Chapter 753 – A Passenger To My Own Salvation
Elassa raises the question of what shall be termed Counter-Divinity. I cannot argue with her on the theology of it. Elassa is correct indeed, Counter-Divinity is real, we can all feel the trends the ways that the winds have started to blow. Elassa, as meandering as she usually is, manages to be succinct. Ciria, whose is made on building tools for humanity to use, is not an anomaly. Halkus, who needs human constructions to use his power, is not an anomaly. Anarchia, who steals Divine power and hands it out to humanity, was not an anomaly.
But there is one case where Elassa is wrong and that is the dismal, fatalistic, tone she takes when approaching the subject. She is dismal and fatalistic always, so it is of no surprise of course, but the woman was made during the end of Worldbreaking, her character alone is the greatest argument for Foundational Theory that my logic has ever received.
Nevertheless, what Elassa misses is simple. Let us be candid, Arascus, Counter-Divinity has not left the crib yet. It is not even a child, but much a less force to be reckoned with. I, Fortia here, have worked with you since before the Tyrannies. Maisara has been around since them. I will not list out every Divine but even the youngest of yours, in Kassandora, have survived Worldbreaking. Kavaa and Elassa both formed during that and were scarred by the power on display.
We all survived the Great War.
What we are is survivors, especially us. Self-selected for survival, Ciria is not unique for her character. The Cirias of this world were simply killed off. Counter-Divinity is not a threat because it is much like them. Unorganized and individual and powerful even, but it stands alone. And those of our breeds do not stand alone. Counter-Divinity can be corralled and controlled because they do not have Kassandora’s genius, nor Olephia’s power, nor your Empire, nor myself and Maisara, there is no Fer to stalk them, no Anassa to appear besides them, No Elassa to crack continents. They lack a Helenna and a Malam to work populations.
And even if they had one, they lack the most important element of it all: Cohesion. None cried for Anarchia when she died. None rally to Ciria and Halkus. This dream that civilization possesses, where she will one day rip mankind away from the Divinity they loved so much they incarnated, will forever be a dream. Because when Ciria declares war on Fortia and Maisara and Arascus, she declares war on all of us.
We all know that there are none who manage to close ranks like we do on Arda.
- Email to Arascus, co-written by Goddess Maisara, of Order and Goddess Fortia, of Peace.
There had been a time when Aliana had been afraid of Sweet Mother Empire, now, as she stood with an audience of the king, of the queen, of the crowd behind her, in the cold embrace of a winter morning on a sea that had never been anything but blue or grey, she realised just how mistaken she had been. Gulls cried overhead, swaying the wind as they dove down towards. And the horizon swelled with side-ways skyscrapers of steel. And the crowd cheered. And Sweet Mother Empire was fulfilling her promise.
She had seen the full power of the caring embrace of Arascus’ regime. In Tull, where a dying port city had been transformed into a megaport city that now proudly waved Imperial banners as ship after ship left the sprawling drydocks. In Beorgin, once a jewel in the centre of the country filled that saw its canals once again work and even be expanded, its factories once again turn and creak. In Manceinion, whose endless uncontrolled growing sprawl had been contained and the city got to work on fixing what it had instead of just trying to add more buildings to cover up the rotten centre.
And she saw it in the countryside. The imagery she remembered from a hundred years ago, when endless rows of fluffy white clouds would graze on the rolling hills of the north, disappearing into wolf-less forests as sheepdogs chased them. In the south, the breadbasket of Allia was twisting and turning with golden fields of wheat, or proud cows bred for milk and meat. The expansion of the cities had emptied the countryside, and the countryside was already moving in to secure the free space. The forests and the people grew, a baby boom in both. It was the first year in ten where Allia had recorded the start-up of proper, home-grown businesses since the decline of Pantheon Peace and the chaos of Epan Separation.
And now, Sweet Mother Empire was coming in to tour her child. Part of the Alanktydan Fleet had officially finished its deployment after the shattering of the Esberian Landbridge. No land route from Arika meant no more large demonic excursions, and so a time of faux-peace came onto the Empire. Not quite the civilian life of peace-time, not quite the open-warfare of the trenches. Factory shifts had finally been loosened, the seven-day work-week had been cut back down to five, the twenty-four shifts had ended. That mad flurry of the Empire working at full steam ahead had passed.
By Aliana’s side, King Richard and Queen Eleanor sighed when they all stood on the bank of the Tamesa and watched the Alanktydan Imperial Fleet come sail in. Four aircraft carriers, the grandest amongst them the Tremali, pull into the bay of the river. They would travel all on the way to the capital, Ondinium, with cargo far too precious for civilian vessels.
Already, at this distance, Aliana could make out the gleaming decks that had swapped out the planes for Elassa’s transmutation crystals. A hundred a ship, they did not even have to play at frugality. Enough for every major city twice over, and for most towns, and they would return back to the frequent rains of Allia that would taste of freshwater and not be tinged with soot. King Richard, in his ceremonial suit, stood on the bank of the river next to his Goddess and his Queen as the crowd behind them rose with a cheer.
Fireworks drowned out the cheering of the crowd. Allia was the last of the major Epan powers to receive its hoard of transmutation stones. These, apparently, were the mass-produced ones by the mages of Arcadia, only a few had been fashioned by Elassa herself. Aliana assumed she could pick them out, at the front of the Tremali, the grandest ones that looked as if they wanted to float off from the ship and into the air, held down by heavy chains that could be used to capture great beasts.
A brass band started playing on the shoreline as the wind died down, naturally it did. There would be magicians on those ships to make sure that the first gift came perfectly. “There it is.” Aliana had been sure the Empire would pull through.
Richard readjusted his red-gold cape and smoothed down his suit. “There it is.” He confirmed. The tension between him and Aliana could have cracked lightning. Aliana didn’t really know what she was supposed to do about it. It was her coup that kept him and his family alive and ceremonial. Wissel had met a worse fate, and Aimone in Rilia had been the only one of the royalty humble enough that he came to the Empire first and was allowed to keep his position. “Are you happy now Aliana?”
“No.” Aliana said. “You just had to be here.”
“I know, so we are.” Richard replied, Eleanor took a step closer to her husband. They held hands. “How does victory taste?”
“It tastes magnificent.” Aliana replied, cold and bitter.
“Truly.”
“Would you prefer ash?” Aliana asked. “Because that was our choice.”
“An Allia of black and red and white instead of the blue red. That was the trade.”
“An Allia nonetheless.” Aliana said.
“Stop it, you two.” Eleanor shushed them both. “Allia stands, Allia is still here, we are still alive, and that is what matters.” Aliana did not ruin the moment by turning to the Queen, the cameras would be watching. Richard neither.
“It’s just not the sort of victory I thought it’d be.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “You can taste it. It’s not ours.”
“It’s Arda’s.” Eleanor said. “Because no one on Arda could stand against Tartarus or the White Pantheon alone. They have Gods Richards, Gods. What human can kill a God?” Never happened, never will. Aliana silently finished the saying in her head, it wasn’t true though. She had seen it during Epan Separation, when Anassa’s Prime-Sorcerers had circled above a divine in the air and then picked him apart with shards of crimson. She had seen it in the battle tactics, when Iliyal’s rolling barrages had devoured a deity. No human could kill a God, never happened, never will, that was the work of heroes, and you were not a hero. But the Empire had made heroism communal.
“Do you feel it in the air?” Richard said, the crowd behind him turned almost silent as the ships passed through the massive mouth of the Tamesa and sailed toward Ondinium’s multitude of docks.
Tomorrow there would be an airshow.
“I’m feeling it.” Eleanor replied. A set of planes flew overhead. Six in one formation, they dragged smoke-trails that carved the Imperial black-red-white flag into the morning sky.
The day after that, a festival of food in Beorgin half-funded by the Imperial Bureau of Culture.
“It’s a new age.” Eleanor added. Another set of planes, these ones dragged the white, red and blue of Allia. The crowd roared in a cheer. Aliana stared up at her own colours in the air.
A week from now, Arascus had a two-day tour planned through the major cities of Allia.
“Imperial.” Richard said bitterly. The Goddess’ lips tugged upwards in a smile and she let it sit. Richard was right, it was an Allia Imperial, and it was an Allia far grander than anything she could have come across. Arascus was correct in his review of nobility, it was always meant to be a temporal position, inherited across generations, but not inherited forever.
In two weeks, the INS Aliana would set sail. The Empire’s reward to Allia, the first of the beaching-battleship Class. To give them all glory and land in the ashen beaches of the Central Arikan Sea that Elassa had carved out.
“What a time.” Eleanor said. She gripped Richard’s hand even tighter. “What a time my love. When you don’t smell sulphur in the air.” From behind, several of the cruisers which had come to escort the four aircraft carriers fired off their own fireworks. Some straight up, some tilted their cannons upwards and let out great volleys that dazzled the countryside.
A month, and the Allian Royal Guard would be given back to the palace of King Richard. Talks were already ongoing, they would even be given modern weaponry. A few of the ministers took it as an honour, others as an insult, as if Arascus was laughing and telling them that even with the best guns, they could do nothing. Aliana did not see it that way, Arascus liked order and uniformity and great things, and it was beneath such a prestigious family to not have the best available.
“Nothing I have dreamed of building.” Richard admitted, he pulled his hand away from his wife, and then embraced her. “And how am I supposed to sleep today and know I am passenger to my own salvation?”
In two month, the National Archery Competition that had been thought up by the late King Wissel would host its first showing. Allia would win, they would have to. Aliana was already taking out her own days to teach men the archery she was famed for. Eleanor answered the question for him. She took his hand and laid it on her stomach. “You rest well, knowing that our children have a sibling that won’t even remember the Tartarian War.” Aliana pretended not to notice.
“Don’t regret it Richard, I did what had to be done.” Alliana asked, there was no point at the bitterness between them. It wasn’t personal in the first place. Aliana had been treated far better than Saksma had or Olonia when they had been mascots. She was bitter because she fundamentally liked the man. She always did. It was hard not to when she was there, in his palaces, since before he could even walk.
In six months, the Bureau of Education would come for Allia’s first review, talk was already ongoing that they were planning to expand the Universities. Camford had been offered a choice of technical laboratories, and books were already being transferred from Arascus’, Elassa’s, and Fortia’s own libraries to be put to public use.
“No.” Richard said. “That’s the worst part, I don’t regret it at all. You did the right thing.”
The Bureau of Manufacturing had announced testing of two tower-movers. Two Allian companies had made the list of six. Alliana had not believed the honour at first.
Richard shook his head, a tear silently tracing his way down his cheek. “It’s far better than anything I could have done.”
And tonight, the news would give an announcement that confirmed him:
Imperial Generals have stated that preparations on Operations Sky’s Return are scheduled to be completed within ten months. Next year, there will be a white winter again.