Sanctarcadia
17-12-2005, 06:15
Chapter 1
It was a continent 19,616,088 square miles in size, dotted with vast forests, arid deserts, windswept western plains and prairies, frozen tundra and arctic boreal, imposing mountain ranges, and all manner of plateaus, ridges, rivers, streams, creeks, bays, lakes, gulfs, springs, fountains, falls, rapids, orchards, fields, and swamps. It was a land rich in resources, gold deposits in the north and the west, oil in the north, the south and the east, coal in the hills of the northeast and the mountain ranges, iron, copper, timber, lead, uranium, nickel, mercury, tungsten, zinc, phosphates, bauxite, and silver.
It was a virgin land, but not an uninhabited one. 10 million inhabitants called it home. It was not a settled land. The native inhabitants were of primitive custom, divided into their own tribes and nations, their territories extending over vast swathes of the continent. The rest all hailed from different regions, all having come to the land for different reasons, some voluntarily, some otherwise. They were divided into their own communities, rarely in contact with one another, with their own customs and languages. Some were peaceful, some belligerent. Some were democratic, some followed the spoken law of their own petty tyrants. None were taken to philosophy, to art, or literature. They were a people shrouded in ignorance, disunited, disconnected, disenchanted.
There lay about a quarter of a mile off the east coast a certain island of moderate to large size, and with particularly rich, black soil. Here it was that a decade ago a particularly adventurous businessman had undertaken to start a plantation and manufacturing center for agricultural and industrial tools, making use of slave labor purchased on various underground international markets. For many years he was quite successful, and while at heart a good and moral man, he was a harsh disciplinarian, firm in the belief that only through the tutelage of his sturdy hand and whip could his slaves learn the worth of their bondage and continue to add to his own prominence.
However the slaves were hard learners, and there were those among them who still recalled the sunlit lands of their birth, who remembered the laughter of free children, and the blessed winds of liberty blowing through their hair. There were those who would not suffer to be enslaves, those who would shed their blood to shed the chains of their brothers and sisters. They were the noble, the courageous, the intelligent, the cunning, the self-sacrificing sons of freedom, and through such consequence as is unfathomable by all mortal minds, they were a people the gods had smiled upon.
So it was that on a warm night in early July there was put into effect a plan long in the making, and the slaves rose up, striking down their taskmasters, and forcing their former master from the island with his family. So it was that the former slaves took in the first dawn of their liberty, looked around at the island and at each other, and for the first time recognized their objective reality. They were a liberated people, but they were alone in the world.
Chapter 2
With this recognition came something familiar to many of the slaves, but something they had not expected to come so swiftly with freedom: fear. There is a certain comfort for the enslaved man in that he has no control over his own destiny, and therefore everything is out of his hands, and while man innately longs to control his own destiny when he realizes he is a prisoner, seldom does he recognize his own instinctive desire to surrender his fate to a higher power when he is free. The world for the liberated people was a cold one, and the rising sun brought little warmth or comfort. There were those who immediately regretted events and talk began to circulate about setting off from the island in search of the deposed master, however fortunately such cowardess was rare, as they were a people hardy in spirit as well as strength.
If God in all his wisdom had not guided the circumstances to pass through his own hand, certainly it had been his will to do so through the hands of inspired men, and among the people of the island there were a handful of such individuals. They were the men who had planned and led the revolt, and while they were a lot of disparate persuasion, they were all unified in the knowledge that the responsibility for the people they had led to liberty now rested on their shoulders. They called for a meeting, a council to discuss the future, and the creation of a permanent institution, for whether they liked it or not, the liberated people were now in it together and for the long haul.
It was the fourth day that saw fifty-six men gather in the hall of the former master’s house to discuss the formation of a system, one representative from every major family. It was a hot morning, and the rain that had fallen the night before rose from the ground again. The air in the hall was one of many tones, all excited. The tallest of the men in the room called desperately for order, banging his hands on an oak desk. The room eventually fell silent following the discharge of a firearm into the ceiling by a particularly stern faced young man.
As silence fell, another man who appeared to be roughly forty years of age, his hands large and callused from hard work, his face lined and weather beaten, his eyes blue-grey and piercing, spoke in a calm voice, soothing but powerful. There was not an ear in the room that would not heed the sound of that voice.
“Brothers in arms. There is not a man in this room who God has not favored. There is not a family among us who does not deserve this favor. There is also not a heart that recognizes truly the value of our struggle, and not a mind that flinches when it considers the enormous task ahead of us. We stand on the edge of a chasm, having just crossed from the other side. We feel the burdens of our own liberty, and if we look back or let this weight drag us down, we will surely be pulled into the abyss. It is our duty to ourselves, to God, to our families, and to our posterity to make sure that we do not fall, and that today we set ourselves forward; we take that first step away from the ledge. Following this first, most difficult step, we will be given opportunity to take another, and another, and another until our dark past and the calamity that befell us is nothing but a distant memory for our grandchildren.”
Jefferson Rand’s featured were composed as he paused, his eyes bright as he looked every man in the room directly in the eye.
“We find ourselves in an interesting situation. We are but a stone’s throw from slavery, and yet we are closer than we have ever been or ever will come to true liberty. It is our job here and indeed for the rest of our mortal existences to preserve this liberty and keep ourselves and our children free in this land. We have indeed been blessed, and it is my belief that every man here is of suitable vision and intelligence to aid in the securing of our future. Our destiny has been made manifest. We must build a government for our new country.”
Rand sat down, and with this the roar started again, to be interrupted a few minutes later by another man getting to his feet, this one noticeably younger than Rand, and with a bolder countenance. He went by the moniker Benjamin Graves.
“Rand is right! We aren’t that far from where we were five days ago! We’re probably worse off. Our families are starving. We have among us only two hundred firearms. Our shelter is sub-par. Our government is nonexistent! What are we to do?”
The room broke out again in uproarious conversation. A man slammed the butt of a pistol on the desk a dozen times, and brought order. He got to his feet. His hair was stark white and his accent was strange and unfamiliar.
“I’ve seen enough of this world, even in captivity, to know that if we don’t set something down, we’ll tear ourselves to bits. It’s our nature as men. We’ll have to build a government. We’ll need a central congress. Then, I propose that every man here, every representative of every family draw up his land. We’ll split the island up into districts, and every district have its representative, then we’ll work from there.”
A low rumble, and then another voice.
“That’ll never work! They’ll tear each other to pieces just drawing up their boundaries!”
“Aye! And what happens with the bigger families? They’ll get more land then us! It’s not fair!”
The old man, whose name was Ezera Styles raised his hands for order.
“We’ll settle it this way. We’ll divide the island up. For every 500 men, two representatives in the congress. They’ll pick the best, and then the representatives will pick a leader for them.”
The rumblings were more content now. The old man nodded satisfactorily and sat down. Jefferson Rand took the floor.
“Then we have reached our first consensus. For every 1,000 head, a stake of land will be carved out and two men chosen to represent them in the congress. The representatives will choose a leader.”
Benjamin Graves spoke out.
“But what about the leader’s power? We can’t surrender ourselves so easily to slavery again.”
Rand nodded sagely.
“He will be held accountable by a law of the land, same as every other man.”
Styles spoke out.
“A document detailing the rights of all men and the laws by which the leader will abide. A constitution for this island.”
Another chorus of mumbling pierced by a new voice.
“And what, pray tell, will we call this island?”
Silence, then a low roar.
“Asyla! An Asylum for us, a haven for our children, a beacon of true liberty.”
A resounding chorus of applause and “here! here!”
And so the wheels for the new republic were set in motion. On the thirtieth day, the full draft of the constitution was presented to the representatives of the six new states. On the sixtieth day, the congress met for the first time and selected a leader to preside over the new, free land, and with their decision, Jefferson Rand became the first President of the United States of Asyla. The bell tolled on the first hour of the Sanctarcadian commonwealth.
It was a continent 19,616,088 square miles in size, dotted with vast forests, arid deserts, windswept western plains and prairies, frozen tundra and arctic boreal, imposing mountain ranges, and all manner of plateaus, ridges, rivers, streams, creeks, bays, lakes, gulfs, springs, fountains, falls, rapids, orchards, fields, and swamps. It was a land rich in resources, gold deposits in the north and the west, oil in the north, the south and the east, coal in the hills of the northeast and the mountain ranges, iron, copper, timber, lead, uranium, nickel, mercury, tungsten, zinc, phosphates, bauxite, and silver.
It was a virgin land, but not an uninhabited one. 10 million inhabitants called it home. It was not a settled land. The native inhabitants were of primitive custom, divided into their own tribes and nations, their territories extending over vast swathes of the continent. The rest all hailed from different regions, all having come to the land for different reasons, some voluntarily, some otherwise. They were divided into their own communities, rarely in contact with one another, with their own customs and languages. Some were peaceful, some belligerent. Some were democratic, some followed the spoken law of their own petty tyrants. None were taken to philosophy, to art, or literature. They were a people shrouded in ignorance, disunited, disconnected, disenchanted.
There lay about a quarter of a mile off the east coast a certain island of moderate to large size, and with particularly rich, black soil. Here it was that a decade ago a particularly adventurous businessman had undertaken to start a plantation and manufacturing center for agricultural and industrial tools, making use of slave labor purchased on various underground international markets. For many years he was quite successful, and while at heart a good and moral man, he was a harsh disciplinarian, firm in the belief that only through the tutelage of his sturdy hand and whip could his slaves learn the worth of their bondage and continue to add to his own prominence.
However the slaves were hard learners, and there were those among them who still recalled the sunlit lands of their birth, who remembered the laughter of free children, and the blessed winds of liberty blowing through their hair. There were those who would not suffer to be enslaves, those who would shed their blood to shed the chains of their brothers and sisters. They were the noble, the courageous, the intelligent, the cunning, the self-sacrificing sons of freedom, and through such consequence as is unfathomable by all mortal minds, they were a people the gods had smiled upon.
So it was that on a warm night in early July there was put into effect a plan long in the making, and the slaves rose up, striking down their taskmasters, and forcing their former master from the island with his family. So it was that the former slaves took in the first dawn of their liberty, looked around at the island and at each other, and for the first time recognized their objective reality. They were a liberated people, but they were alone in the world.
Chapter 2
With this recognition came something familiar to many of the slaves, but something they had not expected to come so swiftly with freedom: fear. There is a certain comfort for the enslaved man in that he has no control over his own destiny, and therefore everything is out of his hands, and while man innately longs to control his own destiny when he realizes he is a prisoner, seldom does he recognize his own instinctive desire to surrender his fate to a higher power when he is free. The world for the liberated people was a cold one, and the rising sun brought little warmth or comfort. There were those who immediately regretted events and talk began to circulate about setting off from the island in search of the deposed master, however fortunately such cowardess was rare, as they were a people hardy in spirit as well as strength.
If God in all his wisdom had not guided the circumstances to pass through his own hand, certainly it had been his will to do so through the hands of inspired men, and among the people of the island there were a handful of such individuals. They were the men who had planned and led the revolt, and while they were a lot of disparate persuasion, they were all unified in the knowledge that the responsibility for the people they had led to liberty now rested on their shoulders. They called for a meeting, a council to discuss the future, and the creation of a permanent institution, for whether they liked it or not, the liberated people were now in it together and for the long haul.
It was the fourth day that saw fifty-six men gather in the hall of the former master’s house to discuss the formation of a system, one representative from every major family. It was a hot morning, and the rain that had fallen the night before rose from the ground again. The air in the hall was one of many tones, all excited. The tallest of the men in the room called desperately for order, banging his hands on an oak desk. The room eventually fell silent following the discharge of a firearm into the ceiling by a particularly stern faced young man.
As silence fell, another man who appeared to be roughly forty years of age, his hands large and callused from hard work, his face lined and weather beaten, his eyes blue-grey and piercing, spoke in a calm voice, soothing but powerful. There was not an ear in the room that would not heed the sound of that voice.
“Brothers in arms. There is not a man in this room who God has not favored. There is not a family among us who does not deserve this favor. There is also not a heart that recognizes truly the value of our struggle, and not a mind that flinches when it considers the enormous task ahead of us. We stand on the edge of a chasm, having just crossed from the other side. We feel the burdens of our own liberty, and if we look back or let this weight drag us down, we will surely be pulled into the abyss. It is our duty to ourselves, to God, to our families, and to our posterity to make sure that we do not fall, and that today we set ourselves forward; we take that first step away from the ledge. Following this first, most difficult step, we will be given opportunity to take another, and another, and another until our dark past and the calamity that befell us is nothing but a distant memory for our grandchildren.”
Jefferson Rand’s featured were composed as he paused, his eyes bright as he looked every man in the room directly in the eye.
“We find ourselves in an interesting situation. We are but a stone’s throw from slavery, and yet we are closer than we have ever been or ever will come to true liberty. It is our job here and indeed for the rest of our mortal existences to preserve this liberty and keep ourselves and our children free in this land. We have indeed been blessed, and it is my belief that every man here is of suitable vision and intelligence to aid in the securing of our future. Our destiny has been made manifest. We must build a government for our new country.”
Rand sat down, and with this the roar started again, to be interrupted a few minutes later by another man getting to his feet, this one noticeably younger than Rand, and with a bolder countenance. He went by the moniker Benjamin Graves.
“Rand is right! We aren’t that far from where we were five days ago! We’re probably worse off. Our families are starving. We have among us only two hundred firearms. Our shelter is sub-par. Our government is nonexistent! What are we to do?”
The room broke out again in uproarious conversation. A man slammed the butt of a pistol on the desk a dozen times, and brought order. He got to his feet. His hair was stark white and his accent was strange and unfamiliar.
“I’ve seen enough of this world, even in captivity, to know that if we don’t set something down, we’ll tear ourselves to bits. It’s our nature as men. We’ll have to build a government. We’ll need a central congress. Then, I propose that every man here, every representative of every family draw up his land. We’ll split the island up into districts, and every district have its representative, then we’ll work from there.”
A low rumble, and then another voice.
“That’ll never work! They’ll tear each other to pieces just drawing up their boundaries!”
“Aye! And what happens with the bigger families? They’ll get more land then us! It’s not fair!”
The old man, whose name was Ezera Styles raised his hands for order.
“We’ll settle it this way. We’ll divide the island up. For every 500 men, two representatives in the congress. They’ll pick the best, and then the representatives will pick a leader for them.”
The rumblings were more content now. The old man nodded satisfactorily and sat down. Jefferson Rand took the floor.
“Then we have reached our first consensus. For every 1,000 head, a stake of land will be carved out and two men chosen to represent them in the congress. The representatives will choose a leader.”
Benjamin Graves spoke out.
“But what about the leader’s power? We can’t surrender ourselves so easily to slavery again.”
Rand nodded sagely.
“He will be held accountable by a law of the land, same as every other man.”
Styles spoke out.
“A document detailing the rights of all men and the laws by which the leader will abide. A constitution for this island.”
Another chorus of mumbling pierced by a new voice.
“And what, pray tell, will we call this island?”
Silence, then a low roar.
“Asyla! An Asylum for us, a haven for our children, a beacon of true liberty.”
A resounding chorus of applause and “here! here!”
And so the wheels for the new republic were set in motion. On the thirtieth day, the full draft of the constitution was presented to the representatives of the six new states. On the sixtieth day, the congress met for the first time and selected a leader to preside over the new, free land, and with their decision, Jefferson Rand became the first President of the United States of Asyla. The bell tolled on the first hour of the Sanctarcadian commonwealth.