roadside. After reaching a height where it would be visible to the entire Germanian delegation, it stretched out a hand and fired a single ball of light towards the nearby forest.
After a few moments of confused silence, one of the coach drivers dared speak up and asked, "So what did that d-" almost finishing before getting his answer when an immense explosion swallowed a large chunk of the forest, obliterating the engulfed landscape.
The silence was now more stunned than confused, and was this time broken by the Emperor, "Right then, so, back... let's say ten, good number that ten, back ten carriages? Piss off back home."
---
The sun rose on the day of the Grand Council, but no sun could light the heart of Richard Cromwell. His armies were broken, his territory existed only by the mysterious and unpredictable whim of these "United Terran Systems" people that caused them to create a line down the middle of Albion, his hated enemy Prince Wales was beyond Reconquista reach, and topping it all off was the murder of his father by a secretary.
The only comforts in this situation were that Wales own forces and territory were as reliant on the mysterious masters of steel and flight as Richard's own, and that Richard's subordinates were too terrified of the newcomers to usurp power from him or sell him to the royals. These were cold comforts when he and the rest of the Commonwealth representatives were sequestered in a few apartments in a small wing of Tristan's royal palace with only a few servants, a Romalian spy, and a pair of UTS guards who were apparently armored in smaller versions of their horrifying flying golems.
"It makes no damn sense!" The nominal Lord Protector of Albion cried, banging his fist on the table, causing his small tea set to clatter. "You help Wales as a favor to Henrietta? Sure, fine, break our armies, what else would they ask for? But why stop? Why cut the country in half?" Not for the first time he went through his map collection of maps, trying to find a method to the madness, as if the terrain of the Floating Isle would offer an answer.
"And then there's this bloody council! Why make me go? Hell, why keep me alive? To hang me publicly? Don't have to do that here, every damn country on the continent has spies in Londinium (one of whom was brought with us), and if you're going to execute traitors, that's the place to do it. Are they just out to conquer us all? Is Albion just going to be split in two for easier administration? And where does that damn witch Sheffield fit in?"
---
Princess Henrietta of Tristan, Prince Wales of Albion, and Tristan's faithful cardinal Mazarin sat at the head of the great audience chamber, mere minutes away from the arrival of the monarchs, the Pope, and Cromwell.
"...You both know your roles?" The young regent of Tristan asked, more to fill the time than anything.
Wales said nothing, merely lowering his eyes, assent clear.
"My Princess," the old priest rumbled, "I knew my role from the first time I opened my eyes and saw our nation's green fields. It is the role all true countrymen share. We do what we must to fulfill it... there is no shame in that, more than anything, you must take that to heart. And you as well, young Prince."
Henrietta face formed a sad smile, "Your kindness is endless, Your Grace. May such words carry always in the hearts and minds of our nation's sons and daughters..."
"Whatever form that nation may take..." muttered Wales.
---
"Fine leather footwear?"
"Check."
"Crisp, fashionable businesswear?"
"Check."
"Hard drive loaded with all relevant geographic, economic, and political data?"
"Check."
"Translation software up to date?"
"Check."
"Helpful Korean assistant?"
"As always, ma'am."
"Fantastic."
The doors of Tristan's main audience chamber opened up, revealing the leaders of each human nation in Halkegenia seated within.
"Ladies and gentlemen," spoke the newcomer, "welcome back. I shall say it again: welcome back. Long have you been isolated, long have you been lost, but fear no longer, for the shadow of loneliness has been dispelled and the veil of ignorance pulled back. You and yours have been lost for millenia, forced to live, if one can call it living, cut off from civilization."
The dark skinned woman, followed by a pale man with almond shaped eyes and a quartet of armored guards, strolled confidently across the hall, ignoring spectrum of stares she received from those gathered, and seated herself in the last open chair, right across from Henrietta.
"You are cut off no longer."
"...What the hell are you talking about woman?" Albert said, speaking before any other leader could.
"Your return to proper society of course!" The newcomer said, taking things in stride. "There are some oddities, but there always are with your kind. Generation ships, honestly, what were the ancestors thinking?"
"And they say I'm the mad one," Joseph noted dryly.
"Henrietta, did you call us just so you could have these foreigners insult us!?" Albert said, whirling on Henrietta. His Romalian chancellor leaned over and whispered something in the Emperor's ear, the look of panic obvious on his face. Henrietta, for her part, remained impassive and gave no reply.
"Now, now," the woman said in the same tone in which a mother might scold squabbling children, "there's no reason to start fighting. This is, for the most part, perfectly standard reintegration procedure."
"If I may, madam," the Pope interrupted, "I believe what Emperor Albert was trying to say is that we could use some context for these subjects you broach. From our perspective, you and your people have simply appeared from nowhere, forced a ceasefire in Albion's civil war, and then occupied Tristania. Your motive, methods, identity, we have no basis for understanding any of it. In fact you've yet to even name yourself."
"Elizabeth Waller, appointed Reintegration Governor of this little corner of space. Until such time as your world has been properly restructured, I shall be directing the civilizing process here."
"Rather polite way of declaring your intent to conquer us," the Pope replied, causing everyone at the table save the Gallian King, Wales, and the Tristanians to tense up."
"Conquer you?" Waller replied, sounding genuinely confused. "What makes you think such a thing?"
"Well there's the occupation for one," Vittorio countered.
At this, Waller laughed, "Oh my dear boy, we haven't occupied anyone!"
"Haven't occupied- You vaporized a forest and have checkpoints on every road!" Albert shouted.
"The Pacification forces can get a tad overeager at times I admit, but they are strictly forbidden from causing civilian casualties. Now, may I explain?"
"Yes, please do explain!" pleaded Cromwell's heir, "Explain why you decimated the Republican army, explain something, anything."
"There is no need for hysterics, Mr. Cromwell. Now, as for who we are, we are the United Terran Systems, the grand unified government for all human colonies and planets, centered on the homeworld itself. Each colony and supranational country has a seat on our council and helps decide policy for the entirety of human occupied space, as one day you will, once your planet has finished the reintegration process."
"I'm sorry, did you say planets?" asked Joseph, showing the first sign of semi-genuine interest since the proceedings began.
"For the sake of expediency, let us simply say that our ships can go much further, higher, and faster than you might imagine. You will understand more in the fullness of time. Now, as for your kind, we call you Lost Colonists. A few millennia ago, back when our ships couldn't go as far and fast as they do now and we couldn't... cultivate land as we do now, the only way for us to expand from the homeworld was massive ships meant to make it to their destination over several generations worth of crew. Dreadful plan as it turns out, most go mad when locked in a ship for generations, even ignoring the mechanical failures. Crew would wipe each other out, the onboard AI would start dictatorships, one notable case even had the navigator AI destroyed and devolved into a feudal society even more primitive than your own!"
"That's it!" Albert banged on the table and made to get up, "I don't have to listen to this nonsense, and I can't believe the rest of you are either. Henrietta, you can break whatever engagement you like, I'm going to go home and drink this trip off like a bad dream." As the Emperor made to leave however, one of the armored guards made to block his path.
"I would advise you to take your seat, Mr. Albert," Waller said in a bored tone, pulling out what, to the locals, seemed to be a strange slate with a glass cover and tapping at it a few times.
The Germanian Emperor eyed the odd, musket-like object held by the guard for a moment, memories of the incident with the forest still all too clear in his mind. But pride won out over caution and, to the horror of his Chancellor, the Emperor drew his wand, "FIREBALL!"
A burst of flame erupted from the tip of the wand and, in an instance, the power of Albert The Wildfire was made clear as the guard vanished in a veil of flame.
But it was the power of the distant Earth that was made even more clear when the guard stepped forth from the firestorm, the armor not even scorched, training his weapon on the obviously shaken Emperor.
"I would advise you, one more time, to take your seat." Waller said simply, as Mercurino begged him to do so. Shakily, silently, the Emperor obeyed. The light gone from his eyes, it would be the last time he would speak at the meeting.
"Now," Waller continued as if nothing had happened, "we estimate that of the 1000 launched colony ships, only 300 actually made it to their destination intact. Most experienced one disaster or another and either the whole crew was lost or ended up on the wrong planet, sometimes both. Even the ones that did arrive at their destinations tended to experience all sorts of horrifying problems. We currently believe you to be in the latter category, though we'll have to find the ship at some point to confirm that."
The Pope frowned, "How many millennia ago did you send these... ships?
"Oh two or three, not that it much matters."
"Ah, well, our histories-"
"Are wrong, most likely." Waller said simply, "And aren't relevant to this meeting in any case. What does matter is that you understand your situations going forward."
Vittorio could hear Julio, standing behind him, grinding his teeth. With a sigh, the young spiritual leader of Halkeginia asked, "And what, according to you, is our situation going forward?"
"If you fear subjugation and destruction, don't. As I said, this is not occupation or conquest, this is reintegration. Humanity is meant to be united, and we are merely continuing that. Furthermore, once your restructuring is complete, as with all Lost Colonies brought back to the fold your people will have representation and voting power on the Council of Terran Systems. Until that time, we won't even be taxing you. All funding for such projects, be they agricultural, political, or otherwise, shall be provided by the Systems government without cost. All that you need to do, as the current local ruling class, is help direct and soothe the populace at large during this time of transition."
"And then what?" Cromwell asked, eyes locked on the guards with terror, "You finish this reconstruction business of yours, and then kill us all to take power for yourselves?"
Waller snorted, "Hardly. We're not in the business of simply destroying the local leaders unless left with no alternative. It's quite counterproductive to do that, actually, compared to simply cooperating with them. And it isn't as if we expect you to cooperate with no benefits to yourselves. We've technology, education, all sorts of things to offer both yourselves and your people, but you must cooperate to see any of it. Do well, by both us and your people, and you might find that not only do you retain your positions in the new government structure, or at least the rough equivalents of them, but you are greatly enriched by them."
"New government structure?" Joseph asked, eyebrows raised.
"The details have yet to be solidified, we have to learn more about the planet as a whole first, but suffice it to say that monarchies are rather out of fashion."
"What?" Cromwell shrieked, before recoiling when the four guards all turned on him, though their weapons remained lowered. Considerably more quietly, he continued, "But, if that's the case, why did you intervene when we were about to wipe out that... creature over there?" asked the Lord Protector, indicating his enemy the Prince.
"Various reasons. First of all what you know of as a Republic isn't quite what we use either, though it is closer. Second, for various reasons Henrietta was the first local leader we came in contact with and she offered to ease contact in exchange for intervention. And of course, it is standard policy to immediately force a ceasefire in all local conflicts when a Lost Colony is found. Most likely when the details are hammered out we will see Albion reunified and the people will pick between the two of you, but that's just personal speculation on my part."
"Actually, on the matter of Albion, I have my own question," said Vittorio, "my aide here was present when you broke the Republican forces. At the time, your men took all of the Nobles present into captivity. What happened to them?"
Waller shrugged, "Not my department. Anything else?"
Vittorio stared at the woman for a second, stunned despite all that had happened at such a casual dismissal of a rather important issue. After taking a deep breath, he brought out his second question. "You speak of the unity of humanity and such, but this world is inhabited by more than just humans..."
"Ah yes, those 'elves' in the desert to the south and the lizard people in the jungles beyond that. What about them?"
Vittorio blinked, "Well I... didn't know about that second one, but humans have been in a blood feud with elves for many generations. Surely if you fight for humanity-"
Waller held up a hand, "If you're about to ask us to engage in some kind of extermination campaign, you can forget it. First of all, there's still many tests to run on all the populations of this planet, and even if there weren't it isn't as if I have that kind of authority myself. Now if that's all, you will all be returning to your homes this evening."
Nervously, Mercurino spoke up, "Er, with respect madam, it will take considerably more time than that to pack up and return our entourage-"
"Trust me, no it won't. You're each going back on one of our ships. It'll give you a better feel for what you're in for. When I said you'll be returning to your homes this evening, I meant that literally. You are dismissed."
---
Waller was in her office aboard the main ship hovering over Tristania when she received an alert on her computer from the secretary.
[Princess is here to see you ma'am.] It said.
[Send her in.] She replied.
The office door slid open and Henrietta walked in, taking a seat when the Governor indicated for her to do so. "So, little host, what can I do for you?" Waller asked.
"I wanted to inquire after my friend."
"The pink one?"
"Louise Francoise, yes. I wanted to know when I could see her."
"When you go to Earth," the Governor replied, fiddling with some paperwork on her computer screen.
"What?"
"You people can be terribly shrill, you know that?" Waller said irritably.
"I thought you had her and that boy on this ship still!"
"What, you wanted us to imprison them? Don't be ridiculous. We sent the boy back home and sent her off to Europe with escorts, she's going to get educated and studied herself. We're actually quite grateful to her you know? If she hadn't caused that warp disturbance and grabbed the boy by accident, we wouldn't have been able to trace the disturbance back to this Lost Colony."
"I wish you wouldn't refer to it as such..."
The governor laughed at that, "Facts are facts Princess. Besides, you already made your deals with us, and you're going to keep them. If you actually do consider yourself a leader of your people, even if it is by something as inconsequential as blood, you'll do that much. Anyway, as for your friend, she'll be safe and sound. Once her education's done we'll bring her back and hand her off to you or her family as she likes. And you will get to see her before then, as I said, you're going to go to Earth, every cooperative leader we can grab will be."
"And when is this trip going to occur, in your mind?"
"When we're good and ready for it to."
Capital City of Romalia
Grave of the Founder
Office of the Pope
Two letters set on the desk before the young man. One fresh from the decoders, a message from the field in the distant sky. The other was an official diplomatic message from the palace of the green country. He did not know which he liked less.
The former had flown in on an messenger bird a mere two hours ago. Considering that it came from what was supposed to be the depths of a warzone, the young Pope had been surprised that it had been sent by bird at all. After all, birds were typically targeted in such situations, no matter what side they might come from. Even with victory close at hand, the rebels would surely want to control messages sent out. Besides which, his aide was supposed to deliver his final report on this matter in person. That he had ignored this command, as plain by the code and handwriting, rather than return on schedule, did not bode well.
The Pope decided that this would be the first trial he'd face. The situation in the war ravaged flying country of Albion took priority over whatever the Tristanian princess and her pet cardinal saw to put before him.
A Report To His Holiness Pope Vittorio Serevare of Romalia, St. Aegis the 32nd and Shield of the Founder, from his loyal Adjunct, Commoner Priest Ser Julio Chesare of Romalia.
It is with apologies that I send this report by bird rather than person, however I have been forced by circumstance to remain as the Church's observer. I made this judgment based on the fact that the side I was observing is routing en masse.
Vittorio had reread that line several times to make sure he was not mistaken. "Routing... but at last report the Royalists had been driven to New Castle." This was problematic: the Church had been moving forward with the idea that the rebel victory was imminent and that the Church leaders would need to gather in the Grave to consider how to integrate the newborn Ascended Commonwealth of Albion into the current system once the Albionese royals had been executed.
Though I am sure it is difficult to believe, as I myself can scarcely comprehend it, but the Royalists have been delivered by foreign aide.
Vittorio glanced briefly at the still sealed letter from the Tristanians, "...No, they do not have the forces for such a thing."
Indeed, I do not believe 'foreign' can fully describe the aide in question... however I assure you, what I describe is absolute fact, confirmed by my own eyes.
They came down from the sky, from far above even Albion, as I was relaxing on the back of Azzurro, trailing at the back of the Commonwealth forces. It was an army but not those of the loyalists... nor of any nation I know. This army consisted of a full hundred gigantic steel golems, each of which floated above the ground, as heedless of gravity as Albion itself, plus another much larger than the rest, of particularly rotund shape.
An attempt was made by a particularly brave rebel noble to hail these golems. The apparent leader of their number, that unique specimen, floated above the rest and responded in a voice that boomed across the field through some sound strengthening magic. It spoke in highly basic Romalian, as if it were a particularly poorly trained diplomat, and had this to say:
"We are United Terran Systems. We help Wales and Henrietta. Surrender or die."
It was at this point that I decided I'd best separate myself from the Albionese and watch this play out from the sidelines. This turned out to be the correct choice, as the commander in charge of the Commonwealth's forces, General Thomas Pride decided that, being at the head of forty thousand men, he didn't need to fear one hundred anything, strange golems or otherwise. The fool bade his forces attack the newcomers.
What happened next, I shall never forget. Not in one year, not in ten years, not until I pass from this life. The hundred golems fanned out at a speed I could not have imagined of anything their size, forming a circle around the rebel host. Then... the hands of each shifted and folded, forming strange cylindrical shapes. And then, I swear, the musketfire began, for that's what their hands had become. Except each hand was many musketeers, a number beyond counting, firing at speeds unimaginable with no sign of reloading. They tore through the vast host, shredding it into many pieces. Men, women, and beasts died in droves... and then after only 10 seconds, they ceased fire.
Again the leader, who still floated apart and took no role in the slaughter sent out his message. "We are United Terran Systems. We help Wales and Henrietta. Surrender or die."
Of course, this time the message was ignored by many because sixty percent of their army had died in seconds, causing the rank and file to panic along with most of the animals. It was utter bedlam as they tried to escape... though that stopped quickly as the ring of golems fanned out again and dropped near the ground, enclosing the horde in. The beasts fled just fine, but any man or woman who tried to pass was quickly put down.
I tried to intervene on this as subtly as I could, guiding the animals through the humans from afar, but I did so minimally so as to protect classified information, save for the messenger bird I bid my way. Eventually it all stopped anyway, with the surviving Albionese kneeling with their arms in the air, surrounded by their dead, most of whom looked more like meat piles than actual corpses.
The leader of the golems finally came down, and this time pointed a finger to one part of the circle, "Mages there," it said, before pointing to the other side, "others there."
They couldn't hurry to obey fast enough... though I wonder if that was really to their benefit. A few moments later, what could only be a ship came down from the clouds where the golems had come from, landing in the ring amongst the dead and dying. It was a great hulk of steel just as the golems were, and the back of it opened up, becoming a ramp.
The lead golem spoke again. "Mages inside, others leave. Go to homes, go to fields. Do not fight again." With that, it suddenly turned to me, floating off in the distance, believing foolishly that I'd escaped notice. "Colors Romalian. Go to Wales and Henrietta. Location New Castle." I could only thank these colors you gave me to mark Azzurro for my continued existence. After that, the golems paid me no more mind.
The Albionese survivors were broken men and women all. The mages shuffled obediently on to that strange ship, while the commons simply broke ranks and were allowed to flee in any direction they wished. Once the last mage had been swallowed, the steel beast closed its jaws, and returned to the sky alongside the hundred and one golems.
After that, I made for the nearest village, grabbed the first pen and ink I could find, and now speed it your way. I pray this bird reaches you, Your Holiness, for you must believe and understand these things that I have witnessed. There is a new player on the board, and whether Tristain and the Royals called it, or it simply found them, the Church must change all plans. I do not know if there are secrets in the Grave that can protect us from what I have witnessed, but I hope I can at least prevent any conflict before it begins.
I beg of you Your Holiness, denounce the Commonwealth officially, and be wary.
The moment Vittorio read the last word, he tossed the report aside and tore open the second message. "Flying metal golems, muskets of untold power and speed, steel airships, just what have you done, little Henrietta and cursed, old Mazarin?"
From the Desk of her Royal Highness Henrietta de Tristain, Princess Regent and Heir to the throne of Tristain, to His Holiness Pope Vittorio Serevare of Romalia, St. Aegis the 32nd and Shield of the Founder
The nation of Tristan has recently come into diplomatic contact with the mighty nation known as the Terran Systems Alliance. Though its people hail from a distant land indeed, they have seen fit to answer Our call when Our cousin and ally, His Royal Highness Crown Prince Wales Tudor of Albion, would have soon succumbed to the forces of the heinous Oliver Cromwell and his Reconquista rebels. With their aid, it is Our firm belief that His Highness shall soon be able to retake Londinium, bury his late father, and take His rightful crown.
In exchange for this aid, We have offered Our new friends and allies help in the form of mediation. Specifically, We are calling for a Grand Council between the nations of the Kingdom of Tristania, the Ascended Monarchy of Albion, The Holy Unified Republics of Romalia, The Kingdom of Gallia, and the Germanian Empire.
We know that We can count on His Holiness to fulfill his obligation to aiding and abetting peace in the realm of men by joining this Council in Tristania, to convene in four week's time.
Vittorio stared at the page for a moment, then crumpled it into a ball.
It was a rare moment of frustration for the Romalian leader. "My Windalfr speaks of metallic death golems from beyond the sky and Henrietta the Humble all but commands the Pope's own presence at a meeting of her design, and in the Royal We no less. What madness is this?"
Together the letters independently confirmed, at least, the existence of some new player. "United Terran Systems..." The young pope considered it for a moment, and was quickly forced to a conclusion. "I shall have to go. If I do not see this meeting with my own eyes, there will be no purpose. And if I do not show up and the others do... it will seem as if Romalia is not living up to her obligations."
He couldn't help but smirk, "Is this Mazarin's hand? Or are you really so full of surprises little Princess? I suppose we shall see..." The smirk turned to a frown, "One can only hope it is their work, and not that of another."
---
The Kingdom of Gallia
Royal Palace of Versailles
Private Audience Chamber
"And so, having witnessed the decimation of Pride's forces through the Alviss I'd placed with him, I deemed the Albion occupation a lost cause," the kneeled figure finished.
Leaning back in his chair, King Joseph de Gallia placed his feet on the table in front of him, leaning back as he examined the ring in his fingers. "And so, like a good crow, you tore the shiny jewelry off poor old Cromwell's finger before flying back to the roost."
"...That is correct, Your Majesty. I also silenced Cromwell and destroyed records of our communications."
"But you didn't find the Founder's Music Box, is that right?"
The kneeling woman seemed to sink into the floor, the shame was so obvious, "Yes, forgive me my lord, I feared that if I remained, I would risk exposing us."
The shaggy king dismissed this, "It's fine, I don't care so much now. We know where the Founder's Round Mirror and Founder's Prayer Book are at least, and I'm sure that the Music Box will turn up, they're going to be turning Albion upside down after all this." The King reached into his coat, pulling out an envelope with a broken seal. "More interestingly, there's the matter of this little invitation."
"...An invitation, Your Majesty?" The woman asked, turning her face up to her summoner for the first time since the conversation started.
"She's called a Grand Council, which unfortunately I'm obliged to attend. Fortunately, it seems to center on the very metal friends you have informed me of mere moments ago."
Panic spread across the woman's face. "My lord, you must not go! If indeed the Tristanians command those titans, they shall surely destroy you!"
Joseph laughed, "Ah yes, and how the people would morn. And yet, I'm sure they'd find the strength to survive without me. Certainly, I have no attachment to my life, why should anyone? No Sheffield, I shall be going. It's... far too interesting."
"...As you say, Master Joseph."
----
Germanian Empire
Capital City of Vindobona
Imperial Hall of Emperor Albert III
"A new nation? What madness is this?" cried the Emperor, shaking the letter at his council. "From where I ask you, from where?"
"That we don't know, my Emperor," replied Spymaster Johannes von Rintelen, "but my informer of the Black Lodge stationed near Newcastle confirms strange metal ships and flying golems coming and going, interacting with the Royalists there."
"And what about this marriage of mine?" Albert asked.
Chancellor Mercurino Gattinara spoke up, "Sad to say My Emperor, but it is likely Tristain shall withdraw that offer. Without the Reconquista hanging over them, I doubt Mazarin is going to let his precious Princess wander into the arms of a Germanian, Emperor or no."
"Bah," the fat Emperor spat, before taking another swig of ale, "always the hard truth with you Gattinara. Fine then, they lay the rug out for us, but shame on us if we get it swept out from under us. Guess we'll know for sure at this damned Council."
"Then you will be attending?" Supreme Commander Eugen von Savoyen asked.
"Course I'll be attending!" The Emperor snapped, causing the military man to recoil slightly, "Can't let these Brimiric bastards thinking we're some side show. They sent us an invite, so I'm going to go. Otherwise I'd just be sitting here, drinking and whoring myself into an early grave."
Naught but silence met that remark.
The night sky was alight, but there were few stars to be seen. Such was the sight that greeted Vittorio as his carriage, and those that followed it, rolled towards the capital of Tristan two nights before the day of the Grand Council.
Great lights rose up from the city, which was surrounded by a variety of odd metal structures placed on the ground, as well as the ships and golems that his familiar and aide had described, which flew through the night sky, all of them covered in what appeared to be mage lights. The area surrounding Tristania had become a star unto itself, and the light blocked out the heavens.
Above it all, and as the young Pope noted, whilst sitting alone in his carriage, directly above the palace itself, floated the greatest of this metal menagerie, a great bulk of steel which doubtlessly took the work of many mages... or so some might think.
Some, but not Vittorio. With his secret power, his "World Gate," he had gazed beyond the veil of time and space, and seen a "land without magic," one dominated by smoothed stone and mass produced steel and glass. That place did not have the power of the host gathered around Tristania, and yet with time perhaps... well, such was speculation.
"I fear what you may have called down on us in your haste to save your prince, Henrietta...."
---
After the Pope came in the night, the mad king of Gallia arrived the next morning. In contrast to the young holy leader, who came with a small entourage of cardinals and the servants who attended them, the ruler of Halkegenia's second largest nation seemed a sight almost as strange as Tristania's occupiers. Though a monarch who was rich beyond the wildest dreams of all but a few, he drove his own carriage, and within the carriage, should anyone look, was nothing but a few pieces of luggage which he'd packed and loaded himself.
Well, he wasn't known as a mad king without reason.
"Up, down, and all around they go, faster than any airship, and without any sails to speak of, what a laugh." Joseph deadpanned, enjoying (for lack of a better word) not having to fake actual amusement. "The little girl claims she sent me an invitation, but I get the feeling she's a guest in her own palace, if this is-" his musings were brought to an abrupt halt when a golem dropped down from above and blocked the road. After bringing his panicked horse under control, the king raised a hand and hailed the metal titan, "Greetings to you!"
The golem's single eye stared at Joseph, a crafted face that betrayed no emotion, but a voice echoed out from it which seemed perfectly human, if a bit stilted. "Hello. Please state your business in coming to Tristania."
They're running checkpoints? My, that seems to confirm who's running this show. All the same... The Gallic monarch produced his invitation from an inner pocket and waved in the air with the royal seal of Tristan in plain sight, "My business is likely quite bad my friend, but then, official business usually is. King Joseph de Gallia's the name."
The golem was quiet for a moment, then floated to one side and indicated the distant city gate, "Your invitation seems official, and you match the description. Orders are to inform you that there will be no meeting with Henrietta before the Grand Council, and that the Pope of Romalia has arrived already. You will stay in the palace. Continue."
Joseph stared into the unblinking glass construct of the checkpoint guard's eye for a moment, then shrugged and put the letter away, urging his horse forward. Once a fair distance from the checkpoint, he resumed his theorizing. "The Princess isn't greeting a fellow monarch, her city is occupied and guarded by clearly superior forces, and every ruler on the continent is set to be in the heart of all this by tomorrow. I am coming because I can't honestly say I'd care much if I get caught in what appears to be a deathtrap. I can however say that I can't imagine why that sneaky little priest dared crawl out of his fortress... not that I can imagine said fortress availing him of much."
Joseph cast an empty eyed gaze skyward at the enormous ship casting its shadow over Tristan's capital, "I suppose I'll find out tomorrow. Hm... I wonder if the drunkard will make a showing?"
----
That very evening, said drunkard, the Germanian Emperor, found his whole host blocked by five of the flying golems.
"I repeat," said the golem in the center of the line, "You have brought too many people. Send some back, or you will go no further."
"And I repeat," countered Emperor Albert III, his head sticking out of the window of the royal coach, "Piss off, I don't take orders from you."
"Your Majesty," a weary chancellor Gattinara offered, "Just send back a few coaches, the palace shall have accommodations enough to not require our full-"
"Oh save it Mercurino," Commander Savoyen interrupted, "It's a waste of time and you know it."
"Right!" Albert sloshed, taking another swig from his trusty mug, "I'm an Emperor, and if the Brimirics or whatever the hell these people are think I'm not going to show it-"
The Emperor's rant was interrupted by a piercing screeching from the lead golem, which caused nobles and servants alike in the grand train of coaches from Germania to cover their ears for the few seconds it went on.
"What in hell's bells was that?" Screamed the Emperor, leaning back out the window.
"I have regained your full attention to deliver this message: Our superiors have authorized a show of demonstrative force. Please, be alarmed in an orderly fashion." As multiple nobles went for their wands, the golem shot into the sky and turned to face the forest off the roadside. After reaching a height where it would be visible to the entire Germanian delegation, it stretched out a hand and fired a single ball of light towards the nearby forest.
After a few moments of confused silence, one of the coach drivers dared speak up and asked, "So what did that d-" almost finishing before getting his answer when an immense explosion swallowed a large chunk of the forest, obliterating the engulfed landscape.
The silence was now more stunned than confused, and was this time broken by the Emperor, "Right then, so, back... let's say ten, good number that ten, back ten carriages? Piss off back home."
---
The sun rose on the day of the Grand Council, but no sun could light the heart of Richard Cromwell. His armies were broken, his territory existed only by the mysterious and unpredictable whim of these "United Terran Systems" people that caused them to create a line down the middle of Albion, his hated enemy Prince Wales was beyond Reconquista reach, and topping it all off was the murder of his father by a secretary.
The only comforts in this situation were that Wales own forces and territory were as reliant on the mysterious masters of steel and flight as Richard's own, and that Richard's subordinates were too terrified of the newcomers to usurp power from him or sell him to the royals. These were cold comforts when he and the rest of the Commonwealth representatives were sequestered in a few apartments in a small wing of Tristan's royal palace with only a few servants, a Romalian spy, and a pair of UTS guards who were apparently armored in smaller versions of their horrifying flying golems.
"It makes no damn sense!" The nominal Lord Protector of Albion cried, banging his fist on the table, causing his small tea set to clatter. "You help Wales as a favor to Henrietta? Sure, fine, break our armies, what else would they ask for? But why stop? Why cut the country in half?" Not for the first time he went through his map collection of maps, trying to find a method to the madness, as if the terrain of the Floating Isle would offer an answer.
"And then there's this bloody council! Why make me go? Hell, why keep me alive? To hang me publicly? Don't have to do that here, every damn country on the continent has spies in Londinium (one of whom was brought with us), and if you're going to execute traitors, that's the place to do it. Are they just out to conquer us all? Is Albion just going to be split in two for easier administration? And where does that damn witch Sheffield fit in?"
---
Princess Henrietta of Tristan, Prince Wales of Albion, and Tristan's faithful cardinal Mazarin sat at the head of the great audience chamber, mere minutes away from the arrival of the monarchs, the Pope, and Cromwell.
"...You both know your roles?" The young regent of Tristan asked, more to fill the time than anything.
Wales said nothing, merely lowering his eyes, assent clear.
"My Princess," the old priest rumbled, "I knew my role from the first time I opened my eyes and saw our nation's green fields. It is the role all true countrymen share. We do what we must to fulfill it... there is no shame in that, more than anything, you must take that to heart. And you as well, young Prince."
Henrietta face formed a sad smile, "Your kindness is endless, Your Grace. May such words carry always in the hearts and minds of our nation's sons and daughters..."
"Whatever form that nation may take..." muttered Wales.
---
"Fine leather footwear?"
"Check."
"Crisp, fashionable businesswear?"
"Check."
"Hard drive loaded with all relevant geographic, economic, and political data?"
"Check."
"Translation software up to date?"
"Check."
"Helpful Korean assistant?"
"As always, ma'am."
"Fantastic."
The doors of Tristan's main audience chamber opened up, revealing the leaders of each human nation in Halkegenia seated within.
"Ladies and gentlemen," spoke the newcomer, "welcome back. I shall say it again: welcome back. Long have you been isolated, long have you been lost, but fear no longer, for the shadow of loneliness has been dispelled and the veil of ignorance pulled back. You and yours have been lost for millenia, forced to live, if one can call it living, cut off from civilization."
The dark skinned woman, followed by a pale man with almond shaped eyes and a quartet of armored guards, strolled confidently across the hall, ignoring spectrum of stares she received from those gathered, and seated herself in the last open chair, right across from Henrietta.
"You are cut off no longer."
"...What the hell are you talking about woman?" Albert said, speaking before any other leader could.
"Your return to proper society of course!" The newcomer said, taking things in stride. "There are some oddities, but there always are with your kind. Generation ships, honestly, what were the ancestors thinking?"
"And they say I'm the mad one," Joseph noted dryly.
"Henrietta, did you call us just so you could have these foreigners insult us!?" Albert said, whirling on Henrietta. His Romalian chancellor leaned over and whispered something in the Emperor's ear, the look of panic obvious on his face. Henrietta, for her part, remained impassive and gave no reply.
"Now, now," the woman said in the same tone in which a mother might scold squabbling children, "there's no reason to start fighting. This is, for the most part, perfectly standard reintegration procedure."
"If I may, madam," the Pope interrupted, "I believe what Emperor Albert was trying to say is that we could use some context for these subjects you broach. From our perspective, you and your people have simply appeared from nowhere, forced a ceasefire in Albion's civil war, and then occupied Tristania. Your motive, methods, identity, we have no basis for understanding any of it. In fact you've yet to even name yourself."
"Elizabeth Waller, appointed Reintegration Governor of this little corner of space. Until such time as your world has been properly restructured, I shall be directing the civilizing process here."
"Rather polite way of declaring your intent to conquer us," the Pope replied, causing everyone at the table save the Gallian King, Wales, and the Tristanians to tense up."
"Conquer you?" Waller replied, sounding genuinely confused. "What makes you think such a thing?"
"Well there's the occupation for one," Vittorio countered.
At this, Waller laughed, "Oh my dear boy, we haven't occupied anyone!"
"Haven't occupied- You vaporized a forest and have checkpoints on every road!" Albert shouted.
"The Pacification forces can get a tad overeager at times I admit, but they are strictly forbidden from causing civilian casualties. Now, may I explain?"
"Yes, please do explain!" pleaded Cromwell's heir, "Explain why you decimated the Republican army, explain something, anything."
"There is no need for hysterics, Mr. Cromwell. Now, as for who we are, we are the United Terran Systems, the grand unified government for all human colonies and planets, centered on the homeworld itself. Each colony and supranational country has a seat on our council and helps decide policy for the entirety of human occupied space, as one day you will, once your planet has finished the reintegration process."
"I'm sorry, did you say planets?" asked Joseph, showing the first sign of semi-genuine interest since the proceedings began.
"For the sake of expediency, let us simply say that our ships can go much further, higher, and faster than you might imagine. You will understand more in the fullness of time. Now, as for your kind, we call you Lost Colonists. A few millennia ago, back when our ships couldn't go as far and fast as they do now and we couldn't... cultivate land as we do now, the only way for us to expand from the homeworld was massive ships meant to make it to their destination over several generations worth of crew. Dreadful plan as it turns out, most go mad when locked in a ship for generations, even ignoring the mechanical failures. Crew would wipe each other out, the onboard AI would start dictatorships, one notable case even had the navigator AI destroyed and devolved into a feudal society even more primitive than your own!"
"That's it!" Albert banged on the table and made to get up, "I don't have to listen to this nonsense, and I can't believe the rest of you are either. Henrietta, you can break whatever engagement you like, I'm going to go home and drink this trip off like a bad dream." As the Emperor made to leave however, one of the armored guards made to block his path.
"I would advise you to take your seat, Mr. Albert," Waller said in a bored tone, pulling out what, to the locals, seemed to be a strange slate with a glass cover and tapping at it a few times.
The Germanian Emperor eyed the odd, musket-like object held by the guard for a moment, memories of the incident with the forest still all too clear in his mind. But pride won out over caution and, to the horror of his Chancellor, the Emperor drew his wand, "FIREBALL!"
A burst of flame erupted from the tip of the wand and, in an instance, the power of Albert The Wildfire was made clear as the guard vanished in a veil of flame.
But it was the power of the distant Earth that was made even more clear when the guard stepped forth from the firestorm, the armor not even scorched, training his weapon on the obviously shaken Emperor.
"I would advise you, one more time, to take your seat." Waller said simply, as Mercurino begged him to do so. Shakily, silently, the Emperor obeyed. The light gone from his eyes, it would be the last time he would speak at the meeting.
"Now," Waller continued as if nothing had happened, "we estimate that of the 1000 launched colony ships, only 300 actually made it to their destination intact. Most experienced one disaster or another and either the whole crew was lost or ended up on the wrong planet, sometimes both. Even the ones that did arrive at their destinations tended to experience all sorts of horrifying problems. We currently believe you to be in the latter category, though we'll have to find the ship at some point to confirm that."
The Pope frowned, "How many millennia ago did you send these... ships?
"Oh two or three, not that it much matters."
"Ah, well, our histories-"
"Are wrong, most likely." Waller said simply, "And aren't relevant to this meeting in any case. What does matter is that you understand your situations going forward."
Vittorio could hear Julio, standing behind him, grinding his teeth. With a sigh, the young spiritual leader of Halkeginia asked, "And what, according to you, is our situation going forward?"
"If you fear subjugation and destruction, don't. As I said, this is not occupation or conquest, this is reintegration. Humanity is meant to be united, and we are merely continuing that. Furthermore, once your restructuring is complete, as with all Lost Colonies brought back to the fold your people will have representation and voting power on the Council of Terran Systems. Until that time, we won't even be taxing you. All funding for such projects, be they agricultural, political, or otherwise, shall be provided by the Systems government without cost. All that you need to do, as the current local ruling class, is help direct and soothe the populace at large during this time of transition."
"And then what?" Cromwell asked, eyes locked on the guards with terror, "You finish this reconstruction business of yours, and then kill us all to take power for yourselves?"
Waller snorted, "Hardly. We're not in the business of simply destroying the local leaders unless left with no alternative. It's quite counterproductive to do that, actually, compared to simply cooperating with them. And it isn't as if we expect you to cooperate with no benefits to yourselves. We've technology, education, all sorts of things to offer both yourselves and your people, but you must cooperate to see any of it. Do well, by both us and your people, and you might find that not only do you retain your positions in the new government structure, or at least the rough equivalents of them, but you are greatly enriched by them."
"New government structure?" Joseph asked, eyebrows raised.
"The details have yet to be solidified, we have to learn more about the planet as a whole first, but suffice it to say that monarchies are rather out of fashion."
"What?" Cromwell shrieked, before recoiling when the four guards all turned on him, though their weapons remained lowered. Considerably more quietly, he continued, "But, if that's the case, why did you intervene when we were about to wipe out that... creature over there?" asked the Lord Protector, indicating his enemy the Prince.
"Various reasons. First of all what you know of as a Republic isn't quite what we use either, though it is closer. Second, for various reasons Henrietta was the first local leader we came in contact with and she offered to ease contact in exchange for intervention. And of course, it is standard policy to immediately force a ceasefire in all local conflicts when a Lost Colony is found. Most likely when the details are hammered out we will see Albion reunified and the people will pick between the two of you, but that's just personal speculation on my part."
"Actually, on the matter of Albion, I have my own question," said Vittorio, "my aide here was present when you broke the Republican forces. At the time, your men took all of the Nobles present into captivity. What happened to them?"
Waller shrugged, "Not my department. Anything else?"
Vittorio stared at the woman for a second, stunned despite all that had happened at such a casual dismissal of a rather important issue. After taking a deep breath, he brought out his second question. "You speak of the unity of humanity and such, but this world is inhabited by more than just humans..."
"Ah yes, those 'elves' in the desert to the south and the lizard people in the jungles beyond that. What about them?"
Vittorio blinked, "Well I... didn't know about that second one, but humans have been in a blood feud with elves for many generations. Surely if you fight for humanity-"
Waller held up a hand, "If you're about to ask us to engage in some kind of extermination campaign, you can forget it. First of all, there's still many tests to run on all the populations of this planet, and even if there weren't it isn't as if I have that kind of authority myself. Now if that's all, you will all be returning to your homes this evening."
Nervously, Mercurino spoke up, "Er, with respect madam, it will take considerably more time than that to pack up and return our entourage-"
"Trust me, no it won't. You're each going back on one of our ships. It'll give you a better feel for what you're in for. When I said you'll be returning to your homes this evening, I meant that literally. You are dismissed."
---
Waller was in her office aboard the main ship hovering over Tristania when she received an alert on her computer from the secretary.
[Princess is here to see you ma'am.] It said.
[Send her in.] She replied.
The office door slid open and Henrietta walked in, taking a seat when the Governor indicated for her to do so. "So, little host, what can I do for you?" Waller asked.
"I wanted to inquire after my friend."
"The pink one?"
"Louise Francoise, yes. I wanted to know when I could see her."
"When you go to Earth," the Governor replied, fiddling with some paperwork on her computer screen.
"What?"
"You people can be terribly shrill, you know that?" Waller said irritably.
"I thought you had her and that boy on this ship still!"
"What, you wanted us to imprison them? Don't be ridiculous. We sent the boy back home and sent her off to Europe with escorts, she's going to get educated and studied herself. We're actually quite grateful to her you know? If she hadn't caused that warp disturbance and grabbed the boy by accident, we wouldn't have been able to trace the disturbance back to this Lost Colony."
"I wish you wouldn't refer to it as such..."
The governor laughed at that, "Facts are facts Princess. Besides, you already made your deals with us, and you're going to keep them. If you actually do consider yourself a leader of your people, even if it is by something as inconsequential as blood, you'll do that much. Anyway, as for your friend, she'll be safe and sound. Once her education's done we'll bring her back and hand her off to you or her family as she likes. And you will get to see her before then, as I said, you're going to go to Earth, every cooperative leader we can grab will be."
"And when is this trip going to occur, in your mind?"
"When we're good and ready for it to."
I admit my first thought was Starcraft, but I'm guessing this is a an OSE(original space empire)? Looks interesting, you're starting off in the middle, so to speak, I do hope we get more details on what exactly went down to begin with, but I do appreciate not having to read the 'Louise summons X' scene again.
This is watched, I'm looking forward to more.
This is watched, I'm looking forward to more.
So, the United Terran Systems people are the most ludicrously sanctimonious and self-righteous group I've had the misfortune to read about in recent fiction.
Dear god.
I'm assuming they're meant to come across as unlikable and arrogant? You succeeded. You succeeded too well.
Wondering where this is going though. Is Halk going to rebel against having their culture subsumed and homogenized and their leaders reduced to local representatives?
Since apparently magic is nearly useless against these guys, how will they fight back?
Dear god.
I'm assuming they're meant to come across as unlikable and arrogant? You succeeded. You succeeded too well.
Wondering where this is going though. Is Halk going to rebel against having their culture subsumed and homogenized and their leaders reduced to local representatives?
Since apparently magic is nearly useless against these guys, how will they fight back?
KChasm
I apologize for the inconvenience.
It's not like I mind these UTS guys being unlikable and arrogant. 'Cause seriously, I don't! Okay, maybe I do, just a little, because I don't like jerks and there were enough jerks already and I get leery when the jerk-to-unjerk ratio increases, but that's like, incidental, I think.
What's really got my goat here though is these dudes being all stupid about being arrogant. 'Cause double seriously, one, it's like they stuck a dude with a diplomacy stat of zip into a high-diplo job, and two, has this "white^H^H^H^H^Htechnologically-advanced man's burden" schtick ever turned out well? Like, ever? Like do these space dudes not have history class where they come from?
'Cause they apparently had a class on "Being an Antagonist 101".
Is this whole thing some kind of fic-length Take That at the concept of high-technology dudes visiting the planet and messing all the politics up that gets lobbed around every now and then? Is that what this is? Because if the primary thesis here is "your idea is badwrong"...I dunno, man.
What's really got my goat here though is these dudes being all stupid about being arrogant. 'Cause double seriously, one, it's like they stuck a dude with a diplomacy stat of zip into a high-diplo job, and two, has this "white^H^H^H^H^Htechnologically-advanced man's burden" schtick ever turned out well? Like, ever? Like do these space dudes not have history class where they come from?
'Cause they apparently had a class on "Being an Antagonist 101".
Is this whole thing some kind of fic-length Take That at the concept of high-technology dudes visiting the planet and messing all the politics up that gets lobbed around every now and then? Is that what this is? Because if the primary thesis here is "your idea is badwrong"...I dunno, man.
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You're joking right? They come across as management, and surprisingly efficient and effective management at that.
There's a pretty big difference between self-righteous and simply being right. Halk is currently a bunch of barbarians who oppress civilians and have civil wars at the drop of hat, I expect that in a few years everyone will go hooray for our timely uplift, I'm glad I didn't have to live through the barbaric times of our ancestors.
Well except for the few mages who will likely spend a year or so being poked at in the lab, or if they're particularly unlucky being dissected in the lab. There's also the nobles who lose their position because they're incompetent or corrupt but no one likes those guys anyway.
It'll be more interesting to see the effects of the new Halk colony on Terrans than the other way around I reckon, whether their magic is simply a cute new variation of psionic power or something entirely new that starts a new craze of gene therapy for the addition of magic power to the average citizen.
Anyway sure there's questions like if they're actually a lost colony, and the elves are a subspecies or if something else is going on but I'm hoping in the future we'll see more character interaction and less empire building.
Edit: 60% casualties, OK that was too much.
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Aye basically. I'm assuming they're being written this way on purpose to be the antagonists.
They completely and utterly ignore the feelings and desires of the people they're conquering in all but name, then they start dictating what WILL happen, regardless of their input, flat out tell them that their histories are wrong and that their religion therefore is garbage.
This all while a normal trooper tanks a royal firemage attempting to incinerate him.
I'm trying to figure out how the halks will have a chance when they try to fight back. Their royal mages are literally the most powerful mages on the planet, barring void users.
I'm hoping that this isn't a stealth bashfic. Because honestly, not all that interested in reading about the SUPERIOR TERRAN ALLIANCE showing these pathetic backwards barbarians how much they suck for REASONS.
Though, I would very much like to read about Halk being jumpstarted into the sci-fi setting and then attempting to fight back.
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It is partly that. It wasn't originally, particularly not the original thread version but that thing had tone that went all over the place and I kind of lost control of it. It was going to be about the diplomatic ups and downs of being a weaker party in an exchange with an uncertainly hostile foreign power but started to take the tone of a wacky space adventure and bleeeeeh I couldn't control it.
This thing was an attempt to return to that but... gestated into something else in the interim between updates. There's actually a specific antagonist!
KChasm
I apologize for the inconvenience.
Good luck with your endeavors, I guess.