NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Closed unless you are either a direct Weyrean ally (not likely), have contacted me prior to posting about participation in this thread (via TG or IRC), or are The Resurgent Dream or Akaton.

Council Hall
Wye City
Earthbound Prefecture
Terra

One week after the Southport Ward incident

That she had called a general meeting of the directorates wasn't turned into a problem. Victoria was not a High King, but she was the closest thing to a High King Weyr possesed. Former protege of Alicia, backed by the corporations and the Phyles, she was King in all but name. That she had chosen to call a general meeting of the directorates and had brought the directors of the Paradigm Sector was missed by few. This meeting had been planned; the incident of two weeks ago had simply accelerated the timetable a bit.

Victoria walked confidently through the functional yet elegant corridors of the tall spire that was Council Hall, surrounded by sycophants and advisors. She had no illusions about their loyalty, but half of her power was showmanship, and they were a part of that endless play. The real decisionmakers were hidden behind a mass of ambitious faces. She made a slight indication to the two High Guard escorting her party. They turned on their heels, snapped to attention, let her pass, then blocked the path. Order of the regent; thou shall not pass. Glowing green eyes dared anyone to challenge their ability to enforce Victoria's decree. There would be no reason for them to be present. The rumours they would spread would be worth more to her plans than the real facts.

They would finally get the message and find the dining room, along with its wine, and would hopefully be drink enough to stay there for the night.

***

She chose a seat at the head of the oval conference table, made of a single massive oak tree that might have once grown on the slopes of Mt. Weyr. Just another bit of show. There were others already there, but she was neither late nor early. Her dress shifted smoothly as she sat down into the high-backed leather chair. Light streamed through the high, stressglas windows, closed shut against the bitter high-altitude winds that swept around the spire of Council Hall, driving away the last vestiges of angry storm clouds.

Briefcases clicked open; azure crystals were pulled from their protective casings or from amidst sheaves of paper, to be plugged into the brass consoles placed before each chair. They looked like ancient typewriters, until the crystals flared one by one. "Thank you all for coming," she began, once all were seated. "The Kingdom is at a crossroads. We have weathered a major crisis, in no small part thanks to assistance from the Empire of Mists. Whether or not the Kingdom will be capable of withstanding another such issue is questionable."

A few looked mildly surprised at the last comment, as Victoria had expected. The Kingdom always tried to project an image of stability and power to both its people and the world outside. The Weyrean government existed because it was accepted as a common and relatively impartial body. Despite the minor incidents that were a part of daily Weyrean life, the government itself continued on unchanged. The Empire invaded, and left the bodies of power alone. A rebellion swept through the kingdom, and the next day the High Council was debating toxic waste disposal. The Kingdom seemed stable. Victoria, and possibly a few others, knew the fragile webs on which the behemoth nation really hung. She looked around the room, giving anyone who needed it a bit of time to digest the new facts.

"Admiral Hawksblood," Victoria indicated after a time. "Could you describe the situation of the Guard...

The Admiral had few illusions about the power of his forces. They were the best in their sector, on the far side of the galaxy./ In Sol, they were just another pisspot state trying to get ahead. Documentation of known enemy and neutral power projection capabilities dispelled any doubts. There were no allies. Victoria had made sure her backers would come prepared.

Most knew that the Board of Estimates projected strong deficits and a declining economy. That the Board of Estimates’ best projection was had a negative three-trillion-dollar trade balance in fifty years sent a collective shudder through the room.

The shocks continued. The Southport Ward barrier was getting restored, but its capability to withstand future assaults was not increased. There was neither skill nor funds to do so. Even Ash professed that he knew of no one alive capable of repatterning the incredibly complex weaving that checked the spread of realSpace disturbance through the world.

Former Tier Five
li'Illorin Clan Territory
Shadowside Sector
Wye City

One day after Southport Ward Incident termination

Kira wanted nothing better than to lie down, and forget the entire past week. The old curse was coming back to haunt her time and again -- she lived in interesting times. White gloved knuckles rapped on the stout steel door -- ordinary wood rarely stopped a determined assault.

"Bad day, hon?" Fiona inquired, opening the door, blue on blue eyes taking in the battered alchemist girl. She sounded genuinely concerned, and Kira knew that she was. Wye City, city of dreams, city of nightmares. The punishment factories of underground phyles were hunted for, hunted but never found. Kira could understand why. City of lights, and depths of night. Wasn’t that how the song went?

"More like a week," she responded, wondering if she looked as bad as she felt, slipping past the slender elf and into the small apartment. A steamer rumbled outside the glass windows, streaked with grime and thaumaturgic runoff that even alchemy couldn't remove. Old shelves filled with dog-eared books on alchemy and theater trembled until the lighter caterpillar passed by. "How's life?" she returned, pulling off her boots. A spark of thaumaturgic discharge, and the mud left on the floor was gone. The streets were still overflowing with backed up sewers. She should’ve checked her account; The Tower rarely forgot a payment, but still. If this job didn’t get a decent bonus…well, she’d need to find a new place to sleep. Leeching off Fiona wasn’t something Kira wanted to do. The elf had enough problems; Kira didn’t want to become one of them.

"Same old, same old" Fiona chuckled, plopping down next to her on the couch, which groaned beneath their combined weight. "The Tower sent a message for you." she pulled a rather battered envelope from her blouse. "Don't want to open it?" the elf raised one eyebrow. A nail neatly sliced the top open. Heavy paper crackled, opening. "Dear Person. We have received your request for a full Alchymical certification, and after considerable thought are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted for consideration. We expect a full thesis project, or a practical presentation, within two months. Thank you."

Kira blinked. "They're...accepting me?" she asked finally.

'Looks like it," Fiona grinned toothily. "Don't you dare break up on me." Her eyes flared with mock threat.

OOC: Assuming half of the All Darkness Met thread has been retconned

To: Whomever it may concern
From: Office of the Regent, Weyr
Subject: Demonic Intrusions

As you are well aware, the Kingdom has passed through something of a crisis. The amount of information your embassy within the Kingdom has obtained regarding this issue may not be significant, nor may that information be completely accurate. Recent events have shown, however, that the Kingdom will require a certain amount of outside assistance to make sure such incidents do not occur again.

Since both you and Akaton have dealt with demonic threats in the past century, we ask if you have any expertise you may be able to lend us in restoring the current wards surrounding Southport. I have taken the liberty of including data forwarded via the Grand Alchemist’s office at The Tower along with this message.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v485/Weyr/lenne02.jpg
Sincerely,
Regent Victoria li’Paradigm

***

Former Tier Five
li'Illorin Clan Territory
Shadowside Sector
Wye City

Two days after Southport Ward Incident termination

Kira sat on the window ledge, naked toes pointing down towards the street, tickled at times by an errant breeze. She fingered the small gray seal pressed to the inside of the envelope from last night. The report of ‘kaster shot cracked a dozen blocks down. The Deathless Clan was encroaching into li’Illorin territory with all the finesse of a bull in rut. At some point the li’Illorin would take action; the yellow flower would smash the death’s head badge like a lion swatting a kitten. All darkness met, the badge read. She had no idea what it meant, but it felt important. A trio of armored hovercars flashed three stories below, multi-barreled Reason gatlings shimmering in the soft light of streetlamps.

A number of construction companies, seers, and warriors are sent by ship to help repair the damage.

Former Tier Five
li'Illorin Clan Territory
Shadowside Sector
Wye City

Three days after Southport Ward Incident termination

There were price drops. Stores got deliveries for the first tme in a week. Wye City was prepared for a siege, in a way; that didn't stop it from profiting at the expense of the poor whenever it could.

"It's these alchemists," Kira heard muttered whispers on the streets. She needed a new pair of boots, which meant spending a chunk of her salary in one go. She was a Weyrean, the only decent cobbler lived in the human district. Glares followed her down the street. The crimson-haired alchemist was quite sure it had nothing to do with small increase in prices. She tried to ignore the gathering wall of hostility.

Overlook Station
Southport Ward Control
Southern Weyr
Terra

Nine days after the Southport Ward Incident termination

A mushroom-shaped spire lay on its side, striking against the field of waist-high yellow grass. Kira deftly stepped over a great eternastone block, one of the many that had made up the spire of Overlook. A military walker crouched to the left,. Mithril-steel armor and uranium overlay plate shimmered, covered in morning dew. A helo roared overhead. Startled birds shot out of the yellow stalks.

"Right. See these walkers," the crimson-haired alchemist halted for a moment, turning to the people she was escorting.

The Imperials were...strange. The cruiser had come in in the middle of night, loaded with things no one really needed. Kira would've told them to pack up and go home. Diplomacy, however, was not an honest business. The construction crews the Sidhe had brought on their cruiser were getting used to clear the wreckage of a small township ten kays to the north. Were Kira to have climbed the sleek walker, she could have seen military and Imperial equipment bring down ruined walls. The rest, the ones actually useful in the real matter, were now following her, or so she hoped. if they were dumb enough to miss her military-cur blue jacket....

"So, these are the perimeter markers," she continued. A white-gloved hand indicated the walkers farther left and right of her. "Anything beyond this is fair game. Etherstat picks up demons, Reasons go off, we all die. Simple as that. Anyone staying behind?" her sharp eyes, the same fiery color as her short hair, glinted, though more in mischief than in malice.

"Alchemist Kira, ser, a squad of Star Guard marines halted near her, footfall muffled by soft, wet earth and bruised grass. One had a massive gattling cannon in his shoulder, another a single-barrel canon, the rest rifle-like contraptions, all with wires running to the backs of the armored suits, which at seven feet towered above Kira. "Secort. By orders of the Regent." Impassive green eyes looked down at her.

"Right then. These guys're gonna make sure we die with guns blazing. So, everyone coming?" More helos shot above.

A shadow blotted out the sun for a moment. Were someone to have looked above, they would have seen the massive mithril-steel bulk of the WSGS Ocean Twilight, Ship of the Line, move slightly to resume its protective station over the growing encampment of thaumaturgs, military, and now Imperials. The Weyreans were taking no chances this time.

Council Hall
Wye City
Earthbound Prefecture
Terra

Nine days after Southport Ward Incident termination

How many alliances were there -- Metus, the Triumverate, the Non-Democratic Alliance, ESUS, the Federation. Of course, Weyr was already part of the almighty Empire, now in a state of de-facto civil war. The Imperial Governor left Weyr well enough alone, never leaving his palace and its protection of two hundred thousand odd Imperial soldiers and personnel. Victoria made sure the Empire and Weyr didn't conflict with one another, and as long as that was the case the Empire happily left the Kingdom alone, save for the odd monetary transfer and request to construct new craft once every few years. The arrangement did nothing to make Victoria feel better.

The Kingdom had no national military. Outstanding contracts with the Guard made it seem otherwise, but the Guard was not a real force. It was a freecorps, albeit a loyal one. The Guard had proven it was the best-armed and best-trained force on the far side of the galaxy, but it wouldn't be able to protect Weyrean interests in Sol. Three Ships of the Line and their escorts would not be able to do much against many of the states inhabiting that overcrowded system.

The Triumverate...it required sponsorship, close ties, something Weyr distinctly lacked. There was no market for Weyrean goods, aside from the metals slowly beginning to come in from the External Prefectures, as the Board of Estimates so aptly put it two days ago. Which of the stable powers in that alliance would sponsor the Kingdom, a bastion of change and permanent conflict. There were no ties to use, or fravors to call on.

The Non-Democratic Alliance was little better. She could have argued that she was an absolute monarch, but the reality was too plain to miss. The KIngdom was a state composed of many states, each with its own agenda. The Council and the King existed because of the belief that they were needed, and because the phyles and corporations knew the Council was the only way for them to civilly settle their disputes. Were the general populace to rise against the Council, or were the phyles and corporations to falter, there would be little the Council and thus the Regent could do except dissolve.

ESUS -- it stood at odds with the Empire. There would be hell to pay were the Kingdom to even seemingly side with a potential enemy of the Sith. Victoria had little love for the Empire, but she could not defy it. The KIngdom was not capable of such a feat. As for the Federation, she has seen its debates in council degenerate into petty arguments. Dissolved, remade, it would die having accomplished little of its goals. Victoria had no interest in wasting Weyr's resources on useless dreams.

Metus...well...it was an option. The military clause...it didn't really apply. Weyr had no national military, after all. Victoria had no illusions about fooling Melkor, or his successor, depending on how that war panned out. But on the other hand Weyr would most probably never draw on allied aid; Weyr tended to be seen as a state that did not have enough benefits in return for the pains of an invasion. Besides, it was cheaper to just come in lgitimately and set up a phyle. Watching the current situation in the Five Kingdoms evolve, the Regent decided that whatever happened in Weyr, the alliance wouldn't meddle in its internal affairs. This was good -- there wouldn't be any problems with Weyrean internal policies. The Empire of Mists might cause problems, but ultimately Victoria doubted that Weyr's relationship with them could grow. That Empire was heading down the technological path; Weyr would have little to offer or to take a state that went down the road of mundane technology. Thus, Weyr didn't have an option.

The militarization in Sol was unsettling. Victoria guessed that whatever the outcome, Weyrean neutrality wouldn't be respected by anyone. The Guard could do little; its entire arsenal barely matched the assets deployed by a single state in the system.

Former Tier Five
li'Illorin Clan Territory
Shadowside Sector
Wye City

Three days after Southport Ward Incident termination

She liked to wander through the city, a native tourist never really believing what she saw, that she was really here. IntDoc gave her the knowledge of the city. She knew she would turn and see the spike of the old Militia Tower down below, peeking through the stressglas skywalk, until she would lean over and look at it, still standing there despire regular community actions to remove it. Kira never bothered with the things -- they were as pointless as anything she had ever seen -- but the Tower was always there, or so it seemed. Now there was just a hole in the ground. Someone had finally got rid of the gray old thing, with its diamond and mit'ril tip.

A radio in the restaurant behind her blared something about a li'Illorin offensive. The sun-gold flower was back. A pair of dwarves lugged chairs and battered metal tables out of the cool depths of the bar. Fresh sunlight burned away the early morning fog. Hovercars clogged up the multitiered streets. She could just stand there all day, but without the old Militia Tower...something just felt wrong.

Overlook Station
Southport Ward Control
Southern Weyr
Terra

Nine days after the Southport Ward Incident termination

"Anyway," the crimson-haired alchemist kept up a continuous steam of chatter. "Dunno how much you guys've been told 'bout what the hell we're doing here. The entire grid this side's been wiped, so we'll be restoring that tomorrow. oday we got four obelisk anchors to raise and reestablish. Job's to assess their integrity and see if we need to just replace them. From what I've seen yesterday, looks like one'll be out for sure." The Obelisk line could clearly be seen, although the grass was now waist high for the four armed escorts. Well...the nearest obelisk could be seen, at least the top of it, since getting closer it became apparent that the twenty-meter stone was lying diagonally, nearly sideways.

It was of the depest black, not shiny, but the sort of black that seemed to pull a person in until they were lost in the dark surface. Those with ethersense might have seen layers upon layers of eternally-shifting runes and equations squirm and crawl over it, seemingly at once within, above, and below the dark surface.

"Right," a bird tried to land on it, startled, shot back into the air. "That's the first. We got another team on the right, a few kays in that direction." Kira pointed somewhere to the west. "That's the stable one. Three more on the left. We got another two teams coming here tomorrow to work on them. We don't have grid control here, so keep your eyes open. Something feel wrong, it prolly is."


The four soldiers walked some distance south, further into the ward, unslung their weapons. Radar and etherscan stabbed through the yellow grass, found nothing of note. "Looks clear," their leader, perhaps one might have noticed his position by the three bars on his armor's shoulder, shouted.

"Right. So...I assume you've doen this before?" the alchemist asked innocently, standin five meters from the slightly-pulsing obelisk of the deepest black.

Overlook Station
Southport Ward Control
Southern Weyr
Terra

Eleven days after the Southport Ward Incident termination

They pushed the patterning machines of The Tower to the edge. Ten billion Weyrs' worth of materials went into those great furnaces. An etherstat flying high above recorded the momentary spike of thaumaturgic energies. The forges of The Tower burned hot. The residual flux would hang in bits and pieces around the peak of Mt. Weyr for days. A fragile link made of the purest mit'ril snapped. It would be days before the patterning machine would be safe enough to enter and repair the million-Weyr thread.


*****

She didn't look old, maybe twenty-six at best. That she was sixty and suffering from irreparable cell degeneration was something that none outside her innermost circle knew about. She prodded the brass key, and began to dictate. After decades of rule she didn't distinguish between the showpiece that propped her position, and the person pulling the strings. Text was not the best way of transmitting messages -- voice worked better to convey subtelties in one, made things seem more open and sincere. That it just felt right mattered little to the Regent, sitting in a borrowed office within the spire of Council Hall.

To: Her Imperial Majesty, High Queen of the Resurgent Dream, Duchess of Johsam, Countess of Ralaph, Lady Golding
From: Victoria li'Paradigm, Regent

>>Voc.all.open
>>>Definitions PreLoaded
>>>//Initiate

"I had the two obelisks we've replaced from the Ward loaded on cargo transports; they will hopefully reach you in two days. Maybe they will be of some use to you in the future, I am told they're the crowning achievement of Weyrean civilization. We've reached our pinnacle by cleaning up our own messes. I should be proud, I guess. We couldn't have done it without your help; there was a near breakout seven hours after the last ward was set.

I decided to pack a pair of fusactors with the stones. I do not suppose they are used much outside the Kingdom, but maybe they will come in handy some day. The Tower says it can teach your people how to make them in four years. Consider it a token repayment, if anything. The Kingdom will back the Resurgent Dream in any enterprise, even if I cannot make that official, what with the current Council blocking my every move. But that is beside the point. I may have gotten Weyr involved with Metus, but that changes nothing regarding the Kingdom or its actions towards the world, however it may seem."

>>>Auto.end
>>>//Terminate

Things clicked within the small black cube. It didn't smoke, or fizzle. It simply stopped, its rod logic arrays snapping back into a uniform position, wiping all traces of the recording once held within.

Your Majesty,
I cannot express the gratitude of myself or my people for the gift you have bestowed upon us. The friendship of the people of Weyr is something to which my people attach the greatest value and Your Majesty may rest assured that your gesture has not gone unnoted and shall not go unrecipricated. In spite of technological and cultural differences, I believe our two peoples can work together in the world.
Sincerely,
Agwene ni Gwydion
High Queen of the Resurgent Dream et. al.