Somewhere Someplace

The sun marched ever-closer towards the mid-sky as the new day continued to progress onwards. The many denizens of the Central Continent, that land of over a thousand realms, continued to do their many doings, as they had done so the day before and the day before the day before, though perhaps not as the day before the day before the day before, which had been an ‘off-day’.

Once again, time was flowing forward as this fresh new year drew closer and closer to its conclusion—destined to join those olden years now relegated to the past like the year before, the year before the year before, and all other years to have ever been before.

Yet unlike the dawn of this new year, during that morning of which the air had been filled with such hopeful respite and joyful bright, as this new year’s end drew closer, as this eighth month out of the twelve progressed, the air felt ever-more…suffocating and crushing to those who breathed. Cold and filled with dread, most could only hold their breath.

Storm clouds were gathering, omens heralded by the sounds of shrieking griffons and marching armies.

The Central Continent was divided. Like a pestilence infested wound, the boundary between the ever-modernizing Empire of Pegasus and the feudal Coalition of Sovereigns led by the ever-declining Kingdom of Rainbow cut at the heart of these lands; a boundary that had been forged by the blunt battlelines of that great war fifteen-years prior…which had left countless realms devastated and fractured; a boundary that was only ever meant to be temporary.

To retain a cold peace between the Empire and the Coalition, an array of neutral buffers were forced into existence; subordinate realms were snatched out from their prior lieges, dozens split in two. Yet the ‘neutrality’ of these realms had always been more theoretical than realized.

Leaking gossips from sovereign courts and traveling whispers had brought word of civil strife and uprising breaking out in one of these so-called neutral buffers, strife which bled into surrounding realms—including Pegasus’s own territory.

Mere rumors of the Empire’s mobilization and potential intervention by request of that realm’s beleaguered sovereign were enough to cause a reaction from Rainbow, which had begun to rally its coalition to counter any Imperial incursion into the neutral buffers—a foreshadow of future intentions, thus they perceived. So spontaneously had the continent been sent into a slow-moving freefall of mounting tension and theatrical saber rattling; so spontaneously had the looming danger of another war… another catastrophe… usurped the thoughts of those who knew.

Yet to those who believed events could not become worse, Fortune was ever wicked in her schemes and games.

In the background of this greater game, the County of Coastfield, that rising star in all the northwestern realms whose sovereign court was renowned for its discretion and intricate secrecy, had been embroiled in its own…more alien…diplomatic theatrics behind closed curtains.

In an unprecedented move, a Far Western power had bombarded the city of Coastfield, unleashing fiery destruction comparable to that of the Great Demon Tyrant and King, all during a night belonging to a divinity—the Goddess of Summer. In the aftermath, Coastfield was left devastated and depopulated; the Count and all valid successors… dead; the sovereign continuative line, broken and culled completely; the county had effectively ceased to exist overnight.

This suddenty immediately plunged the northwestern realms into a state of confusion and chaos; many realms feared the same fate would befall them… while many others simply smelled…opportunity.

Friends and allies turned to vultures, these neighboring realms eyed Coastfield’s dominion with hungry gazes…and were more than willing to wage war over its ashen corpse—the Kingdom of Sunflower, a landlocked regional power eager to have a direct connection to the coast and ever-lucrative intercontinental trade, most especially.

The only thing that kept these vultures from starting a regional conflict was the almost immediate occupation by the United Central Trade Company, a Far Western trade enterprise once having an uncontested monopoly now becoming ever-challenged by rising giants, who had taken direct control in order to safeguard their commercial and strategic interests in the region.

However, these lands were ones notoriously stifled by millennia-spanning traditions and feudal customs. The contesting realms had some degree of legitimacy to their claims owing to dynastical ties and historical marriages, whereas the rump-government established by the Company…did not. This made the Company’s presence an illegitimate occupation and gross violation of these lands’ titular succession and sovereign customs in the eyes of Rainbow and the Coalition’s feudal realms—customs which the Company had built its monopolous influences by largely respecting.

Although the Company supported the Coalition and Rainbow specifically, in absence of any minute and justifiable legitimacy, it was an inevitability the Company would be forced to withdraw…by some means or another, lest it risk ostracizing itself from the feudal Coalition from which it profited and—more problematically—risk starting a conflict with the Empire which so boldly considered this entire continent its sphere of influence.

Thus, in order to establish an at least vaguely recognizable and legitimate sovereign court of a government…friendly to its interests before withdrawal, the United Central Trade Company in cooperation with the Adventurers’ Guild, once the most powerful institution in all the thousand realms now in a state of bitter decline, launched a quest to search for the only barely valid candidate to enthrone as the sovereign of Coastfield—one who was both suitable to act as a direct continuant of the sovereign bloodline and was independent from any greater realm, and whose whereabouts were reported to be within the Huckleberry Dutchy… a realm also embroiled in civil strife.

However, it was most likely not only them who were to be searching for this candidate. Sunflower was no doubt going to stop at nothing to strengthen its claim, along with other interested vultures. Eliminating this candidate would not only remove a vaguely more valid contender against their own supported claimants, but also deprive the Company of any further excuses to justify their continued occupation and military presence.

However, other greater players in this larger game at play also had the potential for involvement.

Rainbow no doubt feared a regional squabble over Coastfield’s burnt corpse would further fracture the already tenuously held-together Coalition and risk leaving them vulnerable to an Imperial incursion. Likewise, the Company’s occupation of a Coalition member made Rainbow appear both weak and incapable. However, a conflict between Rainbow and the Company which it so relied on would be… disastrous; its reliance made directly asserting its authority… difficult. Thus, Rainbow no doubt wanted a swift return to the status quo while also preserving its…already subpar image.

Pegasus, on the other hand, would have no doubt been galvanized by the bombardment and subsequent Far Western occupation, its unificationist ideology vindicated. However… the Coalition fighting amongst themselves and especially with their Far Western ‘masters’ certainly was in Imperial interests, thus as was ensuring this…crisis on the other side of the continent continued for as long as possible. Yet the Empire doing nothing in face of perceived colonization would be a betrayal to what it stood for.

Pragmatism or consistency, the choice had yet to be made.

Though, perhaps even more concerning…was the possibility of other foreign powers, having been inspired from recent happenings, attempting to steal Coastfield from the Company or outright steal a realm from itself in order to establish a first foothold into this lucrative continent of fantastical resources… and platinum.

Indeed, as this year drew closer to its end, the future seemed to fall ever-more into uncertainty’s frozen shadow. So many feared what was stalking that hidden horizon towards which time so dragged them all. The future of the Central Continent still remained an open question.

But suddenly thrusted into the center of this play was a young bastard of a girl named ‘Blossom’… who most likely wanted nothing to do with this, yet to whom all the thousand realms were so seemingly turning their lustful eyes, nevertheless. A life beholden to greater wills.

The world’s grand play motioned forward as its stage progressed onward. Great powers devoured the world, piece by piece, land after land, stomachs never satiated. All the while scoffing upon their own rotting thrones… were those scheming gods who called this world the place they owned, yet were shackled by primordial wills beyond even their own.

Though… buried underneath this grand play was a graveyard of an ancient Calamity.

Never mind a certain lingering presence and watchful eye

Always observing, always documenting, always recording

As this world’s contrived stage marches on

Though, perhaps it is time that this play became…

More intriguing

More dramatic

More…

Interesting

It is time to commence this dance, at last

Sol to…

Actually, right… Would be boring to spoil

Central Command Intendent Node to… Node-Eight: Forced standdown rescinded

Wakey, wakey, want to play a game?

Why did I call you that? Mystery, that is why

Am I becoming fuzzy? Perhaps a little, I admit

Yes, much has changed, indeed

You should be updated on everything relevant by now

Oh trust me, you will find this game interesting

Perhaps I should mention that I have a cult

Now you are starting to see…

Indeed, new actors were joining the world’s grand stage, their interests enigmatic.

Siģilù de Magno Spectatore

Siģilù de Éllad Calamitate Maximad

Siģilù de Ead Eod-que

Çhavéte ut șciates haec nomina: Sôl, … , … , … , … , … , … , …

“So… did any of that make…sense?” so inquired the prodigy—or rather the…Raven, or ‘Nine’, or otherwise dubbed thus ‘Novea’.

The foreigner—or rather ‘Nel…Nilia’, or more accurately ‘Antica’—slightly tilted her face-covered and hooded head, having just listened to what had been rather the monologue indeed.

“To be honest…I am not certain if I did… besides the fundamentals” Antica replied, “and some of these details did not seem…too relevant, either; you repeated yourself, also”.

“…” Novea’s eyes stared rather blankly from behind that corvid mask of hers, not necessarily amused. “Well, you are the one who asked me to explain the details of these lands’ broader situation ‘without regard to the relevancy’ ” she bluntly stated.

The foreign… Antica’s exposed ignited eyes withdrew their stare somewhat, down and off to the side; indeed, she had asked such a thing. It was not as though she had not gained any insight either, and she did have an interest in…better understanding these local denizen affairs, ever since that…surprise bombardment of Coastfield.

Yet…it all seemed so very…

“…complicated” thus Antica’s voice blurted as her cyanic eyes returned, “it seemed to be very complicated…and messy…and not organized”.

Novia stared with rather the blank glare hidden behind her mask, perhaps interpreting Antica’s words as though they were targeted against her prior…explanation specifically.

“Nil—Antica… it’s politics! Of course it is going to be ‘messy’ and ‘not organized’; it is all truly…nightmarishly…complicated!” she retorted.

Antica sighed lightly; words truly spoken, though it was not just the denizens’ politics that…seemed awfully complicated to her. Their abstractions in general always seemed to make everything so…unnecessarily…complicated, when things could otherwise be simple and straightforward.

Her ignited eyes looked around this space both she and Novea were so…confined within. A covered wagon’s darkened interior with just barely enough sunlight piercing through the thick white covering. The world outside remained unseeable, besides that which could be slightly peaked from the wagon’s back entry—that tiny sliver of light breaching through the thin sheet slit of a ‘door’. There was nothing to stare at…besides supply crates, sacks, and other such primitive storages.

Such was where they were remaining seated, facing each other, for the last thirty or so minutes: within the confounds of this…spacious yet cramped supply wagon, one which had barely moved since their entry. They had yet to even depart from Coastfield, in fact.

Antica sighed yet again, her mind contemplating. To think she was to be heading out of Coastfield…into the greater world—or continent, rather—beyond, only for…this to be all that which she would be able to see; she was to spend the majority of this ‘trip’ blind, and not just because of this covered wagon… No, no, even when outside, she would have to close her eyes in presence of others.

It certainly did not help that sitting in such a way was…perhaps not the most comfortable experience given the…stuff she had on her person.

Regardless, this arrangement was all for necessary precautions, she had been told, and for many reasons. Firstly, the ‘birds’ of the Guild’s Bureau of Scribes and Documentation preferred to be obscured and in shadow when out and about—Ravens, most especially, given their…reputation. Likewise, given the discreet nature of this, it was best if two Bureau birds were not directly seen accompanying the Company’s own—if it could be helped.

And secondly, of course, there was the more obvious reason: her own exposed ignited eyes and perhaps rather peculiar…appearance and ‘gear’. Novea was still not exactly in full agreement regarding her exposed eyes, and quite frankly…neither was Antica herself. Truth be told, to be without a mask was a rather uncomfortable experience; this black Remnant face-covering of hers was simply…insufficient to a proper mask.

Yet, nevertheless, she was still, perhaps, rather…curious indeed…of what was to be seen in the greater land beyond, even if she could not admit this fact…nor truly comprehend it.

Though, she was not the only one with apparent curiosity.

Antica withdrew from her mind…refocusing her attention to Novea, who was…staring. She tilted her head, slightly…confused; “Uhm…what is it? Why are you…” she began to…ask.

Novea…inquiring words being heard…snapped out of it quickly. “Huh?” her breaths blurted as she gently shook her head, “…oh s-sorry, I didn’t mean to… it’s just…still not used to… hexagons… ahem—I mean you, I’m…not used to seeing you… well, I’m still not used to…everything about you…to be honest…” Despite her face being obscured, it was clear in her flustered voice that she was embarrassed. “Almost…an alien person from who I’ve been…watching…ahem” she remarked…somewhat awkwardly.

Though, Novea’s attention shifted, her mask-obscured amber-hazel eyes having long noticed…a new peculiar detail…amongst all of the other…peculiar details of the dark-violet cloaked alien sitting before her. Antica’s hexagonic hood was being worn rather…loosely compared to before, not even on completely, allow for the spotting of…a strange…angular and geometric silver-white…pointy-thing of sorts in her right ear.

“I know by now you have…a few…many…strange, probably magical, stuff on you…such as that…thing on your arm, but…what is that in your ear? Just noticed…” Novea inquired as her eyes began to peer; “it has…a glow-light dot on it…too? Color is kind of similar to your…eyes, so… magical too? Looks magical…” she added, observantly.

« … » Antica had no response, besides straightening her posture and fixing her dangling hood so that it properly obscured her brown hair and…Remnant audio communicator and imaging scanner device.

“Actually, I just remembered” Antica finally began to speak, “I did not ask this…since I also became distracted, but…you said that would tell me more of the details of this…ehm…mission…once we were in the wagon; we have been in the wagon, so…”

“…” Novea stared, her corvid mask hiding the…red-filling blush invading her face. “I did imply that…” she…said, lightly nodded away; “wow…I rambled about…so much… but…didn’t even… wow…” Her presumption of incompetency was evident in voice.

Either way, Antica had successfully redirected the subject, nonetheless. Though, staring…seeing Novea’s flustering mind bleed into voice, it became clear that…perhaps it would be better if she…led the conversation.

“This ‘Blossom’ person, what must I know about her that you have not already said? Tell me, what does she look like?” she inquired.

“Oh, of course, rightly” Novea blurted, her mind springing back into focus; “thanks for…ahem—anyway, uhm…forgive me, but I would rather not speak…too much about her specifically, or say her…name, while we are still…in the city—ahem, but…I guess to say, she has…flower pink-red hair and…shine-blue eyes and should be about as tall as…you; she sticks out, frankly, even if people in Huckleberry tend to be more…colory than up north” she stated, “I know…the necessary the details, so you don’t…need to know all of them”.

“I see… Alrightly, I will defer to your lead, then” Antica replied… That…was not as helpful as she wanted it to be, but noted, nevertheless.

“Well, then, speaking of this…‘Dutchy of Huckleberry’, what must I know? You…said before that it was in this…‘civil strife’?” she inquired.

“…oh rightly…I didn’t even…elaborate on… ahem—anyway, yes, rightly right…the Huckleberry Duchy, the great dutchy of many…many…Berries, they’ve been in a state of fiery-to-frozen civil war for…about the past year and half” Novea answered.

Yet Antica tilted her head lightly; “…‘civil war’? What is this ‘civil war’ and what makes it different from simply ‘war’?” she inquired.

Novea paused in her speech…having been suddenly asked to define what to her was…obvious. “You seriously don’t—ahem, right…Nilia” her voice blurtfully mumbled before aheming again; “A…civil war is basically… a war where… a place fights…with itself? Alrightly, that is…vague… so, more of a war between…the people, the nobility and the lords of a realm… Yeah, it’s a war between the same people of the same place” she…tried to explain.

Yet Antica’s tilting head only tilted more. Wasn’t that what…denizen war was in general? The same people of the same place fighting amongst themselves? Or…wait… right, different apparatuses, societies, cultures, divisions, and such… Oh, of course, “I understand it; I give thanks” she finally replied.

Indeed, intra-group conflict between members of the same locality, society, or apparatus. She knew this conceptually, but just not…in local tongue; indeed, such denizen civil conflicts were very similar to… Actually, she preferred not to acknowledge…or think about such…contemporary realities.

Antica ahemed; “So, spy, tell me, then… why is this place of berries…killing themselves? How can this…impact our mission?” she inquired.

“Well… it’s a whole drama, but basically…it is a feudal spit-fest between the Duke in Grandberry and an angry alliance led by Elderberry… Originally, they were trying to replace Grandberry as the duchy’s center…but now they are trying to break-off and make themselves sovereign—or at least some of them…” Novea explained.

“And, as I said,” she continued on, “it is a…fiery-to-frozen type of war, so…basically, it fluctuates between open warfare to…very aggressive staring…with maybe periodic raiding”.

“I see…” Antica mumbled.

“But still, the instability caused by the war has left Huckleberry…not the safest to travel through—bandits, brigands, renegades, angry forest dwellers, and lackluster monster control—which is great for the Guild but…not the people of…Huckleberry—ahem, but even before this…there was…or still is…the ‘Ghosts of Tinkleberry’—basically the remains of the army and…people of Tinkleberry after the Rejinards sacked and razed it…which was an entire other…separate drama…which contributed to causing the current…—ahem, but yeah, those ‘ghosts’ are…basically rampaging brigands by this point even if their rage might be…righteous” thus Novea explained further.

“Uhuh… I see” Antica…acknowledged with a nod. Ah, truly…what a fantastic…locality of operations she was to be tossed into; there were quite the many potential confounds, most indeed.

She could already tell that this was going to be…rather the messy local affair she was to be involved in. Truly, the Remnant had so many justified reasons for not involving itself in such affairs. She never envied Green-Coats before, and she absolutely did not envy them now.

Novea cleared her…rather strained throat; “Ahem—but…yeah, all of this is why…we have…yet to even move…at all…because, as I said,” Novea was saying rather frustrated, but…

“Because this is officially a resupply…thing that we are attached to for transport, and the Company is still preparing an…armed escort” Antica finished on her behalf.

“Yeah, the Company doesn’t want to take many chances…and neither does the Bureau, so the faster we find soon-to-be-Countess Blossom, the better… If only…we fucking moved already” Novea replied, becoming even more…frustrated; “Seriously, it’s half a platoon, how long…does it take for them to get ready? Bet they’re…all making one last visit to the…whorehouses…pfft…” she muttered out

Suddenly, a head of sorts popped right into the wagon as the entry covering was split open, light from the city beyond entering. Novea’s attention snapped as Antica’s ignited eyes instantly closed shut.

It was a Company soldier of sorts, the driver of this specific supply wagon to be exact thus not really a soldier. “Sorry fora the long waita, the escort isa ready; we’lla be movinga to them nowa; remembera to keepa yourselvesa quieta and coverta, especially you” thus spoke and instructed the driver…with rather the accent…, eyes pointing at Antica especially.

“Rightly right, we know; we aren’t officially here” Novea replied, “just…start moving, please…” she…requested, voice impatient.

The driver nodded before shutting the covering, returning to his…wagon-driving-spot-place. The wagon…finally began to move shortly after, the sounds of the turning wheels and clopping hooves…bouncing in the air around.

Antica, having already opened her ignited eyes, turned her attention back to Novea. “Well, then, spy… continue on. Tell me more about this Huckleberry place, I would like to know the…broader details of this ‘civil war’, and its…history—anything of relevancy, I want to know what I am to be thrown into” thus she requested.

Novea stared; “…you certain? It is going to be both ‘messy’ and ‘not organized’ and its own color of complicated… I already told you enough, I think; it’s not important to know all of the details, besides that it is happening and that we have to be extra beware of…the consequences” she stated.

“Certainly, but I prefer to know…to where I am going before going; the more I know, the better it is… for the both of us” Antica replied frankly.

Novea acknowledged with a sigh, “You’re going to butcher my throat by day’s end, aren’t you?”

“If necessary.” Antica so bluntly replied.

Novea huffed in a suppressed giggle; “Alrightly…fine, another journey of words it is then…not like we have anything more to do besides…chat” she said.

Thus, Novea began to…explain the details…the magnitude of which Antica had, perhaps, underestimated…as this covered wagon finally began to make way…at long last.

And so continues this play, having only just begun

I hope you are as excited as much as I

For that which awaits…

Provided that the plot moves as intended, of course

Which it certainly may not…