Brenton
itumeleng kganyago
Shea
Always Eighteen
AhmedArtefacts 2
July 24th 2008 10:38
Lord Constant.
The coach stopped with considerable haste, and a man stepped out, Savianic in appearance, with deep black skin and thick hair. His legs we longer than most the servant boys, which, along with his light blue clothing, indicted him as a messenger, probably from the Kyanda region.
He approached the steps of parliament, was checked twice by guards, before continuing indoors, where he was searched more thoroughly by guards before continuing indoors.
The envelope in his hand was read, which meant urgent, and was to be delivered directly to the Prime Minister, Lord Constant.
The man hastened up the stairs, towards the top of the building, pausing a moment at the upper floors to take out a key and unlock the door, entering.
He was in a small office. The man at the desk looked at him, recognising the face, and then the envelope, and rose, tapping three times on the door. It opened to another man who looked curiously at the secretary.
“We have a red envelope, sir,” said the secretary.
The man turned his head, and the Messenger recognised him as Simon Morrow, one of the High staffers. Simon approached him and put out his hand, into which he received the envelope.
“Thank you,” he said, despite such politeness being unrequired by custom, towards the Savianic workers. The messenger nodded.
Simon entered into the room, where Lord Constant sat, accompanied by a third man, a high General. He handed the envelope over to Constant.
The man opened it, using a opener of Ivory. He pulled out the message.
“The Doichen Parliament have held a vote that have granted Arch Chancellor Vildriech Dulvich special operations power. In a word, they have voted themselves into a limitless dictatorship.”
There was a brief silence.
“Rigged,” said the general.
Constant shook his head. “He is whipping up a vast climate of fear, this reads. He’s riding high on his flourishing economy. He is popular. And he is as we feared.”
“Military ambitions?”
“Absolutely. Neighboring countries are believed to be at great risk.”
“And us?”
“I feel not.”
“We’re to act on your feelings?”
“The letter indicates that same.”
“If they truly thought the same they’d have sent a yellow envelope.”
Constant shrugged. “We will see. We might see reason with them yet. If they agree to stay out of Ballie we can honour our alliances and come to no harm for it.”
“And allow the rest of Aeropia to be taken over by Fascism?”
“If that is what it takes to allow our survival, yes. Need I remind you our forces are stretched as is?”
“Need I remind you, my Lord, this could be easily remedied by removing the ridiculous powers of the CEIGE.”
Morrow began to open his mouth to protest, but Constant held out a hand to prevent him. He fixed the General an icy stare. “And may I politely suggest, General, that you remember your place?”
The General bowed his head slightly. “Yes sir.”
Constant nodded. “Mr Morrow, if you would invite my Secretary to join us?”
He did, with good haste.
Constant addressed the man. “Have a message sent. Contact Dulvich. Have him informed we will arrive in five days, to discuss matters of politics. Contact my team, and have me prepared for the visit. This should be dealt with briskly.”
Kitaro
Kitaro sat beside Amiko, inside the great hall. They observed the outside world through the window, snow falling onto the sand by the edge of the water. Out by the boats that never moved, the men shattered the forming ice, just in case they needed to use them.
“I have three more months here,” he said.
Amiko dipped her head. “I know.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“And I you.”
Kitaro shook his head. “I don’t know what to do when they send me off. I’ve thought of running off.”
“As an Abandoner?”
“Yes.”
An Abandoner was one who left their calling, and was used for the Go-Juu who left the Temples. There was little respect for them within the community, and utter contempt amongst the Go-Juu.
“Don’t. You can do this.”
“I don’t know. I’m terrified of this, Amiko.”
“I was terrified too. But then it all changed for me, and things worked out and became clear. And it worked out. As it will for you. I’m sure of it.
Jarvis
Jarvis Buckingham smoked a cigar of tobacco mixed with Bilindic Weed. He stood, strode across to his chest of drawers and pulled out a book, a Government Issue, detailing what was known of Kamato.
Above him was the scuffle of feet, as the sailors tried to keep control of the ship in difficult conditions. It was customary to give notice of five days for political matters, however Baguda’s Bushido would permit arrival on immediate notice, provided they were given rights to search the ship and crew immediately and take possessions of interest and value. They also demanded large payments, and, if they didn’t feel the crew’s intentions were honourable, they were like to destroy the ship and kill the crew.
Upstairs, was Ellison Turnpike, a young academic. He was working with the small crew to ensure their actions were appropriate to the Kamato. He would be the translator for the journey they had ahead of them. All they needed now, was time.
“Sir!”
Buckingham woke to the frantic knocking on his door. He slowly arose, stretched, and began to put on his boots.
“Sir!”
“Is that you Turnpike?”
“Yessir. We’ve spotted land.”
“Very good, very good.”
“We’ll reach Baguda in several hours.”
“All the men have been spoken to?”
“Yessir.”
“Very good. I will be on the deck presently.”
Soon Buckingham arrived on board, with the crew surrounding him. They were trained sailors, who knew a great deal about travel and foreign customs. There were no servants aboard the ship; the Kamato held such things in contempt, and he had no desire to upset them.
“Captain,” he said, addressing one of the men, “Have all weaponry dropped overboard. Immediately.”
The man nodded, and soon several gunpowder arms, a cannon and several swords were dropped over the side of the ship.
Then, again, the waiting, endlessly, moving towards Baguda. When they were still a good distance away, but close enough to see the forms of the people by the waters edge, they heard a small explosion from the shore.
“Anchor, immediately!” yelled Turnpike, to which Buckingham nodded.
“Look,” said Turnpike quietly. “You can see them preparing a party to see us. They’ll be coming towards us soon.”
***
The process was quite fast. The bribe was paid, and an agreement was quickly realised, where the crew would remain under Samurai guard, while Buckingham and Turnpike would be able to roam Baguda unrestricted, with a Samurai escort.
The Samurai asked a question as they passed through the town. Wagons carrying foods and fished passed by on their way to markets, and Geisha walked passed, delivering withering, seductive glances.
“He asked us to confirm that we are Scholars.”
“Absolutely. Tell him we are preparing a set of lectures to be delivered through the home land and claimed territories of Empirica.”
Turnpike translated, and the Samurai asked another question.
“He would like to know what we are studying here.”
“We are studying the practices of the Go-Juu, and specifically, how these practices are consistent with the new science of Phasmology.”
The Samurai nodded, and said something, in a flat, even voice.
“What did he say?”
“He said, take care.”
Sata
Sata walked down the halls, casting his eyes from side to side, making certain the community was in bed. He doubled back also, double checking the halls of the children in training, who were of the age where they sometimes tried to trick the others. But none were awake.
He walked into the hall of the elders, and addressed a woman waiting patently by the door.
“What do we know?”
“They have said something,” said the woman. “The seer has seen visions but he will not reveal all until he can understand it more clearly. There is a great deal of fear in the room.”
“They’re afraid of what he will say?”
“He’s afraid it will be true.”
There was a brief silence. Then, the door opened, and a well dressed elder stood out. In his hand he held a rolled piece of paper which he allowed to unravel, and placed on the floor.
They knelt in front of it.
The paper had several symbols written on it.
“This is what the seer said?” asked Sata.
“This is what he wrote,” said the male elder. “He won’t speak of it yet.”
They symbols were; Malice. Greed. Male. Domination. Ocean. Escape. Artefact. Finger. War. Alliance. Supremacy. Pursuit. Prize. Destruction.
They studied the parchment for some time before the door opened and another man stood out.
“He has spoken,” he said.
The coach stopped with considerable haste, and a man stepped out, Savianic in appearance, with deep black skin and thick hair. His legs we longer than most the servant boys, which, along with his light blue clothing, indicted him as a messenger, probably from the Kyanda region.
He approached the steps of parliament, was checked twice by guards, before continuing indoors, where he was searched more thoroughly by guards before continuing indoors.
The envelope in his hand was read, which meant urgent, and was to be delivered directly to the Prime Minister, Lord Constant.
The man hastened up the stairs, towards the top of the building, pausing a moment at the upper floors to take out a key and unlock the door, entering.
He was in a small office. The man at the desk looked at him, recognising the face, and then the envelope, and rose, tapping three times on the door. It opened to another man who looked curiously at the secretary.
“We have a red envelope, sir,” said the secretary.
The man turned his head, and the Messenger recognised him as Simon Morrow, one of the High staffers. Simon approached him and put out his hand, into which he received the envelope.
“Thank you,” he said, despite such politeness being unrequired by custom, towards the Savianic workers. The messenger nodded.
Simon entered into the room, where Lord Constant sat, accompanied by a third man, a high General. He handed the envelope over to Constant.
The man opened it, using a opener of Ivory. He pulled out the message.
“The Doichen Parliament have held a vote that have granted Arch Chancellor Vildriech Dulvich special operations power. In a word, they have voted themselves into a limitless dictatorship.”
There was a brief silence.
“Rigged,” said the general.
Constant shook his head. “He is whipping up a vast climate of fear, this reads. He’s riding high on his flourishing economy. He is popular. And he is as we feared.”
“Military ambitions?”
“Absolutely. Neighboring countries are believed to be at great risk.”
“And us?”
“I feel not.”
“We’re to act on your feelings?”
“The letter indicates that same.”
“If they truly thought the same they’d have sent a yellow envelope.”
Constant shrugged. “We will see. We might see reason with them yet. If they agree to stay out of Ballie we can honour our alliances and come to no harm for it.”
“And allow the rest of Aeropia to be taken over by Fascism?”
“If that is what it takes to allow our survival, yes. Need I remind you our forces are stretched as is?”
“Need I remind you, my Lord, this could be easily remedied by removing the ridiculous powers of the CEIGE.”
Morrow began to open his mouth to protest, but Constant held out a hand to prevent him. He fixed the General an icy stare. “And may I politely suggest, General, that you remember your place?”
The General bowed his head slightly. “Yes sir.”
Constant nodded. “Mr Morrow, if you would invite my Secretary to join us?”
He did, with good haste.
Constant addressed the man. “Have a message sent. Contact Dulvich. Have him informed we will arrive in five days, to discuss matters of politics. Contact my team, and have me prepared for the visit. This should be dealt with briskly.”
Kitaro
Kitaro sat beside Amiko, inside the great hall. They observed the outside world through the window, snow falling onto the sand by the edge of the water. Out by the boats that never moved, the men shattered the forming ice, just in case they needed to use them.
“I have three more months here,” he said.
Amiko dipped her head. “I know.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“And I you.”
Kitaro shook his head. “I don’t know what to do when they send me off. I’ve thought of running off.”
“As an Abandoner?”
“Yes.”
An Abandoner was one who left their calling, and was used for the Go-Juu who left the Temples. There was little respect for them within the community, and utter contempt amongst the Go-Juu.
“Don’t. You can do this.”
“I don’t know. I’m terrified of this, Amiko.”
“I was terrified too. But then it all changed for me, and things worked out and became clear. And it worked out. As it will for you. I’m sure of it.
Jarvis
Jarvis Buckingham smoked a cigar of tobacco mixed with Bilindic Weed. He stood, strode across to his chest of drawers and pulled out a book, a Government Issue, detailing what was known of Kamato.
Above him was the scuffle of feet, as the sailors tried to keep control of the ship in difficult conditions. It was customary to give notice of five days for political matters, however Baguda’s Bushido would permit arrival on immediate notice, provided they were given rights to search the ship and crew immediately and take possessions of interest and value. They also demanded large payments, and, if they didn’t feel the crew’s intentions were honourable, they were like to destroy the ship and kill the crew.
Upstairs, was Ellison Turnpike, a young academic. He was working with the small crew to ensure their actions were appropriate to the Kamato. He would be the translator for the journey they had ahead of them. All they needed now, was time.
***
“Sir!”
Buckingham woke to the frantic knocking on his door. He slowly arose, stretched, and began to put on his boots.
“Sir!”
“Is that you Turnpike?”
“Yessir. We’ve spotted land.”
“Very good, very good.”
“We’ll reach Baguda in several hours.”
“All the men have been spoken to?”
“Yessir.”
“Very good. I will be on the deck presently.”
Soon Buckingham arrived on board, with the crew surrounding him. They were trained sailors, who knew a great deal about travel and foreign customs. There were no servants aboard the ship; the Kamato held such things in contempt, and he had no desire to upset them.
“Captain,” he said, addressing one of the men, “Have all weaponry dropped overboard. Immediately.”
The man nodded, and soon several gunpowder arms, a cannon and several swords were dropped over the side of the ship.
Then, again, the waiting, endlessly, moving towards Baguda. When they were still a good distance away, but close enough to see the forms of the people by the waters edge, they heard a small explosion from the shore.
“Anchor, immediately!” yelled Turnpike, to which Buckingham nodded.
“Look,” said Turnpike quietly. “You can see them preparing a party to see us. They’ll be coming towards us soon.”
***
The process was quite fast. The bribe was paid, and an agreement was quickly realised, where the crew would remain under Samurai guard, while Buckingham and Turnpike would be able to roam Baguda unrestricted, with a Samurai escort.
The Samurai asked a question as they passed through the town. Wagons carrying foods and fished passed by on their way to markets, and Geisha walked passed, delivering withering, seductive glances.
“He asked us to confirm that we are Scholars.”
“Absolutely. Tell him we are preparing a set of lectures to be delivered through the home land and claimed territories of Empirica.”
Turnpike translated, and the Samurai asked another question.
“He would like to know what we are studying here.”
“We are studying the practices of the Go-Juu, and specifically, how these practices are consistent with the new science of Phasmology.”
The Samurai nodded, and said something, in a flat, even voice.
“What did he say?”
“He said, take care.”
Sata
Sata walked down the halls, casting his eyes from side to side, making certain the community was in bed. He doubled back also, double checking the halls of the children in training, who were of the age where they sometimes tried to trick the others. But none were awake.
He walked into the hall of the elders, and addressed a woman waiting patently by the door.
“What do we know?”
“They have said something,” said the woman. “The seer has seen visions but he will not reveal all until he can understand it more clearly. There is a great deal of fear in the room.”
“They’re afraid of what he will say?”
“He’s afraid it will be true.”
There was a brief silence. Then, the door opened, and a well dressed elder stood out. In his hand he held a rolled piece of paper which he allowed to unravel, and placed on the floor.
They knelt in front of it.
The paper had several symbols written on it.
“This is what the seer said?” asked Sata.
“This is what he wrote,” said the male elder. “He won’t speak of it yet.”
They symbols were; Malice. Greed. Male. Domination. Ocean. Escape. Artefact. Finger. War. Alliance. Supremacy. Pursuit. Prize. Destruction.
They studied the parchment for some time before the door opened and another man stood out.
“He has spoken,” he said.
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