christos200
Never tell me the odds
Great update.
Unbound
- Thread starter the unbound
- Start date
Verarde
Pondering Wearing A Hat
The Greeks, now? Nice.
the unbound
Chieftain
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2011
- Messages
- 57
Part III
Chapter XXX
"How is it possible, though?" she asks, leaning in on her mount to study my face.
The beach is quiet, except for the gust of wind that snap at us every few moments.
"Here will do," I tell her and dismount. The horse whinnies as I lead it toward a blackened log on shore, where I slipknot a rope from the stirrups to a protruding knob on the washed up tree.
She does the same and then unpacks her satchel, lifting out a wooden panel, parchment and quills. She sits down and spreads out the writing material over the plank on her lap.
I step closer to the shore and watch the edge of the water.
"I am aware you didn't answer my question," she says.
"I'm sorry. There are things I can't talk about."
"Your memory again? Are you trying to protect us from something when you say you have lost many memories of the past? From some painful truth?"
"No," I answer. "I honestly don't remember the answers to most things you ask me. Something happened in a past life and...and it's just gone." Lately, though, among these people, shaping their culture along more familiar lines, I have begun to hear whispers from the past. Names. I'm remembering the names. "In this case, though, the secret to how I don't age isn't even mine."
"Someone else's magic?"
"Something like that."
"Is it a curse?" she asks, looking up from her writing. "Is it a curse to live forever?"
"Who's to say. It's just the way things are for me now."
"Sometimes I look at you, and I think it must be a curse."
"Oh really. What times are those?"
"When you don't look at me."
"Excuse me?" I answer, turning toward her.
"People told stories to me about you and Prime Minister Anthousa, about how she was your aide before she was elected to the Senate. They warned me that deep down, you weren't interested in me, but only wanted to take a young lover."
"And still you accepted the job?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Greatness requires sacrifice," she says. "You've often said as much."
I turn away, half repulsed and half impressed.
"But you're not like that. You're not interested in me."
"Maybe you're not my type."
"Your type? The type you'd be attracted to, is that what you mean? You selected me for my academic talents. Wouldn't that attract you, if anything could? I'd say you don't have a type. I've done my research."
"Research?"
"Many of the scrolls in the collection are recorded stories of you. Some of them go back a thousand years. None of them talk of you taking a wife, or seducing young girls like the gods of old."
"No, no..."
"That's why I say it's a curse. You don't allow yourself a life. Maybe you are afraid to love any of us, because you know you will outlive us all."
"There," I say, cutting her off. At the edge of the river delta, a barge appears.
As it nears, the early morning light catches the white slabs being carried on the boat as the deckmen steer it through the currents with long reed poles.
She sets down her writing materials and rises to join me. "It will be beautiful. I can see it in my mind's eye. A frontice of marble shining in the dawn. It will be a temple to knowledge," she says, her tone almost lustful. "It will be wonderful."
"A wonderful beginning," I agree. "But we'll need more than this surface material. We'll need a proper quarry to extract enough for more buildings."
"More? You haven't mentioned the need for 'more' buildings like the library." I see that she has turned, looking behind us at the contours of the city illuminated by the dawn.
"Oh," I answer quietly, watching the barge draw closer to us on its way to the construction site, to the city. "There will be more."
Chapter XXX
"How is it possible, though?" she asks, leaning in on her mount to study my face.
The beach is quiet, except for the gust of wind that snap at us every few moments.
"Here will do," I tell her and dismount. The horse whinnies as I lead it toward a blackened log on shore, where I slipknot a rope from the stirrups to a protruding knob on the washed up tree.
She does the same and then unpacks her satchel, lifting out a wooden panel, parchment and quills. She sits down and spreads out the writing material over the plank on her lap.
I step closer to the shore and watch the edge of the water.
"I am aware you didn't answer my question," she says.
"I'm sorry. There are things I can't talk about."
"Your memory again? Are you trying to protect us from something when you say you have lost many memories of the past? From some painful truth?"
"No," I answer. "I honestly don't remember the answers to most things you ask me. Something happened in a past life and...and it's just gone." Lately, though, among these people, shaping their culture along more familiar lines, I have begun to hear whispers from the past. Names. I'm remembering the names. "In this case, though, the secret to how I don't age isn't even mine."
"Someone else's magic?"
"Something like that."
"Is it a curse?" she asks, looking up from her writing. "Is it a curse to live forever?"
"Who's to say. It's just the way things are for me now."
"Sometimes I look at you, and I think it must be a curse."
"Oh really. What times are those?"
"When you don't look at me."
"Excuse me?" I answer, turning toward her.
"People told stories to me about you and Prime Minister Anthousa, about how she was your aide before she was elected to the Senate. They warned me that deep down, you weren't interested in me, but only wanted to take a young lover."
"And still you accepted the job?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Greatness requires sacrifice," she says. "You've often said as much."
I turn away, half repulsed and half impressed.
"But you're not like that. You're not interested in me."
"Maybe you're not my type."
"Your type? The type you'd be attracted to, is that what you mean? You selected me for my academic talents. Wouldn't that attract you, if anything could? I'd say you don't have a type. I've done my research."
"Research?"
"Many of the scrolls in the collection are recorded stories of you. Some of them go back a thousand years. None of them talk of you taking a wife, or seducing young girls like the gods of old."
"No, no..."
"That's why I say it's a curse. You don't allow yourself a life. Maybe you are afraid to love any of us, because you know you will outlive us all."
"There," I say, cutting her off. At the edge of the river delta, a barge appears.
As it nears, the early morning light catches the white slabs being carried on the boat as the deckmen steer it through the currents with long reed poles.
She sets down her writing materials and rises to join me. "It will be beautiful. I can see it in my mind's eye. A frontice of marble shining in the dawn. It will be a temple to knowledge," she says, her tone almost lustful. "It will be wonderful."
"A wonderful beginning," I agree. "But we'll need more than this surface material. We'll need a proper quarry to extract enough for more buildings."
"More? You haven't mentioned the need for 'more' buildings like the library." I see that she has turned, looking behind us at the contours of the city illuminated by the dawn.
"Oh," I answer quietly, watching the barge draw closer to us on its way to the construction site, to the city. "There will be more."
the unbound
Chieftain
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2011
- Messages
- 57
Part III
Chapter XXXI
I step up to the uppermost platform, passing by the assembled guests--Senators, ministers, quorum delegates, scholars from the Great Library, and other prominent citizens.
At the center of the marble circle, I pause and turn slowly, scanning the colonnade about the perimeter, then glance through where the domed roof will someday be to the stars emerging in the blue-gray sky above.
Another wonder.
Another testament to our people's ingenuity.
What will we call this? I walk to the outer ring of columns and lay my hand on one, rubbing the freshly hewn marble. The names of things matter, after all. So what should we name this temple to reason?
No one answers. They watch silently as I walk back to the center.
Call it an oracle.
Someone laughs.
No, I'm quite serious. What we want to do here is look to the future. If not to predict it, then to forge it. We have built this to inspire. We have built this structure out of the conviction that the world needs an example, a model by which all peoples may elevate themselves to realize their best selves.
And we, we few here in this lush and rich valley have dedicated ourselves to living the lives that will create that example. We. We few shall light the way for all of humankind.
But we know the dangers. We will meet enemies on the path to this noble goal, and the worst of them will be within us. How will we guard ourselves from arrogance and vanity? If we seek to make ourselves more than our neighbors, how will we prevent that pride from infecting us, from poisoning our spirits.
Several of them nod seriously. Stern faces of Spartan restraint.
Only duty. Absolute devotion to duty. We must wake every day and remind ourselves that our work is not done, and will not be.
We must use all our powers, all that comes from our unflagging pursuit of excellence and channel it into this sacred purpose, into our duty. We must never sit smugly in our wondrous city. We must engage the world. We must act to protect the weak and to stand firmly against those who would tarnish the human spirit with wrath, avarice and brutality.
When we have dedicated ourselves to this aim, we will not be Greeks anymore. No, we must guard against ever being simply "the Mighty Greeks." Our identity must be rooted in bedrock that is deeper and more tempered than culture or ethnicity. We must root our campaign to enlighten the world in the stone beneath the stone, in the core of all that makes human beings more than mere social animals. Reason. Truth. Knowledge.
With these as our pillars, we will not be a country. Our city of wonders here will be only the beating heart of an organism, forged of many free peoples. Settlements beyond our present borders, neighboring peace loving states--let us bind them together into a league, a nation that is more than a single people, a single creed, a single culture.
We, will grow beyond the limitations of those boundaries, those terms. Those words cannot define what we will do together.
I look up, and their eyes follow mine. Still gazing upward, I beckon them closer as I sink to my knees. They slip closer to each other, pressing their shoulders against one another.
They lean in, bend down, kneel. I whisper.
We will do amazing things together. Not for glory. Not for ourselves at all. It will be an empire of ideas. Even structures like this one will be only crude shadows of something grander.
I rise.
Our destiny is like this, I say, waving to the heavens. Inscrutable and made of light itself.
Chapter XXXI
I step up to the uppermost platform, passing by the assembled guests--Senators, ministers, quorum delegates, scholars from the Great Library, and other prominent citizens.
At the center of the marble circle, I pause and turn slowly, scanning the colonnade about the perimeter, then glance through where the domed roof will someday be to the stars emerging in the blue-gray sky above.
Another wonder.
Another testament to our people's ingenuity.
What will we call this? I walk to the outer ring of columns and lay my hand on one, rubbing the freshly hewn marble. The names of things matter, after all. So what should we name this temple to reason?
No one answers. They watch silently as I walk back to the center.
Call it an oracle.
Someone laughs.
No, I'm quite serious. What we want to do here is look to the future. If not to predict it, then to forge it. We have built this to inspire. We have built this structure out of the conviction that the world needs an example, a model by which all peoples may elevate themselves to realize their best selves.
And we, we few here in this lush and rich valley have dedicated ourselves to living the lives that will create that example. We. We few shall light the way for all of humankind.
But we know the dangers. We will meet enemies on the path to this noble goal, and the worst of them will be within us. How will we guard ourselves from arrogance and vanity? If we seek to make ourselves more than our neighbors, how will we prevent that pride from infecting us, from poisoning our spirits.
Several of them nod seriously. Stern faces of Spartan restraint.
Only duty. Absolute devotion to duty. We must wake every day and remind ourselves that our work is not done, and will not be.
We must use all our powers, all that comes from our unflagging pursuit of excellence and channel it into this sacred purpose, into our duty. We must never sit smugly in our wondrous city. We must engage the world. We must act to protect the weak and to stand firmly against those who would tarnish the human spirit with wrath, avarice and brutality.
When we have dedicated ourselves to this aim, we will not be Greeks anymore. No, we must guard against ever being simply "the Mighty Greeks." Our identity must be rooted in bedrock that is deeper and more tempered than culture or ethnicity. We must root our campaign to enlighten the world in the stone beneath the stone, in the core of all that makes human beings more than mere social animals. Reason. Truth. Knowledge.
With these as our pillars, we will not be a country. Our city of wonders here will be only the beating heart of an organism, forged of many free peoples. Settlements beyond our present borders, neighboring peace loving states--let us bind them together into a league, a nation that is more than a single people, a single creed, a single culture.
We, will grow beyond the limitations of those boundaries, those terms. Those words cannot define what we will do together.
I look up, and their eyes follow mine. Still gazing upward, I beckon them closer as I sink to my knees. They slip closer to each other, pressing their shoulders against one another.
They lean in, bend down, kneel. I whisper.
We will do amazing things together. Not for glory. Not for ourselves at all. It will be an empire of ideas. Even structures like this one will be only crude shadows of something grander.
I rise.
Our destiny is like this, I say, waving to the heavens. Inscrutable and made of light itself.
the unbound
Chieftain
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2011
- Messages
- 57
Part III
Chapter XXXII
“This is something of a golden age for you, isn’t it?” the ambassador from Edinburgh says casually as we walk along the middle platform of the rising lighthouse. The workers retired for the day hours earlier. Two hundred and fifty feet above the ground, we are as alone as two people can be in this city of half a million souls.
“Our gem trade with the Polynesians south of the mountains has been most lucrative, yes,” I agree. “We expect another windfall in the near future, which would be the first tangible benefit for your country, if you sign, that is.”
“It’s more than than just trade. We’ve noted that your settlements in the north are growing. It looks as though there’ll soon be Greek cities in the desert and on the northern coast to rival all the other principalities of the hinterland.”
“Way stations for greater trade. All the more reason to be a signatory to the league,” I reply.
“And if we sign, along with Warsaw and Budapest eventually, have you thought through the ramifications?” he asks, turning to face me. Then he shakes his head and laughs to himself, shaking his rotund belly. “No, that’s a stupid question. Of course you have. You’re claiming a third of the continent and lining up all the non-aligned city-states in your corner. You must know how Russia and Egypt will interpret this expansion of your power. You’re aiming for a war.”
“Naturally, we hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Bollocks.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“You’re making overtures as far east as Seoul. We see the breadth of your design here. You don’t want a league of far flung cities with rival nations between you and them.”
“That would be less than ideal.”
“You mean to wrap the whole continent up in this league.”
“I would invite you to imagine, if what you’re predicting was to come to pass, how Edinburgh would fare. Secure in the heartland of the continent, without threats. A vital nexus to all land-based trade. If things did unfold in the way you’re suggesting, then your country would enjoy untold prosperity.”
“It’s not Edinburgh in ten generations that concerns me. It’s our role in the shaping of this new world of yours. Russia and Egypt won’t just allow themselves to be folded into your nation. It will mean war. Long and bloody war.”
“Perhaps. Hopefully not. Naturally, one way or another, we want the Russian and Egyptian peoples to someday enjoy the benefits of liberty and commerce that will be yours at once if you do commit to our trade agreement.”
“It’s more than a trade agreement. It’s an alliance, and if Russia means to thwart your designs, then they have to come through us.”
“So what is it you are saying to me, Mr. Ambassador? Are you here to reject our proposal, to say you would rather stand alone in the world. Alone and on the edge of Russian territory.”
“No.”
“Then what you really want is assurance. You want me to say that if and when Russia makes its move, you will be protected. You want our promise that Edinburgh will be defended as dearly as our own territory.”
“Yes.”
“Then listen closely, Mr. Ambassador,” I step nearer to him, erasing the open space on the platform between us. Reflexively, he steps back and bumps into the wall at the edge of the platform. He startles himself and grabs at the edge with his meaty paws, nervously looking down the tower toward the piles of hewn stone on the ground, waiting to be hoisted up to finish the lighthouse. “Every Russian boot heel that lands on this side of your border will be revenged ten fold,” I tell him. “When they make their move, we will drive them back and you can watch, secure atop your city walls, as our forces push them across the tundra, to the bleakest edge of the northern sea. Yes, they will strike first at Edinburgh, and when they do, we will fight them until the day when there is no Russia any longer...only the Nation that you and I will forge together.”
I reach out my hand to him. He swallows hard and looks up at me, before clasping it in his.
Chapter XXXII
“This is something of a golden age for you, isn’t it?” the ambassador from Edinburgh says casually as we walk along the middle platform of the rising lighthouse. The workers retired for the day hours earlier. Two hundred and fifty feet above the ground, we are as alone as two people can be in this city of half a million souls.
“Our gem trade with the Polynesians south of the mountains has been most lucrative, yes,” I agree. “We expect another windfall in the near future, which would be the first tangible benefit for your country, if you sign, that is.”
“It’s more than than just trade. We’ve noted that your settlements in the north are growing. It looks as though there’ll soon be Greek cities in the desert and on the northern coast to rival all the other principalities of the hinterland.”
“Way stations for greater trade. All the more reason to be a signatory to the league,” I reply.
“And if we sign, along with Warsaw and Budapest eventually, have you thought through the ramifications?” he asks, turning to face me. Then he shakes his head and laughs to himself, shaking his rotund belly. “No, that’s a stupid question. Of course you have. You’re claiming a third of the continent and lining up all the non-aligned city-states in your corner. You must know how Russia and Egypt will interpret this expansion of your power. You’re aiming for a war.”
“Naturally, we hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Bollocks.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“You’re making overtures as far east as Seoul. We see the breadth of your design here. You don’t want a league of far flung cities with rival nations between you and them.”
“That would be less than ideal.”
“You mean to wrap the whole continent up in this league.”
“I would invite you to imagine, if what you’re predicting was to come to pass, how Edinburgh would fare. Secure in the heartland of the continent, without threats. A vital nexus to all land-based trade. If things did unfold in the way you’re suggesting, then your country would enjoy untold prosperity.”
“It’s not Edinburgh in ten generations that concerns me. It’s our role in the shaping of this new world of yours. Russia and Egypt won’t just allow themselves to be folded into your nation. It will mean war. Long and bloody war.”
“Perhaps. Hopefully not. Naturally, one way or another, we want the Russian and Egyptian peoples to someday enjoy the benefits of liberty and commerce that will be yours at once if you do commit to our trade agreement.”
“It’s more than a trade agreement. It’s an alliance, and if Russia means to thwart your designs, then they have to come through us.”
“So what is it you are saying to me, Mr. Ambassador? Are you here to reject our proposal, to say you would rather stand alone in the world. Alone and on the edge of Russian territory.”
“No.”
“Then what you really want is assurance. You want me to say that if and when Russia makes its move, you will be protected. You want our promise that Edinburgh will be defended as dearly as our own territory.”
“Yes.”
“Then listen closely, Mr. Ambassador,” I step nearer to him, erasing the open space on the platform between us. Reflexively, he steps back and bumps into the wall at the edge of the platform. He startles himself and grabs at the edge with his meaty paws, nervously looking down the tower toward the piles of hewn stone on the ground, waiting to be hoisted up to finish the lighthouse. “Every Russian boot heel that lands on this side of your border will be revenged ten fold,” I tell him. “When they make their move, we will drive them back and you can watch, secure atop your city walls, as our forces push them across the tundra, to the bleakest edge of the northern sea. Yes, they will strike first at Edinburgh, and when they do, we will fight them until the day when there is no Russia any longer...only the Nation that you and I will forge together.”
I reach out my hand to him. He swallows hard and looks up at me, before clasping it in his.
the unbound
Chieftain
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2011
- Messages
- 57
Part III
Chapter XXXIII
The gears turn in my clockwork. Ticking away according to my design.
Our settlements have grown. There are no hinterlands any longer. The whole of the Southern Spur, from the desert river in the north to the Mountain Pass leading south, is ours.
Ragusa and Edinburgh are already aligned with us in the league, and Budapest and Warsaw will follow suit.
Hoplites watch over the northern border, protecting the flow of trade that snakes from our lands all the way throughout the southern continent.
Our ships carry gems and cotton to Polynesia, England, and beyond. The profits fill the coffers of Edinburgh and Ragusa, and in return luxury goods flow into our markets. Soon, the iron mines of Warsaw will arm our soldiers.
The whole living network glistens in my mind's eye.
And it is all just a beginning.
There's a shuffling in the hall. Alarmed voices in the outer chamber.
A pounding on the door.
I turn from the map spread out on the the table and invite them in.
"Sir!" the Prime Minister says as the door flies open. Several other ministers and officers follow him. "We've just received word."
"Yes?"
"Russian forces are advancing on Edinburgh, sir. Their ambassador has disappeared from the city. He must have left at nightfall."
"Be calm," I tell them, gesturing toward seats around the conference table. "We knew this day would come. We knew that to realize our dream for the nation, we would have to face more than skirmishes with barbarous tribes. Sooner or later, one of the great powers was bound to rise against us in force." They nod solemnly and take their seats. I flatten out the rest of the map, letting the shaft of light from the portal in the ceiling strike the line marking our northern border. "We are prepared for this."
And we will make the most of it.
Chapter XXXIII
The gears turn in my clockwork. Ticking away according to my design.
Our settlements have grown. There are no hinterlands any longer. The whole of the Southern Spur, from the desert river in the north to the Mountain Pass leading south, is ours.
Ragusa and Edinburgh are already aligned with us in the league, and Budapest and Warsaw will follow suit.
Hoplites watch over the northern border, protecting the flow of trade that snakes from our lands all the way throughout the southern continent.
Our ships carry gems and cotton to Polynesia, England, and beyond. The profits fill the coffers of Edinburgh and Ragusa, and in return luxury goods flow into our markets. Soon, the iron mines of Warsaw will arm our soldiers.
The whole living network glistens in my mind's eye.
And it is all just a beginning.
There's a shuffling in the hall. Alarmed voices in the outer chamber.
A pounding on the door.
I turn from the map spread out on the the table and invite them in.
"Sir!" the Prime Minister says as the door flies open. Several other ministers and officers follow him. "We've just received word."
"Yes?"
"Russian forces are advancing on Edinburgh, sir. Their ambassador has disappeared from the city. He must have left at nightfall."
"Be calm," I tell them, gesturing toward seats around the conference table. "We knew this day would come. We knew that to realize our dream for the nation, we would have to face more than skirmishes with barbarous tribes. Sooner or later, one of the great powers was bound to rise against us in force." They nod solemnly and take their seats. I flatten out the rest of the map, letting the shaft of light from the portal in the ceiling strike the line marking our northern border. "We are prepared for this."
And we will make the most of it.
christos200
Never tell me the odds
Great update.
Verarde
Pondering Wearing A Hat
Good grief! That's a load of goodness!
CrazyHorseSouix
Chieftain
- Joined
- Oct 5, 2011
- Messages
- 27
Most excellent! 
Though I'm wondering, are the city names whited out for a particular reason?
Though I'm wondering, are the city names whited out for a particular reason?the unbound
Chieftain
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2011
- Messages
- 57
Thanks, everyone. My wife and kids were watching Wizard of Oz last night, so I just sat there with them and typed away. At this point, I feel pretty driven to just finish since the end is in sight.
Once we get there, I think the city name question will be answered.
Once we get there, I think the city name question will be answered.
the unbound
Chieftain
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2011
- Messages
- 57
Part III
Chapter XXXIV
It smells like death.
Even in the cold, the scent is everywhere.
Row after row of bunks fill the tent, each ten men deep.
"I'm sure your visit will hearten these men," the general booms, pushing past the flap and holding it open for me.
Limp heads raise from the cots and men blink past blood-soaked bandages at the white daylight behind me.
"Is it--" one of them mutters. Those that can sit up push themselves up onto their elbows.
"It's alright, boys. Take it easy," I tell them, moving through the lines, shaking hands and patting shoulders.
One of them doesn't budge. The general calls for the surgeons and they dash over to cover him in a sheet.
Others writhe in pain, apparently alive, but not for much longer.
We come to one man covered nearly completely in cotton bandages. The skin about his neck is blistered and moist. Plasma is nearly boiling out of his skin as steam. He won't last long.
His hand reaches up and seizes my forearm.
The general starts and reaches out to pull the man's reddened fingers off me. I hold my palm up to stop him.
"Sir..." the wounded man mutters. "Sir..."
"It's alright soldier. You'll be alright."
"We fought well, sir," he says. "We fought well."
"Your nation is proud of you, son. Now rest. You need to rest."
"We gave it our all, sir," he says, tightening his grip. "We did."
"We could ask nothing more," I tell him and pull his hand away, laying it gently on the thin padding of the cot. His head seems to spasm as he tries to nod. He repeats himself, ever more quietly, until the sound is a soft gurgling at the back of his throat.
The general leads me back out of the tent.
"It's good of you to come to the front, sir," he tells me as the flap falls shut behind us.
"How much longer until you can subdue Rostov's resistance."
"These casualties notwithstanding, our two battalions remain strong. We can continue to press the fight."
"The Third Mounted Division is just south of the city and the rest of the cavalry will arrive soon."
"With those men, I can crack this nut by spring, sir."
"Good. The sooner, the better. We can't allow Russia to take a share of the iron in the northern flats if we're going to bring Moscow to its knees."
"Don't worry, sir, we'll open the icy bay for the attack on Moscow."
"Good," I tell him and walk on.
"And you, sir? Will you be supervising the siege?"
"No, I will return to the capital." I cast my eyes over the men assembled on the flat, hardened plain. So many of them will die for this insignificant frozen wasteland. I try to remind myself that they'll all die eventually--every single one of them one way or another. The damp feeling on my arm from where the man grabbed me distracts me, though. All his cellular machinery working so hard, just so the blood can seep out of all the fissures in his outer shell. He's a living ode to futility. A heart pumping desperately, hastening its own demise. "I'll tell them to send more tents and cots like these," I say and cross toward my convoy.
Chapter XXXIV
It smells like death.
Even in the cold, the scent is everywhere.
Row after row of bunks fill the tent, each ten men deep.
"I'm sure your visit will hearten these men," the general booms, pushing past the flap and holding it open for me.
Limp heads raise from the cots and men blink past blood-soaked bandages at the white daylight behind me.
"Is it--" one of them mutters. Those that can sit up push themselves up onto their elbows.
"It's alright, boys. Take it easy," I tell them, moving through the lines, shaking hands and patting shoulders.
One of them doesn't budge. The general calls for the surgeons and they dash over to cover him in a sheet.
Others writhe in pain, apparently alive, but not for much longer.
We come to one man covered nearly completely in cotton bandages. The skin about his neck is blistered and moist. Plasma is nearly boiling out of his skin as steam. He won't last long.
His hand reaches up and seizes my forearm.
The general starts and reaches out to pull the man's reddened fingers off me. I hold my palm up to stop him.
"Sir..." the wounded man mutters. "Sir..."
"It's alright soldier. You'll be alright."
"We fought well, sir," he says. "We fought well."
"Your nation is proud of you, son. Now rest. You need to rest."
"We gave it our all, sir," he says, tightening his grip. "We did."
"We could ask nothing more," I tell him and pull his hand away, laying it gently on the thin padding of the cot. His head seems to spasm as he tries to nod. He repeats himself, ever more quietly, until the sound is a soft gurgling at the back of his throat.
The general leads me back out of the tent.
"It's good of you to come to the front, sir," he tells me as the flap falls shut behind us.
"How much longer until you can subdue Rostov's resistance."
"These casualties notwithstanding, our two battalions remain strong. We can continue to press the fight."
"The Third Mounted Division is just south of the city and the rest of the cavalry will arrive soon."
"With those men, I can crack this nut by spring, sir."
"Good. The sooner, the better. We can't allow Russia to take a share of the iron in the northern flats if we're going to bring Moscow to its knees."
"Don't worry, sir, we'll open the icy bay for the attack on Moscow."
"Good," I tell him and walk on.
"And you, sir? Will you be supervising the siege?"
"No, I will return to the capital." I cast my eyes over the men assembled on the flat, hardened plain. So many of them will die for this insignificant frozen wasteland. I try to remind myself that they'll all die eventually--every single one of them one way or another. The damp feeling on my arm from where the man grabbed me distracts me, though. All his cellular machinery working so hard, just so the blood can seep out of all the fissures in his outer shell. He's a living ode to futility. A heart pumping desperately, hastening its own demise. "I'll tell them to send more tents and cots like these," I say and cross toward my convoy.
the unbound
Chieftain
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2011
- Messages
- 57
I see you borrowed the philosopher kings map from helmlings story thread
Uh oh, I guess the jig is up.
CrazyHorseSouix
Chieftain
- Joined
- Oct 5, 2011
- Messages
- 27
ah, I see! Looking forward to this ending even more now
the unbound
Chieftain
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2011
- Messages
- 57
Part III
Chapter XXXV
"Our forces have breached the perimeter of Moscow," my war minister announces to the council table.
Approving nods pass around the gathering. They are pleased, but I look further. This is the harbinger. The end. With Moscow's resources under our control, there's no challenge left. The continent will be ours. The last Russian enclaves will fall like dominoes. Egypt will be easy to goad into conflict, easier still to defeat.
All I need do is wait, and watch my design unfold. I should feel some satisfaction, but there's only a sick, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"The counter attack has cost the Russians dearly," the war minister says. "Though we have two battalions effectively incapacitated, their army is broken," he adds.
"Our reinforcements will be on station soon. We can advance on Yaroslavl before the winter sets in," the ranking general on the council adds.
"Two battalions lost?" the interior minister asks. "Those kind of losses will be dispiriting to the people. It's exactly the kind of--"
"I have a thought about that," the war minister interrupts. "There's a survivor from the lost pike battalion. This young man tried to save one of his comrades, risking his own life. He's clinging to life himself now. His story could be a powerful symbol. A face for the war effort." He glanced down at the parchment before him. "He is a young man named Atticus from the Jenn district."
Something about the name makes me look up.
"What did you say?" one of the advisors says. He's a man named Kallias; the manager of a workshop developing trebuchets for the war. "I know this young man. He was assisting me with my work. A brilliant engineer."
"Why did he leave?"
"To serve in the army."
"It's a good plan," I say. "I'll go meet this young man."
"You, sir?"
"Yes, let's adjourn," I tell them and rise, suddenly uninterested in the niceties.
This Kallias catches up with me in the outer chamber. "Do you think he will survive?"
"I will find out."
"He's very talented. He helped us immeasurably during his short time in the workshop."
"Perhaps he will be useful to me."
"He was like a son to my dear friend in the city of Jenn."
"Like a son," I repeat.
"Losing him would be a great loss to our Nation."
"I will try not to lose him."
End of Part III
Chapter XXXV
"Our forces have breached the perimeter of Moscow," my war minister announces to the council table.
Approving nods pass around the gathering. They are pleased, but I look further. This is the harbinger. The end. With Moscow's resources under our control, there's no challenge left. The continent will be ours. The last Russian enclaves will fall like dominoes. Egypt will be easy to goad into conflict, easier still to defeat.
All I need do is wait, and watch my design unfold. I should feel some satisfaction, but there's only a sick, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"The counter attack has cost the Russians dearly," the war minister says. "Though we have two battalions effectively incapacitated, their army is broken," he adds.
"Our reinforcements will be on station soon. We can advance on Yaroslavl before the winter sets in," the ranking general on the council adds.
"Two battalions lost?" the interior minister asks. "Those kind of losses will be dispiriting to the people. It's exactly the kind of--"
"I have a thought about that," the war minister interrupts. "There's a survivor from the lost pike battalion. This young man tried to save one of his comrades, risking his own life. He's clinging to life himself now. His story could be a powerful symbol. A face for the war effort." He glanced down at the parchment before him. "He is a young man named Atticus from the Jenn district."
Something about the name makes me look up.
"What did you say?" one of the advisors says. He's a man named Kallias; the manager of a workshop developing trebuchets for the war. "I know this young man. He was assisting me with my work. A brilliant engineer."
"Why did he leave?"
"To serve in the army."
"It's a good plan," I say. "I'll go meet this young man."
"You, sir?"
"Yes, let's adjourn," I tell them and rise, suddenly uninterested in the niceties.
This Kallias catches up with me in the outer chamber. "Do you think he will survive?"
"I will find out."
"He's very talented. He helped us immeasurably during his short time in the workshop."
"Perhaps he will be useful to me."
"He was like a son to my dear friend in the city of Jenn."
"Like a son," I repeat.
"Losing him would be a great loss to our Nation."
"I will try not to lose him."
End of Part III
the unbound
Chieftain
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2011
- Messages
- 57
Epilogue
I have it all. I've built an empire of unassailable might. This time my people are neither brutes nor nomads. I've forged their character like bronze. Lost wax, where all the weakness drains down. I've built the world I came here to build. My triumph is only a matter of waiting.
But it doesn't matter. I can only think of the lone survivor.
It was the name that got me. It was the name that began the cascade through my mind, bringing memories up like ghosts.
"What are you?" he asked me.
Ay, there's the rub.
What am I? I've been playing a game with history. Over and over again. I've lorded over countless generations. Watched them drift out on the currents like coral eggs. Numberless and hopeless.
But now, with the boy's rebuke still ringing in my ears, there's a glimmer of a past before all this glinting in my memory like dawn through dew drops.
The boy was a believer and I ruined him.
Now I know.
I was a believer once, too.
I have it all. I've built an empire of unassailable might. This time my people are neither brutes nor nomads. I've forged their character like bronze. Lost wax, where all the weakness drains down. I've built the world I came here to build. My triumph is only a matter of waiting.
But it doesn't matter. I can only think of the lone survivor.
It was the name that got me. It was the name that began the cascade through my mind, bringing memories up like ghosts.
"What are you?" he asked me.
Ay, there's the rub.
What am I? I've been playing a game with history. Over and over again. I've lorded over countless generations. Watched them drift out on the currents like coral eggs. Numberless and hopeless.
But now, with the boy's rebuke still ringing in my ears, there's a glimmer of a past before all this glinting in my memory like dawn through dew drops.
The boy was a believer and I ruined him.
Now I know.
I was a believer once, too.
Verarde
Pondering Wearing A Hat
This is like the ending of LOST, in that it's good, but I still have questions.
Obviously this boy, Atticus, is the same one who was in the prologue. But...that doesn't answer any of the other questions, like, who is the person whose eyes we are seeing this story through?
So...you will be answering all, right? Right?? RIGHT??!?!
Obviously this boy, Atticus, is the same one who was in the prologue. But...that doesn't answer any of the other questions, like, who is the person whose eyes we are seeing this story through?
So...you will be answering all, right? Right?? RIGHT??!?!
