Chronicles X: The Fate of the Philosopher Kings

[Helmling]

Ender Iasonides sat alone before the desk, with his head bent over to admire the gold medallion about his neck.
"Order of Neleos, and posting to the new Odyseeus," a voice said as it approached and passed him from behind. "Congratulations again, Lt. Commander," Helmling said as he took his seat behind the desk.
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't call me 'sir.'"
"Mr. President?"
"Nah, don't like that either."
"Lord?"
Helmling rolled his eyes and chuckled. "How do you think the war is going, from your personal experience."
"It's war, sir. Losing the Achilles...it hit hard."
"I know, I know. There are those in the Senate and Quorum advocating an escalation of the war--bombing Mongolia and things like that."
"God..."
Both men were silent at this prospect.
"Can I ask, sir, why I've been granted the honor of a private audience?" Ender said, half-mocking the man that every citizen felt he knew fairly well, like a beloved, if eccentric uncle.
"Hardly much of an honor. Tell me, Commander, why did you join the Navy?"
"Not to fight any wars, that's for sure," Ender admitted.
"I would hope not."
"I love to fly, and I love the sea. I think I was born too late. I would've loved to live when the sailing ships were still going places we'd never seen before. It must've been an exciting time."
"It was."
"Do you mean that? Does any of this excite you? Are you worried about this war? I mean, everything must look different from your point of view."
"That doesn't mean it doesn't matter," he answered.

 

[Helmling]

“Surface contact relayed by the Dauntless, sir.”
“Can the computer identify it?”
“Sonor contact does not conform to known Mongolian configurations, sir. The computer doesn’t identify it as belonging to any other nationality, either.”
“We need to confirm,” the Captain said as she strolled across the bridge. “Lt. Commander Iasonides, I need a visual confirmation before we give the attack order.”
“Yes, mam,” he said as he moved his hands deftly across the console. “I’m launching a long-range drone now.”
They heard the rocket streak into the air. The casing popped open in the sky ahead of them and a small robotic aircraft deployed its light-weight wings and buzzed to life. It skidded speedily over the cascading surface of the ocean as it followed a course programmed for it back on the bridge of the Odysseus, all the while transmitting images every second back to the ship.
“Anything yet?” the Captain asked.
“One moment.” He adjusted the angle of the drone’s photographic package, and a dark shape appeared on the next image. As the drone flew over, he programmed in a sweeping course to circle the unknown ship. The air soon filled with flack as the enemy’s anti-aircraft batteries pulsed furiously trying to hit the nimble, radar-evasive drone.
Finally, a shockwave knocked the little plane’s propeller out and the last three images recorded its tumble down to the waves.
“The drone’s been knocked out, Captain,” Iasonides reported. “But these images came through.” Using the special glove on his left hand, he dragged the images from his screen to main displays at the front of the bridge.
“Look at that,” the Captain whistled.
“Looks to be about 78% our displaced mass. Four batteries, and a larger radar array than we’ve seen on a Mongolian ship before.”
“So, this is their new battleship,” she said. “The ‘Glory of the Khans,’ eh? Well, it’s time they got a load of our new hardware. Commander Iasonides, signal Carina airbase with the enemy position.”
“Yes, mam.”

On their screens, they watched the scene unfold miles away. The battleship—stately and confident—churned forward through the waves toward Philosopher King waters. Then its alarms must have sounded, because the deck became a flurry of activity. The flak cannons began pounding the skies around the ship again. This time, though, the target was too high to be effected. Bombs streamed down out of the sky, striking the deck of the battleship and ripping it into charred shreds.
“Mongolian Battleship ‘Glory of the Khans’ meet the Philosopher King long-range heavy bomber PKB-07,” the captain said as she watched the second wave pass by the enemy ship.
“Captain,” the navigation officer reported. “We are now within range.”
“Fire main batteries,” she ordered.
Ender watched on, trying his best to suppress any satisfaction in the scene of destruction unfolding before him. Still he did succumb for a moment and whispered one word to himself.
“Payback.”

 

[ArmoredCavalry]

"some threads are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested", This story is better then most of the books I've read, I check this tale every hour to see if there is a new post.

 

[Fetch]

My, my, Helming. You're attracting quite a following here lately. I'll bet if you ask, someone will send you a Civ IV ready computer so you can keep writing stories.

 

[phoenix_sprite]

Quote:
Originally Posted by omni_paul
It must be funny to have CIV4 groupies

Helmling:
Hey man, I'm just glad to be read

lol, good job as usual.

 

[Helmling]

My, my, Helming. You're attracting quite a following here lately. I'll bet if you ask, someone will send you a Civ IV ready computer so you can keep writing stories.

Must...resist...temptation...must...not...

Hey, come on man, don't tempt a junkie!

 

[Helmling]

"some threads are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested", This story is better then most of the books I've read, I check this tale every hour to see if there is a new post.

Clear your plate, buddy. I got off of work for jury duty and then out of jury duty in time for lunch. That gives me a solid three hour block of free time, and guess what I'm going to do with the lion's share of it.

 

[Helmling]

The Senators and the Representatives from the Quorum’s Security Committee were already talking noisily about the war by the time Helmling arrived.
“Sorry ladies and gentlemen,” he said as he took his seat among them at the central table. “I was detained.”
“Is there news?” one of them asked anxiously.
“Yes, actually. The ‘Glory of the Khans,’ the new Mongolian battleship we had intelligence reports about…”
“Yes?”
“It has been intercepted and destroyed by a combined raid from the Carina Heavy Bomber Wing and the PKS Odysseus.”
“What a ship!” one of the Senators exclaimed.
“Still,” Senator Thrasybulos objected. “The escalation of Mongolia’s military build-up is alarming.”
“The war is proceeding overwhelmingly in our favor,” one of the Quorum representatives countered.
“That it is proceeding at all is what concerns me,” Thrasybulos continued. “Helmling, what is your opinion on why that is? Tell us frankly, because some of my esteemed colleagues need to hear it.”
Helmling seemed reluctant to answer, but begrudgingly he explained. “The Mongols perceive war entirely differently than we do. They are looking for a symbolic victory, something striking which will give them the right to claim victory.”
“They certainly have nothing with which to make that claim now!”
“Nor will they ever!” another Senator vowed.
“You misunderstand the problem,” Thrasybulos interjected to the others. “Helmling understands it, but he refuses to accept the inevitable course of action.”
“We know what your wishes are—“ someone tried to interrupt.
“But you do not see the situation clearly! The Mongols will not accept a war that ends in a naval stand off or even a stalemate. There must be a victor. They mean for it to be them, and that means that they will invade. We must expand our operations to impact the Mongolian homeland, otherwise their plans to invade will continue apace.”
“You mean invading them?”
“Perhaps.”
“We haven’t the manpower for that,” one said dismissively. “Even if the thought of such a thing were not repellent. Think of the bloodshed!”
“They are thinking of it at this very moment, of invading our shores, and it whets their appetites.”
“Senator, please!”
“I am serious. Helmling knows what I say is true.” They all turned to him.
“In some regards, the Senator is correct. However, Senator Thrasybulos, do you really want us to begin aerial assaults against Mongolia?”
“If it would bring an end to the war—“
“Sir, I ask you to consider more carefully. Bombs falling from the sky…on cities…”
“Such attacks would frustrate their efforts—“
“Cities…cities with hospitals…with schools…with churches…Can you really fathom what that would mean?”
Thrasybulos seemed to stutter. “This is war?” he said, almost desperately.
“But for now, it is a naval war and nothing else. If this war widens, then it would threaten all of our plans for the future. It would derail almost indefinitely the construction of the ship in orbit and all of our planned space operations. It would ****** the development of our culture, the advancement of our sciences. It would lock a generation of our people into perpetual conflict. Ladies and Gentlemen, make no mistake here, the very soul of our people is on the line here. We have strived for peace and the betterment of all our people for millennia, and succeeded in producing a culture unlike any other in this world’s history. A total war with such a proximal and powerful enemy would militarize our society, it would jeopardize everything. The Chinese and the Romans could catch up in the space race. Our dominion over the future of humankind would be lost. My friends, this is no border skirmish. Conflict now, at this stage in our history, could be a turning point. Be aware—this is where our destiny, our fate will be decided. Senator Thrasybulos, I know what you fear. I do. But we must not be the ones to widen this war, to do so would sacrifice the moral high-ground upon which we have built everything. We must remain what we are, what we have chosen to be.”

 

[Helmling]

"Captain at the con!" one of the seamen shouted as the gray-bearded Captain entered the control room, still rubbing his eyes.
"As you were," he muttered. He headed over to the sonor control station. "Lieutenant, this had better be damned good. It’s three in the morning and I’m a man who desperately needs beauty sleep.”
A midshipman cleaning the deck chuckled behind him.
“Sir, I think you’ll agree it was worth waking up for,” the sonor officer said.
“When did you wake up, anyway?”
“I didn’t go to sleep, sir.”
“What, I left you here six hours ago?”
“Well, sir, you remember that contact I started tracking, the one I couldn’t figure out.”
“At that range, it could’ve been a fishing trawler. I swear, I don’t know why you get so excited—“
“Sir, the signal’s been closing ever since.”
“Huh?”
“It’s moving towards us, and I’ve been able to resolve it.”
“What is it?”
“It’s not just one ‘it,’ sir. They’re multiple contacts moving in close formation. I put it through the computer for a 3D analysis.” The lieutenant led the captain over to a large display screen on the other wall. The screen filled with an undulating image of blue shapes—as if one was looking up at the shapes of ships from underneath the water. The shapes hiccupped as various sounds interfered with the sonor imaging. He rotated the image to show the projected shapes of the various hulls. “These, sir, are clearly destroyers. These here are typical destroyer escort ships. I make them to be about three battle groups.”
“There’s a lot more ships than that, though,” the Captain said, all grogginess gone from his voice.
“That’s right, sir,” the lieutenant agreed. He spun the image and zoomed out. He pointed out the central formation, comprising the majority of the fleet. “These are all wide-bodied transports.”
“My god…”
The lieutenant nodded.
“Communications! Float the antennae. We need to report to command.”

 

[Helmling]

“When did this report come in?"
"Just minutes ago, sir. The Intrepid resolved these images from long-range sonor."
"Do they know the Intrepid's out there?"
"Sir?"
"The Mongolians," Helming explained. "Do they know we have a sub in those waters?"
"No, sir, we don't think they know we've pulled any subs from the channel. The intelligence gathering operation is classified top secret."
"I know, Colonel, I ordered it."
"Sorry, sir," she stammered.
"No need to apologize," he said while looking over the data before him. A high-ranking intelligence officer was on duty in the Situation Room at all times, but as the holder of the graveyard shift, she had never actually reported to him before. "What about this transmission? What are the chances the Mongolians will detect it?"
"Very slim, sir. The Intrepid’s using a special burst transmission technique that’s meant to be disguised as static interference from the northern atmospheric magnetic anomalies.”
“Northern lights, eh…” he mumbled to himself. “Excellent,” he whispered as he looked up.
General Halius stormed in, breathless.
“What’s going on?”
The Colonel began to report, but Helmling spoke instead. “One of our submarines, the Intrepid, has detected what can only be an invasion fleet heading towards our territory.”
“Where?”
“The fleet is currently nearing Tabriz, here,” she said, bringing up a map display and indicating the location of the enemy fleet.
“Is it within range of our spy planes yet?” the General asked.
“Yes, sir. We could send a fly-over.”
“Then let’s scramble one immediately.”
“No,” Helmling said firmly.
“We need more information, sir. An overhead—“
“Trust me, General. Colonel, are there any observation satellites that orbit anywhere within the projected course of that fleet?”
The Colonel began punching information into the computer.
“Helming,” Halius began again. “What are you thinking?”
“You’ll see.”
“Yes, sir,” the Colonel answered. “The CMI-17 passes over the likely position of the fleet—assuming they are heading somewhere near Elijah or Carina—in just eight hours.”
“Could that satellite be turned in orbit and its instruments adjusted to survey targets on the ground?”
“You want to turn a telescope into a spy satellite?” Halius asked in disbelief.
“Sir, I don’t have that information.”
“Colonel, I know your shift will be ending—“
“Not a problem, sir.”
“Good, then get on the phones and wake up whoever you need to. Space Control, the engineers who designed it, whoever. I want that satellite retasked.”
“Yes, sir.” The Colonel grabbed one of the portable computers and dashed out of the room. A Major took her place as she left.
“Let’s at least put the fleet on alert,” Halius said, reaching for a console.
“No!” Helmling barked. “We’re not going to do anything.”
“They’re heading right for us.”
“I know, and we’re going to let them come.”

That afternoon, the Situation Room was more crowded than it had ever been. Every intelligence official with any knowledge of Mongolia’s fleet and land tactics and capabilities was squeezed into the room as the satellite’s images were splashed on the computer screens.
“And this carrier also shows signs of heavy deck activity, consistent with a cavalry division,” said one of the officers presenting the downloaded satellite imagery. “We project then, a total force strength of nine cavalry divisions, two marine battalions, and one tank division. We can estimate that to be well over ten thousand troops.”
The room was quiet as the numbers sunk in.
“We know their new tank design is comparable to our own.”
“What about the new, more modern designs?”
“They’re not ready for operational service.”
“What can we expect from this force?” General Halius asked. “What’s their likely strategy.”
“We cannot rule out a marine invasion, sir. If that were the case, then their likely target would be Elijah.”
“To knock out our power?”
“It would seem their best option. If they crippled out power grid, then it would significantly reduce our ability to respond. It would be the ideal foothold for them. However, Carina presents a much more convenient target. The hills north of the Great Desert Cape provide an ideal landing spot for an enemy army putting ashore, as the French established. The slopes from the beach are passable, allowing the enemy to reach defensible heights quite rapidly. They may be looking to repeat the landing there.”
“Carina also provides some advantages, sir,” another officer volunteered. “They know that most of our air force is based there now. If they hit it quickly enough, they might think they could take out our advantage in air power.”
“These two targets seem most likely. We considered a landing on the Alyssa peninsula to cut it off from the rest of the Nation and make it an easier target, but we feel the Mongolian command would realize that too much of our fleet is based in those waters, making a landing much more treacherous.”
“How long until they’re in bomber range?”
“It appears that the fleet is scattered now. They put to port in Tabriz, but we think they’re trying to disguise the fleet’s movements by docking the ships separately. Some of the transports, in fact, have remained out of port.”
“They’re trying to sneak up on us.”
“We should order the Intrepid to attack those transports that were left out at sea. Take them out while they’re vulnerable.”
At the suggestion, Halius turned to Helming, who had been silent throughout the briefing.
“No,” Helmling said. “The Intrepid is to stay right where she is. At that depth, with no activity, they’ll pass right by her.”
“And our fleet?”
“Continue with normal operations.”
“You’re letting them come right to us,” Halius said in disbelief.
“Yes…yes, I am.”

 

[Helmling]

The Admiral stood on the observation deck, taking in the freezing winter air. His attendant huddled close to him, trembling inside his thick fur coat.
“How long to Sanchu?”
“A few hours, sir.”
“Excellent. Just think, in two days we will finally bring this war home to the Greeks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent,” he repeated.
An officer came charging out of the control room and down the metal steps to where the Admiral stood on the observation platform. “Sir!”
“Yes, Captain.”
“We have reports coming in, sir. The Philosopher King fleet is on the move.”
“What?”
“They seem to be headed right for us, sir. At full speed, no less.”
“Damn, they’ve detected us. We will have to forgo putting in to port in Sanchu.”
“Admiral—“ the other officer tried to interject.
“This was a contingency we were prepared for. We have enough fuel to reach their western shore. The transports will simply have to refueled from their wells, not ours. We still have the advantage afforded by surprise if we charge onward now. Fear not. How many ships are moving to intercept?”
“All of them, sir.”
“What?”
“It would appear that the entire Philosopher King fleet is moving in this direction. Their ships south of the cape began moving at nightfall. Command thinks they have timed their departures to rendezvous right here.”
“Here?”
“Sir, they’re already on our radar. They’ll be on top of us any moment.”
“What!”
“This is impossible,” the Admiral gasped, clutching onto the rail and leaning forward into the wind. “How could they know?”
The Captain, completely underdressed for the weather which was already leaving frost in his uncovered black hair, stood mute.
“Subs?” the Admiral’s lackey answered mousishily.
“What? Our destroyers do acoustic sweeps for submarines.
“They’re the Philosopher Kings. They can probably follow us from far away, so we can’t hear them,” the little man dared. The Admiral swung out violently and knocked him to the metal grating. As he squirmed on the ground, the Admiral kicked him in the back, leaving him whimpering in agony.
“Damn them all!”
At that, the first of the planes buzzed overhead. The Admiral looked up and saw the formation of Philosopher King bombers passing by the destroyers in the lead of the fleet. He and the Captain ran to the side of the platform to watch them move on through the sky.
“They’re heading after the transports!”
“Dammit! They know everything! Captain, get back in the control room. Order the destroyers to break formation and turn to better defend the transports!”
“Yes, sir!” the Captain slipped on some ice, banging his knee on the hunched form of the Admiral’s attendant as he fell. He recovered and sprinted back up toward the bridge.
The little man on the floor whimpered again.
“Shut up!” the Admiral roared.

 

[Helmling]

“My god,” the Captain remarked with admiration as she watched the tactical display on the computer. “It worked perfectly. The lead destroyers are breaking off, heading back to put up flak around the transports.”
“I told you their leading ships were too far out,” Ender answered.
“Like a charm,” she said. “Brilliant plan, Iasonides. If anything I say matters to the review board, then you just made full Commander.”
Ender smiled and bowed his head to congratulatory nods and smiles from his shipmates.
“Now, call in the next wave of bombers on the destroyers…rough ‘em up.”
“Yes, mam,” he said as he started punching commands into the computer.”
“And navigation, get me in weapon’s range!” she ordered.

 

[Helmling]

The rising clouds of smoke blotted out the sun. Every convolution and disturbance in the clouds threatened to spit out a Philosopher King bomber to blast them away.
“Captian!” the Cavalry commander belched as he caught him on deck, trying to make sense of the carnage.
“Not now, Colonel!”
“Yes, now!”
“Can’t you see what’s happening?” he protested.
“No, I can’t. All I see is smoke and fire out there.”
“That’s all there is!” the ship captain wailed.
“Bull…now what does the Admiral say? How’re we supposed to regroup?” the colonel pressed on.
“As far as I know, the admiral is dead,” the captain informed him. The cavalry officer chased after him as he ran along the edge of the ship.
“Where in the hell are you going?”
“I don’t even know!” the panicked little man said. “I’m just a fisherman! I was drafted! They can’t kill me!”
“Shut up and get ahold of yourself, man!” the colonel said, slapping him across the face. “If the Admiral’s ship’s been hit, then who’s in charge of the fleet now?”
“Nobody, don’t you get it! All the big destroyers are gone! The whole Philosopher King fleet is out there and they’ve bombed everything.”
“So what’re you going to do?”
“I’m going to try to put a white flag off the forward bow and then I’m turning this ship and running for our lives.”
“You can’t surrender, damn you!” he said, gripping the little man and pressing him against the rail. As he did, though, he looked up. Something was moving under the water off the ship’s port side.
“What the hell’s that?” the cavalry colonel cursed.
The transport captain took one look and then scrambled to the railing and threw himself into the icy water below.
“Damned lunatic…”
He watched as the moving shape traced a white line through the water, straight at the hull.

 

[Helmling]

Helmling sat alone with the lights dimmed.
The door opened behind him, but he did not stir to greet whoever it was.
“It’s over,” a voice said. “The battle of Sanchu lasted a little over an hour. The Mongolian invasion fleet has been completely annihilated,” General Halius said morosely.
Helmling said nothing.
“I didn’t expect this from you,” he continued. “You could disrupted this fleet days ago. Sunk a few of the transports and sent the rest of the fleet running for cover.”
“Yes, we could’ve done that.”
“Instead you lured them in, and slaughtered them.”
“Yes,” Helmling said. “Yes, that’s what we did.”
“Why?”
“It’s all psychology, General,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Those men, on those ships, and their leaders. They planned an invasion. Bust up the fleet, send them running for cover…that won’t stop it. The invasion is still a reality in their hearts and minds, and they mean to make it real for the rest of us. Sooner or later, they would come again…and again.”
“I thought you meant to let them land so that they wouldn’t die at sea…so that there’d be fewer casualties and more prisoners. You know, to be more humane. It was stupid, but that’s what I thought you were up to.”
“No, no. It would’ve been worse that way. Once any Mongolian soldier stepped on our soil then it would have inspired thousands more. No, no, we had to break them completely. We couldn’t allow them anything that might stoke their fires. They had to taste total defeat. A crushing defeat where all their formidable warriors were killed without ever seeing their enemies…without ever seeing our shores. That was the only way to crush all their hopes for this war.”
“Hopes?”
“Many men invest great hopes in war. They think it can change everything. They think a war will teach their enemies about how strong they are. It never works that way.”
“And now what?”
“Now?” Helmling said, looking at the general at last. “Now, they will take peace.”

 

[Helmling]

“One destroyer,” the radar officer shouted. “Bearing—“
“I see them, Lieutenant,” the Captain interrupted. “Last one.”
“Captain.”
“What is it, Commander?”
“I was looking over the design specs that intelligence gave us for those French Versailles class destroyers,” Iasonides explained.
“And?”
“The ship's already been hit. They're limping as it is. Now, they draw all their power from one powerplant, mam. If we knocked it out, then the ship would be crippled.”
“How would we do that?”
“They’ve run out of ammo for their anti-air guns. I can have a helicopter paint the target with a laser. One guided bomb knocks out the engines and its helpless. Much lower casualties.”
“Good plan, Commander, do it.”
Iasonides relayed the commands to the aircraft, and they waited. “Intelligence says this is the last of the French fleet in these waters,” he said as they watched the displays, waiting for the signal to strike out at the enemy ship.
“Thankfully. I’ve had enough of this sort of target practice.”
“It’s been nothing but a shooting gallery since we were dispatched to Far Colony,” he agreed.
“Don’t worry, Commander. I think we’ve finally seen the end of this.”
“You do?”
“The French have lost so many ships. They can’t possibly keep this up much longer. I wouldn’t be surprised if history records the Battle of Gao as the end of the French War.”
“Captain, target is painted.”
“Fire!”

 

[Helmling]

"What can I do for you, Senator?" Helmling asked as he motioned for Thrasybulos to take a seat.
"I wanted to apologize, of course."
"I don't think one is needed."
"Yes, yes, it is. You were right and I was wrong. You have brought us peace."
"Senator--"
"No, I insist. Now that everything has been so satisfactorilly resolved, it is clear that your prudence was warranted."
"I'm glad you think so, but that still doesn't require an apology."
"So many dead...the loss of life among the French and Mongolians is regrettable, of course. It is, though, our own dead that weigh heavy on my soul."
"Naturally."
"It weighs too heavily. I would have sent hundreds, perhaps thousands more of our people to their deaths."
"Come now, that's not a fair--"
"No, it's true. I have been too long a Senator. I have forgotten myself. I will resign this year, and return home to Jenn."
"Are you sure?"
"It is time, yes."
"The Senate will be the lesser for it."
"Thank you," he said warmly. "At least now, though, we have proven to any nation that would challenge us that we can defend this continent against all aggression. None dare challenge us on our own soil or in our home waters again," the Senator said as he rose to leave. "Let us hope the peace is a lasting one."
Helmling saw him out. When he sat down again, though, he was unsettled. The Senator's last words resounded in his mind with an inscrutiable foreboding.

 

[Sisiutil]

I just wanted to say that I recently discovered these threads and have thoroughly enjoyed your story. Your well-developed characters, in particular, really bring the story and the world of Civ IV to life. Your careful composition and selection of screen shots complement the story perfectly.

The only nit-picking suggestion I have is to either use an indent or a blank line to start each new paragragh to make reading easier. But that is an extremely minor complaint.

You're obviously approaching an ending--not a happy one, I suspect--and I'm both dreading and looking forward to it. You WILL finally explain some of the mysteries of Helmling's origins, won't you?

 

[phoenix_sprite]

I said almost all the complimental words that were in my head that I have to dig deep for them...magnificient! Stupendous! Bravo! And thanks for this great update!

 

[stryper]

Absolutlly awesome.

This is some increadable stuff. You should seriously think about submitting something to a publisher.

Baen Press puts out a lot of sci fi and fantasy stories. Many authours there write similar to this. John Ringo being one.

Possibilities could be endless. Also, Love the Orson Scott Card reference the Ender what his name.

stryper

 

[Helmling]

I just wanted to say that I recently discovered these threads and have thoroughly enjoyed your story. Your well-developed characters, in particular, really bring the story and the world of Civ IV to life. Your careful composition and selection of screen shots complement the story perfectly.

The only nit-picking suggestion I have is to either use an indent or a blank line to start each new paragragh to make reading easier. But that is an extremely minor complaint.

You're obviously approaching an ending--not a happy one, I suspect--and I'm both dreading and looking forward to it. You WILL finally explain some of the mysteries of Helmling's origins, won't you?

Sorry about the tabs and spacing, but they never seem to transfer when I paste the text over.