The Greatest Sin [Progression Fantasy][Kingdom Building]

Very well. We shall solve the problem of this Ardan plaguewood and we shall solve the problem of the Plaguewood together. Once we consider the extent of the Second Arc, we have a full four-day window to perform Ringbreaking. It is upcoming next month. The Plaguewood will still be confined to the Second Arc even under the low-acceleration scenario.

Prepare the First and Third Arcs for Ringbreaking and await for the orbits to align. Containment efforts shall still be tested, throw whatever you can at it. Give notice that whoever shall be left on the Second Arc by the time of Ringbreaking’s beginning will have no chances to stay on Tartarus proper.

The declaration is made and it is official.

I, Emperor Leonifer, ruler of all the thirteen Arcs, solemnly stand and bare the responsibility thrust upon me. I carry its weight on my shoulders, and I do not do it for any reason but the most ultimate: the survival of our world as a whole. The Ring of Tartarus shall be broken.

- Declaration of Emperor Leonifer, of Tartarus.

Olephia stared, her eyes wide, as she unpacked all her art supplies. Today was launch day, today, they were going to leave Arda. Today, the hard border of humanity that had seemed to exist since… since forever would be breached. And finally, Arda could stop looking to its side but instead start to look up. Today, they would mankind in space.

And if today went well, then next week there would be two. Four in two weeks. The booster rockets of ICDT towers were already being repurposed. There were plans to put stations up there. More projects were being started, the feasibility of railguns that could launch objects to low orbit. Someone had suggested the myth of the world-tower to be reconsidered, although that was Olephia had heard it be called in the past. Nowadays, they called it the space-elevator.

What a time to be alive.

Olephia couldn’t wait for next year. She couldn’t wait for next decade. She couldn’t wait for the entire next century. If this was not the beginning of Arda’s Golden Age, she did not know what was. The Goddess of Chaos finished unpacking her paints and started to mix the correct colours. The blue she had taken for the sky needed to be lightened, and although the Lighthouse-One was said to be white, it was actually off-coloured. It would need a dash of grey to achieve that shade.

The crowds… Olephia looked at them, and then looked at her plain sheet, and then at the crowds again. It was a marvel of colour, enough to make the gardens of noblewomen envy. All the colours of the rainbow and then some. Nobles had come in their regal cloaks and dresses, the bureaucrats in Imperial Black. The members of the ISP, the Imperial Space Program, in white and light-blue and gold. All in suits that would no doubt set common fashion for the next year.

She remembered the failed test before the war started. They would have been in orbit already had it not been for the declaration of the Surface War. They probably would have been on the moon by now. She would have painted the ultimate masterpiece, which was Arda from outside. But alas! Tartarus had invaded and Tartarus had gotten what they deserved for trying to drown the planet in ash.

But the path of Arda was eternal, and it could only be slowed down, not stopped. They were back where they had started, although with a completely different design than before. The launchpad in Doschia had been rebuilt entirely from scratch, to facilitate the launch of a shuttle which featured a single rocket design. The booster missile of an ICDT rocket was used instead, and it was large and powerful enough that just one should be able to breach the atmosphere.

On its back was mounted a contraption that was to a plane what a fat pigeon was to an eagle. It was almost blocky, the wings were short, the fins huge, the understand painted black, the top white. A bridge led to it from the massive steel construction of a tower that was situation right next to the structure. Olephia brought out her pencil and began to sketch. She could obviously not delay the launch just for her own art, but she would be able to save the details on her paper and fill them in later to be even grander than reality portrayed the whole event.

The silent Goddess of Chaos stood in the windless day and saved every detail she could. The Light-house one would obviously be the focus of the scene, but her canvas was large enough that the crowd could serve as an unfocused foreground. All those colours would make a dazzle, although she would have to mute them. She looked at the lake to the right of the site. There were more people there too, along with large cars and trucks. More civilians and more news crews, to record and save this image. Olephia’s pencils made a small squiggle of lines to indicate those people. Those would have to be there, although they would be unfocused too.

Lighthouse-One was a good name, it was on the nose too. Obviously, everything in the Empire was. But it simply made itself worthy of art, the colours would naturally become brighter towards the centre of the painting. She wondered who named it, frankly, it had the tinge of every sister bar Kassandora. That one would name it some terrible abbreviation, something like Manned Imperial Space Shuttle. Terrible. Just terrible.

This painting would be displayed in an Imperial gallery for a while, and then Olephia would donate it. It would probably go to Saksma, this was her nation after all, and Olephia didn’t want to play favourites with Olonia. Over the six months, Olephia had given enough paintings to Lubska that every single gallery in the country had at least one.

Her pencil-hand went back to noting the details on her canvas. The teams of mages that formed a perimeter around the launch site would have to be included. They hovered in the air, backs to the shuttle itself and made slow rotations with their staves. They would definitely have to be included. Olephia drew one, then a single faint line through it. Reality could be adjusted, the teams would have to go lower than the tip of Lighthouse-One even if right now, they hovered at the cloud layer. After all, they had one of the most important jobs today.

Launch-day could not be ruined by rain or wind or any other sort of poor weather, could it?

Olephia got to mixing the colours for the crowds. She added a dark grey to all of them, to dull them so that the centrepiece of the painting would be the Lighthouse-One would be displayed. Her attention turned the crowd went silent. Arascus had arrived with Fortia for the event. Oh. That was a surprise. She didn’t think that they would be here. There had been no mention of it in the news and Olephia did keep up with how modern politics were going.

Arascus had come dressed in his dark Imperial regalia, the usual that he always for these special events. A black uniform lined with red and silver and with hints of gold here and there. It was imposing, but the man made the uniform. He could wear anything and look imposing, the very fact that he towered two and a half times over the humans was enough for that. And he was wide too, easily the largest God Olephia ever had seen. It was actually difficult to stick in him painting to and convey the majesty that was always present by his side without making him swallow the painting.

And by his side, Fortia of Peace. Olephia narrowed her eyes at that. Malam did make that joke when Fortia had joined up, and it was no secret that the two had worked with each other in the past, but Fortia had settled into the Empire with what seemed to be glee. She had Maisara, she had Fer, and now she was almost always with Arascus. The two were working on something together. Arascus thought he was being smart by holding weekly meetings at Irinika’s tobacco plantation. Maybe it would slipped through Anassa’s mind, but it did not slip through Olephia’s.

Fortia had come dressed as always did, and she looked good and fashionable, as she always did. The woman wore that dark skirt of hers which ended above the knees, lined with a gold-bronze and a dark shirt with buttons. Olephia drew two lines ahead of the crowd. Pride and Peace, it would be a good fit for the image, although they would not be the focus today. And frankly, Of Chaos did not want to draw Fortia anymore. Whatever those two had going on was annoying. If Arascus ever told her that the family was gaining a new member and that member was going to come dressed in bronze…

Olephia silently realised she was riling herself up and stopped. She closed her eyes and played through the exercise that she always used in these situations. There was no reason to get mad, and she could only through a scene. If she uttered a word right now, the test would be called off even if no one was hurt. Her mind went black, she imagined a sheep chewing on grass. A cute sheep that drew its head down and bit more. Then another. A third. A fourth. An endless field of them.

Now calm, Olephia opened her eyes and saw Fortia and Arascus talking to each other. They had made it through the crowd. Arascus turned and began giving a speech. Well, that was expected. And maybe these things did look better when the ex-warmaster of the White Pantheon stood by his side. They were entering a new age after all, old grievances could not be carried into space.

The speech carried on as trio of men came on the back of a truck. Arascus fell silent and Olephia watched them descend from the back of the vehicle, they were already dressed up in bulky suits that were painted in white, with lines of red and black on them. Everything in the Empire had to look stylish and beautiful after all.

Olephia brought out her notebook and started drawing the scene as she imagined what it would look like from that angle. The God of Pride stood tall, dwarfing the three human astronauts who would be sent into space. The exchanged a military salute. Fortia stood straight backed, the crowd fell silent. And the three astronauts bowed. Arascus turned with them.

For a moment, Olephia thought that Fortia was so glued to the hip with Arascus that she would actually walk with him and the three men. But she did not. Damn right she did not. Good. Olephia would have painted a rage-filled manifest against the Goddess of Peace if that happened. One of Fortia standing on a mountain of skulls, blood draining down her armour. Maybe the corpse of the White Pantheon behind her, with the Divine Mountain struck being struck by lightning and shattering. Something very fucking spiteful and something that would get under her nerves. And then she would have it delivered to the woman’s front door.

Arascus marched that trio to the launch pad, the small party saluted the Lighthouse-One. And then they turned towards that tower. Olephia made another note, that would be a good painting too. This entire launch sequence was like discovering a secret treasure island of ideas. The shot would be looking up, with the stars behind them, saluting that mighty vessel which would propel all Arda forwards once again.

Olephia began to mix the colours, more Divinity was arriving. Anassa appeared in the air, the Goddess in crimson silks stood in the air, appeared next to Fortia, said something, then disappeared. Hopefully it was a warning. It better be a warning. Olephia herself would not compromise the family unit, nor would she gatekeep it from another daughter but Anassa would. She would be questioned later. Now, there was no reason to cause a fuss.

Saksma turned up with her party of National Divines and a Doschian delegation too of her own bureaucrats. The Goddess stood in her black uniform, it bore silver markings too, but it lacked the gold and red that brought the contrast to Arascus’ uniform. Olephia stared at her then made a note in the memory. The woman’s fashion could be improved. If she didn’t like colour, then a long overcoat would fit better than that uniform.

Saksma and her friends took their space, the police and the guards that were stood there slowly pulled out of the way, they had kept in reserve. Olephia watched as the three imperial astronauts disappeared into the skeleton of the tower. Then they reappeared, on a platform elevator that dragged them up, a massive screen, large enough for Olephia to see even at the distance she was stood, definitely large enough for the crowd to read, slowly began to play a video of the Lighthouse-One. Images from the factory, and of the mountain, with the names of the workers who had helped in the construction being displayed in bold letters; Imperial mythmaking in action. Arascus stood where he had, then walked towards the booster rocket itself. He put his hand on the shell, then looked up.

And then he began to ascend. The crowd went as silent as a funeral as he slowly rose, in line with the elevator that was bringing the astronauts up to the ship. Slowly, and slowly, to the top of the vessel where it opened. And Olephia’s eyes went open as Arascus stood, staring at the compartment, and then looked up towards the sky.

Was he going too?

Olephia’s mouth fell open as she thought about the risks. And then the God of Pride stopped there, looked up, and descended down to the bridge where the trio in their white suits were walking. They stopped at the bridge once again as the God of Pride hovered next to them. He came closer, lowering himself further so they were at eye-level. He was not going. Thank the Divines for that. Olephia would not allow him, and he would still go even if she told him not to. She knew he would.

The massive screen changed, from its final shot of the Lighthouse-One being mounted on the launchpad to the portrait of the ship’s captain: Cpt. Yuri Garin. A list of his engagements in the surface was displayed, the man had been piloting a jet over Ainai. Arascus extended his arm forward. It was not really a shake, Captain Garin would barely be able to close his hand around one of Arascus’ fingers. But it was as close a shake as they could manage.

The next man, a Col. Alan Pard. Ainai again, although that zone had held the most air engagements. Olephia made a note in her head, she would interview these three later, and she would paint them. Their stories could fit into a portrait, from piloting planes over Tartarus to piloting a spaceship over Arda. It would all be there. One again, they performed that not-quite-handshake. And the third, Virgil Gris, rank of Colonel again. And no surprises, another military pilot who had been there for the entire Ainai conflict. The Empire did know how to choose its heroes.

Arascus watched the three enter their spacecraft. Olephia did too, already mixing more colours on autopilot even as her eyes watched him descend down from the tower. He touched down on the grey concrete and finally, she could breath again. Good. The idiot was not going to launch himself into space. Better send a hundred up there, better complete a thousand flights before anyone risked that.

Well, Olephia didn’t mind flying on an aeroplane, she imagined the new technology was like that. Eventually, it would be safe. Eventually. Arascus walked away from the Lighthouse once as the screen changed to a countdown timer. Five minutes until launch. Four minutes, fifty-nine seconds now. Fifty-eight. Olephia watched the red, then started to mix her paints to match it. This white canvas had already been transformed by her hand into a pencil sketch, with splashes of colour in the upper-left of the piece so that she could keep a reference. The red would have to be made brighter, mixed with a little yellow… Or maybe not mixed at all, the yellow could be a pin drop of contrast instead.

She saw her father stare straight up at the sky. Alone, on that concrete field, the crowd behind him, Fortia there. Fucking of course she was. Olephia pushed the idea of them having an affair out of her mind. She would give both of them a talking to if that was really happening. And she finally breathed a silent sigh of relief. There. She had thought the unthinkable. Fucking bitch. Fortia would be seen to later. Anassa was in the air. The rings of mages had started channelling magic now, the air was stilled entirely. There was no even a shred of wind. Saksma’s delegation and her friends fell silent in awe. And even Olephia put down her paintbrush as suddenly, she realised what she was witnessing.

Today, humanity would leave Arda on its own terms. Not through the unknown gates of Death, nor through Paraideisian portal magic. But on its own, with fire and steel. Machinery and sweat that had been paid for in blood. Today, they would make that massive leap.

And it almost got shattered when she saw Arascus turn around. His eyes went straight to Fortia for a moment. Olephia watched, trying to understand what they were exactly relaying to each other with those looks. She gave him an upwards nod. It lasted only for a moment as Arascus looked up again, then stepped away from the spaceship and immediately regained his usual demeanour.

The Emperor God of the Empire, of Arda in all but name, stood a step away from the Lighthouse-One. And another, not looking up at Fortia. Olephia stared at her father from her spot as the massive screen with the red numbers continued the countdown. A minute left, nowhere near enough to catch the launch and also investigate what they were talking about.

But she saw the tiny nod to Fortia, and the confirmation of whatever it is they were talking about. Arascus returned to stand by the side of the Goddess of Peace. Olephia drew two smears of paint to mark where they stood on her sheet of paper. The rest would come from memory, her mind could make everything look more grand than her eyes did.

But that nod. Olephia promised to herself that she would make that fucking spiteful painting. And she would give one to Arascus too. The countdown flickered to ten seconds and Olephia let her hands fall to her sides. She would watch this. She had to watch this. They would send thousands of rockets into space, but they would do it for the first time only once.

It was one of the longest ten seconds she had ever stood through in her entire life. It was akin to waiting for the enemy army to appear over the horizon. Worse than that. But then it hit bottom: 00:00. It switched to text: Lift Off!

And the Lighthouse-One began to ignite. A tidal of flames and smoke blew from the bottom of its engine. For a moment, there was so much of that grey fog that the shuttle disappeared. And then it launched out of the cloud like a spear thrown to the heavens. Nothing like a plane which would arc towards Arda’s horizon until it eventually disappeared, not whatsoever. Olephia’s eyes tracked the massive rocket as it built a column of white smoke behind then.

The crowd burst out into cheering. Hats were thrown up into the air. Arascus saluted the smoke as if he was expecting it to return the gesture. Saksma stared up in awe, unmoving and unblinking as Olonia sat down on the tarmac by her side. Of Lubska leaned back to support herself with her palms, white hair spilling down onto the grey stone. And Olephia stood there, even as she felt the shift in the air and the slight change in air pressure. The groups of magicians that maintained the perimeter had completed their jobs and were returning down to the ground. Their leave meant that the wind finally returned back to this region.

Olephia watched the pillar climb further and further. Anassa disappeared, then reappeared higher. And again, up she blinked. And again. Until Olephia could just about make out the scarlet dot in the sky next to that massive pillar. And it still ascended, even when Anassa stopped climbing. It ascended until it became invisible.

Olephia sat down with awe.

It disappeared.

Not over the horizon. Not behind a cloud nor a mountain. It disappeared because it went so far from her. Even her Divine vision could not pick it out. They had done it.

They had left Arda.

Lighthouse-One succeeds in breaching the atmosphere and completing a single orbit around the planet. An image of the world is sent back to the surface. Captain Garin, Colonels Pard and Gris safely parachute their pod into the Alanktydan ocean, where the INS Kassandora awaits to retrieve them. The Empire officially announces the dawn of the Ardan Space Age.