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It’s been five years. It’s been five years since civilization, life as we knew it, came to an abrupt end. The artifacts just appeared one day. It was in early fall, the chill just beginning to seep into the air. It was then that freak electrical storms raged all across the globe. There was no rain and hardly any thunder, just lightning strike after lightning strike. The storm changed everything. Planes and other aircraft can no longer fly in the upper air, still charged with electricity even years after the fact. The Internet has gone down as well, for reasons no one is able to figure out. Televisions and radios can still broadcast, and phone calls still connect, though with a lot of static and interference, but the Internet is gone, seemingly for good. The server banks all over the world have gone inert, the age of instant global communication all but ended in a flash of light. But that was not even the most bizarre occurrence. In the aftermath of the storm, strange objects appeared to certain people.
There was no rhyme or reason to who got them. It appeared to be a completely random selection, though plenty of people tried to ascribe some higher purpose to it. Some thought it meant they were destined to be kings and conquerors, others saw it as a test of their resolve. Still more thought it a way to change the world for the better. Some people thought God had sent these artifacts down. Others thought it was aliens, or time travelers. Ultimately, who did it is irrelevant. What matters is what happened. You see, to those who were granted them, these strange artifacts granted great power. Once more and more people began to “come out” with their powers, the existing world governments fought hard to stop them and exterminate them. Some of the bearers relented, submitted themselves to government control or execution. Plenty of others hid, while more fought back.
Governments fell. What use were bullets against people who could level cities in a matter of hours, or hurl tanks with their bare hands? All across the world, leaders died and the power structures so long held up collapsed. In the wake of this, warlords and would-be kings staked out their claims and built up their armies. There have been fights, of course. There have been floods, famines, earthquakes and fires. Those who aren’t bearers have died by the millions. In just five years, the world population has dropped from just over seven billion to just below three billion. Warlords gathered up guns, artillery, bombs, anything a militia could use to rise up and challenge their new gods on earth. They repurposed some, keeping it under close guard. Most of it was destroyed. Guns become largely obsolete when a king can call down a deluge of flame to smite his foes.
Large swathes of land are empty and vacant now, those who once lived there driven away by starvation, plague or disaster. People have tried to pick up the pieces as best they could, and in some kingdoms even begun to prosper. Things are different now, but at least after five years this new way is becoming the norm. It’s a new world. It’s time to make something out of it. The continent once known as North America has devolved into many tiny nation-states and kingdoms, all ruled over by a powerful bearer. Whether they style themselves as kings, queens, warlords or sages, the fact remains that in this new world, the right of rule rests solely in those with power. Border skirmishes have been common these past few years, but as alliances and rivalries solidify, the threat of an all-out war looms.
So, five years later, this is where we stand…
The Arbiter
Factionless
Kingdom of Galletia
A soft tuneless whistle carried over the cold night air, and a frigid breeze wafted into the study of King Alexander Astor, ruler of the pastoral realm of Galletia. The bearded man looked up from his writing desk as he affixed a stamp of hot wax to the heavy stock of an envelope. "Ah, my old friend. Your sense of timing is, as always, impeccable."
"Friend is perhaps too strong a word for what we are, Alexander," the masked man said as he strode into the king's study. The Arbiter seemed to glide, his light footsteps barely touching the ground. He idly spun a carved wooden globe that stood near the balcony. "And as a great wizard once said, I am neither late nor early. I arrive precisely when I mean to." Alexander couldn't see behind the elaborately carved raven mask, but he had a feeling the Arbiter was smiling. "That said, I do keep an ear to the ground, and naturally I heard about your little scheme."
The king rose from his writing desk and moved to stand next to the Arbiter on the balcony. Together the two men stared out over what had once been the campus of Ithaca College. Alexander kept his study in what had once been the music building, a glass and steel high rise that soared up higher than any other building on the hill the college buildings sprawled down. Snow still clung to the hillside, blanketing the town of Ithaca below. Alexander flexed his fingers, working out a cramp from writing so many letters. "I suppose you're curious as to why I'm doing it, aren't you?" The Arbiter shrugged and motioned for him to continue, knowing Alexander would do so regardless. The king of Galletia had a fondness for grandstanding. "It has been five years since the fall," Alexander began, "and in that time, I have risen to great prestige, as you can see." He swept his hand out, letting the Arbiter take in the great expanse of mountainous countryside that was the heart of his domain. "While I would not say I am particularly content with my borders as they stand I would like for them to stay where they are. My people prosper, and I don't want them to live in fear of the next border skirmish or upjumped bearer." He traced the edge of his golden crown, the one that had brought his realm so much prosperity and agricultural wealth. "I suppose you could say I'm tired of war. I just want to do what's best, both for my people and for people everywhere."
"You want to prevent other warlords from building more strength."
"Well, perhaps there's that. Or perhaps I'm in it for the glory, so I can go down in history as the man who reunited the continent. There are all kinds of ulterior motives I could have. But ultimately, my friend," and this time the Arbiter didn't correct him, "do the people of any nation stand to lose if this gamble of mine pays off? Certainly the warlords and kings will rage and complain, but I think in time the ones who ought to attend my little summit shall."
The Arbiter nodded slowly. "I suppose you're right. The Three Crows sisters are all right with this?"
Alexander nodded. "Yes, naturally I reached out to them before putting my plan into motion. They more than anyone else were willing to agree. Most of their folk lost people in the Fall Wars, and Josie has spent a lot of time with those that were lost. I've been corresponding with them and Father Thomas in his abbey out west for some time now. We all agreed we needed the neutral ground of Three Crows Valley. They will be ready for us."
"I see."
Alexander walked back to his writing table and sifted through the large stack of envelopes. "You wouldn't mind doing me a favor, would you? Some of these will take frightfully long to deliver by conventional means. Even with the large window I have allowed, I fear that wild woman up in Nunavut or that little statesman with his pet Amazon out west might not be able to arrive in time. And I do not wish to risk one of my couriers on a sojourn through the Mojave. Do you think you could...?"
The Arbiter bristled. "I'm no one's mailman." But he picked up the envelopes. "Still, I want to see how this plays out as much as you do. And it's not like I'm doing much else with things settling down the way they are. All right, I'll take these where they have to go." He stepped back out onto the balcony. "You know Astor, if this works out there will be more powerful bearers in one place than any other point in these past five years, perhaps even more than at the Detroit Crater."
"Let's hope things go more smoothly than that."
The Arbiter scoffed and turned away. As he stepped out into the late winter night, he simply vanished as though he had never been there. Only his footprints, faint in the light dusting of snow, marked his passage.
Lexa Kendrick
Oberon
Kingdom of Oberon
Lexa resisted the urge to crush the letter in her fist as her brother burst through the doors to her throne room. He was still dressed in the light leather armor he used for training practice, his brow shining with sweat and Inferno fixed firmly to his belt. Cole walked up to the dais her throne was on, not bothering to bow. He never bowed, and he was the only person Lexa allowed to do so.
"What's wrong?" he asked as he took up his position at Lexa's right hand. She wordlessly brandished the missive at him, and Cole snatched it from her fingers. His eyes scanned the page. "Lady of Light."
Lexa allowed herself a small smile at that. In the early days of her regime, one of her retainers had proposed forming a new religion as the basis of her cult of personality, setting herself up as the emissary of some mother goddess of light and justice to guide the world into a bright new age. The plebs of her realm had latched onto it like a drowning man clutches at flotsam, and the religion had even started to gain traction in the neighboring realms, even if those people didn't hold her up to be quite the messianic figure her own people did. That her brother, who knew very well that this new religion was just a facade, was unconsciously slipping into the mindset boded well for her.
Cole handed the paper back. "A summit? He wants a summit?" Then he grinned. "From the way the steward was trembling, I thought Astor had sent another marriage proposal." The air around Castle Oberon had smelled of ozone for a week after Lexa's fury when that letter arrived.
Lexa laughed and stood up, walking down the steps of her throne dais to stand at one of the large windows that looked out on Boston. Castle Oberon was actually the Prudential Building, albeit surrounded by new ferroconcrete walls and other various fortifications. Lexa maintained her throne room and held court on the very top floor, the observation deck, where she could look out on her kingdom. In times of war she moved to a far more practical space only three floors up, but they had been at peace for some time now.
Cole joined her at the windows and together the two siblings stared out at their city. Lexa drew herself up and squared her shoulders. "The time has come to set aside petty differences," she said in a deep, mocking voice obviously meant to imitate Alexander's. "To become architects of a future founded on peace and diplomacy, rather than wanton bloodshed." She burst out laughing again. "What a pretentious asshole."
Cole laughed as well and took a turn. "'I would be so bold as to request the pleasure of your company', Knight's blood, what does he think this is, freaking Camelot?" The Knight was another figure Lexa's new religion had crafted, the perfect militant foil to the benevolent Lady of Light and a role made to suit her brother's position as Captain of the Guard. Lexa allowed herself another wry grin. Cole pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Though I must admit, he has style. 'I propose a conference of peace at Midsummer in Three Crows Valley, where I should like to believe the greatest powers of the age shall gather and we can lay out a bright new future for all of us. Send no proxies and do not presume to insult us be delegating a subordinate. If you cannot come yourself, do not bother coming at all'." The knight passed the paper back to his sister. "When did this come in? I didn't hear a messenger."
Lexa twisted one of the golden rings she wore on her finger. "That's just it, the reason I even gave this letter the time of day. The Arbiter brought this."
Cole's eyes widened as his hands instinctively wrapped around Inferno's hilt. He understood the grave import of this. He had met the Arbiter on a handful of occasions in his campaigns across the northeast. Any man who could weather a pillar of fire erupting from the earth around him was more than deserving of Cole's respect. He also took great pains to maintain his neutrality. "So this is a lot bigger than you, Astor and Erik meeting on the border to agree not to slit each other's throats for trading season, huh? Think we can trust Astor to be on the level?"
"In something like this, I think he has to be," Lexa replied. "I wouldn't put him above getting us all together for a mass assassination attempt, but this is on the Three Crows' home turf. They don't like violence, and they never would have agreed to something like this is they thought Alexander was being duplicitous. I think we can trust him not to stick a knife in my back."
"What about the other warlords? Provided there are other warlords?"
"I think the only ones who could mean me any harm are Erik and Vivi. Backstabbing isn't Erik's style, he lacks the subtlety and finesse. If he wanted us dead, he'd storm the castle gates. And Vivi... that bitch knows I can kick her sorry arse ten ways to Sunday. She wouldn't dare."
"So we're going to this?"
Lexa nodded. "It would set a good precedent, I suppose. Alexander and I aren't necessarily enemies anymore, and our trade contracts with him are important. I'd say it's a gesture of good faith to make an effort to go to this little peace talk of his."
"Midsummer, huh?" Cole said slowly. "That gives us time to prepare, and I think it means he's calling out to warlords and upstarts from all over the continent. That must be why he's working with the Arbiter, he needs the fast travel." The knight stared out at the gleaming golden dome of what had once been the Capitol building. "Midsummer's about four months out. That gives us plenty of time to try and ferret out why Alexander's doing this. And maybe lay a few plots of our own?"
Lexa took her brother's hand in hers. "Trade agreements with the west could help Oberon prosper, and a standing peace with Galletia and Thorgard would be good for business. It's a risk I'm happy to take."
"And what if Astor uses this as an elaborate ruse to propose to you again?"
Lexa let out her loudest peal of laughter yet, her golden bangle sparkling in the sunlight of the winter dawn. "Then I'll fry the poor fool where he stands! They'll be picking bits of him off the mountainside for months!"
It’s been five years. It’s been five years since civilization, life as we knew it, came to an abrupt end. The artifacts just appeared one day. It was in early fall, the chill just beginning to seep into the air. It was then that freak electrical storms raged all across the globe. There was no rain and hardly any thunder, just lightning strike after lightning strike. The storm changed everything. Planes and other aircraft can no longer fly in the upper air, still charged with electricity even years after the fact. The Internet has gone down as well, for reasons no one is able to figure out. Televisions and radios can still broadcast, and phone calls still connect, though with a lot of static and interference, but the Internet is gone, seemingly for good. The server banks all over the world have gone inert, the age of instant global communication all but ended in a flash of light. But that was not even the most bizarre occurrence. In the aftermath of the storm, strange objects appeared to certain people.
There was no rhyme or reason to who got them. It appeared to be a completely random selection, though plenty of people tried to ascribe some higher purpose to it. Some thought it meant they were destined to be kings and conquerors, others saw it as a test of their resolve. Still more thought it a way to change the world for the better. Some people thought God had sent these artifacts down. Others thought it was aliens, or time travelers. Ultimately, who did it is irrelevant. What matters is what happened. You see, to those who were granted them, these strange artifacts granted great power. Once more and more people began to “come out” with their powers, the existing world governments fought hard to stop them and exterminate them. Some of the bearers relented, submitted themselves to government control or execution. Plenty of others hid, while more fought back.
Governments fell. What use were bullets against people who could level cities in a matter of hours, or hurl tanks with their bare hands? All across the world, leaders died and the power structures so long held up collapsed. In the wake of this, warlords and would-be kings staked out their claims and built up their armies. There have been fights, of course. There have been floods, famines, earthquakes and fires. Those who aren’t bearers have died by the millions. In just five years, the world population has dropped from just over seven billion to just below three billion. Warlords gathered up guns, artillery, bombs, anything a militia could use to rise up and challenge their new gods on earth. They repurposed some, keeping it under close guard. Most of it was destroyed. Guns become largely obsolete when a king can call down a deluge of flame to smite his foes.
Large swathes of land are empty and vacant now, those who once lived there driven away by starvation, plague or disaster. People have tried to pick up the pieces as best they could, and in some kingdoms even begun to prosper. Things are different now, but at least after five years this new way is becoming the norm. It’s a new world. It’s time to make something out of it. The continent once known as North America has devolved into many tiny nation-states and kingdoms, all ruled over by a powerful bearer. Whether they style themselves as kings, queens, warlords or sages, the fact remains that in this new world, the right of rule rests solely in those with power. Border skirmishes have been common these past few years, but as alliances and rivalries solidify, the threat of an all-out war looms.
So, five years later, this is where we stand…
The Arbiter
Factionless
Kingdom of Galletia
A soft tuneless whistle carried over the cold night air, and a frigid breeze wafted into the study of King Alexander Astor, ruler of the pastoral realm of Galletia. The bearded man looked up from his writing desk as he affixed a stamp of hot wax to the heavy stock of an envelope. "Ah, my old friend. Your sense of timing is, as always, impeccable."
"Friend is perhaps too strong a word for what we are, Alexander," the masked man said as he strode into the king's study. The Arbiter seemed to glide, his light footsteps barely touching the ground. He idly spun a carved wooden globe that stood near the balcony. "And as a great wizard once said, I am neither late nor early. I arrive precisely when I mean to." Alexander couldn't see behind the elaborately carved raven mask, but he had a feeling the Arbiter was smiling. "That said, I do keep an ear to the ground, and naturally I heard about your little scheme."
The king rose from his writing desk and moved to stand next to the Arbiter on the balcony. Together the two men stared out over what had once been the campus of Ithaca College. Alexander kept his study in what had once been the music building, a glass and steel high rise that soared up higher than any other building on the hill the college buildings sprawled down. Snow still clung to the hillside, blanketing the town of Ithaca below. Alexander flexed his fingers, working out a cramp from writing so many letters. "I suppose you're curious as to why I'm doing it, aren't you?" The Arbiter shrugged and motioned for him to continue, knowing Alexander would do so regardless. The king of Galletia had a fondness for grandstanding. "It has been five years since the fall," Alexander began, "and in that time, I have risen to great prestige, as you can see." He swept his hand out, letting the Arbiter take in the great expanse of mountainous countryside that was the heart of his domain. "While I would not say I am particularly content with my borders as they stand I would like for them to stay where they are. My people prosper, and I don't want them to live in fear of the next border skirmish or upjumped bearer." He traced the edge of his golden crown, the one that had brought his realm so much prosperity and agricultural wealth. "I suppose you could say I'm tired of war. I just want to do what's best, both for my people and for people everywhere."
"You want to prevent other warlords from building more strength."
"Well, perhaps there's that. Or perhaps I'm in it for the glory, so I can go down in history as the man who reunited the continent. There are all kinds of ulterior motives I could have. But ultimately, my friend," and this time the Arbiter didn't correct him, "do the people of any nation stand to lose if this gamble of mine pays off? Certainly the warlords and kings will rage and complain, but I think in time the ones who ought to attend my little summit shall."
The Arbiter nodded slowly. "I suppose you're right. The Three Crows sisters are all right with this?"
Alexander nodded. "Yes, naturally I reached out to them before putting my plan into motion. They more than anyone else were willing to agree. Most of their folk lost people in the Fall Wars, and Josie has spent a lot of time with those that were lost. I've been corresponding with them and Father Thomas in his abbey out west for some time now. We all agreed we needed the neutral ground of Three Crows Valley. They will be ready for us."
"I see."
Alexander walked back to his writing table and sifted through the large stack of envelopes. "You wouldn't mind doing me a favor, would you? Some of these will take frightfully long to deliver by conventional means. Even with the large window I have allowed, I fear that wild woman up in Nunavut or that little statesman with his pet Amazon out west might not be able to arrive in time. And I do not wish to risk one of my couriers on a sojourn through the Mojave. Do you think you could...?"
The Arbiter bristled. "I'm no one's mailman." But he picked up the envelopes. "Still, I want to see how this plays out as much as you do. And it's not like I'm doing much else with things settling down the way they are. All right, I'll take these where they have to go." He stepped back out onto the balcony. "You know Astor, if this works out there will be more powerful bearers in one place than any other point in these past five years, perhaps even more than at the Detroit Crater."
"Let's hope things go more smoothly than that."
The Arbiter scoffed and turned away. As he stepped out into the late winter night, he simply vanished as though he had never been there. Only his footprints, faint in the light dusting of snow, marked his passage.
Lexa Kendrick
Oberon
Kingdom of Oberon
Lexa resisted the urge to crush the letter in her fist as her brother burst through the doors to her throne room. He was still dressed in the light leather armor he used for training practice, his brow shining with sweat and Inferno fixed firmly to his belt. Cole walked up to the dais her throne was on, not bothering to bow. He never bowed, and he was the only person Lexa allowed to do so.
"What's wrong?" he asked as he took up his position at Lexa's right hand. She wordlessly brandished the missive at him, and Cole snatched it from her fingers. His eyes scanned the page. "Lady of Light."
Lexa allowed herself a small smile at that. In the early days of her regime, one of her retainers had proposed forming a new religion as the basis of her cult of personality, setting herself up as the emissary of some mother goddess of light and justice to guide the world into a bright new age. The plebs of her realm had latched onto it like a drowning man clutches at flotsam, and the religion had even started to gain traction in the neighboring realms, even if those people didn't hold her up to be quite the messianic figure her own people did. That her brother, who knew very well that this new religion was just a facade, was unconsciously slipping into the mindset boded well for her.
Cole handed the paper back. "A summit? He wants a summit?" Then he grinned. "From the way the steward was trembling, I thought Astor had sent another marriage proposal." The air around Castle Oberon had smelled of ozone for a week after Lexa's fury when that letter arrived.
Lexa laughed and stood up, walking down the steps of her throne dais to stand at one of the large windows that looked out on Boston. Castle Oberon was actually the Prudential Building, albeit surrounded by new ferroconcrete walls and other various fortifications. Lexa maintained her throne room and held court on the very top floor, the observation deck, where she could look out on her kingdom. In times of war she moved to a far more practical space only three floors up, but they had been at peace for some time now.
Cole joined her at the windows and together the two siblings stared out at their city. Lexa drew herself up and squared her shoulders. "The time has come to set aside petty differences," she said in a deep, mocking voice obviously meant to imitate Alexander's. "To become architects of a future founded on peace and diplomacy, rather than wanton bloodshed." She burst out laughing again. "What a pretentious asshole."
Cole laughed as well and took a turn. "'I would be so bold as to request the pleasure of your company', Knight's blood, what does he think this is, freaking Camelot?" The Knight was another figure Lexa's new religion had crafted, the perfect militant foil to the benevolent Lady of Light and a role made to suit her brother's position as Captain of the Guard. Lexa allowed herself another wry grin. Cole pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Though I must admit, he has style. 'I propose a conference of peace at Midsummer in Three Crows Valley, where I should like to believe the greatest powers of the age shall gather and we can lay out a bright new future for all of us. Send no proxies and do not presume to insult us be delegating a subordinate. If you cannot come yourself, do not bother coming at all'." The knight passed the paper back to his sister. "When did this come in? I didn't hear a messenger."
Lexa twisted one of the golden rings she wore on her finger. "That's just it, the reason I even gave this letter the time of day. The Arbiter brought this."
Cole's eyes widened as his hands instinctively wrapped around Inferno's hilt. He understood the grave import of this. He had met the Arbiter on a handful of occasions in his campaigns across the northeast. Any man who could weather a pillar of fire erupting from the earth around him was more than deserving of Cole's respect. He also took great pains to maintain his neutrality. "So this is a lot bigger than you, Astor and Erik meeting on the border to agree not to slit each other's throats for trading season, huh? Think we can trust Astor to be on the level?"
"In something like this, I think he has to be," Lexa replied. "I wouldn't put him above getting us all together for a mass assassination attempt, but this is on the Three Crows' home turf. They don't like violence, and they never would have agreed to something like this is they thought Alexander was being duplicitous. I think we can trust him not to stick a knife in my back."
"What about the other warlords? Provided there are other warlords?"
"I think the only ones who could mean me any harm are Erik and Vivi. Backstabbing isn't Erik's style, he lacks the subtlety and finesse. If he wanted us dead, he'd storm the castle gates. And Vivi... that bitch knows I can kick her sorry arse ten ways to Sunday. She wouldn't dare."
"So we're going to this?"
Lexa nodded. "It would set a good precedent, I suppose. Alexander and I aren't necessarily enemies anymore, and our trade contracts with him are important. I'd say it's a gesture of good faith to make an effort to go to this little peace talk of his."
"Midsummer, huh?" Cole said slowly. "That gives us time to prepare, and I think it means he's calling out to warlords and upstarts from all over the continent. That must be why he's working with the Arbiter, he needs the fast travel." The knight stared out at the gleaming golden dome of what had once been the Capitol building. "Midsummer's about four months out. That gives us plenty of time to try and ferret out why Alexander's doing this. And maybe lay a few plots of our own?"
Lexa took her brother's hand in hers. "Trade agreements with the west could help Oberon prosper, and a standing peace with Galletia and Thorgard would be good for business. It's a risk I'm happy to take."
"And what if Astor uses this as an elaborate ruse to propose to you again?"
Lexa let out her loudest peal of laughter yet, her golden bangle sparkling in the sunlight of the winter dawn. "Then I'll fry the poor fool where he stands! They'll be picking bits of him off the mountainside for months!"
