Infrastructure (Original and Illustrated)

[Zor]

Coinguards are a catch all term for security firms in the Anvosi Peninsula, most notably Venoa. In the Serene Republic wealthy Patricians, Prominent Guilds and Joint Stock Companies all have the need for muscle beyond what can be provided by the Constabulary or the hired guards they keep on staff. When this happens go to the Coinguard Companies. They perform a variety of jobs from guarding people, items and buildings, patrol city blocks for thieves as well as evicting, repossession and in general send a message. Most of them come from poor backgrounds, had active military service and spun that into a career. In Venoa it is normal for Coinguards to have some decent armor such as this breastplate as well as some substantial weapons, all be it ones optimized for fighting in confined environs (such as this fellows revolver, shield and shortsword, they'll also often times carry wooden truncheons when lethal force is not required). They are cheaper than mercenaries and are less rowdy. The basic system had it's origins in gangs which found that taking contracts for the rich was a more profitable and safer venture than robbery, extortion and similar. Coinguard Companies try to present themselves as being skilled professionals which provide firm and sometimes distasteful but legal and ethically sound services, though many Venoans think of them as being somewhat cleaned up street thugs that have been given a scrap of legitimacy by wealthy patronage.

[Zor]

For millennia the Dark Elves have made use of slaves (mostly but not exclusively human) to help man their ships, both for their civilian fleets and their warships. While they have been employed in a variety of functions based on their requisite skills for most of the span between the rise of the First Dark Empress and 37 IA, their main function had been as rowers for galleys and while normally proven slave rowers were seen as being assets worthy of cultivation and reasonable preservation often slave soldiers they were seen as consumable assets to be pushed hard, used up and discarded as required by military necessity. As naval gunnery emerged in recent centuries this resulted in restructuring as banks of oars gave way to gun-decks. Even so, some of the attitudes of that era persist.

This fellow is your typical human slave sailor used by the Valnothron Navy. More specifically he's part of a gun crew on a frigate, specifically a swabber cleaning out the cannon barrel between loading. Gunners are the most common positions filled by slaves on Dark Elven warships under the oversight of a Dark Elven Chief Gunner and often supplemented by a couple of junior Drow Sailors, especially manning the larger guns. In the Dark Elven reckoning the aiming and firing of a cannon to cut down foes is an glorious action and a fit duty for a warrior. The minutia of getting it loaded and ready to fire is simple dull work fit for slaves and those fresh Drow sailors who've yet to prove themselves worthy and are as such "apprenticed" to those that have. Regardless of this, serving on a gun deck as broadsides (or worse if they face foes flying The Hexagon) are exchanged and with nothing more than old tunic and shorts wounds are common. Beyond gunnery there are numerous manual tasks that need to be performed to keep a warship working. In their home port, Slave Sailors are often employed as stevedores and do various other bits of manual labor to support their ship and fleet.

Like many of the slave sailors, he did an unremarkable job doing physical labor for his master (in his case it mostly loading boxes off of and onto wagons) before he was bought up by the navy and put onto a ship and thrown into a Crew, assigned to a team with a Drow overseer and made to follow their lead or suffer. The internal hierarchy for Slave Sailors is informal and loose but undeniable. Normally at it's top are experienced slave sailors of proven loyalty and a valuable trade such as carpentry, if they are Consecrated they are naturally are ranked higher but are somewhat of an anomaly on naval ships. Below them are loyal slaves with either a trade or years of nautical experience. This fellow falls into the latter category as he is afforded the special privileged status of being weapon rated and is trusted enough to be issued an axe or a pistol in boarding actions primarily for defensive purposes.* Below that are the general mass of basically competent if unremarkable slaves integrated into the crew able to perform their jobs, then general trainees. Below these junior members are captives recently ceased and pressed into temporary service and at the very bottom are Disposable Slaves used to pad out the ranks in times of war. They are motivated by the prospects of better and greater rations, grog and the fear of their masters lash.

Unlike Janissaries naval slave sailors are not given a high level of indoctrination. As the ratio of slaves to Drow crew is usually in the area of 2-1 and they are generally not armed, the threat of mutiny is not an overwhelming concern. Attempts at escape are seen as a more common issue, but still one which is manageable in most situations as swimming to shore is usually suicidal even if they can get into the water can escape being used as target practice and Drow Warships in Foreign Ports tend to keep their slave crews chained up. Those that do escape successfully end up as outcasts and pirates. In the traditional reckoning specific training is not necessary. Either a slave will learn the ropes on the job in their first few months and if they don't they can either be sold off or at worse tossed overboard. At the same time there is often a high attrition rate among slave sailors as they are often in the firing line with the High Elves and various human powers that would usually fight to the death against Drow warships. Finally there is a give and take between the Drow Merchant Houses and Navies in which both groups will sell experienced slave sailors to each other trained up as a byproduct. The downsides of this approach is that standards for Drow Slave Crews are generally lower than that of most human navies. There has been some individuals which have been pushing for reform among the Drow Navies, especially in the light of new technological developments which require new specialized skills to use but will change the nature of warfare.


*This roll is somewhat controversial among the Dark Elves and only four of nine states employs such slaves with three explicitly banning the practice. On the one hand there is some concern about slave mutinies, on the other hand having at least some armed slaves among the ranks fighting for their masters does add to the security of a ship and means that borders are less likely to try to call on the slave crew to aide them.

[Zor]

For the Infrastructural Navy's Corps of Divers the Battle of Daagsgrad marked a turning point. Most of what they'd done before that point had been tests with the odd job here and there and the occasional training run. Afterwards, there was a lot to do, from helping repair a couple of damaged drydocks to salvage. Over the last few months their numbers had more than doubled despite loosing six trainees in accidents. For Lieutenant Vadim Valcaw, the most immediate consequence of victory was that they could now go at a slower pace, which lowered the rate of mistakes and more time to get the newbies ready for sea floor work. The suits were cumbersome and heavy by design, vision was limited even with the headlamp and sometimes people panicked when they saw an Akula swim by even though the damn things were at worst a bit curious and interested in the critters that divers dug up or otherwise screwed up. You made mistakes when you were overworked and when you were new to the job and mistakes could be fatal.

He kept this in mind as they worked on their latest target. The remains of the Drow attack fleet were full of salvageable material. Cannons, shot, engines, gearing, props, anchors, chains, stoves, tools, weapons, armor and more could be salvaged for iron for the foundries. Copper, bronze and brass were also in high demand for a variety of applications from wiring to diving helmets. Runic armor, weapons and Prow Rams could be sold off to foreign runesmith guilds. Gold and silver were also gathered with special enthusiasm since the Diving Crews got a cut of what they recovered. Vadim had already put some 54 Kilocredits in his account from this work from salvaged coinage alone, more than a decade's worth of wages even with his Hazard Pay and the salvage crews had only gone over eight wrecks so far.

Two days after the singing of the Peace Treaty Vadim had been assigned to the ninth wreck which was identified as being called the Raethis. While far from the largest ship in the fleet, it was the one which the Navy was the most concerned about. The immediate reason for this was obvious as he and his team began taking off large slabs of iron armor with their crowbar axes and small blasting charges. It was not as strong as an Infrastructural Ship would be, but the pitting in it's plating showed that could take a beating. It was a sobering sobering thought. But Vadim would find something that made that vision all the worse.

On the third day working on the Raethis they broke into her gundeck, they found something unusual among the artillery pieces. Most of them were fairly typical examples of rifled Drow guns, but one of them stood out even with a layer of rust over it. As such Vadim and Ensign Mikhailov spent two hours moving it into place, cutting away the remains of it's truck and setting up a harness for collection.

On the salvage barge there were a couple of Naval Intelligence personnel looking over the Salvage, most of the time they were looking over items of salvage and in general they were bored out of their minds. When his shift was over, Vadim noticed that they were all focused on the cannon with interest. When he came up he was soon met by their leader Lieutenant Kulik and had a brief interview about the object. What he gathered from the exchange was this: this cannon was a steel breechloader of a distinctly Drow design. Something which was closer to Infrastructural artillery than anything they had here-to-fore made or used. It was an important enough find that he and Mikhailov both got an extra 500 credit bonus that day.

He'd been wondering about that since he'd found the damn thing and now his fears were confirmed. The Drow were testing not only Ironclad ships but modern cannonry and if they could make one, they could make more. After the interview he was certain that in Hellish Foundries iron was being made into plates and steel was being used to cast more of these cannons and their bigger cousins to be put together by hordes of slaves driven by cruel supervisors in nightmarish shipyards to make dozens of Ironclads that would be at least as good as the Raethis. The Dark Elves were excellent sailors and warriors and even with their obsolete fleet they did manage to destroy a few Infrastructural Navy warships at Daagsgrad. He did not sleep well that night.



NsiTharn* Birtim, Sixth of Mishi was not in a good mood. He'd seldom been in one for more than half a year, though the nature of his displeasure had shifted. He had not only Consecrated but was also forth generation Janissary Stock. His father survived his twenty eight years of Janissary service to a honorable discharge and his mother was the daughter of a Janissary Veteran, as was all of his grandparents and great grandparents. From birth he was slated for esteemed service to his masters worthy of his proud pedigree and at age thirteen his wishes were granted and he was assigned to the Corps. He would get to follow in their paths, helping his masters fulfill their destiny and impose their order across the world. Four years of drilling turned him into into a deadly fighter and a decent handler of conscripts. Over the next eight years he saw a few skirmishes and minor battles in which he did his duty and gave as well as he got.

Then came the Assault on Daagsgrad.

His platoon had gotten within two hundred yards of the Infrastructural trenches pouring fire in. He and his men were doing well: Drow warriors and Janissaries were going over the trenches, he'd silenced the defenders and he knew that if this up the day would be theirs before suddenly an order to retreat was given and they had to drop everything and flee to rescue ships. A bullet grazed his shoulder in that mad retreat, but he pressed on as quickly as he could. He collapsed at the landing site, but fortunately there was a conscript from his squad which carried him the last hundred yards onto a waiting transport a minute before it cast of. Both of them stumbled into hold and collapsed into a corner together, all that remained of an entire company. As the two of them sat lay in a heap next to some crates despair set in.

He was ready to die in battle, one huge bound up the divine ladder with either a decent shot of coming back as one of The Masters or to solidify it after the next round of life. Retreats, if ordered, were sometimes necessary. He had done as was commanded without question or fear. Things had seemed to be going well, right up until the end and then he'd fallen back. He pieced together that the Coldlanders had reinforcements coming in, but that did not change the key issue, the battle was a disastrous defeat. Things had looked like they'd been going well, even his company had taken some gruesome casualties getting up close (though not as heavy as the vanguard) and then the Powers that Be decided to call things off. Birtim had lost all of his friends and almost all of those he was tasked to care for and thousands of those Drow Warriors that he revered were cut down by peasant machine worshipers led by uppity golems.

He'd did the task he was given and was in front of him, be it to advance or retreat. In that dark wet hold he wondered if he could have done things better, wondering that if he and his men had pushed on just a bit faster or had crawled along the ground as they fired, possibly moving in small bursts crouched down, had pushed forward harder or some other thing, his company might have made it to that trench-line, slain the Coldlander defenders, made a breach in the lines to let Janissaries and Warriors in. At worst he would have died gloriously. Now he was left with loss and doubts. Eventually he did get past his despair, largely because it fermented into frustration and anger over the hand fate had dealt him.

Then he and eighty two other Janissaries (most of which being fellow survivors of Daagsgrad) were loaded onto a ship sent off some Gods Forsaken patch of wilderness where they were dumped along with a camp full of bewildered fieldslaves, craftslaves and other examples of humans taken from their proper place as well as a gaggle of Feral Mercenaries with some final orders and most surprising of all were formally released. Of all the things he'd considered might happen, the Breaking of Bonds was so far removed that he was left flabbergasted. He'd paddled until they made landfall at this camp called "Fidelium" with his book of instructions in his pack. It was only after a conscript asked him what to do did it all sink in.

They were alone.

They were out in a potentially hostile environment with a gaggle of confused civilians.

They were beyond Drow Guidance and correction, untethered in a chaotic world.

Their only hope in this land of physical and spiritual peril lay in hard work, following the last plan that their masters had given them and remembering to keep the faith in spite of everything. Part of him considered the whole wretched affair to be a subtle sort of punishment by his leaders and he wished that they had simply given them a flogging or have told him to fall on his sword instead. Even so, he had a job to do.

The fact that there was plenty to do kept him focused on matters. He answered to a recently promoted Jaifrel** who had plenty of tasks for him and his men to do, from cutting down clothes to deal with the perpertually warm weather to stenciling in the five ring symbol to arms and armor to setting up shelters to gathering resources to cooking to hunting to farming to training. They had a lot to learn about survival out in the wilds where there were pests larger than rabbits and where supplies were tight even before arms practice. Most of them just knew enough to know what end of a spear you put in the enemy, but it soon became clear that even with them and the blasted Grunderhunds on patrol this was hostile territory. There were people here, angry chicken that came in screaming out of the grass with intent to kill and despoiling their little bastion in this. Fortunately they had little real armor beyond some makeshift helmets and none of it could stop a bullet at two hundred yards or grapeshot. In two months he'd faced down five of their attacks and sent each of them running. In the heat of battle, each bullet he fired and especially those that hit home carried with it a bit his frustrations and brooding anger.

There was still a fair bit of it in the aftermath as he looked overt he fallen as well as the general frustration of searching for a needle in the haystack. The peoples of this baked grassland had little in the line of valuables worth taking. The giant chickens were good eating and they had a few goods which were alright, but there was little in the way of worthwhile jewelry, no coin and their arms and armor rarely got better than just okay. Still, on their own with resupply a long way away, it was worth collecting whatever they could. Finding it in the tall grass was also a pain even with the crows.

On the fifth salvage operation he found something fairly quickly, a young man, a few years past twenty lying in the fields, A bullet had gone through hist torso and he had collapsed. He seemed to be breathing and after a toe prodding he moaned. He was weak, but he probably would survive with a little effort. He used is short sword to cut off part of his cloth armor, made a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding before tying him up with one of his binding ropes.

"Get up scum..." he growled. Nothing he squirmed a bit, but nothing happened. He did not expect more than that, but a moment's caution was better than a quick death. He then looked around "NsiZaen!***" he barked. A nearby soldier turned around. "Yes sir?"

"We got a live one that can't walk, help me with this bastard."

"Right away sir!"

And so the two of the carried the hogtied native back to the camp of Fidelium to be given a quick look over, a healing potion and finally dropping him off in the Slave Pen. The fieldbosses were having a hard time managing adjusting to managing Free Men and complying with the orders limiting chastisement, but those restrictions did not apply to those natives which they had put into irons. Right here and now, it meant extra hands working to get things in order. In the long term it was something grander. As absurd as this situation was, at the very least Birtim knew that souls were being saved from degeneracy by this act. These poor wretches would soon learn man's place in the divine scheme and their souls shall be refined and set on the along the right path to Drowhood and Godhead. As perilous as this ordeal was, at the very least their was a few noble causes behind it in the long term.

*Literally "Second Blade", a rank roughly equivalent to Sergeant in Valnothron's Janissary Corps, third highest Janissary rank.
**Best transliteration"Elect", Highest rank for Valnothron Janissaries and by far the rarest. Given away to proven veterans of exemplary performance and basically means "First Blade who can order about other First Blades even if they are senior to him". In Fidelium it soon became the equivalent of "Captain".
***"Second Spear", Valnothron Janissary rank equivalent to First private, usually a experienced conscript.



For it's two centuries House Drinjol had mainly focused on making clocks. It was born from a family of Valcas Wards that had found most of their success in the making of clocks and had scrimped and saved until they had enough (with a loan with their patrons) to buy their status as a Minor House Valcas Vassal and that was the main skill that they cultivated among their generations. They had a modest home with attached workshops, a few slaves, a greater degree of freedom and opportunities than wards and connections which helped keep their position even if many looked down on them for still having to work with their hands more often than not. Drinjol Clocks and Pocket Watches were well regarded both in Valnothron and beyond (if often unnoticed), but the sons and daughters of their home always aspired for their house to rise in status, wealth and power. In general they had modest successes and modest failures which on the whole evened out, until one fateful day in the Summer of 37 IA.

Phyrith ti'Drinjol was one of the family's junior members who was remarked as having an unusual keenness for clockwork and mechanisms and was prone to tinker in his spare time. His parents had mixed feelings about this, on the one hand he did have a good eye for working out how clockwork and the products he made did bring in a reasonable amount of cash. On the other hand he had little interest in poetry, dance, fashion, games of wit or strategy, martial arts, pit fights or other such signs of civil culture and instead enjoyed getting his hands greasy and talking about his manual labor. In a society in which craftsmanship was generally considered the domain of lesser beings this was a major crimp in his social life and marriage prospects. Even so, on top of the income nobody doubted that he was loyal to the House and he had completed his military duties with sufficient competence not to shame his family and so he was indulged and admittedly he was right on buying those new metal lathes, grinding machines and so forth based on Infrastructural designs.

One of his projects which had a more practical bent had been on a machine for making paper cartridges for the army. He'd seen the virtue of the idea ever since they were introduced a couple decades ago and had wondered if he could mechanize their production especially after hearing stories of the Coldlanders. He had begun work on the project with the backing of the Lady Valcas herself. He' spent more than two years going through prototypes and making subtle adjustments and simply needed a little more funding to finalize matters which he might have gotten if it was not for someone else working out a few simpler mechanisms and adjustments to procedure shortly afterwards which had already bolstered production considerably. At the same time, interest in paper cartridges was on the wain with brass cartridge production hitting their stride and there was doubts as to how much longer paper cartridges would remain in use. He'd been unusually dejected afterwards, then he remembered something from his stint in the Valcas Companies thirty years before. He asked his younger sister, an offer in the Janissary Corps about it and apparently it was still the case. That gave him an idea.

He and his slaves took apart his mechanism and put it back together. He'd worked out a system of adjustable frameworks for this purpose. A few new parts were made while others were adjusted. He ordered new varieties of paper and did and did some experimentation with them, from the use of glues to a few hand made examples to a few more personal tests performed by his workers who were quite eager. He spent six scimitars for a pair old hand grinders and he refined his process. The basic shape of things was similar though more simple and it had the advantage of not having to deal with the risks inherent to explosives. Within two months the system worked and after two more it worked reliably.

On a rainy morning Phyrith operated the machine after some final adjustments made the last day. Large dried leaves were fed into the top, were torn to shreds in the grinder and came out the other end rapped in a neat cylinder of paper three inches where they accumulated in a small basket. The system went smoothly without grinding or the ping of breakages as more than five hundred of these items was made. All of them were neat and regular. Most of them were put into a box for storage, which would be put into the house for storage.

Looking over his work, Phyrith felt magnanimous. "Dohlm." He said to one of his slaves.

"Yes Master?"

"Please take a couple as a final test."

"Yes sir. I am not wor..."

"Here and now you are." While he saw the value in the rituals of respect in general often they were simple tedium. He handed Dohlm a pair of matches and the underling picked two of them from the basket. The man put one of the stuffed tubes into his mouth, carefully lit it and began inhaling. The end of cylinder began to glow and smoke began to waft up. Phyrith collected a few and made his rounds around the office, giving the other four members of his team a tube from the box from elderly Tavlir to nine year old Nilhron which they accepted graciously. Then he did so to the kitchen staff and a couple of maids going about their jobs.

When he returned Dohlm had finished his first and had moved onto his second, having bummed the remnants in an old earthenware saucer. "Is it acceptable?"

He extracted the tube "Oh more than that, master. Just like the last batch was." He took another drag. "If I may speak..." Phyrith gave a nod "...you got the recipe down long ago. It's the mechanism that rolled 'em all up that had been giving trouble your eminence."

"True enough, but thoroughness is a virtue." Phyrith said as he basked in his success here. "When you're done we'll make some more for good measure."

"It's a joy to serve." Dohlm said, making a slight bow with the cylinder in his teeth.

Latter that day, he'd arranged a meeting with House Valcas. A week latter he'd met with Daijyth ti'Valcas (Great Granddaughter of Lady Talnara) and showed her both the product and the mechanism which made it, explaining to her the opportunities that it could offer if refined. He also offered her some 5,000 of these cylinders to be given out as incentives for slaves as a trial run. A few days latter she came back with an order for more signed by several senior slave overseers and higher ups in the family as well as a contract for further development of this mechanism which included use of a room on the Valcas Complex and eight hundred scimitars for assembling new machines and procuring raw materials exchange for a 35% cut of all sales to other customers beyond House Valcas.

While it had little for elves there was something in tobacco leaves that got into their smoke when burned and soon engendered an immensely strong craving for it in Dwarves and Humans. It had been falling in and out of fashion since the last days of The Third Empire among the realms of the Primary Continent being more popular in warmer territories. Around a thousand years ago the Dark Elves found that it could be a useful incentive for their chattel. This was especially true in the last two centuries as new colonies arose and new plantations grew. Pipe weed, chewing tobacco, snuff and for the the highest of the consecrated cigars were given out to those who met their expectations or exceeded them. Despite his upbringing Phyrith ti'Drinjol had no love for cruelty and had contrived a way for the slaves of the Drow to more effectively receive one of the few pleasures of their lives while bettering the standing of his family.

Over the next century tens of millions would die as a result of his work and those which followed his lead.


Zia Maleev was like a lot of people in Dalatyr. Her family moved in from a village in the east fifteen years ago when she was five in search of a better life. She did reasonably well in school and got a job in a Ministry of Distribution grocery store at thirteen. First as as an assistant doing various odd jobs before being promoted to a cashier four years latter. The pay was a modest thirty six credits a week with a uniform allowance and a discount on staple foods, but she made them in the warm and light with the smell of baking bread. She hoped to get into the Bureaucracy and she'd been taking the exams four times without luck so far. But that was no reason to give up on it, there was always the next one. Management was another career course which could still be useful for starting a bureaucratic career down the line. Even so, it could still be stressful.

Like most people she was glad that the war had ended well, though it had some consequences. First and foremost was the matter of prices. During the war, people were encouraged to spend less, prices on some things were increased while restocking became less and less frequent on a lot of items. Likewise people bought less leaving aside the occasional person stocking up. There were rumors going about involving rationing, though fortunately it did not come to pass before the war ended. When victory was declared people began coming back in droves, eager to make use of accumulated spending. Even so this had it's own strain beyond simply having more to do. During the war she'd got her share of grousing about shortages. Things had not so much changed.

A young man came came up in the queue with a list. "One wheat sandwich loaf, a can of greenbean, a can of carrots, a can of beets, a can of pork, a large yellow onion, a jar of mustard and another of raspberry jam, a pack of glazed biscuits and a bottle of syrup." He had not gotten through the canned goods before Zia had picked a fresh loaf from the trays and bagged while she moved onto the canned goods. Once the spiel was completed Arkhip went out to fetch the jam, vinegar and biscuits. With practiced efficiency she filled a tray of the requested goods, set it down and began bagging them.

She'd just put the Strawberry Jam in when he gave a response. "You sure that was Raspberry Jam? Because it looked like Strawberry." With that, she picked up the Jam Jar and inspected it.

"Yep, Raspberry." She put it back into the bag and continued loading it. She let out a slight sigh of exasperation. She'd collect the appropriate condiment on the off chance it

"Well they're been mixups and strawberries make my mother break out in hives. You guys need to keep a closer eye on things."

She forced a smile "Sir, I'm sorry for any failure of staff but I do check as I go." She did, but she could see how the mistake happened. Jam supplies had been low a week and Arkhip or some other kid probably figured that most people could not tell the difference and that it was better to provide something similar than say 'we're out' and cause a fuss. Or maybe they made made a mistake during rush hour.

"I'm sure your co-workers thought the same!" he responded waving his finger.

"If you have a complaint, the comment box is near the door. Providing input to the Ministry of Distribution directly helps the Great Machine of Infrastructure better serve it's people." The route response was remarkably useful. Even so, this one could be a problem here. "I'll talk to the manager about this." She conceded.

After filling a second paper bag she typed in the order into the new Registering engine before giving it a final crank. "That will be three point eight credits." The notes were proffered with minimal fuss and the next person in queue moved on. Things had been getting better as far as supply went but a lot of people still felt that the pre-war situation would come back overnight. Things had improved and were still improving between shortages, a surge in the size of the population and post victory splurging there was still some deficits which were still going strong months after the treaty. But the best thing she could do about that was her job, quietly and competently even when confronted by people at their worst and flat out jerks. The Ministry was setting up a couple new grocery stores and they'd need experienced hard workers to handle them.



Five years ago Ratmir Pelmitov came to Dalatyr from a small village in search of a better life for his family. He and his wife Elena had both heard enough of the incredible new city and their daughter had done well in the village school that it seemed like a good idea to move there. Like many recent immigrants without much in the line of skills or education he and his wife ended up doing a bunch of odd jobs to get by. Then the Escort War happened. At first that meant that the odd jobs were a bit different than they were before, but five months in he got permanent employment at Dalatyr Arsenal-7.

He'd help put up the building beforehand. There were a number of crash construction projects with day laborers shifting between them doing basic carpentry, mixing mortar, shoveling and similar jobs were needed to either refit old buildings or set up new ones. He'd worked on seven of them intermittently and just happened to be on sight when they were finishing up Arsenal-7's main structure when a Foreman asked him about setting up the machines. Once that was done he was offered a job in the factory itself as it slowly came "On Line" and began to turn out Revolvers. First he worked as a sander and varnisher but with some training in the basics of machine tool use and maintenance under the tutelage of skilled technicians. By the end of the war he was decent lathe operator and mechanical odd job man who could help sort out common issues.

While he did not have much experience to compare things to, he did hear a lot of grumblings from the Technicians and the Engineers about the gear. From what he picked up it was not as good as they used to be. All but one of the machine tools were hooked up by belts running from the ceiling instead of being electric, two of them were old and others were apparently just slapped together using older designs and there were more complaints on top of that. Other industries had it worse. Ratmir had to take their word for it, but there was a fair number of reject parts which they had to either send back or throw out as well as breakdowns.

With the conclusion of The Escort War, the days of Arsenal-7 were numbered. There was less of a need for weapons what was in truth a rather slapped together operation was no longer required. For a few months production continued to finish their current quota and once the last revolver was boxed and sent on it's way and the facility was shut down. Most of the staff was soon transferred elsewhere leaving Ratmir and about two dozen other guys to take things apart under the supervision of Engineer Filhod. Ratmir felt a little bit sad as he finished the process by tarping up the last Milling Machine as other such items loaded up onto wagons and lorries for reallocation to other projects of which there was. His task completed, he went home with a letter of recommendation in his pocket which would help him find other work in a wide range of factories.

There were myriad consequences of the Escort War for Infrastructure economically. In a few respects it did accelerate plans. Ratmir and thousands of people like him did gain some skills which would be useful in other fields due to crash training programs. But in far more it was setback. A large section of the Industrial Output of the nation went towards building weapons, warships, munitions and materiel and rapidly expanding the capacity to produce said things. This had come at the expense at basically everything else, most notably the development of newer and better mechanisms. Before the war a lot of Infrastructure's resources were dedicated to making cutting edge equipment with the goals of producing even better equipment in the long term. Instead efforts were focused on producing at best current generation gear and more often last generation if not older designs and otherwise simplified equipment. Things that worked for their immediate needs and could be produced in large numbers with what they had on hand, providing a short term boost to total productivity in certain fields at the expense of a net drop of the productivity of each individual worker and delaying further further breakthroughs. When combined with other things such as delays to expanding the rail network, reduced production of agricultural machinery, transport capacity being used for military ends, breakdowns due to a lack of spare parts in other fields or improper maintenance, cancelled projects, shuffling of resources, industrial accents, mounting debts and other such factors the result was that the Committee's plans were delayed by more than five years.

Getting back on track meant shifting people and gear to more productive enterprises. About half of Arsenal-7s machines would be assigned to Roadsteamer production with others being allocated elsewhere, put into storage or auctioned off. Fourteen Years latter Ratmir would be surprised to see the "For Lev" milling machine again in a friend's workshop, which would spark a pleasant conversation.


One of the most important skills required by a leader was delegation. The ability to hand over important tasks to competent people so they could focus on the big picture of the operation. A first class education and thirty five years in the finance business had taught Vintenzio Di'Hanseti the importance of delegation and how to delegate well. He was proud to have noticeably increased the family's net worth by his efforts and had maintained and cultivated a staff of competent family members, clients and employees to handle most of the day to day affairs of the the Hanseti Bank that needed no micromanagement. Regardless, there were some events which he felt best overseeing personally even if someone else could handle it.

He heard news of an arrival of a heavilly built wagon under the escort of two dozen Coinguard he set down his pen, walked out of his office with a speed which often surprised those which looked no further than his girth and made his way downstairs. A tall freckled woman in a distinctive dark uniform had met with one of his clerks and had signed the appropriate paperwork as several coin guards entered the building escorting a low built wheeled cart pushed by a porter on which was a chest made out of polished steel and had a built in rotary lock. All of which made clear what it was.

After the forms were signed he made his way past the armed security without much issue. "Learned Bureaucrat, good to see you again!" Vintenzio said happily.

"Signor Hanseti, always a pleasure." Bureaucrat (Level 7) Lena Leskov said "I trust that business has been going well?"

"Reasonably so." He replied honestly enough. His biggest issue was that his vaults were not as well topped off as they could have been and a large number of bonds that he'd issued meant that he'd have to pay off a lot of people in the medium term. Fortunately this issue would soon be slightly less pressing. "And by the look of things it has just gotten better."

"Galthirith delivered their section of reparations to our embassy yesterday, some three hundred thousand Scimitars. This chest contains one quarter of that."

"Seventy Five thousand Scimitars, that's one hundred twelve thousand five hundred Lyra."

"That's about six thousand two hundred less what on our reports on exchange rates estimate this is valued at. A report's been given to your clerks." Lena said, Vintenzio did not object to the claim. A Venoan household was doing well if it made a hundred Lyra year and a hundred thousand usually represented about half a year's gross income for his bank.

"Well well. In any case this is a bit shy of a sixth of Infrastructure's outstanding debt with us. If only all borrowers were as prudent as your Committee." His actual opinions were more complex for a variety of reasons, from obtaining valuable property from foreclosures to, not that this principle could be applied to foreign states like Infrastructure. This delivery did mean that the total interest Infrastructure was incur would be significantly reduced compared to what it would have been if they'd simply paid off the loans at the same rate that had previously been going at. But in the end, while it did mean that some of the higher end figures he'd though of would likely not materialize receiving more than a hundred thousand Lyra was more than welcome, especially in times like these. "Anyway, let's get this counted and locked away."

"Of course. Liuetenant Dini I believe your men know the way."

"Of course ma'am." A powerfully built Coinguard with a fancier hat and breastplate than the rest said "Unisse and Enrico." Two more Coinguard came up, took the chest by the handles and carried it down a hallway with a young clerk following them.

"Per the Central Committee's request, consider the chest a gift. It's combination is in the paperwork"

"Most generous of you." It was an impressive container and if nothing else it could fetch a few dozen Lyra from the right buyer. But even with that was a statistically insignificant part of the deal. Despite being a high risk operation backing the ploy to have the Serene Republic to apply pressure to help end the Escort War had been a most profitable investment.



For the people of Infrastructure, the End of the Escort War meant peace. For the Drow States, it meant that efforts were shifted from the upstart power to the Eternal Foe. After the defeat at Daagsgrad, the High Elves had launched their squadrons to stalk the seas for Dark Elven warships and merchantmen to take advantage of their losses and diversion. Some of them outfitted with Infrastructural Guns to make already fearsome warships all the deadlier. The High Elves made good use of the new weapons against a largely distracted foe, taking out dozens of Dark Elven ships in a month with minimal losses and continued to make a good show even as the Dark Elves mustered a proper response. While there were plenty which felt that they were throwing in the towel too soon in the fight against Infrastructure few could argue that the shifting scenario meant that their Seaborn Strategic Situation had improved, even if there was still hard fighting ahead.

On a hot summer day south off the coast of the Protectorate of Nycon a trio of Arrowships spotted a Dark Elven light squadron of four ships. Two of which were brigs along with two sloops, one of which might have been a small frigate. A target large enough to be worth pursuing but weak enough for them to dispatch easily enough. The fact that they were all steamers was just icing on the cake to Commadore Liamir of House Rilhim, eager to avenge a lost father and sister. While they did not have Infrastructural Guns, about half their cannons were now rifled. They formed up to try to envelop the formation and moved to intercept. But as they closed it became clear that there was something strange about the largest vessel in that small force, especially when it began to motor towards them head on. The first salvos of the battle were arrows from the Waveriders bows, boosted to extreme range and carrying either a basic fire, rupture or rune eater spell. There was little effect as the crew and marines were below deck. But the real shocker came at a mile and a half as an Arrowship fired off eight Twenty Vel cannons into the drow waship. But while seven roundshot struck home, none did more than dent the Iron Hull of their target.

Onboard the armored wheelhouse of the Tanxal*, Captain Thalzarin ti'Volnan felt the ringing impacts watched as the first salvo was taken and took note as her gunners returned the favor. Eight silvery barrels poked out from her gunports and over a span of two seconds fired. As that return salvo was launched Thalzarin briefly mused on how the old way of reckoning things it was a fairly wimpy response as they fired a third of the weight on metal that the Arrowship did. Then shortly latter the first of those eight projectiles struck home. Two of them missed, two more slammed into their hulls doing moderate damage. But four of the Five-Vaul shells worked as intended, exploding either on or within the Arrowship shortly after impact. The sight of living wood and Illvanan Scum were blasted apart got her blood racing. It was not enough to kill her, but a few seconds latter a second salvo was off, then a third just before a ragged return volley was sent their way by the stricken craft. She did not know if the forth volley they sent to the Arrowship was necessary to finish her off and the fifth honestly just seemed redundant, but when dealing with the High King's Hypocrites it was better to play it safe and make sure they're dead.

By that time, however Tanxal was under fire from both port and starboard. One of the ships came about and cast a Shard into her hull. She had her mages brace the ship against this and the offending magical projectile skittered across it's bow carving a groove before being reflected into the waves to slice some random fish in half before fading away. Another cut across side a short while latter with same marginal effect while a third probably went a bit deeper. She grinned at that, Shards were useful in ambushes and taking out enemy masts but with mages and foresight a few of them were easy enough to counter iron hull or no. While they might get lucky and get one through a gunport if they they were down to using Shards like this they were getting desperate.

"Helm," she ordered letting only a glimmer of her satisfaction pass her lips "Maintain distance if possible. Tell gunnery to Fire At Will."

"Yes Mistress!" her helmsman and a junior officer Corused, enthusiasm dripping from their words. The metal hulled warship cut through the waves relentlessly, taking salvos in stride and replying with an erratic but steady hail of return fire. The rest of the squadron provided some assistance as well using more conventional naval artillery for what it was worth, though as far as she could tell most of what they did was provide a distraction. But none of that detracted from the savor of this triumph in progress. Every Drow aboard Tanxal was feeling some measure of Catharsis right now but the captain more than others. She was based on the Raethis, Valnothron's ill fated first Ironclad. A Revolutionary Warship that could and did successfully engage it's Coldlander Counterparts that was by all indications squandered in a suicidal charge against their full Line of Battle, along with one of her sisters. It was because of that loss that Lady Valcas recommended her as the commander of Tanxal. Vengeance against the Coldlanders would have to wait, but there were plenty of scores to settle with the Eternal Foe.

Soon enough the High Elven Squadron was nothing more than burning wreckage. As she admired the floating piles of burning flotsam, she was soon met by a lieutenant as she began to make her way below deck. "Mistress. I am glad to report that damage was minimal and we have suffered no loss of crew. Two Sailors and a slave have suffered minor wounds from iron splinters, a slave's foot was crushed by a gun carriage and another was concussed when he stumbled into a bulkhead after loosing his footing. All are expected to make a full recovery."

"Very good. What of the rest of the squadron?"

"I'll check on that now." He said as he ran to a small compartment near the forecastle where an odd device was secured in a specially designed table with a couple of sailors operated it. One of which put a device to his ear and spoke into a trumpet, both connected to the contrivance by wires. He quickly jotted down the message onto a piece of paper, gave it to the lieutenant and returned to his CO.

"Thirteen wounded in total, three seriously. One sailor and two slaves dead on Tharlim and one dead slave on Qailneth**. Minor hull damage and one broken spar. The Commadore sends his congratulations."

"A victory without loss of life on our part would have been a fine thing to boast about, but all and all the I feel that this has been an overwhelming success." Up until now a trio of arrowships would have a notable if not insurmountable advantage over a full squadron of four frigates and almost any engagement with them, even if they were victorious would be hard fought and bloody. A handful of casualties and some minor damage for what mostly a light squadron was an incredible run of luck. So far, House Valcas' second Ironclad warship had passed its first trial by fire with flying colors and the Radio equipped experimental squadron had fared quite well even if the thing were finicky and temperamental. By all indications she'd had gotten lucky this time in that they were not expecting an Ironclad, but as it stood she felt she could take on a high elven Tempest and at least hurt a Maelstrom. Not that she'd engage with heavier elements if it could be avoided, her job was as much to test this craft out under live fire conditions to train up crews and provide House Valcas' shipwrights with notes to help them make better Ironclads for them to man. But bloodying the High Elves for minimal losses was always worthwhile. "Relay my gratitude to the Commadore. Have the Kitchen to prepare a feast and get the Venoan wine out. This calls for a celebration."

*Crossbow Bolt
**Both brigs were named for villages in Valnothron.

[CENTER][/CENTER]
In the months following the conclusion of the escort war, tens of thousands of people were honorably discharged from the Infrastructural Military. It was the logical move economically and from the perspective of morale. A respectable number were still retained, among them a few wartime recruits but also many of the prewar career soldiers and sailors. Admiral Petrov Miles was firmly in the latter category, having been in the Infrastructural Military from it's earliest days as the Dalatyr Militia and for all of that he still had a few years left in him before mandatory retirement. Those decades in uniform had instilled in him a strong sense of duty and he knew that the Navy could use an experienced flag officer with the respect of it's crews, even if there was a promising new generation on the rise. In the days following the Peace Treaty the crew of the Avatar had been given shore leave and spent some time admiring the old city's grand architecture, a few truly excellent meals and shopping through the markets and shops. Despite spending a few months at sea leading a convoy escort to the colonies, it was well worth it when he returned home.

About six kilometers out of Borogskov was a villa. One of a series of homes built by Black Port Slaver Lords that had been confiscated by the Infrastructural Army when they were conquered and subsequently auctioned off or given to prominent servants of the state. It was a far cry from some of the villas and manors that foreign elites had built for themselves, but even before it had been renovated with improved heating, electrification and running water it was still far beyond the log cabin of his childhood or the Barracks of his early adulthood. On a warm summer evening he rolled up to it in a Navy Roadsteamer and with the assistance of his attendant and the house's two servants brought in a number of parcels containing linen, fine porcelain and glasswork, perfume, cheese, a couple of dresses and several bottles of wine, one of which he brought. When he came in, he saw something that he'd all to little of. A solidly built woman who'd helped him through a quarter of a century of conflict. His wife Anastasia. She'd been to him a lover and a friend, a mooring through turmoil, one to whom he could drop the facade of military stoicism and tempered bravado. A mother to three children, two of which had started promising careers and the youngest had excellent grades.

"Well, I hoped you had fun at sea darling." She said in just the right tone.

And with that man who'd started as a humble fisherman's brash son who'd come to lead soldiers, cannons and ships. Who'd faced down bandits, warrior hosts, slavers, pirates and the fleets of the Dark Elves. Who'd met with warlords, officers, captains, nobles, patricians, doges and frequently dealt with Committee Members. Who'd helped build an Army, a Navy and a Nation. Quietly wept. "A bit my dear, but it's good to be home."

[Zor]

n the spring of 37 IA, the maritime policy of Infrastructure changed. Demilitarization was part of this, Work ceased on new warships and Shchuka Boats with partially completed craft either being scraped for parts or converted into cargo ships, fishing boats or pleasure craft. Similarly a good number of naval craft in service were put up in drydock or slated for breakup or disassembly. Overall construction was reduced to the relief of overworked workers, but a few projects were accelerated. Similarly Infrastructure could afford to loosen up it's policy in regards to transoceanic transport. Smaller convoys launched more regularly with only one escort. This reduced costs, accelerated efforts and granted a greater degree of flexibility as far as meeting the needs of a growing colony was concerned. In one of those convoys was a ship launched three months earlier than was planned when she was first laid down under the command of captain Fenya Morisleb, simply named Bottle.

The first of her kind Bottle was 60 meters long, 8 in breadth and weighed in at 1,000 tonnes. Her rear mounted triple expansion engine could make up to 1,400 Kw of power despite being smaller than that on a Dalatyr class freighter, allowing her to make up to 30km/h in emergencies and maintain a steady cruising speed of up to 25. She had a crew of 30 sailors who were quartered in her prow underneath her sole 7.5cm defensive cannon. Her cargo space lay in her center and was in truth basically a separate hull in of itself with only a thin spacing with a few pipes and cables between it and the water. Said inner chamber had a few wells for Bottle's emergency sails breaking it up as well as some structural elements and a single airtight corridor through which one could go from the engine room to the crew quarters below deck and drains in it's bottom through which fluids could be pumped in or out with a total volume of just over 1,300 cubic meters. She had three sisters under construction: Barrel, Cask and Flask which would be entering service over the next nine months. The names of the first ships of the Bottle Class were not idly chosen, all of them were vessels for transporting liquids. Infrastructure built fleets, fought wars and reached around the world to fill the tanks of ships such as her.



The Bottle's voyage proceeded without incident and soon arrived at the Colony on a pleasantly mild evening. She and her convoy were soon docked at a newly built harbor for vitaling, with most of her crew receiving a stint of shore leave for the next week. The next day captain Morisleb and four of her sailors took her out and puttered along to a secondary docking facility a kilometer up river. A rough palisade wall enclosed an small area under the watch of a guardtower that contained a single proper building, an sheltered open air workspace (both of which had solar panel lined roofs, a sign of the importance the Committee gave it), a paddock for draft animals (including oxen and the strange shaggy behemoths of this land), some machinery and piping a pair of large cisterns looking like oversized squat beer barrels. A fair number of stevedores worried about the area and to her surprise to see a Committee Member monitoring the operation which came to meet her. More specifically she was Transition Of Mobile Macrofauna From Marine To Terrestrial Enviroments-402122 (Transition) and she made a quick inspection of the Bottle before declaring that everything was in order and that loading would begin.

A long hose of Rubberized canvas was soon unpacked and affixed to a specialized crane before being affixed to one of the two cargo port. Soon a big electric motor began to rumble, the hoses began to shake and petroleum flowed from the cistern's to the Bottle's Bunkers. Over the next hour, a thousand cubic meters of the black liquid were poured into the hold, leaving the tanker heavy and low in the water. After everything was secured, the Bottle puttered back to the main port where her own fuel tanks would be filled with Kerosene.

At this time, Infrastructure had set up a couple of Oil Wells nearby operate infrequently due to security reasons and the colony's limited storage and transport capacity. These filled wooden barrels a few of which were decanted refined for local use or, with the majority of them, loadup as regular cargo on return voyages to the Coldlands for study, stockpiling and the limited distillation efforts already in place. It was an expensive, ungainly and unsafe set up which was not viable for the Committee's long term goals. It would still take years to expand the Petroleum Colony to meet said goals, but with the war over that was simply a matter of Infrastructural Development.

[Avrjoe]

So the Dark Elves are an adaptation to lower mana zones? This is an interesting piece of lore. Have any other races formed such a higher lower magic level evolutionary split?

[Zor]

(Anvosi Peninsula and the High Kingdom of Illvanas, Late Summer 37 IA)

On a warm evening in a timber warehouse in Venoan Territory a state meeting happened between a Dark Elf and a free Human. The meeting went unnoticed by those not involved save for a rat more focused on her own ratty concerns. Dark Elves, or at least those with money, were tolerated and there were means of bipassing. A couple Scudo* were more than enough to get the cooperation of the staff for a quiet meeting in silence and a few local hirelings provided covert security. The Human was somewhat more unusual. He was not a native, nor was he one of the usual foreigners which did business. He was a Proxy, part of the small class of free humans retained by the Dark Elves for external engagements where their presence would be counterproductive. In this particular instance, espionage.

"Good evening sire." Juarando Sacerdorez said quietly. The reverence which slaves had drilled into them childhood was counterproductive for proxies, but some acknowledgement of superiority was required.

"Good evening. Your work has been satisfactory and so the Council has entrusted you with a high priority assignment." Shahim ti'Werith replied businesslike to his charge. From a concealed pocket he produced a message cylinder. "This documentation is to be leaked to the High King through their channels without them knowing that this was our intent. I trust the expertise of your network."

"Does the council desire any unusual specifics in execution?"

"Have the leak happen somewhere other than Venoa if possible, preferably Norinto or Tardovia, but if that can't be arranged in more than a month a Venoan Leak will do. Beyond that and the paramount importance of secrecy in this endeavor, you have full discretion. Success on this front warrant a considerable reward." What failure would warrant was left unsaid but was plainly clear.

"Very well." The Proxy said. "Is there anything else."

"Nothing beyond the normal need for reports. Code words are on the note taped to the cylinder's sides. Sufficed to say we will know if the leak was successful. Good luck."

"As if I need it. It will be done" Juarando said before bowing slightly and making his way out. Being able to mouth off to a Dark Elven superior was a privilege that few could ever know and he savored the moments that he felt he could get away with. Other than that they departed without a word.

A week and a half latter after a few letters and linkglass messages had made their rounds he was on a stagecoach going southeast. Two days after that he arrived in a small town famous for it's Mushroom Sauce, picking up several large jars of the stuff while having a meeting with another traveling merchant. A handsome young man named Enrico Capecchi from whom he collected a dozen reports and to whom he provided the Cylinder, a few other tidbits of information, sixteen Lyra for his troubles and some general instructions. The twenty six year old was charming, eloquent, an excellent listener and utterly mercenary. He was part of no less than seven spy networks, though Juarando was his best customer by far. Both because he could afford to pay him better than the competitors and that he had enough leverage over him to ensure both cooperation and discretion. He was definitely the right man for the job.

Five days latter Enrico had the cylinder's reports with several other items compiled into a single folio. In a respectable bar in Norinto's Ceramics Quarter he handed them over to one Ascanio Rovetti. Those involved in the spying trade were a diverse lot and this low key meeting confirmed it. Where Enrico was handsome, outgoing, talkative and was adept at charisma and improvising the older Rovetti was paunchy, subdued, methodical and to the point. More notably while Enrico was in for the money and the challenge, Rovetti was in it for King and Country, as well as the notion that Countries should be Kingdoms. In his eyes the Serene Republic had been setting a dangerous precedent for centuries and had been giving ideological ammunition to traitorous rebels who'd tear down the divinely ordained system of monarchy and replace it with the madness of the mob or the veneration of coin above all, degenerating the nation and leaving them vulnerable to Drow corruption. Both of them felt that they knew the other well enough (though in this field Enrico had the edge as Rovetti was more of a known factor) and if they did not like each other they both were professional enough not to let that hinder their activities. A bottle of respectable wine was shared and Enrico's Folio was exchanged for a few letters of import and eight Lyra.

The next day Rovetii shifted through the documents he'd acquired before he noticed the relevant documents, which pertained to the hiring of mercenary company called the Grunerhunds and shipping them out. Usually dry stuff and increasingly irrelevant nowadays, save for two points. First of all was their destination, which was far far off to the South and West in the general direction of the Coldlander's new colony. In of itself unusual and worth remembering. But whom hired them was far more important.

A day latter a messenger swan touched down into an artificial pond in Tialansyrn, the Southern Port of the High Kingdom. There a loving keeper tended to the wayward bird and quietly removed her package from it's harness and handed it off. In an hour's time it was in the local Hall of The Watchers with it's contents being given over to Acolyte Linilaen Ialsiin. In general she liked her job, but the fact of the matter was that it was punctuated. The most common activity of the Watchers was making sure that the son of the right human noble house married the right noble born daughter and that families kept up their Anti-Drow stances, which did have plenty of interesting information and events to parse through and recommendations to make but there were times when not a lot was going on and she was left looking through the banalities of barons and barons to be. After a rather pleasant lunch she looked through the fresh reports she'd received hoping for something juicy about the son of the Count of Ginvoldi that could get him hitched with the Widow Marchioness Velano. What she got instead was a report on Drow Activity in the Southwestern Continent.

An hour latter she was discussing the matter with her superiors. A day latter an inquiry had begun. Two weeks latter the ship which had made the voyage across the sea had been tracked down. A week after that it's crew had been pumped for information which confirmed the story. Plans for the Red Gull to either get impounded or suffer an unfortunate "accident" were contrived in the coming months, but in the meantime the Corrupted One's plan would end in fire.


*Venoan Coin, 1/24th of a Lyra and 20 Serpenti. About 0.66-3 days wages for a typical worker.



(Southwestern Continent, Late Summer 37 IA)

Five hundred meters above the coastal grasslands a Skyship Heavy Cutter* of the True People flew, moving south at a considerable pace. Aboard it's decks Scout and Aviator caste lookouts surveyed the surrounding lands for things out of the ordinary, along with one Diviner. For Yellow and Orange Orchid Blossom* observation of the landscape was more of a matter of personal curiosity than anything else. Nearby one of the Cutter's three Solar Lances (a medium sized Carnataur) sat, the gylphed rings of its focusing cylinder rotating. She was confident that of the ship's complement to operate the vessel satisfactorily and that their eyes were keener than hers and the chances that she'd notice something that those bred for the task was negligible. Even so, it did not hurt and she enjoyed flight. The wind her her crest was a fine sensation and the view of this magic parched wilderness was beautiful. There were many of her fellows which would have confined themselves to their quarters for the flight as much as possible, but a wide variation of thought was part of the Diviner Caste's makeup. She was also curious as to the nature of the plot that had been unfurled that the so called "High Kingdom" had informed them of.

The basic issue was as far as most true people part of a wider problem in regards to the various breeds of hominoids that had arisen, spread and occasionally struck against true people out of a combination of envy and ignorance. For most of their history they were just a race of clever beasts, but eventually some of them managed to bodge themselves together into something that could vaguely approximate Civilizations. Transient as they were, those at the apex of their shoddy social pyramids could gather up from their rabble myriads of monkeys that they would arm, armor and point in the general direction of their foes and marginal mastery of such mobs tended to breed madness and gross miscalculations of their power in said mammals. Every few centuries a human warlord would attempt to march into the Celestial Realm where they would be a nuisance and a marginal hazard until they and their city was cleansed with light. A few of such forces were worse than others, most notably transoceanics from the Far East. First there was a Human Realm that was apparently the product of a comparatively successful human realm who managed to take out a surprising number of Skyships and a millennium latter the spawn of the outcasts of the juvenile High Kingdom of Illvanas came, established themselves on the Northern Continent before making an incursion. Despite some initial victories these Dark Elves not only inflicted remarkably high casualties but resisted numerous attempts at repulsion, enough that the rival empires of those that attempted to dislodge them made their moves and started a war. In the end a 256 Year Armistice was struck with Drow States: they would cease their raids and would not set foot on the Southern Continent. A perimeter of Obelisks was erected to detect the presence of elves. So far things had held up well enough, there were only a few minor violations most of which were their sea-ships being blown off course in storms. Some of them might have been the Dark Elves testing the system, but these could not be reliable proven and even if this was the case it would still not be enough to reignite the war.

The Report that the High Kingdom had sent them was more worrying, about them arranging for a small mob of human warriors and possibly more to be deployed in the Southwestern Continent. The best guess was that they planned on destroying or removing the Obelisks in that area so they could launch a raid on the Southern Empires. This would be a futile gesture if they simply blew a few obelisks up or ripped them out as the rest of the perimeter would detect their absence. It could be that a team of mages might rework enchantments to leave them technically active but unable to detect Dark Elves, though this was no sure thing, especially with human magi. Something else was up and Orchid Blossom was concerned about it. Her mission was mainly one of investigation, but while she would do her job to the best of her abilities never the less she was afraid of what she'd find.

*Names translated, Raptor Speech includes a wide range of sounds many of which are unpronounceable by human vocal cords.



(Fidelium, Late Summer, 37 IA)

This was the greatest challenge in the life of Thimarn First of Tonith. It was something which he had dreaded for the last few months, but he knew would come sooner of latter. It was not the sort of thing that would fall on his shoulders, but fate and the will of his Masters had placed the burden on his shoulders. Both his parents were Slave Priests in Valnothron and from an early age it was clear that he would follow in their footsteps. Between consecration, pedigree, temperament, admiration for his parents and his performance in his lessons it was clear to his masters that he was fit for the cloth. At age ten he was given over to a seminary, at age fifteen he was inducted in as an Initiate and at age twenty he was a full priest in service to Valcas industries. For two and a half decades he'd did what he could to help his fellow slaves through their lives and saw to their spiritual well being, from providing daily services to helping freshly captured wild humans to their place with kindness and sympathy. He felt that he did his job reasonably well despite a fair bit of fretting over small failures in private and he'd receive praise both form his fellow slaves and even from The Drow at times. Two of his four children had followed in his footsteps and he'd trained a couple of Initiates. He assumed that he'd be sold back to the Seminary to help in the training of new priests before a brief retirement, quiet dignified death and a respectable shot at joining his masters in his next life.

He did not expect to be shipped with his wife half way around the world with a few hundred other slaves to some empty wilderness full of hostile beasts and natives with a Janissaries and Wild Mercenaries, much lest to be have the indignity of having his bonds broken. It was less of a shock to him. He was one of fourteen priests assigned to the expedition which he was put in charge of as "Prelate", an office which had a seat on the ruling council of this colony of Fidelium along with two other priests, three clerks, three adepts, a long serving overseer and a veteran Janissary. The Prelate had a few special powers in said council which made him preeminent, though hardly the sole master. Each of them had been given some briefing during their voyage as what they were to do in this New World, the threats they were to face and a list of objectives they would need if they were to survive. Natives were one threat, starvation was another, so was exposure, beasts and disease. But they were things that this mob had the skills and tools to deal with. They had warriors and weapons. Vitals, seedstock, hunters, fishermen and farmers. Potions and healers. Artisans with tools, tents and supplies to set up shelter and with a bit more work more substantial dwellings. There had been some complications, setbacks and even a few deaths but in general things were shaping up quite well. Never the less, there was one task that fell on him: to steer the colony along the one path which might lead to it's survival.

He and a few others knew this day would come and the signs, which materialized on a rather mild afternoon. A lookout noticed a strange shape flying in from the north coming towards them. One that soon resolved itself into an odd combination of kite and ship. Soon enough it spotted them and came about. Janissaries and Mercenaries were soon quickly donning helmets and grabbing rifles, though to keep order among the nascent village. One instruction was clear to them: to fire upon that strange craft meant death for all of them. If preventing that meant executing a panicked Fidelian on the spot for taking aim, so be it. Fortunately this was not necessary. The craft soon landed and from a rope and wood bridge came forth a group of five creatures, four armored and one clad in red and gold with a gold headpiece. They were led led into the center of the camp by a Jannissary and a Clerk. A crowd had gathered to gawk at these strange beings as they were brought to a central platform where he stood.

The Dark Elves only gave their slaves a partial outlook on the world beyond their domain, but these creatures were known to them. Man sized monsters that seemed to be somewhere between a lizard and an eagle and all predator. They had had flesh ripping teeth, bone crushing jaws and terrible claws. But these were not beasts, but thinking beings. They were dubbed Raptors and while they were not The Eternal Foe nor Abominable Undead, though they had no moral qualms about reducing men, women and children to cinders. Never the less, there was a possibility to achieve the salvation of his congregation and associates.

The lead raptor was introduced by it's minions as Yellow and Orange Orchid Blossom in the Dark Elven language, who then replied. "I am curious..." the apparently female creature told her. "...curious as to the reason of your transgression."

"Honored Diviner," Thimarn said, quietly "We must inform you that we have meant no offense against you or your people. But for all of that we are not in transgression against the realms of your kind nor it's works."

The Raptor stalked around him "Really? Your tongue betrays you, as does your raiment. We know that this rabble are slaves of the Dark Elves and others were sent here by them, undoubtedly to undermine the Perimeter."

"We were, though our bonds were broken. Our lives are now our own in this wilderness. While we lament the loss of our old lives, our goal here is but to survive as best we can. We have no linkglasses with which to converse with those across the seas. Besides, on the Northern Coast of this continent are there not a few towns of Escaped Slaves?" Part of him was repulsed by the concept, though he was too fixated on his script to dwell on that at this moment. As he understood the history few Drow Ships had been forced aground on the Southwestern Continent during the First War with the Raptors and afterwards by storm or after battle with the High Elves. The Dark Elves who manned them were slain by the Raptors, but the human cargo was ignored and they built a few small villages. Since then, the misguided souls would make there way to these feral enclaves in lands denied to the world's Rightful Masters with a few succeeding. They were marginal, mean and squalid places home to those degraded in body and soul. But the relevant point was that the Raptors not only let them happen but on occasion approved on their development. "Or of the Coldlanders to the North? It is our law that No Drow shall set foot on Fidelium." The Raptors were intelligent in many ways, but even their were bound by a certain rigidity of thought.

"And what of the others the Dark Elves had sent from across the seas?"

"Protection, oh great one." Thimarn replied. "This is a hostile wilderness with wild animals and men who'd have on occasion attacked us. On three occasions on the last two decades ships from Oestia and Nycon had ventured across the seas to those lands to those villages of escaped slaves to trade under Drow Contract without any objection by your realm."

"But the question remains, why are you here in the first place?" The Diviner's voice was in the same tone as it had been, but her reply was just a few beats late.

"Simply to be, Diviner. To live, to love and hopefully to succeed in some small way. It is the role of men to serve the Drow, but they may end this service as they see fit. We of Fidelium are now a sovereign people and their trading partners." The fact that all they traded so far was a few rocks was a detail best ignored. "We stand a thousand miles from the nearest border to the Celestial Realm and thousands from your northern Empire. It should be evident that we will not be a threat to you or your kin."

The Diviner soon reared up to meet Thimarn face to face. Her snout inches from his. He could make out the fine fibers and scales on it's nose, feel the breath from her nostrils, the two catlike eyes and most of all could make out the rows of faintly yellow serrated dagger like teeth in fine detail. He steeled himself for three seconds, then she spoke. "Well human of 'Fidelium', we shall see." With that she turned around with a graceful motion and her guards followed her. A few minutes latter she was back in her skyship which circled around the settlement like a shark. Thimarn led the people of Fidelium in prayer. Surprisingly a few of the mercenaries joined in, even if he learned that at least some of them muttered their own prayers in their native languages.

The magical vehicle loomed over the small enclave for seventeen days. It failed to respond to every attempt to contact it while the people of Fidelium attempted to adjust. A few dug holes over which rain barrels or llama troughs could be put. The mercenaries packed up kits with food and supplies ready to move out at a moments notice. There were a few instances of binge drinking of home made (for want of a better term) Beer and a few relationships which unfolded more quickly than they otherwise would have happened. Most simply got on with their work, figuring that it was better to act as if there would be a tomorrow even if fiery death might come down upon them at any moment. Then the skyship landed once again and he was met with one of the Diviner's Guards.

"Pay heed, humans of Fidelium for I speak the words of Yellow and Orange Orchid Blossom, whom speaks by proxy for Our Imperial Majesty!" He bellowed "The Transgression of the Drow State of Valnothron has been noted by the Empire of the Northern Archipelago, it levies censure against the act and the people involved. Despite this, it has been deemed your Fidelium can never the less persist. Do not take up arms against the Celestial Realm nor harm the Perimeter and you can make a home in this mana parched land." He repeated the declaration three more times before the skyship flew overhead, let down a rope with a stirrup on the end which reeled him in. The skyship then departed to the North as swift as a dragon. Thimarn watched the ordeal as he quietly gave a quick prayer of thanks and as the craft slowly dwindled away he gave a sigh of relief. The worst had happened and was done with the plan working as desired. He ascended to the platform, waving his staff for attention.

"Brothers and Sisters. I must express to you the lifting of a burden from my soul. The council has known that this challenge to our holy mission would come, though we kept this knowledge so your toil would not be marred by the dread of it. Humanity is flawed creation and one of our weaknesses is our vulnerability to panic. Fear is like fire. It has it's place in our hearts for our own safety and that of others. But if the conditions are right for it, it can spread from man to man like a blaze through a wheat field without control consuming our focus, our sense of perspective, our coherence until we are consumed in a blaze of panic. In such a state we think only of ourselves in the now and blunder and stumble, blinded and deafened to all but what is immediately in front of our face. The Book of Anthropics speaks of Fear and Panic and I found solace in these words. While you may feel some resentment for having that been denied this knowledge, know that this secret was in of itself taxing on the heart and in the absence of the ravages of panic we have achieved much in this new world. Also take comfort in the discipline that you showed in the face of fear, acting with dignity in the face of destruction."

"But beyond that, this is not a day for bitterness. No, my children. Today is a day to rejoice. Of all the physical perils of this continent this one was the greatest. Their numbers are legion, their powers are terrible while our colony is still nascent. Never the less, in her wisdom Lady Valcas had foreseen this crisis and Lady Valcas had given us all that was needed to overcome their threat with but a few memorized words. Is it not clear that her insights are blessed and her plan favored by the Gods? There will be more challenges to come, but these will be challenges that our within our power to meet if we Keep the Faith. But here and now, it is time to get out the kegs, cook up double rations and strike up the band. For tonight, we Celebrate!"



(Empire of the Inland Sea, Late Summer 37 IA)

A servant set down a plate and a flask on a finely polished stone table. On said plate was a set of dainties with a name beyond the capacities of human vocal cords. Seasoned stripps of meat and a compound made of pulverized sweet potato and the juices of fruit delicately cooked with oil and a fair bit of magic involved to create fine helical sticks. They were reserved for the Diviner Caste of the Raptors and were optimized for their tastes in any case. Combined with a dark beverage that would count as a mild mana potion in human circles it made for a welcome mid afternoon snack for Hatchling Of The Evening Stars, Thirty Forth in the line of the Throne of the Empire Of The Inland Sea. A brief respite in between the usual diplomatic dealings with other Empires and consultation with subordinates in the Satellite Cities. He lounged back on a saddle like seat and relaxed. To his annoyance an attendant came in with an usual artifact in her talons.

"Your Excellency." She said automatically. "We have a message from the High Kingdom!"

He gave a quick snort of exasperation. "Very well." With that the attendant set up a bronze holder and inserted a glowing Linkglass before making her way out with a fine unobtrusiveness that eighty thousand years of breeding could achieve. As she left the image of an armored hominid resolved itself above the servicable but inelegant communication system.

"What news do bear, High Marshall of the Sea?" Evening Stars said, putting the title of the High Elven commander in his own tongue.

"I've heard about your ruling about the Fidelium matter and I must protest!"

"I presumed as much. Lady Faiyin has made your Kingdom's opinion on the matter clear." With casual hand waves he caused the flask to levitate and poured it's contents into a cup of finely crafted porcelain.

"And it deserves repeating. The Corrupted Ones have violated your treaty in seeding their minions onto the Southwestern Continent. This could not be a more obvious plot against your realms!"

"That this is a move by the Outcast States is true enough, but regardless this move did not violate the armistice."

"And why do you constrain yourself as such legalities which the Drow hold in contempt?"

"Because a war with them now would disrupt the balance of power and jeopardize numerous treaties and destabilize the Celestial Realm. There would almost certainly be a war between the Empires and most likely a major one. In any case a Deal is a Deal even with one we despise."

"Are you saying that some of Celestial Realm's Empires would side with the Drow?" The Marshall replied

"No," Evening Stars said "I am saying that the ruling Dynasties of the Empires would consider that terminating a treaty on marginal grounds would be in of itself a sign of weakness. Termination clauses would be taken out, trade deals would suffer and our position within the Celestial Realm would be marred for centuries to come. Societies are built on a foundation of reliability Marshall, and our civilization's foundations are granite." He casually lapped at his drink.

"Save for the Drow who've made do with Treachery and Cruelty." The Marshall spat "We know that the True People are thoroughly civilized, but expecting anything close to honor from the Dark Elves can only end in misery and pain."

"Never the less, there is a case that could be made in their defense. This collection of humans they released in the south is of marginal concern in any case."

"It may be small now, but undoubtedly they'll expand it."

"So what if they do? So far they've sent members of their worker caste and a small group of human warriors trading service for rare metals, all of which are simple humans that the Dark Elves can only loosely oversee and monitor." The concept of mercenaries was to Evening Star's mind (and in the minds of most True People) a sign of the weakness of hominid society. In most situations all members of the Diviner or Supervisor caste had to do was to give an order to a member of the lesser castes and they'd do it. Each caste had been bred for their specific purpose in society and submission to proper authority. The Empires traded with each other and there was some trade between cities and provinces within them, but said transactions were done with goods, economic obligations and political concessions or obligations to provide said things at a latter date. The idea of a group of master-less killers who'd fight in exchange for who was willing to pay them the most lumps of gold was perverse, but as long as they stayed clear of the Celestial Realm their existence was tolerable.

"And those poor souls view their masters as Divine Agents and that their only hope lies in obedience to their will. They've been twisted into fanatics."

"Some of them and to a degree. We've seen others flee their masters." Slavery was seen in a similar light to mercenaries by the True People. There was no need to abduct random low caste members and beat them until they obeyed out of fear. Similarly rewards for good service was a secondary means of motivation. Whatever efforts had been made the Dark Elves to breed in compliance to their dominated humans were not only new but scattershot, token and undermined by constantly bringing in feral stock. "But more to the point this is not simply a matter of the individuals present. At ten millennia your High Kingdom is still a Juvenile in this world and we feel that it can endure for Myriads to Come. The same can not be said about the mayfly domains of men. A Dynasty of their Priest Kings may be worshiped as the kin of their gods and in 256 years its surviving members are dung collectors. Warriors who dominate a society may in turn be dominated by merchants in five generations. Any stability they may enjoy is a transient thing. They Fidelians may be overwhelmed by a host of Goshon" he used the name for those grassland peoples that was up to date from his tutor's lessons 283 years earlier "or the commissioned warriors may seize control or the Drow might loose interest in this project, but even if none of this happens and Fidelium not only survives but thrives in a century's time it will have diverged and grown on it's own lines in a century or two. If they want to die either with their masters 102 years hence when the ceasefire expires or destroying the perimeter, we will oblige them. But for now they may be an annoyance, but a tolerable one."

"Wise Diviner," the Elf said with more pronounced frustration "with all due respect there have been troubling developments recently. The Drow have been striving to replicate the machines of Infrastructure and at least some of their vile efforts have yielded fruit. Their firelocks and cannon now shoot farther, faster and harder. All nine states now have ships with steam engines to propel them and at least two of them now have Ironclads of their own. But what they are building now worries me less than what they will be building twenty or forty years hence, which is pressing here as they will send some of their infernal devices to their puppets in Fidelium."

In truth there was some concern about this. Cannons had been an unpleasant surprise during the scoring of the Third Empire in Exile a millennia ago and subsequent encounters with them in more recent centuries had given airship crews a grudging respect for the mundane fire tubes. The notion that they were being improved and improved so rapidly was something that should not be dismissed. Even so he waved a hand with a helical stick in it. "We shall consider this, but still this will not change the fact that even with a few improved guns they can not hope to mach the might of the Celestial Realm. The Skies remain in our talons and the greater the threat they pose to the Celestial Realm, more of it shall rise to burn them off the continent when the time comes with your assistance." He gave a quiet signal which summoned the attendant "But when that day shall be is our decision. And with that and for now, I bid you and your kingdom farewell." Before the Marshall had a chance to response the Attendant had taken the glass, silenced it and was removing it from his quarters. With that Evening Star went back to his snack and tried his best at salvaging what remained of his respite. Latter that day, he was pleasantly surprised that he succeeded.



(Fidelium, Late Summer 37 IA)


Shortly after the leak reached the ears of the High Elves, it was relayed to the Central Committee. A Drone was sent down the coast in search of the encampment, when it returned it had footage of the settlement and the skyship orbiting it, more concerning was the five ring flag over the largest building. The was dispatched again for further investigation and found the skyship gone, but the small settlement remained. Reports from the High Kingdom confirmed that the Raptors had elected to spare this expedition due to complex internal politics. For the Central Committee the minor mystery of Fidelium had been answered, and not in a pleasant way.

The settlement would from that point on be under regular Drone surveillance. Over the next few weeks it's population was judged to be approximately 850, most of whom were involved at least part time with agriculture, clearing and cultivating fields within about two km of the main shantytown. There were also also dozens of makeshift rafts and boats plying the waves for sardines, crabs and other such seafood. There was a raid by Gosho party repulsed with several of the attackers ending up in chains. There was also several instances with native traders doing business with the settlement, with an impromptu trading post being set up outside the settlement's walls.

Taking note of these reports Transition saw potential resolutions to the issue expire, even after the Raptors withdrew without firing a shot she had hopes that Fidelium would either fall or fail but as time passed those possibilities became equally unlikely. By all indications they had enough supplies to see them at least through to harvest and were sufficiently well armed and dug in to resist a direct assault. A hurricane might do them in, as could a coalition of Gosho hosts or other native tribes. But for now at least they were doing well enough. On the one hand Infrastructure's options at this time were limited at this juncture, on the other hand particularly pressing issue. It's population was small, it was over 1,250 km from the Petroleum Colony as the drone flies, by all indications it's magical resources were limited and and beyond firearms it's technology was very basic. Never the less, after three weeks of observation a mission was dispatched.

The Dalatyr class Cargo Ship Beluga made its way down the coastline over the span of four days, aboard it was Bureaucrat Misha Nordov and her two subordinates. She was among the most qualified figures, having negotiated numerous trade agreements with the Klebba, Issan, Shol and various riverine traders and being fluent in five languages including Allergonian and High Elven. There was a certain amount of trepidation about this, but never the less she was hopeful as the ship put into the bay fluttering a banner of parlay on a sunny afternoon in (in this hemisphere) spring.

Soon after their arrival a reply was sent up using common signal flags and placards printed in Allergonian allowing for a landing party to come ashore, though not to the collection of docks that had been set up by the settlement. Instead they made their way to a beach a short distance to the north. There Misha and her party was met by an thin bearded bespectacled man in a tall conical hat, brass bracelets and robes which made him out to be a slave priest along wit four guards, two mercenaries and two men who had the bearing and rough uniforms of Valnothron Janissaries despite the five ring insignia that had been added to their gear. Either way, the only purpose they seemed to serve is as a bodyguard. Upon disembarking, she made a show of taking out her sidearm and handing it to the two sailors in the rowboat. She put a smile on her face and approached the Fidelian.

"Good day." She said professionally in Allergonian "I am Misha Nordov, Bureaucrat Grade Six and representative of Infrastructure. On of the Central Committee and in the spirit of peace and cordiality between nations I offer the hand of friendship to your people. It is an honor to be the first Infrastructural to arrive in your nascent state and it is our hope that this is the beginning of a relationship that shall be mutually beneficial to all."

The Fidelian Priest looked at her intensely for a few seconds before he began to speak. "Very Good." He said in the same language, but heavily accented Allergonian. "I am Thimarn, Tonith's Firstborn, the Prelate of Fidelium and the one who is speaking for the Council of Fidelium. Tell me Buh-yoo-rah-khar-at," even though his grammar was far from perfect, Misha had the distinct impression that Thimarn was deliberately drawing the word out "why would Fidelium be wanting to work with your Khom-mitt-teh?"

"So that we might prosper together." Misha replied quickly.

"Like you are doing with Venoa, and like how your Committee steered them against our Sacred Custodians?"

"You mean your former Dark Elven masters? Because their actions over the centuries have not earned them a lot of love." In years to come, Misha would look back with regret on this choice of words. In retrospect she knew that he most likely went into the discussion with his mind set in stone, but she still wondered if a better turn of phrase could have changed matters.

"So the hypocrite clearly is shown herself to all!" He said proudly. "We know that of your Unification Wars where Infrastructure was making itself with rifle and cannon across your Land of Ice. We know that of people who did not want your Hexagon or Committee who forced toil in mine and camp. We know that of Fleet sent third of way around world in search of Stone Oil. What the Committee wants the Committee takes, the stone or the land or the human. All for them. We won't be taken."

"And we have no interest in taking you by force." She said in a conciliatory manner. "All we would like to do with you is to work together."

"Work together." He snorted "Working with the Infrastructure means it falls over us like Iron Net. Like the Iron Net, the Infrastructure is unnatural. Life is struggle, life is challenge, life is growth. But the Infrastructurals deny it..." and with that the prelate went off on a diatribe for the next eight minutes. It decried Infrastructure for it's centralized approach, making it out not to be robust and able to focus its' efforts on key goals but as a plodding cumbersome behemoth. It went against it's notion of human equality as being self evidently wrong and a sham for being dominated by superior beings. It railed against the notion of The Great Machine as men were different from Steam Engines which were static and unchanging and that instead it should be ruled by those fit to rule who should compete with each other and thus elevate themselves their dominions by proxy. How the Infrastructural lifestyle was shallow, materialistic, hedonistic and only concerned with the acquisition of transient pleasures at the expense of spiritual fulfillment. An enviroment which could only be corrosive to the soul in the ascent of life. He thought of Infrastructure as a philosophical, social, economic and religious blight on this world. Misha could not get a word in and forced a smile through it all.

"...and That" he spat the words "is why the Fidelium will not let in the Infrastructure. Are you knowing of Sovereignty?"

"Of course..."

"Then you know that we have it, you know that if you violate it the treaty with Galthirith and Hansoliath and Janilonas and Valnothron" he flourished a copy of the treaty's relevant sections in front of her and said the last name with a noticeable measure more reverence "is dead and war will be again. So tell your Committee this of Fidelium: there will not be any trading or the building of embassies or visitors. All the Infrastructurals are Persona non Grata here from now on. This is where the talking ends. Now go, go and stay gone!" He spat the last words and pointed out to sea.

"Very well. I regret that communications have broken down and implore you and your fellow Fidelians to reconsider this hard line stance, but I will report to the Committee of your policy." She gave a slight bow "Thank you and good day." With that she made her way back to the rowboat. This was a possibility she'd been told to expect.

As the craft made its way back to the Beluga. As the small launch rowed back to the craft she began work on her report in her notebook. A couple of times she glanced shore-ward and noticed the priest glowering at her, then she noticed him walk off somewhat deflated. In truth while Thimarn was good at denouncing, he took no pleasure in it and he was glad to be done with it.

When she arrived back in the Petrolium Colony she'd filed her report, gave an interview with Transition and learned that a pair of ships ship had made their way to Fidelium and was unloading additional supplies and what was eventually calculated to be an additional 220 ex-slaves as well as three cattle, four horses, six donkeys, nine goats, twelve sheep, twenty five pigs*. From aerial photographs printed in the Colonial Report, the new pens and tents were clearly visible in the layout of the enclave. For it's first few months, Fidelium's purpose was simply to establish itself and exist. The Fidelium that Misha had left was, depending on how you looked at it, either a foot in the door or a seed. Now that said existence was at least temporarily secure, it would be fed and it would grow.

*In terms of livestock only Pigs, Poultry and a few Llamas were present in Fidelium up to this point.



(Valcas Estate, Valnothron, Autumn 37 IA)


When news that the second supply fleet to Fidelium had returned without incident reached the ears of Talnara ti'Valcas, the first thing she did was organize a Dinner Party. Not a huge feast in the great hall, but a respectable meal for figures of four of Valnothron's great houses and the heads of twenty one middling ones, none of which were her vassals. A fortnight latter all the figures had attended and took advantage of exquisite food and fine wines while a little light business was conducted. For the most part the Lady was a graceful if unobtrusive hostess who monitored the gathering for incidents and was pleased to find none. Most of the figures were at the household level on positive terms with each other, but individual rivalries were a harder thing to keep track of. Regardless the meal went down well and as as the gathering was on desert the hostess came to her feet wine goblet in hand.

"Honored Lords, thank you for attending." She opened, as she got to her feet a number of servants quietly assembled an easel under a velvet curtain. "I hope that my kitchens were up to task to satisfying your refined palates as much as they did mine." There was some some assent from the assembled lords. "Never the less, I would like a few minutes of your time for a proposal. In particular one involving Fidelium..."

The velvet cover was removed revealing a series of large sheets, the first of which had Fidelium's flag printed on it. "As you have heard recently, the Raptors have elected to officially ignore our experimental settlement in the Southwestern Continent and have not interfered with our efforts to expand the settlement while Infrastructure is unwilling to jeopardize the peace treaty by launching an attack. The project has passed through it's greatest threats and has emerged unscathed while it is meeting more mundane challenges in a commendable manner. Their first harvest is being brought in and they've repelled numerous native raids. Noble Lords, the seed that has been sown has sprouted and with it we have have a foothold into said land." She waved her hand and the sheets shuffled, revealing a map of the area. "The area in which we've sited the settlement is lightly wooded grassland, slightly hilly and warm year round." She had the sheets shuffled again, revealing a print of the landscape based off a sketch made by one of the dispatched slaves. "It's situated at the mouth of a navigable river providing easy access to the interior and the soil is well suited to agriculture, including wheat and barley..." She went on for several minutes outlining the natural resources of the area with similar prints providing visual reference to her talking points.

"While we are denied direct access to the region, a firmly established and cooperative human settlement in the region would allow us to reap it's bounty by proxy. Our government has spearheaded the venture, while House Valcas has provided out of our own pocket additional resources to aid and accelerate it's development. Our reasons for this are multiple, but two reasons eclipse all others. First of all as a counterbalance to the Infrastructural Incursion, an asset in the next war and as a solid signal of my feelings to the Central Committee." There was some laughter among the assembled guests. "The second part is the potential for profit for the reasons outlined. Either way, the quicker that it moves beyond it's current nascence the sooner it will be of use. But there is no reason why House Valcas alone should profit from this venture. For this reason, I am proud to announce the creation of Fidelium Fund." A set of slaves moved past the guests, giving a pamphlet to each. It included information on the goals of the Fund as well as the Charter.

"In short, the Fidelium Funds' purpose is to accelerate the development of this enclave. It accepts donations from concerned individuals and sends them to the emergent nation to accelerate it's development."

"It pains me to make a statement which might be misconstrued my lady," A snide voice said from the dinner table "but this venture you propose sounds to me like a Charity." There was a few murmurs which followed the accusation. In Drow society it was not considered a virtue. At best it was seen as a crass display of excessive wealth akin to lighting a cigar with a banknote. At worst it was seen as a social evil born of kindness run rampant, in which soft hearted fools encouraging dependency and indolence among the lower orders while letting the unfit scrape by.

"Not at all. Charity implies payments gratis with no benefit to the donator beyond whatever self satisfaction overindulged empathy might bring. Donation to the Fidelium Fund is more akin to the buying of futures or the financing of trade missions. When Fidelian farms have grown past subsistence to surplus, we can procure it for a pittance, then reclaim the gold with with the sale of our wares. The sooner that our pet colony passes the post, the sooner we can profit from it. Similarly the larger Fidelium is, the less the Committee can ignore it. In the past fifteen years we've lost both the Black Ports and Avesia to Infrastructure, it's time we make a replacement."

"I trust that this Trust would not be a Valcas animal." Another voice said.

"Of course, the fund is not a Valcas Holding, though we are it's initial financiers. The charter calls for a board of twenty one trustees charged with the managing of it's affairs. Each seat comes with a monthly salary of five scimitars and I have put aside 2,000 scimitars into an expense fund for such a purposes. Thirteen of those seats are available and we'd be glad to accept applicants from esteemed houses such as your own." That got some people interested. If nothing else, the Fidelium Fund would be a decent place for a house to dump one of their unremarkable junior member for a year or so. "And if nothing else the matter of it's finances would be transparent and open to review.

"Let us assume that all of this is true, why should we donate to this fund instead of buying up a load of slaves, farm tools and provisions and shipping them off ourselves?"

Lady Valcas grinned a little brighter at this development. "In all honestly for some Great Houses this could be the most productive use of their resources in facilitating Fidelium's growth and if for those to whom this is the case I have only encouragement. But such a venture would have risks and costs. The ship might founder at sea or be destroyed by the Eternal Foe. But even if all goes smoothly there are costs, including that of a ship taken out of normal mercantile ventures for several months to make the delivery. With the Fidelium Fund the risks are spread out and more parties can effectively contribute to the process. Moreover the fund will be able to deal in bulk, train slaves for their new lives ahead of time and have better information as to what Fidelium needs to grow."

"Are you interested in donations of cash or kind?" Another lord said.

"Cash is preferred, but donations of compliant slaves and useful supplies would not be amiss." The next few minutes followed the same general pattern before she left them to their desert. Afterwards, she managed to get seventeen attendants to sign up and make at leas a token initial payment to the fund which added up to 797 scimitars, fifty two wagon wheels and two fieldslaves. A modest sum given the scope that the project and the canvased donators but respectable for a first venture and their names would be useful for getting additional support. She had four more parties planned with other prominent Valnothron, Janilonas and Galithirith figures with a similar aim, as well as several of her children and grandchildren doing similar canvasing among the middling to minor houses. It would take several months to dredge up the requisite funds and viable resources, but by the end of the year the Fidelium Fund would launch it's first supply ship, bringing an additional hundred and nine slaves, a hundred tonnes of barley and beans, twelve draft horses and an eclectic but never the less useful selection of tools and second hand gear. The second was launched not long afterwards.

[Zor]

(Dalatyr, New Years Day 38 IA)

Winter Solstice had always been a big deal in the Coldlands. To peoples who lived with long severe winters, the point when the night began to shorten held special meaning in of itself, showing that Spring would come. This was leaving aside the fact that it was also New Years Day in both the Order of Keeper's and Infrastructural calender's. Coldlanders had traditionally made what festivities they could and as Infrastructure rose people had more to work with. War had made the last three Solstices lean affairs, but the Thirty Seventh had been grander and met with a special enthusiasm to make up for lost time. At the Smedth residence seventy three people had gathered for the festivities enjoying a grand feast and exchanging kilocredits worth of gifts ranging from toys to bricks of tea to Samovars to Bicycles and fireworks shows at midnight. General Sven retired around 3:30 and slept in until 14:20 the next day and he soon heard Kahrine Kornovski's "Satyania in Spring" by string quartet. The General smiled knowing who's favorite song that was and soon made a couple cups of tea, one with milk and brought it upstairs. There in an armchair sat an old man listening contentedly to a phonograph.

"Good afternoon dad..." Sven said exaggerating his lingering sleepiness while he handed the hot cup "...and happy new year."

"Happy New Year." Boris Smedth said. "Hard to imagine you waking up so late. Normally you'd be up and about by six like clockwork." He took a long sip of his tea.

"It was a good party, Natasha made sure of it. Besides, classes don't start again for a week and I'm never commanding again."

"The Committee has told you as much?" His father was a bit worried about that.

"Got a note from Drive himself: the new generation of officers has produced some exceptional people tempered in war against formidable foes. The chances that they'd need me for anything other than a few speeches is basically nil." The matter of Fidelium looked like it would probably be trouble, but that would be years away.

"That's good to hear." Boris replied. "I knew a fair number of people who did not return from the wars, even officers."

"Believe me, you know how quickly it can all end on the front lines." Sven replied. "I'm glad to be done with it."

"I'm glad to see it, and to have seen this party. Don't think i'll be here for the next."

"Dad, don't..." Sven.

"Oh don't lie to this old fool." Boris said "I've already outlived most of my childhood friends one way or another and i've got a bunch of problems. I'll be with your mother soon enough. My father just showed me how to beat out swords and shield brims before he was scooped up by some horse riding thug one day. I helped build a better world for you and you helped build a better world for your children, who're building something better for your grandkids. No warriors smacking you on the heads with spears for talking to their crush in Infrastructure, nor children going hungry in winter. To me, that's enough." The old blacksmith said quietly. "But I see it unsettles you, so we'll move on. Have you ridden one of these 'bike' contraptions?" With that the exchange between father and son went on with more pleasant subjects.



(Proto-Omnium, Dalatyr, Winter 38 IA)


The last year had been good for Zia Maleev. Her supervisor had given her a good review at a time when operations were expanding and so was promoted in fall of 37. She went from grocery clerk to a sales representative at the Proto-Omnium, the largest of the Ministry of Distribution's stores and one of it's the most prestigious operations, especially as far as sellers were concerned. Pay was better and work here was usually a prelude to a management position somewhere else. She was bounced around a couple of times around the store from the Deli to Toys to Clothes and finally to Appliances and Electronics. She got along well here, even if things worked differently. At a grocery store people came in regularly who mostly knew what they wanted, occasionally adding or subtracting some item or another from whatever reason they might have on the spur of the moment. With Appliances and electronics the need was less frequent, many of the passers by would be browsing the goods and you often needed to help the navigate what was in stock and persuade them into opening their wallets, as well as running through a few points with "is your home electrified?" being the most common. Doing so could be tedious, but the fact that she got a commission to every sale she had a hand in went a long way to keeping her mind on moving units.

Doing well in this department did require homework, including reading up on electrical systems and the various models. Fortunately three of the other other six people who worked in Appliances and Electronics were obsessed with the department's wares and loved talking about the various products they peddled. Listening to Milla, Erik and Lars at breaks and asking them questions made up a good part of her training. They also were a font of rumors, most notably one about the delay of the release on a big item apparently caused by the lead Engineer setting up the factory disappearing one night with at least some important blueprints. There was a lot of speculation about this, though it would remain unresolved. It also had her interest peaked when it finally showed up on a cool February morning.

The HRT-38 was a boxy item with an outer case made of varnished with a couple of handles on it's top, a few nobs and gauges and a Infrastructural hexagon shaped portal covered by a loose weave of cloth, with the words "VOX" inscribed on it. Inside there were wires, valves and other such electrical bits. When the display unit one was taken out it was seen with a particular reverence by the three electrophiles which was kind of contagious, especially when they set it up at the main counter, plugged it in and turned it on. At first it produced a grinding noise, then after a little fiddling of the nobs that was replaced with voices. A man and a woman talking to each other about someone coming over to dinner, but one of them said something which got Zia laughing. Soon all of her coworkers were laughing along with it. She'd heard plays on record and this one was pretty good. It was over in ten minutes and with that supervisor Vera got everyone back to work as the store began opening up. Never the less the machine continued to operate. After a brief interlude in which Supernova announced that this was Infrastructural Broadcasting Radio-3: Drama and Arts, which was followed up by some rather nice orchestral music. There was some experimenting with the dial over the day which brought up news, an educational station and a few different types of music, but eventually it came back to Radio-3 by common consensus.

During that day, a fair number of people came by to investigate the Vox. Some had been following reports and adds about the invention while to others it was entirely new. Several times in the first week Zia had been asked where the record went and she'd have to explain that they were more like the public loudspeakers for your home with a selection of stations. They'd received two hundred units on the first day and by noon they'd sold out despite their steep price of 600 Credits. With her commission bonuses a Vox would cost Zia nearly two months of her income. Her coworkers were soon talking about plans to bring the price of a Vox down and saving up to buy one themselves, but for 38 IA Zia was content to make use of the display Vox at work.



( Detentional Mining Camp-37, Dragonspine Mountains, Winter 38 IA)


It had been more than seventeen months since the Defeat at Daagsgrad. For Talsi ti'Xolcas former warrior of the now defunct and disgraced Amethyst Bow company this had meant several hundred days of bland routine in Detentional Mining Camp-37 in the Dragonspine Mountains. Get up at 5:00, get cleaned up at the wash house, get dressed, get to the kitchens by 6:00, make breakfast, eat breakfast at 8:00, clean up mess hall, make lunch, eat lunch at 12:00, clean up mess hall, lessons or free time at 13:30, back to the kitchens at 15:00, make dinner, eat dinner at 17:30, clean up mess hall, get back to the barracks by 19:00, collapse into bunk at 20:00. A half day off every week, which you could bump to a full day off with six reward points, though there were a few other events.

She still felt lucky, one only needed to see the poor sods who'd spent the day shoveling ore into wheelbarrows and haling it to the smelter to see why she was lucky to get the post. Especially in the long mountain winters. She'd seen a few troublemakers in the kitchens get sent to the mine crews and the occasional replacement be brought up from their ranks. She'd simply kept quiet and tried to get along as best as she could. She'd gained a measure of popularity among her five person team and twenty five person cadre for that reason, as well as the proxy benefits for what that had been worth. This mostly overcame the resentment that she got for the same reason. By this point all of the prisoners in the camp had come to terms with the workload the Infrastructurals imposed, but there was division in that framework. Some tried to do the best they could do for the rewards or to lose their frustrations in manual labor. Others felt that to retain whatever honor they believed they still had, the only proper course of action was to do the minimum that they could get away. The specifics on the issues were complex and there had been a decline of the latter school in the kitchens, but you'd still get the occasional confrontations over it as well as bad attitude. There was a similar divide over Lessons. Unlike work lesson attendance was technically not mandatory, though as the alternative was to have that time filled with more work most prisoners took them. And while sitting down and listening either to a human or their. For the first year they'd been on the Coldlander's Language and writing it. Useful stuff in truth as most of the guards only knew a few phrases in the Drow Language. But recently the lessons had gotten more abstract and their contents have gotten more controversial.

As such, on a cold winter's day after Lunch fifty Dark Elves trudged through the snow to the lecture hall. They took off their jackets and boots and went to their desks, sectioned off by a set of curtains into rows of four. Each of them was assigned an envelope and at the tolling of a small bell each of them took up their pencil and began to work. She read the first question, written in the Trade Dialect of Drow Language...

1: What is the Thirteenth Refutation?

Carefully she wrote down her answer: "Hyper Aggression is a poor survival strategy. Conflict for the sake of Conflict is weakness." This was basically the phrase word for word from 32 Refutations, the text that they'd been studying.

2: Give an example of the Thirteenth Refutation in action.

Talsi's response "A person fights everyone all the time and fights to kill. She's an exceptional fighter but she only makes enemies. Everyone hates her and they all want her either gone or preferably dead. In one fight she gets wounded, this leads to another wound in the next and her loosing in the one after that. If everyone did like she did there would be no cities or farms or any product of civilization as nobody could work together. This principle still applies if she made an occasional exception and got along with a small number of others, but still fought most people."

3: What is the First Refutation?

Her answer "The Drow claim ownership of everything but the Dark Elves have failed to conquer the world for 4,000 years."

There were twenty questions in total, each of which followed the same basic pattern: give the summarized version of one of the 32 Refutations and explain or elaborate on the outlined details. The book was composed of common Dark Elven beliefs as well as a response there-to. In general, the policy back home was to despise whatever delusions the humans had constructed as irrelevant noise from which they would be dispelled once the beasts of burden had been broken in. Only those of weak of spirit would give such nonsense any credence and those which held to such soft headed nonsense were disgraced by their foolishness. That attitude was still present among the POWs, though it was a shadow of what it once was. After all, once you've been captured alive any other disgraces you might have earned were pale shadows. She finished her responses fairly quickly, handed them with forty minutes to spare and spent it reading one of the magazines on the bench.

The next week in the usual routine of work, lessons and sleep. Then the marks were posted up on the lecture hall. She was somewhat surprised when she saw she got a perfect score. With that, she got some slaps on the back and some cheers and congratulations from her team and cadre. Even the few brief dirty looks she got from a few could not sour the experience.

The basics of the Point/Merit system was simple. Points could be used for extra rewards, ranging from time off to better rations and treats. Demerits either nullified points or resulted in more work, limited and reduced rations, unpleasant tasks such as clearing out the latrines and similar. You incurred demerits by causing trouble and failure to meet expectations earned Points by keeping your head down and not causing trouble, going above and beyond what was required as well as out performing your fellows and getting into the top 10% for productivity. Doing well or failing an exam also did the same. If you got less than 50% on an exam, you could get up to fifty demerits. Hand back a blank page and you'd be in for a miserable fortnight from the penalties and more. Just getting 50% would leave you with no better or worse off. For some, that was the goal that they strove for as there was a fair number of mark just over 50%. Do 51% or better and you began to earn more points in a fairly complicated scheme, but the gist of it was that higher scores earned more and that a perfect score got you 125 points. This was a big deal because of proxy points: every time you earned 5, everyone in your team gets one and every time you earn 25 everyone in your cadre gets one. Talsi had just earned more than a week off with extra rations and either tea or beer at every meal by her efforts alone and everyone else she worked with directly would have things a little bit easier in days to come. Whatever resentment she might get going forward would be eclipsed by that, especially since she'd use some of her new spare time to help out her fellows for the next exam in six months.



(Valcas Complex, Valnothron, Spring 38 IA)


Deep within the House Valcas' main complex, Lady Talnara quietly made her way down a winding series of corridors. Over the course of nine centuries this domain of industry of her family had grown incorporating the buildings of defeated rivals and was subject to innumerable rebuilds because of refurbishments, upgrades, fires, industrial accidents, acts of sabotage, slave riots and on a couple of occasions overt attacks by rival Houses. This meant that much of the extended facility was a rat's nest of hallways and odd rooms both above and below ground. Many of which were seldom used if at all and even then mostly for storage. Mostly they were retained simply because it was not worth the cost and bother of clearing them out. But they were also a prime place to hide things.

As such, after passing by several heavy oak doors and a couple of hidden checkpoints, the Lady found herself in small knot of rooms including a kitchen, dining room, dormitory, improvised bathroom, storage chamber, overseer's office and a workspace of several rooms that had been opened up to a degree. While the passages which led to this place were dark, cool, dingy and deliberately neglected this area was by contrast clean (or failing that neat), orderly, warm and was well lit, both from electric lights and the glimmer of forges. It was home to eight slaves which soon came out to prostrate themselves before their mistress, all of them Dwarves. This was slightly unusual in general terms. Only about one in twenty of the slaves in Valnothron were Dwarven in spite of high demand. They could last four times as long as human and could be excellent workers, even if they were as a rule hard to catch and break and bred slowly. On the other hand, most of them were owned by large industrial concerns such as Valcas Industries. What was more unusual was that three of the Dwarves had been captured from the wild. More specifically they had been Sand Dwarves from the Southern Deserts, the best of forty five bought at some expense from the Markets of Halrizuud.

She faced the main overseer, a descendant of her forth son who'd proven himself both a respectable manager, capable runesmith and one who could be trusted with sensitive information. "Mirnaln, you've reported a breakthrough."

"Yes Familiarch. Our biggest problem had to do with incorporating the glass element without disrupting the spells, but we've managed to work out a viable solution. We've tripled Flask capacity and I am confident we can improve on that."

Lady Talnara nodded. "And what about accidental discharge?"

Mirnaln looked nervous "That is still a bit of an issue if it is jostled around, though when it does happen total output is about on par with a Lightcell and it's easily disabled. It is a matter of fine craft, this is still new to us. Would you like to inspect our latest example?"

"Indeed."

"Duniel, bring the lady Flask 22." A female Dwarf rushed into a workshop, produced a small squat cylinder from a workbench and presented it to Lady Valcas. She took the artifact in on hand, feeling the weight of it. It looked a bit like an unlabeled cannister of food or a shell for one of the new cannons. It's outer shell was a cup made of cast iron with two bronze bands near each end, each engraved with runes. This outer cup was filled with glass of a remarkable blackness. An abyss from which no light could escape, which was in many ways the point.

"Pity we can't fill them with fireboxes." She said as she gave the flask back Duniel. "Then again, that was sort of the point of this enterprise. Keep up the good work."

A year had past since the end of the Escort War, a war which had taught hard lessons for this new age. The most obvious of which was driving home the absolute necessity of keeping up technologically, but just as important was the role that resources would play in the new Industrialized World. The resource situation had eased up over the past twelve months as new mines were opened in the colonies, existing mines were upgraded and international prices stopped rising. Even so, she could see the need for viable alternatives. In small desert holds cut off from timber or coal deposits, the Sand Dwarves had found one. First they used mirrors to focus sunlight for smelting minerals, then they worked out how to use runic magic to bottle it.

Lady Valcas had made a big show of supporting the Fidelium both as a military asset against the Coldlanders and their masters and a venture which could bring in millions of scimitars in the long term and made a big show of supporting so that others would get on board with it, accelerating it's growth. But in no small part her backing of Fidelium was a cover for another project she had in her mind. One that by all indications could get House Valcas a fortune, but untold leverage and might even give Valnothron an edge over Infrastructure.

[Zor]

(Vertebograd, Infrastructure, Spring 38 IA)
Shortly after the war Nadia Korsakov was demobilized. She'd considered staying on full time, but that would mean serious complications to other desires she had for her life. She spent a short while in Dalatyr, but eventually she decided to go south to Vertebograd. Infrastructure's first and greatest city was still too crowded and too dirty for her taste. The newer southern city proved to be a better fit and she soon carved out a niche for herself. She'd had a few credits saved up at discharged which she used to buy an Army Bike. Even with the general post, there was still a fair number of people who'd pay for courier work. Teaming up with a couple of similar vets with the same idea made things easier and more profitable. Winter was a problem as all three members of the Vertebograd Cycle Courier Cooperative (Vertebograd 3C as they soon called themselves) agreed, but when spring came business was booming yet again. To their surprise, they got an odd contract from the Ministry of Distribution.

Thus Nadia found herself one spring morning a kilometer outside of town on a stretch of country road with her bike in her old army uniform with a small collection of other people operating from a small ox cart. After a few minutes of set up they were ready to begin. She mounted a new bike, worked up a decent speed and then flourished her Cutlass. As she went by, a photographer got off a shot of her. They did so again and again about thirty more times. A couple of times she gave out a battle cry. She had to admit it was fun, even if it was absurd. Charging about with a sword like that was not approved doctrine, you were supposed to dismount and fight on foot. Even so, they seemed satisfied with her performance, even though there was a Thunderstorm on the horizon. She signed a few documents and made her way home. A hundred credits for her, fifty for Rolf and Cibor.

A week later on her usual rounds she saw herself on a factory wall. A poster of her rolling forward sword outstretched with a devil-may-care look on her face. She paused for a moment and looked at it closely and read the caption.

BE FEARLESS!

That was done in big bold red letters.

Sergeant Nadia Korsakov of Vertebograd 3C

That was done in her handwriting. Below the image was some more text

Model 38 Bicycle, now available! Starting at 135 Credits.

Sold and Serviced at Vertebograd Commercial Machinery, 38 Cooper Street

Ministry of Technology and Industry, Ministry of Transportation, Ministry of Distribution

Advertisement was of course nothing new to her, but it was strange to see her face put up like this.

"Hey Lady!" A young boy came up to her.

"Yeah?" She replied, more curious.

"Is that you?"

"Well, yes." She said somewhat embarrassed.

"Wow!" His mother soon came up to him.

"Hroldir, don't go bothering the lady." She said, turning to look at Nadia and saw the poster. "Well it is a good photo."

"Thanks." Nadia replied awkwardly. The mother then escorted her boy off to school. She'd soon see plenty more posters like that and get more comments about them in the coming weeks. Even so, business and Vertebograd 3C did well.

[CENTER][/CENTER]

(146km from Fidelium, Summer 38 IA)

The last year of Lianril ti'Darmyl's life had been dull, dull, dull. There were of course worse things than Dullness, he knew this fact quite well. The son of vassals to a middling Valnothron merchant house, most of his working life was spent on one ship or another both civilian and military. In his twenty seven years at sea, he'd faced storms, pirates and enemy warships, including one encounter with The Eternal Foe. Whatever the stories had to say about the thrill of battle against a worthy foe, for him the prospect of an agonizing death rather spoiled it. Similarly his family would be better served by a living son. He soon worked out that the best way to avoid that fate was to avoid it and while many of his over eager peers threw themselves for death and glory, he maintained a polite distance from peril while under arms. Most of his superiors generally considered considered him useful and left it at that, just as he wanted. One of the downside of that was you ended up doing more of the tedious load, but he'd long since accepted that as being a small price for his skin.

However there were other downsides to that plan, namely that the powers that be often see an unremarkable sailor and naval gunner as an expendable asset. He was brought back into service three years ago for the Escort War and while he was lucky enough not to be brought into an Ironclad's field of fire, he and ninety seven other poor sods and as many slaves were taken from the crews of a naval squadron and dumped on some tiny island in the middle of nowhere.

Ilianvir* Island itself was a tad less than twelve square miles of warm wet hilly forest, broadly triangular in shape with a bay on it's southern side. It was Uninhabited by anything beyond birds, lizards and turtles. The only signs of intelligent life was the occasional bit of nautical flotsam which washed up on shore and a single cottage set up by a scouting operation fifty years ago. Only a few officers had knowledge of the plan beforehand and they soon set about work. First setting up a camp and storage dumps, then a few cottages, and workshops, then a dock, traps and some lookout posts and finally a few bare bones fortifications. Hard work and with only a small workforce of slaves the garrison had to do more grunt work than would usually be expected. Lianril took much of it in stride and better than most, Dark Elves who were not part of an established house had to do things which would demean one of High Birth. Besides, the sooner it was done the more secure he would be.

On a quiet summer (or winter at this southern latitude, though seasons here usually manifested in rainfall more than anything) Lianril was stationed at the Western Battery. There were three batteries on Iliatin, each with fifteen Valcas rifled cannons (twelve 20-Vaul guns and three 30-Vaul heavies), one of which he leaned against as he peeled an apple with his knife. A fresh shipment had come in which had a few snow cooled barrels full of the fruit and he'd been making the most of them while they lasted. Of all the tasks on Ilianvir, this was the easiest. A little cleaning of gear, housekeeping of the shelter and magazine, keeping an eye out on the small number of slaves also stationed on that shift and an eye to the sea every now and again and beyond that the job was mostly just lounging around with the bi-weekly drill or rainy spell mostly spent indoors playing cards or Dynasty. In short, it was the easier job he'd ever had.

All of which, however assumed that nobody unpleasant showed up. They had enough firepower and elevation to do some serious damage to an attacking frigate and a decent reserve of arms, but not the manpower to man every gun with a full crew at once with lookouts and infantry screens. A couple of Arrowships or an Allergonian Navy Ship of the Line with a merchantman troopship could destroy their position, especially if they focused on one battery and landed forces elsewhere. Not that they were to withstand serious attack, at least at this stage. Their primary defense was secrecy and remoteness with the treaty with Infrastructure providing a useful secondary layer of defense. So far this had worked, though Lianril knew that everyone fretted about some leak or a snooping scout exposing them. Everyone knew that the powers that be would gladly expend far greater assets than them and that their destruction would be a setback to plans rather than their hard and fast conclusion.

But that was not today. As the peel was cut away Nainryth, a junior daughter of a minor warrior house, surveyed the seas. "The Newcomer's just rounded the bend."

"Sure it's them?" Lianril replied.

"We got a paddle galleon and an old trade brig flying the Valnothron Banner flying the right signal flags. Unless things have gone massively and utterly wrong it's them you human-brained moron." The tone of her voice made it clear that it was all in jest. The sequence had been given out to both ships via linkglass last night.

"Just checking, can't be too careful." He said as the last of the peel fell to the ground.

"Well when you're done with the snack, we should help our esteemed guests unload."

"Very well." He sighed as he began to cut wedges off the core. One of the advantages of such a remote post where nothing happened was that you could do without a lot of the stiff etiquette of the homeland. You know everyone and nobody is going to make a snit about matters. That would likely change as they got reinforcements and would change further if things went as planned.

In total another eighty Drow warriors, a hundred and sixty slaves and twelve human Proxies disembarked along with some additional provisions and weapons, including eight additional heavy guns. Lugging those damn things into position would be a major pain, leaving aside the shot. Even if they were a considerable boost to the island's firepower. The biggest addition to Ilianvir's assets however would be the brig Zhun**, which would call the small island base home. Five days after it's arrival, the little 150-ven ship was loaded with eighty slaves. Before it cast off, captain ti'Khairvas and a few drow witnesses administered the protocols of Renouncement and release. From the western batter, Lianril watched the Zhun make it's way towards the setting sun. Three days latter at noon, it returned safe and sound empty of passengers but full of reports.

As small and remote as it was, Ilianvir had one thing which made it desirable for Valnothron: location. Being ninety one miles from the Southern Continent, it was far enough that the Raptors gave it no consideration (as probing efforts had found out) and close enough that it served as a useful staging point for another operation. Instead of having to move supplies and slaves slowly ashore in launches, a cargo ship could simply unload it's payload on the island from which it would be quickly shuttled to Fidelium.

As time would go on, this base would grow and would be reinforced. Some of the original garrison would move on as career and family required while a few would stay on given the opportunities presented. Lianril was in the latter camp and while he did rise in station considerably, he would miss those easy early days.

*Rest Station
**Ox
[CENTER][/CENTER]

(Valcas Compound, Late Autumn 38 IA)

Even though there were less crises to sort out over the last nineteen months, Lady Talnara's schedule was still full. Between the Council, Fidelium and the house's various industrial concerns and projects she was constantly busy. In general she had enough people to delegate the tasks that she assigned them and many skilled underlings and slaves to accomplish their required tasks. But there was still an incredible amount to do at the top, which was only getting more complex as time went on. Money was flowing in like never before but so were expenses. On a cool winter day she went to inspect something which was not only bringing in the former, but also alleviating the latter.

In one of the larger structures on the growing main complex after a meeting with it's senior management, she toured the operations under the guidance of Weitas ti'Halsath, an ironmistress who was one of their best experts on steam engine manufacturing mostly from elevated walkways. She showed the lady around the various chambers where iron was cast, massive drop hammers where steel was forged, lathes bored, grinders ground along with a large number of regular slave smiths with hammers. While there were windows the setting was mainly Illuminated by the glow of furnaces and new electric lighting. Pipe were formed out of lengths of steel. Some smaller parts were made in smaller workshops. Large parts were carried along either by hand cart or on suspended rails to assembly stations, where teams of slaves worked to bring it all together. It was impressive to see all of this in action

In the end she was led outside where over a hundred slaves were gathered and bowed before their mistress. Between them was their handiwork, which had recently completed some tests. Weitas eagerly explained the workings of the machine. Seeing blueprints or even photographs of these machines was one thing, but having one in front of you was another entirely. In particular she took an interest in the modern set of gauges in the cabin. The fact that these things could burst was definitely something to be worried about was reason enough to put them in, but the insight that they provided on the workings of the machine were both obviously useful beyond that and intriguing in their own right.

"The reports said that you have doubled it's strength?" Talnara asked,

"Better than that my lady, we measured Number 34's output at 220% that of our first batch's average. We've made a few adjustments since then, boosting total performance by 12%." Weitas replied.

"Any complications with these revisions?"

"Nothing unusual. Most of them were reinforcement of the structure at key points and post test inspections are promising. If anything we've improved on reliability."

"So it should beat it's speed record of forty six miles per hour?"

"Possibly my lady to a small degree, though the larger benefit would be in towing capacity." Weitas said with that subtle nervousness one gets when correcting one's liege on a point which remained positive. "Speed records may be impressive, but locomotives don't usually move with just a tender. Being able to pull a full load at 26 miles per hour vs 23 and being better able to handle hills is a more substantive advantage."

"Of course. Matters mechanical are your domain, though given to whom Number 37 is destined to serve this is good to know." This locomotive would be sent overseas to a line set up to serve House Zharhys, a colonial upstart who's estates were sited on some coal rich mountains. A 170 mile new line (their longest line yet) was under construction linking Talyrisvel to that estate which should be completed in about three months. Once done it could bring in hundreds of tonnes of premium anthracite for export (or the growing new Valcas Talyrisvel Ironworks) every day, going up to thousands once there was a down line.

At the time there was one operational railway in Valnothron's home territory and another in the colonies, plus three more under construction, with five more in the planning stages. All of them set up were Valcas operations and all but one of them set up after the conclusion of the Escort War. They were costly undertakings due to resource shortages, but efforts were being pushed forward on that front for a variety of reasons. Fulfilling obligations of past deals was part of it as was helping to alleviate the immediate shortages as well as those houses who desired a piece of the action. But the biggest motivation was the need to preserve their lead establish Valcas dominance in the emergent rail network quickly as possible. Oddities such as using a more nautical engine design was a byproduct of this rapid development. But that lead to another question.

"What about the next generation project?" Lady Valcas asked.

"Preliminary castings for the new body are underway, as well as the new horizontal piston assemblies. We should have a basic mock up for stress and power trials ready in about six months so we can iron out the kinks, after that we should have a new Coldland pattern prototype ready for trials a year from now, give or take a few months." Weitas was enthusiastic, a sign of someone who liked her work. "I'd still recommend that continue with the Double Expansion units for at least the next two years even if everything goes as planned. We're making a new one every week now and we can use parts from the riverboats division and vice versa and they'd still be useful in mines and shunting. Scaling back their production gradually lets us work out residual kinks and adjust the set up piecemeal without much dead time. But once that's done we should be able to get locomotives that can get up to sixty miles per hour on it's own pulling full loads along at 30 to 35, and that's for the first run and that's being conservative my Lady."

"I'd agree, but there are other Houses working on locomotives both at home and abroad. Even so I am pleased with your work so far."

"It is an honor my Lady." the Ironmistress said making a polite bow.

[CENTER][/CENTER]

(Dalatyr, Winter 39 IA)

On a cool winter morning in Dalatyr, Oxana Mironov disembarked from a train and made her way inland. Most people would have seen a kindly late middle aged women with skin made leathery from hard work in the fields, an assessment which was not wrong but overlooked important. Most notable of which was that for the last ten years she'd been Foreman of Vilsimi Agricultural Cooperative (Coop 42), an organization of 43 farms about eighty kilometers from the capital city working together and among the successful of such organizations in the Oblast in no small part beyond of her leadership, deal making and the operation of side ventures such as running a profitable brewery and jam factory. Now she had another venture in mind.

She made her way to the Ministry of Transportation's head office, produced a letter for an appointment and waited for about half an hour until she wash led to a small forth story office and was met with a young Bureaucrat, one Dinara Dobrynin (Level . She hung up her jacket and pits and made her way in. The small room had a number of posters and technical diagrams pinned to the walls, a good sign.

"Good day, Foreman Mironov." Dinara said. "I hope your trip to the city was pleasant."

"It was my dear," Oxana replied sweetly "and I hope you're doing well. I am here on behalf of my cooperative" she tapped her official badge of office "to look into getting a Lorry."

"Of course." She said as she fished out some papers from her desk. "As it stand the Dalatyr Motorpool has thirty one lorries available for sale including six Series-7 units, six Series-8s, sixteen Series-9s and three Series-10s." She handed the sheet to Oxana who turned it down.

"Thank you, my dear, but we are not interested in a used Lorry. Rather we'd like a new one, one of those new Series-12s." Oxana gestured to a poster on the wall. "Lovely Machines that they are."

"This is rather irregular," The Bureaucrat replied "All new construction is slated for Ministry of Transport use."

"And we would not think to impose on the efficient execution of the Central Committee's plan. Instead we'd like to commission one of those fine vehicles."

"Any particular reason why you'd want a new one?" Dinara said, curious.

"First of all, we'd want something which would last us a good while. Secondly by all accounts the new Type-12s are real marvels, the drivers which come by for pickups always speak highly about them. Third they're quick, and when you're bringing eggs, fruit, vegetables and milk to market it's best to get them there as quickly as possible. Forth a nice shiny new Lorry with the Coop's Badging would be good for business. We have a capable mechanic on hand who's kept our tractor and other machines going."

"Fair enough," the bureaucrat asked "but I must warn you that it won't be cheap."

"I know that and I'm prepared." She produced a check and handed it over. "Would 25 Kilo cover it?"

The Bureaucrat looked at the check with satisfaction. There was a 2% Commission on vehicles sales, nearly three weeks salary. "Very well, I'll have to make a few calls. Please take a seat, i'll call up some tea."

And so for the next two hours Dinara sent requests, signed a number of documents brought her way talked, with a few of her fellow Bureaucrats in person and more on the phone and eventually drafted a note. Eventually she gave her a contract to sign and told her to come back tomorrow at eight the next morning. When she returned, Dinara told her that the request had been approved and that the new Lorry should be ready in two to three months. Seventy six days latter, it was delivered to the Coop 42 with a photographer to put the image of the new vehicle in the news.

The Central Committee had a certain reticence about the sale of Roadsteamers to private firms, preferring to maintain a fleet of Lorries, Vans and Buses for it's own uses renting out services for businesses. There were several reasons for this ranging from to the expense to build and operate the machines and a desire limit the spread of technology beyond Infrastructure. As it's fleet grew and improved, older machines were auctioned off starting in 27 IA. The Committee quietly changed the policy after the escort war, but even so it took a fair bit of time before anyone seriously inquired about obtaining a new vehicle. That someone was willing to pay several year's wages on a road vehicle was good as far as the Committee was concerned as it kept the currency circulating. Over the course of 39 IA, another forty four Series-12 roadsteamers would be commissioned by coops, collectives, companies and other such concerns. This was only the beginning.

[CENTER][/CENTER]

(Outside Fidelium, Late Winter 39 IA)

For thirteen years Kanslu Tijan-Kromkah Tivosh had been Warlord of the Tivosh Host, a nomadic group some 4,300 souls strong which roamed the southern grasslands. One did not become a Warlord by birth, one had to prove himself to his fellows with deeds and leadership on the battlefield and the right words, attitudes and connections off of it. One stayed a Warlord by one's wits and whatever private doubts and worries he had about his capacities, he knew that there were plenty of Warlords which were blatantly deficient in that regard. He'd personally slain one of them, had his men dispatch three more, forced several others into retreat and had seen or heard reports of many more. He took the latter of these with a grain of salt, but often confirmation and corroboration would often come to to light.

As an example he'd heard reports over the last year or so, a set strange people came in boats from the open ocean and set up a village near the mouth of the Gnoi-Halkhom River. A passing host would attempt a raid, only to find that these people had heavy armor and barking thunder weapons which could cut men and terror birds down at a very long range and be either repulsed or destroyed. Which host did so varied, as did specifics of the raid (sometimes it was just a party that was destroyed, other times it was one or more companies) and the defenders and there was of course the usual inflation that came up. Either way, he was not impressed. He could understand a serious raid being repulsed once or twice or the loss of a couple of scouting forces, but repeated failures against an unknown but obviously powerful force was in his mind either the result of hosts led either had idiot glory hunters or ineffectual ditherers unable to reign in their more reckless subordinates. Especially since this lined up with more remote tales from the north. Even so, if even part of the story was true Kanslu saw potential.

Six months ago, he'd steered the host off the usual track into foothills around Gnoi Bay for a couple of days. Once there and after his scouts had confirmed that something was there, he sent out an envoy: Two porters, two guards on Terror Birds bearing the Host's symbols and playing flutes, an Elder who was good with languages and a sloth bearing an assortment of trinkets. They were told to make no hostile moves, to flee at the first sign of trouble, to offer a gift and if possible open up talks. To his relief, the plan worked like a charm and the next day sixty two llamas (each carrying a load of maize) was traded for a selection of iron pots, pans, tools, knives, a couple wagon wheels, a bunch of other odds and ends, a few boxes of iron arrowheads and seven odd but definitely deadly forged war blades. Definitely a good hall, though they were told that an even better one would be ready in half a year for the right price. After spending the next months wandering, trading, extorting and on one occasion raiding another host. When they returned near the summer solstice he met with a party of them near their town, which had noticeably grown since the last time he'd come.

As they discussed matters, Kanslu took in as much as he could about the newcomers. There were two different types of them, each of them dressed differently and spoke a different language among themselves among other more subtle distinctions. The main group dressed more simply as a general rule and tended to be quiet and unobtrusive even when carrying arms, though among them you'd see most variety. There were stoney face warriors among their ranks, but also timid workers, fixated scribes (one of whom acted as a translator) and leading them priests in long gowns and tall hats. Something approximating the peoples of Piscap or Azikalr, though he'd only ever been to the former twice and knew of the latter only from stories and occasional news from the Far South. One of their priests officiated over the deal, consulting with her pet scribe as she went and occasionally giving a brief prayer to the heavens in her tongue. The other were less numerous but quite visible. They were all warriors from what he could see, spoke their own, wore more armor and a lot of clothing that was worn but also more ornate and colorful than their counterparts. They carried themselves with a mixture of sarcasm and swagger, but were always wary. Their leader was covered from head to foot in cloth and metal including a helmet with a set of metal dog ears. Occasionally he'd give a couple of words of commentary when asked, but mostly he just stood there undoubtedly cooking in his metal get up. From what he could gather the mainstream of the colony defined themselves as by being defined by passionate piety and a devotion which drove them while the outliers were fighting men working the more common type as they were somehow profiting doing so. Useful information to be sure.

The negotiations were not exactly short, but proceeded fairly smoothly. He inspected the contents of their crates and they looked over what he brought and there was some distorted commentary. The newcomers had enough general Gosho words to form coherent if mangled sentences more often than not, even if they spent a while going on with "him foot...walk odd walk hard...lift high that foot always" and so forth to try to convey that one of his stock had a bit of a limp. Even so, he managed to strike a bargain he found more than acceptable. Thirty Six slaves and Fifty Five Llamas with loads of maize were exchanged for more of those trade goods, including forty swords, thirty halberd heads, fifty helmets, twelve breastplates and one of their Fire-Tube weapons with three hundred shots worth of it's explosive food and lead balls and the assistance of one of their warriors in explaining it's complex operation. Enough gear to outfit two whole parties of warriors with them along with an excellent if still rather limited weapon.

Over the next few months, Kanslu's doubts about dealing with these "Fidelians" gradually faded. His people were doing well from trade, tribute and war, deaths were down and his popularity among his captains and his elders remained solid as they prepared for the next trade stop at the mouth of the Gnoi-Halkhom River. A new partnership had been struck, one which would in coming decades spread terror far and wide.

[CENTER][/CENTER]

[Zor]

(Bluewine Bay, near the Anvosi Penisula, Late Winter 39 IA)

In Bluewine Bay on a cool winter day, two ships were on patrol. The flag of the Serene Republic of Venoa fluttering from their lookout towers. The SVS Ferlando il Vecchio and the SVS Temporale (formerly the Crocomander*) steamed along at a sedate seven knots, following the coast of the Anvosi Peninsula as their flags fluttered. A squadron of steam galleys leading ahead of them, another following their rear just in case, though none of the other powers dared cause trouble.

From the Bridge of Ferlando il Vecchio, Captain Malonso Cosetti surveyed the seascape, taking in the sailboats in the distance and the faint outline of land on the western horizon. It was normal and calm and muffled rumble of the engines chugging along was a pleasant underscore for this. By dint of extensive command experience and a couple of victories against Seraphate Privateers in the Dragon's Teeth on the Scia a year ago he'd been given command of her. She was not the first Venoan Ironclad, that honor had gone to the Brocchiero, though she was a regular steam galley with iron plates bolted on in hasty preparation for a war which fortunately never came. Ferlando il Vecchio in contrast was purpose built from stem to stern as an ironclad for an age of Ironclads. Eighty two yards long, she was bigger than any warship he'd ever served on, on top of being the hardest. Up to 10 Uncia* of of cast iron plate would do that. She was armed for the New Age based on reports of the Escort War. She currently carried two massive 160-Pounder rifled cannons in a forward mounted fully enclosed turret, plus twenty three 24-pounders broadside and chase. What she lost in Weight-of-Metal compared to a Ship of the Line she made up for in range, accuracy and power per shot. Especially given that there were plans on the Drawing Board for better guns. If all else failed she had her Runic Ram.

In short, he loved his new command. Some features like the large Venoan Naga Statue on top of the bridge was a bit much for him, but he could forgive the Arsenal. Even so, in his shadow sailed a ship which he had mixed feelings. Last year, after much negotiation in distant Dalatyr, the Serene Republic managed to buy an Infrastructural Navy warship. She had been monumentally expensive, about 253,000 Lyra from what he'd heard, more than the Ferlando il Vecchio cost to build despite She small size. She was delivered a couple months ago with everything in place save for her Radio signaling device. Technically she was a marvel, he would not deny that. She had a remarkable 2,410 horsepower engine and a top speed of 19 knots (nearly as powerful and seven knots faster than Ferlando despite being a fifth of her displacement), was steel hulled rather than iron hulled, could handle the high seas better than most Venoan warships, leaving aside it's sixteen Coldlander Guns. On top of that there were other small things he'd admired about Temporale when he toured her upon her arrival. The ugly little ship was impressive and had a reputation, which was part of the reason why she was sailing around the peninsula. A show of wealth and strength to the other Avonsi states as well as the Drow and the Dalisids.

For all of that, Malonso questioned the wisdom of employing her directly like this. As powerful as she was, she could still be lost in a storm, being swarmed or by sabotage. In his mind, it would be best to keep Temporale near Venoa or possibly stationing her the Dragon's Teeth while letting The Arsenal's engineers and shipwrights look over her every rivet and bolt and pipe day and night until they could build something as good. If that meant dismantling her to take notes of all the parts, so be it. He knew that he was not the only captain in the Venoan Navy who felt like this, but for now the Admiralty had other plans for their new toy. Naval warfare had changed and by all appearances would continue to change. He just hoped the powers that be in his nation would keep up.

*Improved Hunter-class, launched in 36 IA
**26cm


Treinevin, High Kingdom of Ilvannas, Spring 39 IA)

Tormias Yvianne, Third Master of the Red Circle of the Order of the Crescent Moon was not an outgoing sort. He loved the royal city of Treinevin, but he found much of what intrigued many of his fellows to be quite boring. The politics and intrigues of the court and the nobility, the galas and balls, the constant background chatter of gossip, all of which were either to him as dull as dishwater or a troublesome bother. The works of magecraft, from the martial to the practical to the aesthetic and the collections of arcane lore were another matter entirely. He'd spent most of his five centuries in his workshop or one of the various libraries and common rooms where he could talk shop with his various colleagues. There were always new mysteries of to unravel and new challenges he was presented with. The latest of which had been a particular challenge, though one he had met.

He was reading up on reports on novel applications of Geomancy by the humans of the Southern Continent when there was a slight dimming of the lights which announced the arrival of a formal visitor. He got to his feet and opened the door. On the other side was a serious woman he'd come to know.

"Lady Beilvian." He said politely, Kailvei Beilvian had been his liaison to his majesty's government for the last few decades.

"Master Yvianne" she gave a slight bow "I ask that I might enter?" Like most servants of the High King she put a high importance of formality, normally Tormias would find this annoying but despite that he'd developed a good working relationship with her. She knew when he was on the right track, how to find the help he needed, how to nudge him back without fuss and she made an honest effort to understand at least the basics of what he was doing.

"Of course." He replied. She stepped over the threshold.

"By your last report this simple venture has reached it's conclusion?" There was just a touch of the sardonic in that sentence, his current assignment had taken two years. A not insubstantial time frame even for someone who might live to see his thousandth birthday.

"Yes, after plunging into the unknown filling up several codices, painstaking experimentation, consultation with specialists, false starts and delicate magecraft, I can safely say that I have achieved what the High King has required of me. Give me another example and I could get the work done in a fortnight at most."

Kailvei gave a nod of the head in acknowledgement. "May I see your finished work?"

"Certainly." Tormias said as he led her into a formerly locked chamber and lit a floating manalamp. On a table lay the object in question. When you saw it in person it was quite horrible, though Tormias had been working with it for some time.

"However they make this material, treating it like cloth or leather just won't work. What I came up with in short was based more on ceramic restoration and golemcraft than that. It was a delicate process, but i've contrived something which can mend itself from cuts, scrapes and abrasions, incorporating in new material. Yesterday I made some minor incisions on the left arm..." He held up the appendage "and there is now no sign of them. It will require occasional Mana infusion in the Coldlands, but that can easily be arranged and if she treats it as we'd treat our skin it should last for centuries."

"And the special feature you talked about?"

"I brought in a member of the Golemwright's guild for that and I've confirmed what I had surmised. It was a basic application of a secondary attribute, without place for a proper chem we could not do more than that."

"Nor would we want to. They possess incredible strength and such a move would cost us in the long run. There are subtler means of rebuke and this one falls within the stipulations of the boon."

"Of course. I was simply outlining the process. In any case we'd achieved the desired ends with more basic imprinting."

Kailvei grinned. Most people who saw it agreed that the thing on the table was horrible, a shockingly accurate simulacrum of a human skin with a uniform texture. A thing used by a member of the Central Committee of Infrastructure to resemble their subjects by literally putting on a pleasant face. Tormias thought so too when it first arrived two years ago, but in time it just became another item to work with. He had been tasked by the High King to fulfill a boon he'd extended to one of those strange beings, admittedly that was before they took the first opportunity to give up the fight against The Corrupted despite their nigh invulnerable fleet.

Royal Boons from the High Kingdom had been a useful tool of diplomacy for millennia. A useful lever to steer the realms of men and dwarves along the proper path. They had their limitations, of course. These gifts were never a sure-fire way of getting results and when the offer is extended and taken up the Throne was bound to try to fulfill it besides the most extreme circumstances. Even so, there was room for more subtle rebukes in creative interpretation for those which displeased the High King. A shimmering dress of shifting colors which turns vivid green when the user lies. The finest runic blade which is exceptional at cutting things, but one who's spell was always at least partially active which (among other things) made conventional scabbards useless. This one was more subtle, its effects less pronounced and it's potential for physical harm was remote. Enough for deniability in the face of inquiry but enough to convey the displeasure of the High King and help change Supernova's alien mind.

Tormias could appreciate the sentiment intellectually but not emotionally. To him the fact that he managed to meet and overcome this challenge was the real prize.



(Fidelium, Late Spring 39 IA)

When Acel Nicellon of Fallion's Fists company first found himself in Fidelium, his first thought was to find a bar. This was his usual custom when finding himself in a new place, though he was both more eager to do so after the ten week long voyage and more able to do so quicker than usual given his new position. During the voyage Captain Tsionis died of a stroke and he was voted in to replace him. The position came with a few special privileges including the services of Kenth, an orderly that would handle his gear. As soon as his people had disembarked and he'd made sure that the provided quarters were in good order (better than he'd expected in fact) and the lieutenants and Vernsburg the quartermaster could sort out of the rest of billeting he went in search for a place to drink without jostling with his men. Of the two present, he decided to go with the one not set for the the general population. It was little more than a shack surrounded by an awning and a few rough tables, but he'd delved far worse dives in his career. The fact that it was mostly empty was a positive sign in his books.

To his surprise, he was soon met by a short fellow who came up to him. "Could I buy you a drink? We got Beer or Grog with or without lime." He spoke in Allergonian.

"Beer with lime, at least to start." Acel replied. "I've had more than enough Grog for now."

"Understandable. Adele, two beers!"

"Well that's kind of you Mr..."

"Diels, Captain Gerhart Diels of the Grunerhund." He tapped a patch on his doublet. "And I gather you're the captain of our newest company?"

"I'm new to the job but yes." Acel replied. "I trust that you don't have a problem with that." Mercenary companies often butted horns when put together.

"Why should it? We're both getting paid by the Ash-Hides mostly for security work. There's little worthwhile plunder over here and Their Holy Hatnesses and their pet scribes are decent at divvying that up for what it's worth. Thirteen Months ago Pawel Rotblat came in with Steel Weasels and we've gotten along by the same rules: keep your boys in line and don't be an ass and we'll get along just fine." A pair of mugs was set by them by a woman. "Thanks Adele."

Acel got his mug and took a swig. "Not Bad." He said, a man who was quite familiar with bad beer. "It's Adele's brew?"

"Hers and Markus's, when he's not on patrol that its. He's one of my men, apparently he was apprentice brewer until he was caught sleeping about with the master's daughter and had to leg it."

Acel nodded, it was a normal enough reason for a lad to join up with a company. "Well, one more reason not to start a fight then."

"I'd drink to that" Gerhart said before taking a swig. "But it's far from the biggest reason. You know what that is?"

"What?" Acel said.

"Back home we're just discount gristle for the grinder. Here, me and my men have something to look forward to beyond debt and a mass grave. Fidelium may not look like much now, but it's coming together and growing. The Drow dumped three hundred more slaves here last month and they dropped off our wives and kids the month before that. They're making a huge cheese, we're going to get a nice thick slice of it and we'll do anything to make sure it happens. And you know what I'll do right now to see that gets done?"

"What?"

"Get you Lunch of course! We're in this together with a mountain of money and more in sight, why trip each other up with some stupid grudge that never needs to happen? Adele, two heavy Roast Llama Sandwiches, extra dripping!"

"HA!" Acel said as he slapped the table. "Can't agree with you more."



(Open Ocean, West of Dragonstorm Bay, Early Summer 39 IA)


On the deck of a cargo galleon that was part of a small westward bound fleet there was a sparing match. Two at a time, men would take up a shield and wooden sword and attempt to land blows on the other. Three strikes and you'd be out. As this happened seventy eight other men would cheer, jeer and make small bets for a few pfennings. A couple dozen youths between ten and twenty wearing the heraldic jackets of squires and pages. Spirits were generally high among the fighting men, everyone went in with at least a gambeson and a padded cap with some having more serious steel armor. They all knew the importance of keeping their skills up and it was fun. In particular there was one fellow who proved himself, beating five challengers without taking a single blow, a handsome man of twenty three years named Danhil von Kaninsholz. As he managed to best a sixth challenger with an impressive faint and parry, the cheers of his peers rose higher than it had done this morning. After his page returned to him his actual blade (signifying that he was out for the day), he heard a loud slow clap of massive man clad in full runic plate as he approached him. The rest of the gathered passengers gave a slight bow.

"My Graf." Danhil said to his commander and liege lord Graf Ervin von Dachshügel, a well respected battle-scared veteran of several campaigns against the Drow, orcs and the breakaway Kingdom of Tormalvia who'd lead all these men on campaign, even if Danhil had just been a squire back then.

"Herr Kaninsholz, a Ritter needs more than just skill with a blade. Especially in this new era. Nor is sparing a substitute for battlefield experience." The Graf's voice was gravely and firm, but he grinned. "That said, your performance in tourney, sword drill and the marksman's range are impressive. Remember to keep that handsome head on your shoulders and you'll go far my lad."

"Thank you Sir." There was a cheer from Danhil's fellows as his fellows jostled him.

"You're real trial by combat will come soon enough." He backed away and his voice shifted in cadence to something which carried more easily. "On that note, the captain has informed me that we are out in the open sea and more than a hundred miles from shore and our course will keep us from land until it's conclusion. We're far from prying ears and so I'm at liberty to disclose our mission." There was a mutter of grumblings of the 'about time' nature. As much as they respected him, the Graf's knights had not liked being dragged off hundreds of miles from their fiefs and stowed on a ship with nothing more than 'we've got orders from high places' as a justification. "It turns out in that to the south of the Coldlander's colony in the far Southwest the Dark Elves have managed to set up a colony of their own, from what we gather the Ash-Hides can't set foot their themselves but they can dump their chattel there with some Janissaries and some discount mercenaries to keep them in line in a mess they call 'Fidelium'. We don't know much about this land, but anything those degenerates have planned can't be good. The High Kingdom is barred from this land as well and the Committee have their hands tied by a short sighted peace treaty. That leads good honest Allegonian men to clean this up."

"Assigned to this expedition are two companies of levies and one company of armsmen. The Navy has three frigates and the Ship of the Line Rache, providing fire support and carrying another two companies of marines. And of course we should not forget ourselves." There was mild laughter. "According to Infrastructural scouting there are about six to seven thousand people in Fidelium, among them about five hundred mercs and four hundred Jannies while they've dug in and have thirty two naval guns set up in batteries along with maybe a hundred horses and these strange giant riding chicken things. They also were apparently arming their populace, for what little that's worth. A few more may arrive before we show up, but things are not likely to change. They have have a slight advantage in numbers and are dug in, but we have more firepower and some of the finest knights in the world. As always, we must be careful and cautious. Even so, Eighty Ritter astride mighty destriers thundering across these southern planes, bullets plinking off their armor with gleaming blades aloft and master-craft pistols in hand as they crash through the their ranks. Such a magnificent death we will give these wretches. And when the dust settles by Imperial Decree, the Fidelians will know true freedom as we fragment that farce of a realm into new set of fiefs fit for this old badger's fine collection of fellows."

And with that the there was a cheer. Distant lands or not, nothing motivated a knight to battle like the prospect of a new fief full of peasants for him and his house.



(Open Ocean, Early Summer 39 IA)

Five days after the Graf's announcement the lookouts sighted something strange to the southwest. A long narrow craft with three tall masts with sails lowered and a trail of smoke which belied the engine carrying it forward. At first people had thought it was one of the big Coldlander cargo ships, but it flew no flag and bore no Hexigon. Instead there was a sharp angular design on it's prow, which was enough for the alarm to be given. Danhil was eating lunch when the bells began to ring and the crew ran to their stations. The Ranche and the Frigates formed a defensive line by the cargo ships, frigates in front to take it's flanks and the Ship of the Line behind it to hammer it once engaged. Danhil and his fellows rushed into their armor as quickly as they could with the aide of their squires. Anyone who'd try to board the Summer Rain would be in for a nasty surprise. There was some shuffling, but everything proceeded smoothly and people were in a good mood as they made their way to positions they thought advantageous.

In Danhil's case, this was behind a launch, offering him cover, a place to leap out from and a view of the proceedings. A few seconds after he'd sat down, he saw the Frigate Ahlspiess ravaged by the first salvo. Wood was sent flying while two plumes of water rose up around her, one of which followed by an explosion. He heard the roar of explosions two seconds latter and report of the cannons which launched them shortly after that as a distant rumble. He could make out the distant figure of the ship on the horizon and soon he saw it's bow guns fired a second salvo. Ten seconds latter the Ahlspiess was hit again by three more Shells. Three seconds after impact, one of the shells went off, setting off the others and soon after the magazine. The remaining three ships turned to avoid the burning wreck. The remaining three ships responded as best they could, with the wind at their backs they could not retreat, but they could try to fight their way past this assailant. They fired their forward chase guns at extreme range, but their chances of hitting anything were poor even with the new rifles. The Arbalest was dispatched three minutes after that despite the first salvo sent it's way failing to hit anything besides it's sails. The Glaive lasted a bit longer, being in the arc of only three guns and larger. It's magazine did not go off and it it's gundecks fired off a respectable number of shots, but it was soon enough left a burning broken wreck. Once the last of the Frigates had been destroyed it turned to bring itself to bare on the Rachne. The Imperial Ship of the Line got off the first broadside, thirty four guns spoke throwing over a ton of metal into the Aggressor. Ten seconds latter, it fired off a broadside of it it's own with nineteen guns, seconds latter the Rachne was wracked by explosions. Two masts toppled and fires were set. A second broadside a minute and a half latter was enough to finish the job.

The next few minutes on the Summer Rain were panic. The crew of the ship desperately tried to heave-too and get away as that unstoppable juggernaut closed in on him, bossing knights to help them with the rigging. Some objected, Danhil didn't. There was a lot of shouting and a fight of some sort that ended with the Graf giving someone an ass kicking, though the shouting persisted. This concluded when the rear half of the ship was blown apart. In the panic, a coherent thought managed to get through his head, he began ripping off his armor as fast as he could, using his runic sword to cut straps that he could not fumble open. He'd freed up his legs and arms when a second shell burst. Ironically enough what was left did save him from fragments, though by that point the ship was taking on water and listing badly. Several people led by the Graf and the Summer Rain's first officer struggled to get a launch into the water the right way up, but there was soon a scrum over it and people began falling overboard. Several knights floundered, a decent chunk of their number did not know how to swim and many that did found that wearing twenty kilos of steel made it a hell of a lot harder. When he hit the water Danhil cut free his breastplate and tossed off his helm, letting both of them along with the rest of his 312 Marks worth of armor sink without him. Despite everything he kept his sword with him as he swam to what he thought was a door and drove it into the timber as he began to paddle away. The Summer Rain's powder supplies exploded soon after that. They were not big, but they were large enough to some mayhem on the wreck.

For about a hour he rested on his bit of flotsam as he watched further carnage unfold as the other three cargo ships were wiped out. Then he watched as the aggressor sailed by after turning around passed by him. He got a better view of it than he had beforehand. From what he could see, not only had it wiped out a respectable Imperial flotilla it had done so without suffering any real damage. He'd heard the reports of the Coldlander's naval victories and like many people had thought that they had been embellished. Now he knew better, even though he knew there was a bitter irony given who'd built and operated it. He'd suspected it before and he could just make out enough to confirm it. To his relief, they were not in the mood to shoot survivors and if they had not started now, they would not start latter.. He'd seen a few boats laying low, all he had to do was wait until the ship passed, call to them to pick him up and sail east to the shipping lanes, or Torion or Oestia.

Unfortunately for Danhil, the battle had attracted the attention of other minds. One that knew not of the conflicts of men and elves. that strangely shaped floating things floated along the surface which would occasionally group up, make a awful racket and drop into the water (among other things) a lot of protein. The only warning that Danhil got was a slight shift in the water by his legs as pair of massive jaws opened up in front of him before suddenly closing with incredible force, dragging him under and then swallowing him whole. To a fifty-one meter long Leviathan a lone human male was just a morsel, but there were plenty to go around.

Captain Darhymis ti'Xhalin of the Zaethan* observed him go under from the bridge of her newest command as she surveyed the remains. The giant sea lizards were just one of the hazards of the open ocean but if the damn thing wanted to feast on remains of the Imperial attack fleet headed for Fidelium it was more than welcome. There were a couple of boats afloat, including one with a surprising number of juveniles, though she'd been told to let them go. Not that it was a huge loss. Gathering up a few dozens slaves would have only taken a couple hours at most for a few extra scimitars, but the Admiralty was eager to inspect the damage her ship had suffered and they wanted someone to bare witness to it's power. Most Allergonian launches had a Condenser Flask that could separate salt from seawater and if they did not hit a storm they had a decent chance of survival. She'd have a few manaflares sent up just in case. Loathe as she would be to admit it to anyone, the thought of the High King's pawns (human and High-Elf alike) facing the same dread she'd known when she'd sailed to Daagsgrad was deeply satisfying. Beyond that, she was confident that the Zaethan could engage an Infrastructural Ironclad one on one and win, at least one of the little ones. Along with that there was the knowledge that House Valcas's myriad minions were busy not only making more like her, but were also working hard on ships and guns that were better.

*Scimitar

[Zor]

(Fidelium, Summer 39 IA)

Early one morning a small ship put into port at Fidelium. Soon after it had docked and had been moored, it disgorged a stream of people manhandling crates and barrels as they did so leaving a set of stevedores to handle the rest. Soon afterwards they were led to a small rough structure nearby. Most of them waited, but one by one they were processed. At the front of the queue was a young woman in a straw hat.

"Day's blessings. Do you have your documentation?" He asked in a brisk if sympathetic tone.

"Of course honored-one." She said, giving a faint bow before handing over a small cheap booklet, each of the other new arrivals had one like it or a folio or envelope with similar reports. Law required that records be kept by masters, overseers and dealers, though the format was still not standardized. This example was far more ledgible. He began to read through it.

"Name?"

"Beili Sixth of Yuliaj." The man in the lectern began to write that in.

"Age?"

"Nineteen." Beili replied.

"Consecration?"

"No." She looked a bit awkward as she said it.

"State of Origin?"

"Valnothron."

"Previous masters?"

"House Kairyth, born and raised."

"Previous designation and skills?"

"Fieldhand, mostly. I've also raised pigs, made sausages, driven carts, done needle work and some cooking on the estate. I also did some label sticking, net weaving and work in a paper mill in town during the winter."

"Any goods assigned to you in particular?"

"Just my clothes and my papers."

"Any disciplinary problems?"

"Nothing too serious..." she said hesitantly "...just the mistakes of a foolish girl with proper correction applied by the masters." He looked over the list of infractions and it was broadly true. Not flawless but nothing truly serious that had got her anything worse than the occasional lash or caning.

"Have you been sent to Fidelium with anyone from your estate with whom you would describe as either a blood relative, conjugal partner, part of a physical relationship or close friend?"

"Tavis Third of Ovnis. We've shared a barracks and have been friends since childhood and were purchased as a pair." He jotted that name down on a piece of scrap paper.

"Any children in your care?"

"No." Beili said to the clerk's lack of surprise. Leaving aside the families of mercenaries, it had so far been exceptionally rare for new immigrants to come with children. It only happened seven times, including his Feiniv. Even so protocol was protocol.

"Are you in good health and if not would you describe your malady?"

"I'm still a bit queasy from the passage, but other than that i'm fine."

"Nothing unusual with that." He said as he finished the last words on her report. "And everything seems to be in order." He picked up pair small painted wood tokens from a box, one with a picture of a sheath of grain and another with a picture of a barracks with two overlapping circles, and them handed them to her along with the note. "You are to proceed to the office of the Housing Deaconate where you will exchange this token for temporary accommodations and your ration card as well as establishment of a financial partnership with Tavis pending her approval. Then you are to proceed to the Labor Deconate and proved them with this token for a job assignment, most likely in farming." In practical matters, this would mean roughly a couple of years working on land prep and tending newly cultivated communal land until Beili and Tavis got assigned a 40 acre plot of it as their own. But it was not his job to describe that and frankly he'd had done enough fieldwork for a lifetime. "Both of which are marked out with the symbols on the tokens. After that, there is a special sermon in the main plaza this evening. Welcome to Fidelium, remember to keep The Faith. Next."

The past two and a half years had been busy and stressful for Golthrin Second of Jaryth. Hard work in of itself was nothing strange, he'd been working long shifts as a clerk since he was twelve and he'd spent a fair number of nights getting an assigned task done to avoid his overseers' wrath and eventually earn his Consecration. Even so, he generally knew what he was supposed to do and whatever shifts did happen usually were fairly big and had some time to let him get up to speed. In contrast in his time in Fidelium had meant being shifted about regularly as there was a lot to do and not enough people to do it all, especially stuff that required paperwork. In the past six months alone the priests had tasked him with organizing latrine digging teams, nightsoil removal efforts, taking inventory, handling trade with the Gosho, interactions with the mercenary companies, organizing militia drills, work on the new water mill, allocation of bonuses and more. The same could be said about his wife Rinah, as both of them were bounced from deaconate to deaconate as demanded.

Fortunately Processing new arrivals from the homeland was a comfortable task. It was fairly straightforward and he liked to see the new faces. It was also compiling essential information for the colony's development. It was also convenient that the priests thought that he was the best man for that job. Six days in the last week there had been a ship in port with the new blood and he'd been manning the arrival ledger in five of those. To his delight, there would be more of these people coming in. The backers of the Fidelium Project on the Valnothron council for funds to send an additional 2,400 slaves and 400 Janissaries that year as soon as possible, as well as a secondary ferry to shuttle them over the last stretch more quickly. Among the new arrivals which came that day were twelve additional clerks. A welcome relief.



(Kingdom of Torion, Summer, 39 IA)

On a thankfully overcast summer morning Master Engineer Oleg Fomenkov went about his usual routines, checking up on the various mechanisms and crew to see how things were going. There was of course a few issues, but they were minor ones. His two subordinate Engineers and the dozen technicians assigned to the project were a capable crew in general, though there were plenty of issues with the local help. There were a couple of Dwarves and they were skilled, hard working and excellent despite the language barrier. They were fine, the illiterate human peasants and artisans on the other hand were another matter. When he was looking into an issue with the crew putting up Well-5, he received word that he had a visitor. He got to his feet and went to meet him. The man in question contrasted with the engineer strikingly. Where Oleg wore his Utilitarian uniform the newcomer wore well tailored riding gear that was most out of place for this warren of sheds, pipes and barrel storage yards.

"Lord Salas," He said as he met with the newcommer "it's an unexpected pleasure."

"Indeed Master Engineer." Baron Marcos Salas de Ferenzo said in accented and slightly awkward but perfectly intelligible Coldlandish. The fact that Torion Nobility were by custom expected to know multiple languages and that Infrastructure had come into vogue in that circle was a welcome relief. "How do your things progress?"

"For the most part things are coming along quite well. Even so, we have some big plans in the works. Would you like to see them?"

"Of course." The baron replied. As such the two of them made their way to his office, where he quickly collected a set of plans. He unfurled them for the lord.

"So far we have four wells in operation and we're setting up two more." He pointed out the locations on the map. "Yesterday, we extracted about 600 cubic meters. Three thousand seven hundred and fifty wine barrels." He made a quick conversion to the unit that the Baron would be familiar with. "We've set up a second storage cistern and barrel filling station here and we have plans for a third here. However we have something more ambitious in mind than simply more of the same which we would."

"Indeed, what would this be?"

"I'll show you." He grabbed a second set of plans and led the nobleman to the edge of a camp. Several theodolites were set up to examine a pathway marked out with string.

"As it stands, it's rather expensive to send barrels down to the Marivon." He referred to a tributary of the Torios, the main river of the Kingdom. More specifically he was referring to a small barge loading port at the village of Nornia. "It's nineteen kilometers, that's nearly twelve miles. On a good day swapping out teams, a wagon can do two trips and even a heavy eight horse wagon can carry only forty barrels a day. This is a lot drayage and we'll need more as we expand, leaving aside barrels which fall over and burst. We have something better in mind." He opened up the plans.

"We're looking into laying a pipeline from there to Nornia. It would be a bit of an investment, but once completed it would mean that we could send the petrolium from the wells directly to storage cisterns to be loaded onto barges. All of which is pending your approval of course."

"Interesting. The Cooper's Guild, they would not be happy with this, if it works. Nor would the teamsters."

"Unfortunately not my lord." Oleg repeated.

"Even so, I get five Trono from each barrel barrel sent to your Committee. Two of those get eaten up by Barrels, Stevedores and Carters and oats for the horses. Too many barrels break, getting me nothing but a smelly patch on the road and angry peasants. It will have to make a deal Count Verengez, but you will get to make your pipeline."

Oleg grinned "Thank you sir."

For the next stages of Infrastructure's economic development a stead supply of Petrolium was necessary. The Committee was willing to send ships and thousands of people around the world to access the oilfields of the Southwestern Continent and fought a war to preserve said colony from Drow aggression. This did not mean that said distant land were the only sources of that black sludge. There were several prominent fields closer to hand which could fuel the industrial efforts of Infrastructure. But dependency on foreign suppliers for that essential would be costly at best and a potentially terminal liability at worst. Now that the Petrolium Colony was secure at interest in the applications of oil by the Kingdoms of Illvanicum had been sparked it was the time to get a slice of that pie. Not that Oleg was privy to said specifics, all he knew was that the Barony of Ferenzo was rich in the stuff and he was to set up the equipment to let the baron extract it and sell it to Infrastructure.



(Galthirith, Autumn 39 IA)

Tholyth Hall was a moderate estate in the mountainous interior Galthirith, not too far from the frontier. Three centuries prior after the fall of House Tholyth it had fallen into the hands of House Noljas; which had used the compound as a hub for local forestry, ranching and mining operations and occasionally as a hunting lodge. It's care was handled by a set of junior Noljas family members and a rotating selection of figures from vassal houses who regarded it either as either as mild banishment or an easy if boring assignment. Daijan ti'Noljas had been in the former category when he spent a bland decade there nearly a century ago, but saw it from the latter perspective in hindsight. Either way, as he approached the old manor house on nightdrake back it was a good place for the project he had been sent to inspect. Twenty five Drow specialists and a hundred slaves had been dispatched to this remote posting officially to upgrade the sawmills and turpentine production, but that was only part of the matter.

After the usual courtesies of the housekeepers reserved for an official visit, a change of clothes and a warm cup of coffee and some spiced pastries by a warm hearth, Daijhan met the woman he'd come to see on what was once a bedroom on the second story. She was a minor daughter of a vassal minor house, but for all that she had proven to be an unexpectedly valuable asset in recent years. She was no great mage or warrior, but she was an master of the alchemical arts who had a respectable grasp of the mechanical. The room contained numerous tools of her trade plus a variety of mechanisms as well as a faint rumbling.

"Tharsien ti'Uival." He said.

She gave a respectful bow "Lord Daijhin, I trust your journey was well."

"Reasonable," he'd never been much of a flyer but complaining about it to her would be of no use "But I've heard you had made a breakthrough."

"Indeed my Lord. We've had some false starts over the past three years even leaving aside the explosion last midsummer." That event had come dangerously close to getting the project cancelled "Even so, we've managed to work out a proper method of refinement based on reports from the Coldlands." She picked up a small glass bottle of brownish black liquid and handed it to him and gestured to the device outside in the wall, puffing away and gurgling. "The important thing to realize is that stone oil will break down into multiple substances when distilled, each one condensing at a different temperature." She took back the jar of Stone Oil and replaced it with a small white candle. "A sort of mineral wax* is one of the products you can get out of it, according to the test the ones we've been making burn like the finest tallow."

He stared at the object, unimpressed. "I doubt the Committee sailed around the world to make better candles."

"I would say the same thing, but there are a surprising number of applications for wax. Vharaj also says it could be useful as a lubricant, grease to smooth the motion of wheels and pistons. Demands for which are going up. But as it the real prize is this." She produced a bottle of clear liquid from underneath a table and handed it to him.

"Stone Oil Distillate, Clear**" Daijhin read. "I trust it burns better than the raw rock sludge?" He had the misfortune of being near the stuff when it burnt when it was used as an incendiary by privateers in the Interterran Sea. Even a couple seconds dealing with it's thick black smoke was a miserable experience before it was snuffed out.

"Oh yes, in fact I'm burning some right now." She led him to a small device which turned out to be a small steam engine of the sort that were now being made as training aides. His knowledge of said things was limited, but he soon noticed that there was no real firebox. Just what looked like a spirit lamp underneath a small metal boiler with light spilling out of a small hole in a pipe between them. "And it looks like it will be going...now." The main piston was slowly pushed forward as a hiss of steam was let out and was then brought back by the reciprocating motions. The next turn was faster, the one after that faster still."

A short while latter she looked at a gauge "And we have fifty...fifty one, fifty two revolutions per minute." She put up her finger. " What we've made is a clean burning potent liquid fuel."

"Could you power a ship with this?" Daijhin asked.

"Ships, sawmills, stoves, trains, threshers, heaters and basically everything that works by burning something. We can also produce Dark Distillate***, which burns well but is more noxious than Clear Distillate and a few other things."

"Alright, let us suppose that my esteemed Grandmother decides to take your research and apply it commercially. How long could it be before you could distill, say a hundred barrels a day?"

She paused for a moment, giving it some thought. "A Still that size would take about two years to build and test if everything went right, maybe three if things did not or we took our time ironing out the kinks first. Rushing it would be a bad idea. Similarly would be the need to train up a workforce to properly operate it. A shoddy still manned by idiots blowing up will get House Noljas nothing. But the team was thinking about more ambitious goals than just processing a hundred barrels a day. They were thinking about starting off with building a still able to handle twenty to thirty barrels a day, making several more of them and using that to work out how to scale up to five hundred for the next generation. There's a lot of Stone Oil in the northern districts and reports of more of it in the colonies. I could see Clear Distillate replacing wood and coal for cooking in coming years my lord, though it would need new stoves."

The last sentence was a bit off in Daijhin's reckoning. As far as he was concerned the main value of this project lay in naval applications. That's what the Infrastructurals were apparently using it for. That the Committee reached around the world and was willing to fight the Dark Elven states for Stone Oil was enough to convince House Noljas of it's value and to investigate what they were doing for the past five years. They had not been able to get their hands on any Engineers involved in the practice, but they could work out the basics of the process by observation and spying their activities, including the big Distilleries that they'd been building at Borogskov and Daagsgrad. Daijhin knew they were not the only ones doing so, but as far as they can tell they were in the lead including House Valcas. Even so, it was not a bad thought. "If new stoves and ovens are required, that's just one more thing for our factories to make and our factors to sell. I'm looking forward to the full report and I believe I won't be alone."

*Paraffin
**Kerosene
***Fuel Oil



(Greenvale Forest, Southwestern Infrastructure, Autumn 39 IA)

A team of eight men walked onto an articulated rail car two by two, each pair with a large pair of heavy metal clasps between them. With well timed practice, each pair placed their clasps onto a ten meter rail about 2.5 meters apart and as one lifted the length of steel up. They marched down the ramp at a steady pace along a path of wooden ties. Technically four men could do the job of moving the 300 kilo objects, but having eight to a rail meant that the men tired out more slowly, work proceeded more steadily and there was less injuries due to accidents. To either of the rail haulers were gangs of workers with wheelbarrows of ballast and men carrying fresh ties two at a time. Soon they walked past teams of men hammering in spikes to hold rails already laid firmly in place. Shortly after that they maneuvered in into position, as defined by a pair of chalk marks and set it down. A Technician and a couple of assistants would make small adjustments afterwards to insure alignment.

"That's thirty." One of the lead handlers said as he made an about face, a heavily built fellow even by the standards of the team. "Three credits in the bank already and I've not even broken the sweat."

"Try not to Artyom." His counterpart in an uskhanka said. "I doubt it will go above twelve degrees today and sweating when it's cold is a miserable thing."

"I know, besides this isn't so hard Timur. I've carried a hundred kilos of firewood three clicks back on the farm."

"I don't doubt it, but we're working as a team and we're still seventy away from our quota." Rail carriers got most of their pay as piecework, a desi for every rail you put down before the quota and an extra desi for every four over that. "Take it steady and we can get 120 rails down today easy. Maybe a gross. But none of us can do that by ourselves."

"Alright, I was just trying to be positive. Sorry if I caused offense."

"None taken."

The two of them continued on. Timur Polikov had learnt some of that the hard way a few years ago. For an outdoorsy man without much education, railway work was hard but well paying. His brother told him that and he got on the labor crews about six years ago. The only significant problems with the job that could not be levied on his other employment opportunities as far as he was concerned was a bit of over-enthusiasm on his part and the Drow States deciding to start a war. Rail construction was soon scaled back as factories switched from rails to armor for ironclads. He was lucky to stay onboard for the limited construction and maintenance duties and even he had to do a fair deal of odd jobs on the side. Now things were back on track.

He heard some people describe the Infrastructural Railway as being like a net or a great snake. Timur thought of it like strawberry plants, sending runners out from Dalatyr to take root at towns and mines and logging camps. There the railway would gather up new supplies and use it to drive out more runners. The plan was to try to link every Garrison Town in Infrastructure with a rail line. Currently they were driving to Fort Surebev and there was pressure to get as much done before the snow started to fall. There had been a few wildspawn sightings, but nothing serious so far and there was enough security to keep things safe.

As such Timur continued with his work with his. They were a decent lot on the whole and there had not been major upsets with them. Artyom was a new addition, recently transferred here after Taras' accident a fortnight ago. Poor fool pushed himself too hard and pulled an arm muscle. He would not want something like that happening to Artyom and not just because he thought he was handsome. There was forty six more kilometers to go and he'd do what he could to get this lot through them unmarred.



(Keramigrad, Southern Infrastructure, Early Winter 39 IA)

Around Dalatyr their were numerous clay beds. These had been rich and productive and had more than met the simple needs of local potters for millennia. When the Committee arrived, the clay pits soon were expanded to provide brick as well as supplying an increasing number of potters. As such, it seemed odd when in 14 IA the Committee began to import to the capital white clay from the foothills of the Greytooth Mountains. At least until they explained to a cadre of apprentice potters how to use the Kaolin, glaze it and make porcelain. It took them some time to get a hang of their craft and output was slow at first but within a few years they were turning out respectable work, both for the domestic market and export. It was not as fine as the products of the kilns of the Elves, Dwarves or Eastern Empires, but it was still better than the earthenwares and stonewares that the humans of Illvanicum could produce. By 22 IA Infrastructural Porcelain Factory (IPF) wares could be found in the dish drawers and display cabinets of Bureaucrats, Engineers and both foreign and domestic merchants. But the Committee had other purposes for this type of ceramic beyond consumer goods and accumulating capital. One that were less savory, but one that they considered far more important.

Inessa Kwolek dabbed her head with a rag. It was snowing outside, but the Kiln Hall was always at least warm. There were eight Kilns in the Keramigrad Fixtures Factory; not the overgrown bread oven affairs you'd find in villages but massive two-story walk in affairs with a massive set of steam driven bellows. Normally at least four of them would be in operation at any one time and when one of them was opened a wave of hot air would flow out. By her luck, two of them were cracked open within two minutes. Still she pushed through. If this was the height of summer, Hall and Kiln work miserable experience even with the fans going full tilt and the windows open. Now it was more annoying than anything.

KFF was divided into three main sections: Pre-Fire, the Kiln Hall and Packaging. Unfired greenware was molded, cleaned up and glaze coated in Pre-Fire before being fired in the Kilns and sent off to packaging. Her job was to move things from A to B and then from B to C on a small push-trolley. In front of each kiln was a pair of pallets, one for greenware coming in and the other for fired product coming out. Actually loading and unloading the kiln was not her job, there were special workers for that who could do that heavy lifting without breaking valuable product. Regardless of the Trolley operators hoped to join their ranks regardless since it meant an extra three credits every day.

She saw a couple finished bowls at Kiln-5 and so wheeled her cart over to collect them. These were the heaviest items, but you did not have to carry them more than a meter. Once two of them were onboard, she strapped them into place and moved them down into Packaging. Each of the two massive bowls would be lined up with the other components produced here and others made elsewhere, packed up in crates of straw and old newspapers. Soon the kit would most likely be on a riverboat heading north. Possibly a Paddlesteamer would carry the set to it's ultimate destination. Possibly it would make the rest of the journey by train after being loaded up at Fort Surebev. She went back to provide them with more, and continued on for the next four hours minus a couple of quick breathers.

Keramigrad was a factory town, built specifically to support KFF and it's workforce. KFF was sited in the Southwest because it was near the Foydoreg Kaolin Mines. It had opened up in early days of the Escort War and was operated at 25% capacity. Now it was working full tilt. Inessa's first experience with it's products happened on her first day at work at KFF a year ago when nature called. Up until that day, her notion of a privy was a shed in the garden or an earthen ware pot. Now she knew better. Flushing toilets were not unknown to the west, but outside of the more successful dwarfholds they were the domain of the rich. Detail however was determined to improve the general level of health of Infrastructure's populace, with KFF being the tip of his spear against filth.

Inessa agreed with all of that and took some pride in it, even so her biggest motivations for working at KFF was getting enough money to start a family on the right footing without having to deal with pigs that had not had an appointment with a butcher. She'd had to deal with her family's herd of the damned beasts for seventeen of her eighteen years, feeding them, mucking them out, dodging them, put up with their screams or when when they were in in a bitey mood and she was damn certain she was 100% done with their shit.


(Dalatyr, Winter 39 IA)

Thirty two years ago Lars Valen arrived in Dalatyr and made a modest living selling roast potatoes to armory workers from a hand cart with a makeshift stove. He did well enough to upgrade his operations to include a surplus field kitchen and eventually a tavern. The place did well, but was loud and rowdy and not to the taste his son Vasili or his wife Olga. As such (with some assistance from Lars and the Ministry of Distribution) they opened up Valen's, a small cafe downtown near one of the main Omnibus routes in 32 IA and despite a rocky start due to war it managed to do well.

On a cold morning a fortnight from new years Ela Visonikov (Bureaucrat Grade Seven) was went into Valen's. She worked for the Ministry of Agriculture dealing with various farmers, foremen, suppliers and the other ministries to help ensure that Infrastructure was fed. It was busy work, remaining so even when the fields were buried under a meter of snow. Her husband Ingmar's schedule was similarly filled, generally leaving them with little time for (among other things) cooking. In that regard Valen's was a life-saver, being close to the office, open early and a nice place to have a relaxing breakfast or a quick supper. She hung up her hat and jacket coat, found a seat and ordered Sirniki (thick cottage cheese pancakes) with raspberry jam and a warm cup of sweet tea. They showed up on her table a few minutes latter and she proceeded to take her time with them at a careful pace. She had to be in the office by 7:45, but she still preferred to savor the taste and the atmosphere. The clean dining room, the smells of cooking food and sounds of eating and overlapping conversation all added up to a pleasant enviroment. Recently it had been supplemented with music from their new Vox-2 radio set. Vox-2s were a bit cheaper than the original Vox-1s, but there were still fairly uncommon. She and Ingmar had considered getting one of either model, but it was still several month's disposable income even with their combined paychecks.

When she was about half way through breakfast a song ended, it was followed by the announcer saying that there was a special message from the Central Committee. That was enough to get her attention and to spark some low key anxiety. Had the Dark Elves attacked again? Was there some natural disaster in some distant oblast? Was the Colony lost to some horde? What was so pressing that it warranted an announcement on Radio-3 instead of Radio-1?

"Citizens of Infrastructure," Supernova's voice announced "...the Central Committee must give to you an apology. The past decade has held several major setbacks for our great nation. The Escort War required a massive shift of resources to the military, leaving many other fields neglected. Even shifting our economy back to a peacetime footing held it's own costs in terms of time and manpower. Never the less, over the past two years we have been able to bring matters back on track. Delayed as they have been several notable projects have been completed, several targeted goals in production have been met and several new industries have been established and are coming into their own. For this reason, it is the consensus of the Central Committee that an action which we originally calculated would be implemented in 36 or 37 be carried out. As of the 17th day of the 12th month of the 39th year of the Infrastructural Age, a general wage increase of 25% shall be implemented for all state employees not undergoing disciplinary review...."

With that Ela pounded the table, shaking her cup of tea. Several other patrons gave brief cheers.

"...Individuals under disciplinary review shall have their wages increased in six months at the latest. We regret that this must have been delayed, never the less by your efforts the Great Machine has expanded and grown and as you partake in your slice of it's increased bounty remember that further rises in pay shall come. Hail Infrastructure."

"Hail Infrastructure!" Ela said as she raised her cup, several other diners and Olga who was waiting repeated the chorus soon afterwards. That brought her up to 37.5 Credits a day, let alone Ingmar's salary as a floor supervisor at the Light Cell factory. She'd been thinking about getting a Radio for the flat sometime in the next few years, now she was thinking about one in the next few months as well as a toy or two for little Greta and Jan. For other people this meant moving out of a bunkhouse and into a flat, a new set of clothes or rail fare to go see mom and dad back in the village. It was little surprise that when Ela got to the office people were in a good mood. This was a welcome new years' present and the next decade of the Infrastructural Age was looking bright.



(Dalatyr, Early Spring 40 IA)

In the span of four decades, Dalatyr had rapidly grown into a city of 305,000. Around the original small town rose waves of foundries, factories, workshops, warehouses, housing, offices, markets, schools, stables, shops, slaughterhouses, taverns, inns and more. Construction and reconstruction was constant. It was the core of Infrastructure's rapidly growing industrial base and a cornerstone of it's economic development. This did not mean that there were no downsides to rapid urban and industrial development. From the tenement slums to coal smoke, garbage, human waste, animal waste, fires, crime and more; a variety of issues emerged and magnified by the growing city. The Committee did attempt to address these by various means, from hiring Enforcers and garbage collectors to laying water supply and sewer pipers, though there was still a lot to do and the city continued to grow.

At the tail end of 39 IA and the beginning of 40 IA, several thousand workers, dozens of Engineers and several factories were tasked with addressing with one of the more overt issues of expansion. Three weeks ago, the fruits of their labor were officially opened with pomp and ceremony. There had been crowds, a military band striking up a jaunty tune, banners and flags and public appearances by First Dawn* and Supernova as well as foreign dignitaries who were treated to Tram 001's maiden voyage along the Ironworks / Progress Plaza line and then a fully catered reception. Jan Hansinev had been their driver and had a seat at the table. The next day there was a queue of passengers to get as people were enthusiastic to see what things were like on the new smokeless vehicle. Three days after that, a young couple came on board with a Keeper and got married. Things had gotten so rowdy that he had to pick up an Enforcer the day after that. For this reason, Jan was happy as things gradually calmed down.

On a cool spring templeday morning at 10:30, Tram 001 rolled down the line. It's frontal current collector picking up power from a line held from a series of wooden poles. Jan checked things out as he went from stop to stop. There were not many commuters out at this time, but there were a few. There were also a couple of people willing to spend two decicredits for a ride simply for the novelty of the experience. There were a couple of them onboard now, a young couple just sitting back and enjoying the scenery. Since they were quiet and did not try to damage the the seats, he had no objection. They past down Smedth Street, an upscale neighborhood mostly home to Bureaucrats, Engineers and Foremen and they admired the finer buildings.

As a settlement grew, it took longer to cross. That was the heart of the issue. It would usually took about 45 minutes for an adult in good health to walk from one side of Dalatyr to the other and the same again to go back. For this reason most people tended to work close to their home. The Committee had set up a variety of measures to mitigate the problem, most notably operating a set of Horse and Roadsteamer Omnibuses. They did alleviate matters to a degree, but the population kept growing and the city kept expanding. Small electric rail vehicles powered by an overhead cable able to reach speeds up to 45 kph could move more people more quickly and more cheaply. So far there were only two routes in operation, but work on three more was well under way.

Jan knew that these vehicles were made for practical purposes first and foremost and dealing with a bunch of over enthusiastic passengers could definitely try his patience. Even so, there was something about that attention that he got in those early days that he missed. That the machine that he operated had been for a brief spell of time been more than just an efficient way to get workers to the steelmill and back again. Leaving aside the honor of demonstrating Infrastructure's latest marvel to a collection of foreign lordlings and their lackeys. He looked back at the couple as they took in the architecture. He doubted that he'd ever be in a position like the one he had on the first day of service again, but he hoped that some spark of the wonder of Trams would endure.

*First Dawn On A Newly Formed Planet As It's Star Ignites-80013, Infrastructural Minister of Transportation



(Cendoliath, Late Spring 40 IA)

The Dark Elven states were each ruled by a council of their highest and mightiest people. Mostly a council's seats were filled by the heads of it's Greatest Houses of if they were absent a senior family member who'd fill in for them. The remainder given over to prominent guilds, senior magical orders, High Priests or the leader of some other such institution. They would elect one of their own to serve as High Lord, though the actual powers of a High Lord were limited. Ambition and a drive to dominate were considered virtues in Drow Society, but for the most part the ambitions of their rivals kept too much power accumulating in the hands of one person. There was of course variation from state to state and more when you considered the apparatuses beneath the ruling council, but the general pattern was clear. In the case of the state of Cendoliath, the Obsidian Council had 21 members, sixteen leaders of Great Houses, two orders of mages and three to prominent guilds. Usually they met every other day unless pressing matters were at hand, which was not to say that the business of government

On an quiet day in late spring it convened as normal, it's members grateful for the various features mundane and magical which kept the inner chamber cool. Located on the Obsidian Isles Cendoliath was the Southernmost of the Drow States. Each of them took their seat at a long table quietly and without fuss. Most of them had a sip of water after they sat down before the High Lord called a fateful meeting of the council into session.

"My Lord, if I may start today's discussion...." said Lady Kaithal ti'Zaljan said. One of the quirks of the Obsidian Council was that it's members were barred from bearing arms while in session and only the High Lord was permitted to wear a suit of armor. A particularly noticeable fact in a culture where it was common to leave the house with at least a dagger. Less formally regular Council Members shunned the more overtly militaristic of fashion, this was even the case the Sons and Daughters of Warrior Houses like House Zaljan. The Lady had commanded ships, armies, fleets and Nightdrake flights and had personally dispatched hundreds of enemies in battle, among them at least a score of The Eternal Foe over her three centuries. Similarly House Zaljan had been created by First Dark Emperor, had held a seat on the council for more than three millennia and directly owned 2,100 square kilometers of territory and some 150,000 slaves. Combined that with her outlook and she was one of the more prominent conservative figures.

"Very well." The High Lord said.

"Thank you. First of all, I must concede an error in judgement on my part. In previous sessions I have voiced skepticism towards the more radical plans for our navy." This was a clear understatement, she'd been a vocal opponent of most of the proposed plans to upgrade the fleet and had derailed, delayed and cut back numerous projects for naval modernization. Her coalition had nearly scuttled the Zaencendol* while she was still taking shape in the yards. "In spite of this, the last seven years have demonstrated the necessity of modernization in fire and blood. The losses against the Coldlanders make this clear, with repeated reports of the new ships of Houses Valcas, Noljas and Kaileth against the High King and his pawns and skirmishes between the Venoan Navy and the Seraphate's squadrons in the Bluewine repeat the same story: we are in the age of the Ironclad and have fallen behind. As of today, Infrastructure has twenty Ironclads in service and about twelve more in reserve. Valnothron has thirteen in service, Galthirith has ten as does Venoa, Hansoliath and Janilonasten both have five each as does the Empire and there are at least twenty more in service of other Human or Dwarven kingdoms. As it stands, we have one Ironclad in service with another under construction which will with the favor of the Gods be ready next year and more with active ironclad projects. If we are to avoid being left behind and make up lost ground, decisive action must be taken."

"As such, I have consulted with both my colleagues and with House Galxrath. In spite of our differences, we both seek the glory and dominance of our State in this hostile world. As such, we have drafted a proposition for this council's approval which we have named the Barded Leviathan Project." Her attendant distributed copies of the bill, several of which came with secondary letters. "It outlines both a funding proposal and a policy to focus our State's efforts towards rebuilding our fleet. This is no time for half measures, Lords of Cendoliath. To this end, House Zaljan along with House Weitharl, Brenolth and Xholmar have a voluntary commitment to this project of one million scimitars should this measure pass today." This was a bit unusual, but using one's personal wealth to leverage policy was hardly unprecedented. Never the less, it did cause some conversation, as did the individual notes. "Enough time has been wasted."

"Very well, Lady Zaljan." The High Lord Said as he perused the issue. "I must say that your change of heart on this matter is surprising, but I must tentatively call it a welcome one. Does anyone have any comments on the proposal."

There was a series of statements, most of which were positive. A common response to Barded Leviathan could be summed up with '...finally...' mostly from the merchant houses and the guilds, a couple of conservative warrior houses were shocked at the development and they felt that it was something of a betrayal. The four other houses which conspired behind the project were of course overtly enthusiastic. A couple of lords floated minor tweaks to the list of proposals, mostly to claim a small stake in the profits. Even so, one of the most unusual dissenters was in the form of Lord Narvil ti'Celizoth. He was a newcomer here, his house rising to prominence only a hundred and fifty years after inheriting much of their disgraced former overlord's assets and considerable shrewd dealings. Recently he'd made considerable money in shipping and manufacturing.

"Honored High Lord, I am overjoyed that my peer has come to see reason in regards to developments in naval warfare and I do feel that we should strive for it's targeted goals sooner rather than later and that the funding listed would be adequate." His tone was controlled and polite. "Even so, this Barded Leviathan requires comes numerous questionable means and methods to bring this about. Diversions of steam qualified slaves and slave machinists, limitations on the use of steam power and taxes on 'non essential large-scale metallic machinery'?"

"I should remind you, Lord Celizoth," Lady Zaljan purred "that we have serious threat to meet and our resources are limited. Iron and coal are the most obvious, though Lord Galxrath has informed us of others. Skilled workers are a major limiting factor, task a field hand to tend a steam engine and he is liable to have it's boiler burst and get scalded to death. Properly training these machine keepers takes time and preferably an adept to guide the novices. When our fortifications have been damaged by incursions this council has pressed masons and bricklayers into service to repair them. The same principle now applies in regards to the fleet and the shipyards that will build them. Then there's the matter of to machine time, a manned lathe can be put to making the pistons and wheels of a Warship's engine or bore out rifle barrels. Or it could make table legs, some mechanism for bristling brushes that will require mechanics to tend or some novel curio. But the latter items will not expand our fleet or strengthen our army. The tax with both discourage wasteful applications of resources and provide a stream of revenue from the best of mechanisms."

"And who determines what's 'non essential'?"

"The Mechanical Military Relevance Board, as outlined." Lady Zaljan's voice was calm and steady. "They will evaluate designs and prototypes, review their intended functions and determine if will be a useful asset for our fleet, our armies, our shipbuilding or arms industry, metallurgy or mining. We need these new mechanisms to expand our fleet, we don't need to mechanize tasks which regular slaves have been doing perfectly well for millennia."

"Then why the taxes on the importation of new machinery? If you are so concerned about the scarcity of mechanisms why make them difficult to acquire?"

"This is not just a matter of today. We need to cultivate our existing industrial base. Sure, it might be cheaper to import gear from House Valcas or Noljas in the short term, but we can not let ourselves become dependent on imports which we might be cut off from. Remember, four decades ago the Coldlanders were a collection of ragged clans who could barely beat a lump of hot iron into a subpar short sword. If the Committee could coordinate those cretins to build these contrivances en mass, so can we."

"High Lord, this is absurd." Lord Celizoth said, visibly angry "Lady Zaljan and her clique have been playing a long game on naval procurement, sabotaging the security of Cendoliath to undermine their rivals...."

"Your excellency, I object to these slanders." Lady Zaljan "If two captains disagree on how to best take a castle, this does not imply malicious intent from either party. Nor does one mostly coming around to the other's point of view after reviewing the evidence. One might as well argue that Lord Celizoth seeks to undermine our state by having us build a trickle of ships so he can squander our mechanisms making forks while leaving us dependent on the whims of Valnothron."

"My Lord that's the most absurd..."

"Enough!" The High Lord bellowed. "Lord Celizoth, can you substantiate you accusation with more than speculation?"

"....with a thorough review of the minutes of..."

"In other words you can't. Beyond that whatever disagreements you may share and power plays she has in motion there is a considerable gap between being opinionated and opportunistic and willful malicious undermining of Cendoliath. As for the Barded Leviathan Program Lord Zaljan have any objections to the addendums proposed before Lord Celizoth's interruption?"

"No, My Lord".

"Then I am calling for a vote here and now. All in favor?"

Fifteen Dark Elven Lords raised their hands, including most of the merchant block, a good chunk of the warriors, the High Lord and Lady Zaljan. Numerous figures glowered at him, lady Zaljan smirked.

"All Opposed?"

Six hands went up, two from the most terminally set in the ways of of the Warrior Houses, the Academy of the Quarter Moon, House Celizoth and two other merchant houses.

The High Lord let out a sigh of relief "Fifteen confirmations, six oppositions, no abstentions. Let it be remembered, let it be written, let it be proclaimed, for by our will it is now law." He clapped his hands together and there was a flash of magical light. The ritual of confirmation was a straightforward affair which they had all seen hundreds of times. Even so, for much of the council there was relief. For most, if it was not a piece of legislation that they would love, but it was long overdue and yielded much of what they wanted. The rest of the day was largely spent dealing with the fine details of the Barded Leviathan Project and it's implementation as well as the usual horse trading. Two days after that, three new Ironclads were ordered from Galxrath Shipyards, along with a 300,000 Scimitar contract to upgrade their Ironworks and Shipyards. A week latter the first meeting of the Mechanical Military Relevance Board convened and began work on their index of relevant industries and items while import fees were imposed. Several minor and middling houses were soon making protests against the new laws but their words largely fell on deaf ears, despite Lord Celizoth's advocacy.

When compared to Valnothron or Galthirith, Cendoliath had lagged considerably in terms of industrialization. Part of this was a dearth of iron ore and especially coal on the volcanic Obsidian Isles. Part of this was that the fact that their focus was on the Interterran Sea and their colonies to the West. But the biggest aspect was the prominence of the largely traditionalist Warrior Houses. This was not to say that they were to the last unthinkingly dismissive, but on the whole their perspective was skewed. After they encountered them around 17 IA, they soon saw the virtue of flintlock rifles and their gunsmiths were soon enough making copies. The same applied to percussion caps, improved cannons and other such weapons, but there was little enthusiasm for things outside the directly martial even among the Merchant houses. House Galxrath built it's first full scale steam engine in 33 IA using Valcas blueprints. Their involvement in the Escort War was a rude awakening and there were soon demands to modernize the fleet. Reaction was inevitable.

It should be noted that some of the skepticism of new means, methods and machines voiced by Lady Zaljan and her block were their legitimate concerns, at least to some degree. But far more significant to them was how this would effect Cedoliath's balance of power. Million of scimitars flowing into Merchant House Coffers would be bad enough, but far worse would be the wealth and economic leverage they might gain after they spent that capital on new steam powered factories. Infrastructure proved how far their tentacles could reach and Valcas and Noljas proved that a mechanically inclined MerchantHouse could easily become too big for it's breeches. The Conservative Block's tactics so far had been a delaying action gradually loosing ground until an opportunity presented itself with a strategic alliance with House Galxrath. It had been costly, but with with the Barded Leviathan Project they accepted a strategic concession to achieve a greater victory. Let the Ironclad Fleet be built, it's builders were now in their place.

*Obsidian Spear

[Zor]

(85 km from Dalatyr, Late Spring, 40 IA)

A tributary to the Loriv River System, the Tsilni was one of several smaller rivers which drained from the swamps to the north of Dalatyr. While short, it was also comparatively fast flowing which made it rather hard to navigate. A pair of fishing villages had sprung up around it, both of which had cobbled together some basic waterwheels to mill grain before the Committee's arrival. These were expanded in the three decades of the Infrastructural Age, along with the construction of a few more for sawmills. These were minor improvements in quantity and quality of systems which had been in play for millennia. Even so, a more ambitious plans were made; These were delayed by the requirements of war, but construction continued never the less.

Some early prep was done starting in 34 IA, but the work proper in the autumn of 36 IA, when a workforce composed mostly of three thousand Janissary and Slave Sailor prisoners of war taken at Daagsgrad was brought to a stretch of shore, first they built their lodgings and then they began to dig the foundations. With the assistance of blasting charges, a steam shovel and a few other mechanisms they carved a alternate course for the Tsilni over the course of winter, then in the spring they built two major embankments along the natural course and opened up the temporary canal. The Penal Laborers had little knowledge of what they were doing, but were impressed at how fast things went especially given the fact that they were not pushed hard. After some pumping, this left half a kilometer of the original waterway dry. This roughly coincided with the end of the Escort War. Most of the Detentional Laborers were transferred away afterwards over the summer, but work continued as a new workforce of citizens came in.

Into the riverbed, piles were driven for the foundation, on top of which rebar structures were built and Concrete was poured and let to set to form structural elements which were filled with crushed rock. There were a few delays due to breakdowns and construction was severely slowed during winter. Never the less, the barrier rose steadily. At it's foot a small building was built to accommodate machinery which began to trickle in.

Early one spring morning 40 IA, a man fussed atop the main structure as a crane brought a load of timbers in place on the scaffolding. It was nothing new, even so a man made a note of it on his clipboard. For nearly four years, Engineer Overseer Maxim Averin had overseen this project. In general his workers were diligent and the new crane was a impressive mechanism, but one had to be careful where fresh timber while it was out of the crane operator's view. The project only got it three weeks ago and protocol for it's use in this situation still have not been fully developed. He'd have a word with the foreman about this. Concrete laying should be done within four or five days and he hoped that things were not getting lax. The last thing he wanted was a death just before the biggest stage of the project was complete.

Once this was done, they'd finish off the control and mechanism buildings, finish the line connections, remove the crane, convener and other such construction equipment. Finally they'd run some mechanical tests and final structural tests to make sure everything was sound. Then the temporary channel would be sealed off, the main sluices would be opened and the turbines would spin. This plant was rated to produce up to eleven megawatts of electricity at full capacity which would be sent over ninety seven kilometers of high voltage cables to feed Dalatyr's increasingly thirsty grid, as well as supplying a couple of Coops along the way by summer.

The Tsilni Dam was not the first hydroelectric station Infrastructure built, but it would be the biggest completed up to this point. For Maxim that was a minor point to boast about, though the fact that the project had been inspected twice by members of the Central Committee and on both occasions they gave broad approval. Currently there were five Hydroelectric Dams under construction elsewhere in Infrastructure and he heard that there were plans for at least a dozen more were planned including several that were much bigger. Hopefully he'd not have to work on another one. It was not that he hated his work, but he had a wife, two sons, a daughter and another one on it's way and he spent too little time with them. The camp was unacceptable for a family and going back to Dalatyr meant at best a full day of travel via boat and train. Part of the job of being an Engineer was at least twenty years of service, being sent to where Infrastructure needed you and doing the job you were assigned. He just hoped he could get a cushy job in a factory or oversee construction work in the capital for the remaining eight years, or at least somewhere with rail access. In no small part, he was building a better future for them. He was damn sure about that.



(Fidelium, Summer 40 IA)

Three years ago a nineteen year old named Raliqal of the Fhamesq had joined a raiding party forty strong and marched off to war with spear and shield. His father had done the same when he was young, as did his grandfather before him and his great grandfather before him, though the foe he'd face was something new. Rather than their old rivals in the Yarulet, Sisnok or the Dimoiw tribes, they were raiding the newcomers which had arrived by boat and set up camp at the mouth of the Gnoi-Halkhom River. He'd heard some of the stories and rumors about them, but also reports that the Sisnok had successfully raided them and as far as he had been concerned their prowess just meant more valuable loot to make off with and more glory to be won. His party moved onto one of the fields the newcomers were beginning to work and charged one of their patrols screaming. Then suddenly there was an horrible burst of pain in his side and he stumbled to the ground lying in agony.

The next few days were a blur. When he regained lucidity, he was in the newcomer's camp and bound in iron. He was soon met by a stone faced man and while he could only say a few words that Raligal could understand, the implications were obvious. He was a slave. Slavery was nothing strange, his family had one who'd helped them around the farm for the customary twelve years. It was one of the risks of life and going on raids in particular, but slavery here was different. They did not bother with try to ransom him off, they just put him in a pen with a few dozen other slaves once he could walk and he was put to work by the strangers who called themselves Fidelians. At first they had him make fishing nets and clean pots as he recovered but soon he was helping them clear out farmland, harvesting firewood, gathering water, cleaning latrines, helping them build their strange buildings, digging up rocks, harvesting crops and any other task they had. Those that disobeyed got caned or flogged. This he expected, though they were also more severe. The strange part came from the holy men and women. Every few days, they'd be dragged before one of them who'd give to them a speech, mostly in their own language which he was soon picking up, largely because his overseers had a dim view on anyone speaking Gnoikheg. They told them that they had been slaves themselves before being released in this land and they also held their former masters in a bizarre reverence. They said that though it was harsh, being in chains was a virtuous thing as it taught people things like restraint, humility, modesty and diligence and was good for one's soul in the next life. He thought it was rubbish, but voicing that notion was a good way to earn a beating.

As time moved on, Fidelium grew. More boats sailed in bearing more people, strange beasts like Cows and Horses and supplies. More buildings were built and more farmland was worked, docks were built for massive boats. More slaves were also collected. These including captured Gosho raiders and slaves that the Gosho had traded. A few slaves attempted escape, but most of them were hunted down and either beaten or shot. At first the slaves were held as a common asset, but as time went on a few of them were given away to favored established Fidelians. Raligal's fate would be different.

Early one morning, he and thirty nine other slaves were selected from the Slave Barracks and were chained together and marched down to the docks where one of the Great Boat named Zhun was moored up. He'd unloaded it yesterday. Now he and his crew were loaded onboard and down into the depths of it's hold. A Priest had followed them, gave them a brief speech about how they would be set on the path to spiritual fulfillment and enrichment in the Crucible of Life. She soon departed and shortly after that the ship was under way. That evening, they docked and they were marched out to another pen. This time, however the guards were different. There was a fair bit of variety among the Fidelians and they did not look like him or those of any tribe he knew, but they were still men. Tall, slender with long mobile ears. These could be nothing else than the Fidelian's Masters, the Dark Elves.

He and his cohorts were examined and cataloged. They measured their weight and height, examined bodies, teeth, scars, tested their eyesight and reflexes and more, writing down information as they went. Their language was broadly the same to that of the Fidelians, but with some noticeable differences. Eventually they were simply given some water and bread and sat down in a pen.

One of the habits that Raligal had picked up as a slave was silence. Leaving aside work songs if the boss wanted you to speak, they'd tell you to speak and if he did not they'd express their displeasure in a sharp painful manner. Never the less, he stewed. He'd held on top hope that he'd manage to earn his freedom somehow or he might escape back to his tribe. Now even if a dozen Gosho hosts crashed down and laid waste to that stinking midden they were building. Now that was dashed. For all their strange beauty and apparent long life, he saw these Dark Elves not as a higher order of life and the rightful masters of the world but as just another set of owners with delusions of grandeur. As one marched by before they were to be loaded onboard another ship, he glowered at him.

---

Lianril ti'Darmyl made an inspection of this first shipment from Fidelium. It was not a big haul and far the best stock, but they were in mostly good shape and much of the fight had been taken out of them. The notion of trade with the former slaves of Fidelium at first had seemed perverse to him, afterwards it simply seemed like children play-acting. So far most of what came out of Fidelium was iron ore and a few iron ingots. Fidelium now produced maybe five Ven* of the former and smelted six hundred Vaul of the latter each day most of which the prelate sold to the Navy, shipped out to Ilianvir through one of the shuttles where it was unloaded an reloaded then reloaded onto cargo ships on their return to Valnothron. It barely made a dent in the costs of the Fidelium project, this would be the case even the former slaves gave the iron for free. Their production was increasing, but by what he heard prices had only been going down.

Slaves were another matter, a much higher value commodity who's value was perennial. This was not a perfect lot (at least tone of them still had some defiance left in him) and forty was not a huge haul, but he could easily see them fetching at least seventy scimitars a piece at auction. Since the garrison stationed on Ilianvir got an (admittedly small) cut of revenue, he was looking forward to this. Especially since he knew that it was not just a one-off, but merely the first fruit that the sapling Land of the Faithful would bare.

*1 Ven is 1,500 Vaul.

[InsaneTD]

That was a big update. I love this story.

[Zor]

The Infrastructural Ministry of Distribution's design for the box of the Ministry of Technology and Industry: Consumer Electronics HRT-38 VOX tabletop home radio.

HRT-38 radio sets operate on amplitude modulation and have a single moving iron speaker. By the standards of Infrastructural radio technology at the the time of it's creation, the HTR-38. Even leaving aside Fabricated items, it makes use of systems which have been in production since the war of unification. However early radio production was on a limited scale and with efforts focused on communications. In short, production of certain key components was low and military and administrative capacity took priority. As an example, the glass used in light cells and thermionic valves was hand blown until 31 IA. Home electrification was another issue. Initial plans was for the introduction of the HRT-38 in 35 IA, though said release date was delayed by the onset of war. Output of HRT-38 Radios in 38 IA was around 250-500 units a month. There were some reliability issues, especially with units produced in the first few months.




As a general rule Coldlanders tend to have a rather functional view of clothing: they might admire the flamboyant costumes of foreign lands but what they value in their wardrobes is, in descending order, practicality, durability and comfort. These attitudes cultivated in the extreme poverty of the Pre-Infrastructural era and persisted after the unification wars as standards of living began a steady increase. Partially out of cultural inertia, but also due to Infrastructural policy. Textile and garment industries have been developed by Infrastructure since it's earliest days. First to produce uniforms, but soon afterwards to produce cloth and clothing for general consumption. Said uniforms were utilitarian and functionalist in design with little in the way of adornment. This was case with the dress of the Committee themselves. While the effect has not been absolute, it has steered Infrastructural fashion along these lines. In comparison to other nations Infrastructural Fashion favors simpler designs, cleaner forms and tailoring. Trousers are favored and in general designs are far more unisex than in other nations.

In Infrastructure one has multiple options for acquiring clothing. Many people still make their own, though often using factory cloth. There are also a number of clothiers, tailors and outfitters, especially in larger settlements who make and sell outfits. These range from grandmothers who knit socks for sale to fairly large operations employing multiple designers, workers and sellers. Foreign merchants also sell clothes to the Infrastructural market. Even so state industries remain the single most powerful figure in the garment industry by a large degree. In Dalatyr and elsewhere there are numerous factories in which men and women at sowing machines. The total capacity of the Infrastructural Garment industry had expanded during the Escort War by 41% and after it's conclusion, many factories built for military purposes were civilianized. These would be disseminated through Infrastructure by the Ministry of Distribution, both in terms of sales as well as getting the message across. This includes window displays, as well as fashion shows, posters and catalogues. This outfit was designed by Transition for the Summer Season of 38 IA and includes a striped cotton shirt and woolen pants with some bell to them as casual wear good for riding a horse or bike. It's price point is high enough so that such outfits are not readily accessible to all, 75 Credits can easily be 10 day's wages for many factory workers. Clothing such as this is usually sold to Bureaucrats, Engineers, Senior Foremen, Skilled Workers, Merchants and Business Owners and those willing to splurge on it. Even so new clothing is generally more accessible in Infrastructure than it is elsewhere.


A packet of cigarettes made by House Drinjol circa 38 IA. Each packet contains fourteen cigarettes (an auspicious number by Dark Elven custom), with Drinjol workshops producing over 25,000 packs a day on average with capacity increasing. At this point, these are mostly bought by House Valcas and it's vassals for use by their workforces with an increasing number being sold to other Valnothron states. Valcas policy is to issue 1-4 packs to most slaves weekly as part of the normal operations with additional packs and individual cigarettes being doled out for good performance. Overseers as a general rule find them to be effective, despite the smell.


This is warlord Kanslu, son of Tijan and Kromkah of the Tivosh host of the Gosho which operate in the southern plains. He's wearing (by the standards of the grasslands of the Southeastern Continent) heavy armor of leather, bronze and iron, ornate kilt and waistband, undervest and riding moccasins and with a high end Napohjek spearsword, signs of both martial prowess and considerable wealth.



Here we have a woman from a Southern Gosho Host with a young Terror-Bird that will soon be fit for riding. For clothes she has a simple tunic with a slid down the middle for convenience while riding with an ornate sash, headband, moccasins and a bronze necklace. She is from one her host's wealthier families, which has a decent share of livestock and a few luxuries that less well established members of the host would lack, including bronze cook pans and knives, ornate oil lamp, gold earrings, ornate tents, and a couple of slaves to help with day to day tasks. Compared to the humans of Ilvamicum the Gosho have very loose gender roles. Men and women both tend to herds, clean and cook. The biggest difference is that men will ride out to attack and raid (though Gosho women are as a rule capable fighters) and that women are expected to weave cotton and wool and make clothing. Weaving is considered to be the highest of crafts among the Gosho.




In spite of her loss at the Battle of Daagsgrad, the Raethis was still considered a success. The technical achievement was the most obvious, but there was also a significant political factor as well. Building the first non Infrastructural Ironclad carried with it considerable bragging rights among the Drow States, which was capitalized on by House Valcas and the Vanothron Admiralty to rush through the procurement of four more Ironclads after it's completion and six more after the defeat at Daagsgrad with another three being ordered by the great houses. Most of these were Raethis class ships with progressive degrees of refinement and slight enlargements there-of. While they may not have parity with them, they could successfully engage and defeat a Infrastructural Navy Ironsides-class ship and resist a large amount of fire from Coldlander Guns as well as being both proven technology and comparatively cheap and quick to build. However the admiralty also ordered two new ships to be built with the aims of having something to match the larger Hunters class ships and (after it was revealed) the Avatar. There was also a desire to stay at the head of the Ironclad race for reasons of national prestige as the other Drow states and several human powers were also engaged in their own Ironclad programs. Perused in spite of mounting costs and resource shortages*, in 39 IA the Dark Elves launched their first Ironclad Ship of the Line, the Zaethan (Scimitar).

To a degree, the Zaethan was a scaled up and enlongated version of the Raethis. She had an iron hull with iron and wood used for her internal structure with a long narrow body and a slight forecastle. She had three sails based on iron masts and what was at the time the most powerful steam engine the Dark Elves had built driving her prop, giving her a better power to weight ratio than the original Raethis (if not as good as those improved Raethis class and more modest Raethis derived ships launched alongside her). Unlike the Raethis she has an elevated enclose bridge amidship. Numerous technical systems were also employed aboard the Zaethan including (among other things) the addition of Radios, electric lighting, speaking tubes for internal communication and a washing machine based off those captured from Infrastructural freighters. The crew stationed aboard her enjoyed a work enviroment which was less cramped than traditional warships.

Her armament on launch was rather eclectic, a product of her being rushed into service. Most of her artillery was simple muzzle loading rifled cannons, heavier than those of the previous generation but largely the same. The initial plan was to outfit her with new and (by Drow naval standards at the time) large calliber steel breechloading rifled cannons, but production of said guns faced delays (including at least one attempt at sabotage by a rival) and naval politics had a fair number of the original stock shifted to other ships, partially because there was concerns about loosing all the advanced artillery if the Zaethan was sunk early on in her career and partially as a political move to appease other great houses. Regardless, only the forward guns of the Zaethan were new pattern breachloaders on her launching, though there were plans on upgrading her to her original standards. Even so for her day against anything other than the Infrastructural Navy she was still very well armed. All of her cannons were fully capable of firing fused explosive shells which could be devastating against wooden hulled ships, as well as shells with hardened steel heads, with an effective range of five kilometers. This was proven when she successfully wiped out a Allegonian fleet dispatched to attack Fidelium on her maiden voyage.

As mentioned, the Zaethan had a sister ship, the Cendol Vothtalrin (Obsidian Knight). She was laid down laid down seven months after work began on the Zaethan. In addion when the Zaethan was launched, several more Ironclad Ships of the Line were in the works from Valcas shipards, this included armoring seven older ships of the line, construction of three more first ships and a forth which began shortly after the Zaethan cleared her slip. For centuries the naval balance of power had occasionally shifted back and forth by small margins, now new technology has broken it. After bitter first hand experience, Drow States and Valnothron in particular are determined to see that in the new order things falls in their favor.

Stats

• Length: 120.5 meters
• Beam: 16.7 meters
• Weight: 8,860 tonnes
• Crew: 15 officers, 60 NCOs and Overseers, 200 enlisted Drow sailors, 500 slave sailors, 100 marines
• Powerplant and drive: One Double Expansion steam engine, 8,000kw output (six boilers) driving a single screw propeller
• Top Speed: 28km/h
• Range: 9,200 kilometers under engine
• Armament: 24 45-Vaul rifled muzzleloading cannons, 6 40-Vaul breechloading rifled cannons, 14 60-Vaul Rifle Muzzeloading Cannons, Ramming Prow, swivel guns
• Armor: 116.2mm belt, 63.1mm bulkheads, 3.2mm conning tower, wrought iron.

*These would gradually be alleviated after the conclusion of the Escort War for various reasons including the upgrading of existing mines, the significant expansion of mining operations in the Western Colonies and Infrastructure liquidating some 50,000 tonnes of pig iron in the Kingdom of Torion, Venoa and the Dalisid Seraphate.

[Zor]

An Enforcer from the the Petrolium Colony's Enforcement Department circa 39 IA, tasked with maintaining law and order on the frontier. They've largely traded in their greatcoats for lighter cotton uniforms (though a tropical dress uniform based on that design exists). They also are equipped with a new weapon, a latex coated truncheon. Even so a good Enforcer can talk their way out out of most situations. As of 39 IA the colony has a population of about 15,000 with 40 Enforcers, most of whom are veterans of various enforcement details. If push came to shove, they are expected to lend their weight to the defense of the colony against aggression, though this is a secondary function at best with the Army Garrison and civilian militia bearing the brunt of that duty.


In 218 BIA in Galthirith House Jalnoth was faced with the prospect of destruction. It had been a middling merchant house until a series of events and failed efforts earned it a large number of powerful enemies and alienated it from it's former patrons and allies. It's finances were in a death spiral and trumped up charges could be levied to strip it it's assets at best, leaving it's members destitute among the Discarded with active extermination (either through a formal order or by contracted footpads). With no other options, it liquidated most of it's assets, bought some supplies and sailed away on it's four remaining ships following the setting sun to vaguely known lands said to be cursed. Their rivals concluded that House Jalnoth was is in all likelihood dead and were certain that their relevance had ended. History would show otherwise.

After finding a suitable site, House Janolth set their anchors off the coast of the Northwestern Continent and conquered a primitive village of tribal humans. The enslaved locals helped them built a keep and worked the land to feed them. While outnumbered they had runic armor and weapons, as well as an apprentice and journeyman runesmith to keep up a supply of basic but effective gear. In the following decades they would enslave or destroy several more native settlements while negotiating alliances with others. Over the span of thirty years, House Jalnoth's numbers doubled from 337 to more than 800 with 2,200 slaves. With their position secured, one of their ships was provisioned and sent back to Ilvamicum with a cargo hold full of salted meat, potatoes, barley and maize in 187 BIA. They put into port in Valnothron and offered their cargo in tribute to the High Council as well as their allegiance, which they accepted. After that, the crew recruited from the discarded dozens of Drow desperate for a new life. Little attention was given to this at first, but this changed as shipments of foodstuffs from this far flung colony continued to arrived. A small garrison was eventually dispatched to defend it, though there were doubts about it's viability in the long term.

In 176 BIA the High Elves found out about this settlement and mobilized a small expedition to destroy the colony of Jalnoth's Domain (Jalnothliath), but was destroyed after facing stiffer resistance than initially expected. Two more expeditions were launched over the next two years but were similarly thwarted. In truth, the established powers of the Drow Houses were far more interested in the destruction of the High Kingdom's forces than defending Jalnothliath, which the say as disposable bait. Regardless, the colony's endurance of it's first trial by fire increased interest both in Valnothron (which established a secondary colony called Talyrisvel in 162 BIA) and abroad, as three other states dispatched their own expeditions for a piece of the action. A second more concerted campaign was launched by the High Kingdom in 151 BIA, which all but destroyed Cendoliath's initial settlement (only 400 survivors out of 7,500 escaped fleeing into the woods) and killed half the population of Valnothron's colonies, but the armada was defeated by a Joint Armada at the Battle of Veil Island with the surviving forces on the ground being hunted down over the next three months.

Perception among the Dark Elves of the colonies had been changing steadily but Veil Island is generally seen as the tipping point: from exposed remote outposts useful in the short term to a new home that could be secured against The Eternal Foe. More Dark Elves would come to the colonies and more effort was made to secure them, including the construction of new Watchtowers in major settlements. High Elvish campaigns against these colonies would continue (including the establishment of the Fortress of Cylath-Weiythilnar as a forward base), but their efforts were more a matter of blockade, harassment and attacks against specific settlements and regions rather than attempts to wipe out the colonies all in one go. They faced another serious threat in 127 and 118 BIA from the Raptors, who inflicted considerable damage on the colonies (Roughly 25% casualties, mostly farms and small towns) before a ceasefire was struck which included indemnities paid in livestock over a span of 64 years. In spite of this, the colonies would recover, grow and prosper.

In total, Seven Drow States have colonies in the Northwestern Continent and several islands to it's south and by extension there some internal variation culturally. However, there are certain features which are common to them which differentiate them from their parent nations. The biggest has to do with agriculture, as arable land is not dominated by vast estates. Some sizeable land holdings have been carved out, but more common are smaller farms established by small families with a small slave workforce. A large percentage of Colonists had come with little more than the clothes on their backs and are eager to carve out a little slice of land for themselves. Similarly the distinction between Merchant and Warrior houses is less pronounced as Dark Elves from either background often find themselves cast into the other's role. While some established Houses have transplanted themselves in their totality and the Great Houses have been increasing their direct stakes in the colonies as a whole, most colonists tend to be from fairly low down the totem pole of Drow Society, either being from the Discarded or Junior Members of established houses who want to strike it out on their own and start up cadet branches. The setting is more diffuse with towns playing a far greater role than what they do in the Motherlands. Similarly there is less stigma against manual labor among the colonies, as many prominent colonials are no strangers to getting their hands dirty. Which is not to say that slaves are absent. In total there are about 1.1 million Drow living in the Northwestern Continent with about 6.5 million slaves as of 40 IA. The majority of fresh captives that Drow warriors capture or Drow merchants acquire from human slavers tend to be destined for the Colonies.

In general in 40 IA the colonies are mostly rural. There are a few cities but these are not the metropolii of motherlands but modest centers of local commerce, administration and defense, the largest of which has a total population of 125,000. Foodstuffs, other agricultural products and timber are their primary products are it's main exports though shipbuilding has been coming into their own in recent decade and mining has stepped up considerably in recent years. For the past century canals have been dug while the first largely experimental railways begin to creep across the land. The colonies also has proven to be a solid source of sailors and warriors to the Drow States. Things have come a long way since the day's of House Jalnoth's keep in terms of extensibility, but the colonists do not take their safety for granted. On this frontier one will find Dark Elven bandits, hostile natives ranging from nomadic bands to petty kingdoms, gangs of escaped slaves, the occasional beast, claim jumpers and the occasional spat with neighboring colonies over territory (conflicts which the Homelands let happen in no small part to prevent the colonies from banding together against them). This is before the occasional raid by High Elven warriors or the concern about the return of Raptor Skyships. Drow Society requires Marshall aptitude from it's people and an often brutal frontier tempers it.



The Ministry of Technology and Industry began work on Typewriters in the early 20s. Between 23 and 30 IA some forty four designs were made, though only some 270 typewriters were made. The project had been given a low priority, with 8 to 14 people to this task at this early phase. The mechanisms were fairly complex and optimization of the design required human trials. Operations were moderately expanded in late 30 and production saw a moderate increase to 15-20 units a month using several different models. Most of which were sent to Administrative Preparatory Academies and schools for training purposes. Even so production was still largely done along a workshop model. A factory (Dalatyr Writing Machinery, DWM) was built between 32-34 IA to produce a cleaned up standardized model, the ATW-34.

Unfortunately production began five weeks before the onset of the Escort War, which largely derailed the project. Much of it's capacity was used to produce components for the navy and the army, with only a small trickle of surplus capacity used to produce a small number of spare parts and maybe one new Typewriter a day in a good week. It would not be until the Summer Solstice of 37 IA that output went back up to it's prewar level of twelve units a day, a figure which increased to fifteen a day in 38 IA, nineteen in 39 IA and twenty four in 40 IA. Production was initially focused on government needs, going to the Bureaucracy, Corps of Engineers, Ministry of Education and the Military. Though in 39 IA the Ministry of Distribution began selling typewriters at 850 Credits, as well as leasing them out for 40 credits a month and a 400 credit safety deposit to businesses. Plans are in place to begin exporting Typewriters in late 41 to early 43 IA depending on expansion of production and local demand. Some older Bureaucrats and Engineers have had a hard time adjusting to these new mechanisms (though they can often delegate said tasks to a secretary), but the benefits of being able to put down 50 words a minute or more has been well received. Typist training programs have become quite popular in recent years, as it's seen as a path to a less physically demanding office job and a key to promotion.




Leviathans are huge predatory reptiles that inhabit the oceans of the world and are among it's greatest creatures. Leviathans often grow to sixty meters or more with some ancient individuals can reach more than ninety. They can become more massive than the greatest of dragons and only Living Islands exceed their size, but unlike those placid herbivores Leviathans are active predators with massive jaws. Leviathans have been known to attack boats and occasionally ships and will eat sailors which fall into the drink. Fortunately, they mostly stay beyond the continental shelf, generally ignore ships and there are means to deter them. There are spells which can repulse them, as will firing a broadside into the sea or setting off a keg of gunpowder. When not going after sailors, they'll hunt both near the surface of the ocean and dive deep to feed on the strange beasts of the abyss which are products of a food chain driven by manasynthesis.

Naturally Leviathans are the subject of much folklore and legend. They are also a powerful maritime symbol. They are the heraldic animal of the Principality of Oestia and the Supreme Commander of the High Kingdom's navy is the Leviathan Lord.




During and after the Unification War, the Central Committee oversaw the reorganization of much of the human landscape of the Coldlands. Among the most visible aspects of which was the creation of Agricultural Cooperatives (often shortened to just Co-op in day to day speech, or Agri Co-op if one wants to specify), groups of farms which can pool their resources for their common good. The process was not mandatory, there are still a fair number of independent farms and the standard agreement comes with exit clauses for members, but it was incentivized by the Ministry of Agriculture which supplied Coops with irrigation systems, fertilizer, reaping and threshing machines and other such aide. Since a degree of mutualism was common in the Coldlands, this framework was largely adopted without much fuss. A member of a Cooperative is a Cooperativnik.

Life on a Agricultural Co-op involves a lot of work, with most Cooperativniks focusing most of their efforts on their personal farm (usually 30-40 hectares) while helping out their neighbors as needed. In addition there are also support staff including teamsters, technicians, medics, accountants and so forth. Their efforts are coordinated by a Foreman elected by the Co-op, who also handles deals with various other bodies on their behalf. That said, by 40 IA the standard of living on Infrastructural Co-ops has risen considerably. Their land is more productive, mechanization has made it less physically demanding, they have access to wider markets, new goods and they don't have to worry about raids. Houses are as a rule larger and often have cast iron stoves and glass windows. A small but steadily increasing number of co-ops have been electrified. Most Cooperativniks still mostly wear home made clothes, but these are mostly made from factory cloth. Latex galoshes from the petrolium colony are in high demand. Many coops have a small school and most of those which don't have access to one in a local hub-town or small city. Cooperativniks as a rule have large families, some of which will inherit their parents plot while others will move into cities, join the military or venture out to establish new farms and new co-ops.

A critical fact about Cooperatives is that they work better when their members get along. This is not always the case and there are on occasions tensions between individuals (which can result in farms leaving co-ops or being expelled) as well as general friction. That said, most Cooperatives attempt to cultivate a community spirit. It's common for Cooperativniks to make clothing with their Co-op's name on it. Co-ops are also encouraged to compete with each other, either in terms of productivity, vegetable growing contests, goalball leagues and flyting tourneys.



A general map of a section of the Southwestern Continent, including the location of the Infrastructural Petroleum Colony and the initial settlement of Fidelium in the year 40 IA. The Petrolium Colony is mostly situated in a Savannah enviroment, with vast warm plains. The Discovery River is a fairly substantial waterway. To the north the conditions gradually get wetter and hotter, eventually giving way to rainforest. Fidelium is located in an area with more rolling hills with some pockets of forest. The lands directly south of Fidelium are somewhat dryer, though it never becomes so patched to constitute desert. To it's southwest there is a stretch of rainforest along the coastal areas and in the foothills of a minor mountain range. To the west lie of both lie the more severe mountains and the domains of the Raptors.



Headed by Excellence In Execution Which Stems From Investing Considerable Attention To Detail Upon Each Individual Facet-57815 (Detail) the Ministry of Health and Sanitation plays an essential role to Infrastructure, seeing to the physical well being of it's population. Obviously a healthy worker is obviously more productive than a unhealthy one or one that's dropped dead, but beyond that it plays an important role in legitimizing the Central Committee. People like having access to medical care, especially when it is provided free of charge. When an office opens up in a hub-town or Co-op which bears it's double helix logo, people. The Ministry of Health and Sanitation has a wide variety of tasks from education programs to inspecting restaurants, but when it comes to directly providing medical aide it's main agents are Medics.

The first Medics were trained directly by Detail himself and from that the Dalatyr Academy of Medicine was put together between 8 and 15 IA. Medics have access to a fair amount of information on human anatomy and biology, much of which was unknown to those powers beyond (even the Elves who have an understanding of biology which is far in advanced of a typical purely mundane iron age civilization) and often work in conjunction with the Mage Corps. That said, despite the pronounced utility of Magical Healing it is not the be-all-end-all. Giving a regular regenerative potion to a person who has Cancer can be disastrous and medical support is rare and in some cases surgery is required. This is leaving aside the limited magical resources.

To a degree, Medics are comparable to the Corps of Engineers. That said, Medics are far less regimented than Engineers are. They are not required to wear uniforms (save those in the military) nor are they moved about nearly as much. That said, Medics are still employees of the state and are paid quite well.

In total, as of 40 IA, there are some 2,650 Medics in Infrastructure, who are in turn assisted by some 9,500 Nurses. Most are general practitioners of medicine, but some specialists exist as well. Mostly these are concentrated in cities or operate out of Hub Towns. The training of new Medics has been a high priority objective. A desired goal of the Central Committee is that of free universal healthcare for it's population. Technically this exists on paper in 40 IA, even if in practice they fall short due to their limited numbers and a degree of preferential treatment for government employees. That said, the average lifespan in the Coldlands has increased from about 31 years in 0 IA to 48 years in 40 IA and as more Medics are trained things become both better and more equitable.



Civilian Roadsteamer production saw a massive resurgence in Infrastructure after the conclusion of the Escort War. As workshops and factories were shifted back, the Central Committee provided designs for several new models as part of the post war Series 13. Several of which were made with specific roles in mind, among these was one for a Solid Fuel Roadsteamer Dumper. First assembled as a prototype in 37 IA and saw production begin in earnest in the spring of 38 IA, it soon became a fairly common sight.

The Series-13 Solid Fuel Roadsteamer Dumper (SF-Dumper for short) is large as far as road vehicles goes, weighing in at 6 tonnes empty. Even so, it's engine was a a bit of an anachronism compared to other contemporary Infrastructural Roadsteamers as (as the name implies) it was designed to burn solid fuels such as wood or in particular coal. This simplified the mechanism to a degree and meant that it could make use of fuel less expensive than fuel-alcohol or petrol burning systems. On the other hand operating these vehicles usually requires both a driver and a stoker, it's firebox needs to be cleaned out regularly of ash and the fuel that it consumes produces more exhaust. They are not fast, having a top speed of 21 kph, but they are powerful able to produce up to 50kW of power and they can haul up to four tonnes of aggregate material about and dump it from their hydraulic tilting hoppers.

Over the span of two years, some 78 Series-13 SF Dumpers have been built, with another 17 being built to serve other roles, from flatbeds to snow plows. Most of them are employed by construction crews and a few are assigned to mines and quarries. More are currently under construction as substantial projects are planned, while an upgraded Series-14 model is in in the testing stage. Even so as new systems are tested out in Dalatyr labs the end of their era draws to a close.




Dwarven Creation Myth

In days long past, there was a mountain. In this mountain there was a cave. In that cave there was a chamber with a mound of rock. The Earth was full of life and the life was good, but the Earth desired something more than plants and beasts. One day, that mound of rock shattered and from its wreckage emerged the First Dwarf, Edir the Earthdaughter. Born fully grown, from the moment she first opened her eyes she could walk, talk, manipulate and knew many things about her surroundings. She explored the cave and the land beyond. With stones and sticks she dug roots, gathered herbs, caught fish and rabbits and harvested mushrooms corn of the plants of the deep which she cooked with fire. As days turned to weeks and weeks to months, she hungered more. She was born alone and was loney, but her solitude would not last long.

A year after her birth, she gave birth to a pair of twins which she swaddled in rabbit hide. A son she named Nhori and a daughter she named Miel. She cherished them and delighted as the grew into their own. But while Edir, who was born fully grown, was content with the cave of her birth and the surrounding forest and the knowledge the Earth had gave her, Nhori and Miel were born as infants. In their hearts was the spark of curiousity and they would carry that flame in their hearts as long as they lived. They explored the lands beyond the cave, saw the sticks and stones that the Earthdaughter used and wondered how to use them better. They fashioned tools, made an oven to cook their food and worked stone. In time, they had children of their own, which they raised in a cradle and taught what they had learned.

It was by the Hands of Nhori and Miel that things of value were first made. Because of this legend the smallest of of Dwarven Coins is a Hand and why four hands is a Nhorimiel.

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The Infrastructural Bureau of Mobile Enforcement (IBME or BME) is Infrastructure's national level Law Enforcement body. It has some 3,200 sworn members in 41 IA, such as this Sergeant. It's function is to coordinate Enforcement efforts on a national scale between local Enforcement departments, work in remote areas, reinforce local enforcement as needed and generally act on a national scale. The basic BME uniform is designed with horseback riding in mind. That said the IME also maintains a small fleet of river patrol boats as well as bicycles and a special arrangement with the Ministry of Transportation for rail transport. Other options for transportation were at the time being being considered and tested.


It is little surprise that among the Drow States, Galthirith was the first to look into locomotive development. Several houses already had extensive coal and iron mining operations with railways for minecarts drawn by slaves and beasts of burden. To House Noljas, introducing mechanical taction was seen as both an easy source of income and a way to lowering their expenses. Work began on the project in the autumn of 30 IA lead by Ironmaster Narjath ti'Qixthas and a team of a draftsman, a mechanically inclined overseer, a Drow apprentice for each, four dwarven slaves and eleven human slaves, a budget of 500 scimitars a year and a pile of information on Infrastructural technology as well as the occasional insight of a captive Infrastructural Engineer. By 32 IA they had managed to complete their first prototype which was leased to a mine, which worked well enough for a few weeks before it's boiler burst. Three more would be built over the next two and a half years, but these would similarly be ill fated; derailing, scaulding workers and suffering numerous breakdowns. In part this had to do with design flaws and in part this had to do with handing complicated machinery to largely untrained handlers. Never-the-less by 35 IA Qixthas' team had manged to put together a reasonable design in Mine Locomotive no. 5. When combined with training up an experienced fireman to operate it, Noljas's locomotive program had the success it needed.

In general, Mine Locomotive no. 5 was a simple but solid design. Set to a gauge of five drow feet (1.55 meters), it had a kettle shaped boiler and was laid out in an 0-2-2 configuration. More importantly, it had a safety valve and basic but effective leaf spring suspension. Pulling only a tender, it could reach speeds of up to 24 kph and could haul along loads at 12 kph. The fact that it would do so in Cold Weather which was hard on both slaves and beasts of burden was particularly well received. But beyond that, it arrived in an auspicious time as the Escort War and the corresponding Ironclad Race drove the price of Iron and Coal up. Orders for additional locomotives following it's template were soon coming in and production was stepped up.

In general the Noljas Template-1 Mine Locomotive was a success, both as a product and commercially. Over the next six years some eight two were sold to mines, quarries, clay pits, logging operations and even to some factories in Galthirith as well Hansoliath and both of their colonies. As time progressed, modifications gradually improved performance, efficiency and reliability. But while it was effective in it's intended role, it was pretty much limited to it. It was too slow and not strong enough for long-haul cargo work and not could it be effectively scaled up (in spite of all ill-fated attempt to do so). Despite their unorthodox piston layout, House Valcas' Compound-Engine Locomotives (a configuration which would be called "Valcas Type" or simply "Valcas") were much better suited for moving payloads dozens or even hundreds of kilometers. Whatever advantage their early lead was lost. As such as discussion for the creation of cargo lines was discussed after the conclusion of the Escort War in 37 IA Lady Talith ti'Noljas ordered a set of new locomotives be built with the assistance of a couple of engineers. Over the next three years, eight new designs would be built and tested on a new set of long distance lines. The most successful of these (no. 6) would be the foundation of the Noljas Template-3 General Transport Locomotive, of which fourteen were ordered in 40 IA.

Far larger than it's Template-1 Mine Locomotive, the Template-3 General Transport was a 0-4-2 able to achieve speeds of up to 68kph on it's own and could tow 200 ven of freight along at speeds of up to 44kph. Broadly speaking, it was seen as being competitive with it's Valcas counterparts. They were not as fast as the latest Valcas model, but they were about as strong (maximum power output would be around 175 kW) and had some technical advantages. These included a sand-dome to provide improved traction on icy surfaces and they were easier to service than Valcas-Type engines (though House Valcas was winding down production in 40 IA in favor of more conventional designs). When this was combined with the dance of Dark Elven politics Template-3 was able to secure it's place both in the domestic market and as an export. To accelerate their own railway program Hansoliath ordered three Template-3s. Though both sides would continue to both narrow the gap between themselves and Infrastructure and gain advantage over each other.

As a closing note, unlike House Valcas stuck to numeric designations, House Noljas assigned each of it's General Transport locomotives a name. Initially this was not applied to Mine Locomotives as they were seen as functional industrial equipment, but in time this changed.

[Zor]

The first Non-Fabriacted Infrastructural Camera was made in 8 IA, a simple Daguerreotype mechanism made as a test for the still developing lens industry and a demonstration of principle for their still ad-hoc collection of technical personnel. A small number of said visual recording devices would be used through the Wars of Unification. They were of some use in terms of military intelligence and surveying despite their cumbersomeness, but these were eclipsed commercial, journalistic and propagandistic applications. Daguerreotype cameras would remain the norm through the 20s, but in 28 IA production had begun on the first batches of photographic film. Production of film grew slowly, but steadily. The Escort War disrupted matters as nitrocellulose was prioritized for munitions, even though film production never ceased and would quickly rebound after the signing of the Peace Treaty. In the years after the war, production of both Film and Film Cameras would pick up significantly, as would sales.

Here are a few models in service as of 41 IA.

• PSC-33 "Eagle Eye": An older model designed specifically for use by photographers. Tricky to use, but the results are quite impressive.
• UCC-38 Compact: Small and handy, but pricey. Good for someone on the go, such as reporters and spies.
• EC-41 "Spark": An entry level unit priced at 40 credits, Sparks are highly rudimentary but are comparatively straightforward to operate.
• FMP-40: This specialized crank operated camera is not designed to simply take static shots, but a lot of pictures rapidly onto a reel of film which can be projected to produce an illusion of motion. While a crude means of recording such information compared to Fabricated items, the utility of this technology is considerable.

Here we have the basic template for a brick residential structure for the town of Tabula-Rasa, a settlement in the foothills of the Dragonspine mountains. Made from brick with wooden internal structures to support flooring with both pure-residential and mixed-use variants designed, it meets the Ministry of Construction's 37-44 IA standards for small to medium town basic accommodation. The pure residential unit has eight basic basic 20 square meter studio apartments on the first and second floors. The Third Floor has two 26.3 square meter apartments. The mixed use variant has a pair of storefronts on the ground floor. The building has basic electrification for lighting and each flat is provided with an iron stove for heating and cooking and a sink, as is each lavatory. Connections are in place for flush toilets in the lavatories, but these would not be installed until spring of 43 IA with the completion of the Tabula-Rasa septic line leading to a nearby wetland for disposal with deliveries happening between 43 IA and 45 IA. For the first few years of Tabula-Rasa's history, its residents would be rely on chamber pots, outhouses and bucket-toilets.



Since 6 IA, a major product of Infrastructural Industry has been cast iron stoves and ovens. First for army commissaries, bakeries, paddlesteamers and factory canteens and over the next few years for household use. In 10 IA household iron stoves and ranges even in Dalatyr. Since then, they have become commonplace in most areas of the Coldland and a fairly popular export item, being more fuel efficient and easier to clean. By 42 IA, Iron Ranges have largely replaced traditional stone and brick chimneys. In rural areas they've become common in many areas, but distribution has been a bit more spotty. They are also exported abroad, but often face competition, mainly from Dwarven clans. These are sold under the Marque of HKOS (Home Kitchen Oven and Stove) with a three letter code for the city that made them (in the case of this unit, Dalatyr).

While an improvement on pre-Infrastructural stoves and ovens, there are still fairly significant issues to having hundreds of thousands of these coal and wood burning stoves in use. Fire Hazards are obvious, as is air pollution in dense cities. For this reason, alternatives are being considered with medium term plans to introduce replacements.

[InsaneTD]

I really enjoy your world building. It's interesting seeing a high tech group dropped into a low tech magic setting. Seeing them build up the local technology and jump starting what they can off their own tech.

[Zor]

double post

[Zor]

(Serene Republic of Venoa, Early Spring, 41 IA)

The landscape was one of rolling hills and valleys; warm, green and long since shaped by the hand of man. There were a few pockets of forest here and there and villages which crowned the highest of hills, but the bulk of the landscape was given over to agriculture. There were fields, vineyards and pastures criss-crossed by dirt roads, as it had been for centuries. For the tenants and yeoman which tended these lands, life had long since settled into routine set to the rhythm of the seasons that repeated year by year and generation by generation. There was a flow of people to the City of Venoa searching for their fortune, the occasional new arrival from far off parts who married into a family who'd in time settle in, the punctuation of holidays and elections and of course the disruptions caused by drought or war, but things always went back to a broadly steady state. An elf who'd walked this land six centuries ago would still find it familiar, even if the Villa of the Patricians had gradually grown.

Along that landscape came something new, chugging an crunching it's way over the farm roads and down the stone paved highways past carters, swineherds, laden mules, the occasional person on horseback and pedestrians as well as farmers in their fields. A large metal black boxy thing on fat black wheels, smoke pouring from it's chimneys making it's way without any beast or golem pulling it moving faster than a stagecoach. It would be the subject of a lot of talk for the rest of the day. A few people thought it was one of the new Locomotive things that they'd read about in the broadsheets, though it did not run on rails and no rail construction was happening within thirty miles. But they were not far off.

Eventually the thing came to a halt outside of the gates of the Villa Di'Nalligili, home to one of the Serene Republic's more prominent Patrician families, which was also emblazoned on the strange machine. It's doors opened and a small party disembarked, among them was Giorgio Di'Nalligili, his wife Orietta along with a handmaid with a parasol and bodyguard with a breastplate and shortsword. There were also two other figures in strange foreign garb. The first was a man in a flat cap who came out from the front of the vehicle a woman a black uniform.

Bureaucrat Grade-8 Alyona Vertebov met with the merchant prince and gave a respectful bow. "Was the ride to your satisfaction, Signor?"

"Very much, Learned Bureaucrat." The Patrician said, his voice controlled but satisfied. "We made good speed and the bumps were less of a bother than on a carriage and the electric fans were a most welcome touch. A most civilized conveyance my dear, and one which will impress guests on excursions. The exterior's a bit sparse, but that can be fixed."

"If you see fit." The Ministry of Distribution had shipped over four of these vehicles to the Serene Republic a couple months ago, one as a gift for the Doge and three for auction. The Dogial unit had received the attention of several local artisans who affixed a large amount of gilded filigree and suchlike to the vehicle. Personally she felt it rather spoiled the effect.

"As for the teamster, how long would it take for him to train an apprentice?" Giorgio asked.

"I will defer to him on this." Alyona replied.

"With regular sessions more or less daily and a willingness to learn, I should be able to get a novice up to speed in six months." The Driver, one Illya Selivonisleb said. "Mechanics are another matter. This is fairly complex and I would take it slowly. The last thing I would want is some poor soul getting himself blasted with high pressure steam. But some basic things such as swapping tires could be done in afternoon. I'd still recommend taking her in to our Mechanic's Shop in Venoa for a check up regularly and for more serious issues." Part of the deal was a two year contract for his services as a retainer who was a capable driver and mechanic and who could speak Venoan passably well.

"Very well. Once again, dear Bureaucrat I am impressed by the work of your Great Machine. This will make the journey from the estate to the townhouse both quicker and more pleasant and for that you have my gratitude." He extended a hand.

"To a long a healthy business relationship." Alyona replied as they shook.

"A worthy cause, and one I would be glad to further sure up by offering you refreshment. Dinner should be ready within about two hours and it would be a pleasure if you attended."

"Of course, Signor." Venoans typically had the biggest meal of the day around Noon and the Serene Republic had excellent cooks. With that the final if largely ceremonial stages of a deal were settled without issue. Giorgio paid some 1,235 Lyra had been to the Ministry of Distribution's Venoa Office for a specially outfitted Series-13 Roadsteamer Coach*, who would in time pay more for fuel, spare parts and maintenance. Not that he considered the money wasted as it did allow him and his entourage to more easily get about and did impress peers and those lower on the totem pole. Over the course of 41 IA, Infrastructure would give away four Coaches to heads of state and sell sixteen. The move did earn a net profit which did help in paying off the debts accrued during the Escort War, but the main purpose of these sales was to lay the foundation for what was to come.

*Basically a standard Omnibus with a more well furnished carriage like interior. The fact that the design was uptrimmed public transportation was generally left out of the marketing.


(Fhamesq territory, aproximately 75 km from Fidelium, Late Spring, 41 IA)

Two foreign parties made their way through the lands of the Fhamesq Tribe. From the northwest came the Yarulet in canoes. From the Southwest overland came the Sisnok on terror birds. Each group was twenty strong and carried a plumed truce-staff, announced their coming with flute and drum and had with them a Fhamesq escort, though they came in their full panoply. At their lead was their chieftans of these tribes, Tarqir The Fleet and Johmihd The Groundsloth*. Fhamesq farmers watched their passage intently. The rules of parlay were sacred and guests they may be, but generations of conflict left a mark and while hostility was held back.

Within two hours of each other in the afternoon they arrived at the hill-town of Mesqbrem, where they were met Dharked The Fox, chieftan of the Fhamesq. Tarqir and Johmihd knelled, asked for guest-right and were let in. Mounts were stabled, boats were secured and the travelers were allowed to wash up and polish up their gear. After that, they made their way into the Great-Hall and sat down to discuss matters.

All of them had dealt with the Fidelians, a cult of strange men who'd come from the sea. They'd built a town, carved out new farms with strange crops and beast and their barking-tubes could cut a man down from hundreds of paces. Raids had been launched, but most of these were lost. Attempts at trade had been made by several of their people and they made a few trades. Despite that, they never accepted ransom for captives. More importantly, their numbers continued to swell as more of their Great-Boats coming in regularly, with more and more land being claimed by them. It was clear to all that something needed to be done.

As the sun dipped in the east, they gathered around a bronze brazier, which an elderly Wise-Woman lit with torch. In the flickering firelight they kneeled around, each small handful of oil-seed in hand.

"Keeper-Of-Oaths, hear my words!" Dharked said the ritual words. "The men of Five Circles who call themselves Fidelians intrude upon our lands. They have slain many of my kin and hold others in bondage. They know not of you and they spit on those who do. Whatever differences and grievance I may hold with those of neighboring tribes pale before the threat and the sacrilege that bears the mark of Five Rings. For this Reason I shall lead the Fhamesq against these invaders. We will burn their homes, slay their warriors, scatter their people and claim our plunder in your honor. Those who abide by the same odd with the Fhamesq against these foes shall be my brother in arms until they are broken. This I Swear!" He cast his seeds into the braiser, sending up a puff of smoke.

The other two chieftains repeated the Oath. Then they grabbed their Napohjeks and held them aloft to their gathered parties. There was cheering and chants of war as they left the Great Hall to the square. Outside they made their announcement and there was cheering. To commemorate the event, a feast was held. There was spit roasted llama and capybara stuffed with chili, fish from the river, corn tortillas, roasted vegetables, fresh greens, sweet fruit and a steady flow of Corn Beer. There was music and dancing and a mage made a wonderful show with swirls of colored smoke. Tarqir and Johmihd were impressed by the event and both of them pledges that they'd organize something as grand once the bloody business was done. But before then, thousands of warriors would march upon the so-called Land of the Faithful.

*The custom of the people in the Gnoi-Halkhom region is that prominent figures get Honorifics added to their names.



(Fidelium, Late Spring 41 IA)

Sixteen days after after their leaders met, the Fhamesq, Yarulet and Sisnok had readied themselves for war. The call was spread and from farmsteads and villages, men took out their weapons donned their armor and made their way to the main town. Of some 46,000 people, 2,200 men assembled. There were the tribal elites who road Terror-Birds or Sloths armed with spears, bows and Napohjeks clad in iron and bronze armor. Along with them were the common warriors, armed with basic weapons and maybe some padded armor or helmets mad of leather reinforced with wood, bone or if they were really lucky strips of iron. Among the latter category in the Yarulet was Rowix, a youngest son of a marginally prominent family eager to prove himself. After it was determined that the weather was good and performing their war-rites, they marched off on the last full moon before the Winter-Solstice.

Once under way, the Alliance of Three Tribes divided their forces up into parties of 30 to 50 men that went their own way. Each of which split off to surround Fidelium's Frontier. A more concentrated attack was considered by the chieftains as had happened from time to time when conflicts go more serious, but doing so would mean that the Fidelians could bring their heavier guns to bare on a large mass. Smaller groups hitting multiple points would divide the enemy's attention and allow more parties to breach their borders and make off with useful plunder and captives, burning what they left behind. In particular, weapons and armor would be prime prizes. If the need arose, several groups could also reinforce themselves. After that, they would keep up the attacks and push them back. It was a form of war that was familiar to the peoples of the area and in general terms the plan was solid given their forces and the broad strokes of their encounters with the invaders.

Unfortunately, their information was incomplete and they overlooked the matter of the mercenary mindset. In particular, their paranoia. One thing a Mercenary Company learned quickly was to mind their surroundings, not just in terms of their immediate enviroment but also the bigger picture. Nobody wanted to be stabbed in the back, find themselves shackled to a hopeless cause or otherwise caught off guard or stuck in a killing field. Ex-Janissaries were vigilant about monitoring their frontier, patrolling and scouting out designated zones, but the Mercs looked around at what the natives were doing. Not only scouting for movement of trops, but observing civilian life, asking about goings on, bribing sources and taking notes about the situation and piecing together what it might mean. Soon enough several companies realized that something was likely going down. They shared their thoughts with the Prelate and the Jaifrels who stepped up the alert and sent out scouting missions. There was a few skirmishes, but they spotted native parties and more than enough of them got back to raise the alarm.

DrahTharn* Tzeth Third of Tzol was not a happy camper. He'd expected to spend a few weeks on bastion duty, spending easy days sitting around one of the defensive star-forts in case any foreign power decided to attack doing light work, smoking and spending some spare time in town having a good time. After two days of this, he was marched off to some gods forsaken posting where he and five of his fellows had spent the last three days a mile and a half away from the nearest farm crew camp. He didn't grumble, Janissaries that did tended not to last long and some habits died hard, but he knew his mates felt similarly. They maintained their vigil as best they could and killed time, hoping that this damn fool thing would end. Then suddenly just as lunch was being prepared they heard a horn coming from the forest. They got geared up quickly and stood to attention. Soon enough they saw a mercenary scout galloping past the treeline five hundred yards ahead with an armed mob behind him. They shouted to get their attention and ran to position, closing the distance to three hundred yards before opening fire.

Even though their party had been spotted, Rowix was still confident in the attack. The rider had fired a couple of shots, but none of them had hit anything but trees and a few sling bullets and arrows had him running. He had been nervous, everyone was. But to get out of your first scrape with such an enemy unmarred and seeing him running was a major relief. Someone yelled "GUT 'EM LIKE FISH!" and the traditional Yarulet Warcry was repeated several times by a few younger warriors even if a few Old Timers gave dirty looks. Even so, battle had been joined. The rider was chased and they soon were on terrain the invader's farmland. Six men were in front of them near fodder stacks. As brave as they could be, they had them outnumbered nearly ten to one and they were on foot. He'd imagined presenting one of their barking sticks to his father and the Face he'd win in doing so. Even one of their Greatblades or Helmets would be a prize that would get him a lot of attention from the ladies. The other men had the same thought and soon forty eight men were barreling over the land with shouts of "GUT 'EM LIKE FISH!" filling the air.

Then there were distance flashes and puffs of smoke, followed shortly after by puffs of smoke and screams as a couple men toppled over. Beyond sidestepping them Rowix ignored the fallen, running now would accomplish nothing and he had Five-Ringed Heads to Smash. The group itself had a sort of inertia which pushed it own in spite of this, each person feeding into it. The fact that he saw a couple of shots slam into the ground helped him press on despite the fire. Then everything changed when a bullet ripped through his shield and straight through his chest. The simple shock of the impact was enough to stagger him and make him loose grip of his mace. He continued onwards for two steps before falling face first into the ground. Despite the casualties inflicted, the party never broke. Five Yarulet warriors managed to close on the small guard force, three of which were skewered with braced bayonets, one was dodged and beaten with a rifle butt and another managed to land a blow with an axe which could have been lethal if Tzeth did not have a breastplate. A favor which he quickly returned with a short sword. Rowix could not appreciate this fact as he bled out.

The Janissaries soon found themselves surrounded by their fallen foes, shaken but largely uninjured. Even so, they soon spotted another War-Party making it's way to the Farming Camp. They grabbed some extra ammunition from their packs and ran it's defense. Between their intervention the action of the militia and the scout they were able to cut down that party as well. The next day, Tzeth and his squad were promoted, given metals and honored by the Prelate himself for their defense against this incursion and the body count they wracked up on what would be known as The Day Of A Thousand Spears**. Tzeth's section's success was far from universal. Several farms were plundered and raised, several patrols were wiped out and various Ex-Janissary, Mercenary and Militia units suffered casualties. Even so, for every party that succeed seven failed and the the bulk of the butchers bill went to the Three-Tribes Alliance. Nine hundred of their warriors were lost and more were maimed. The three chieftains had hoped to land a crippling blow, instead they spent much of their manpower only to hurt them to the point of rage.

*Third Blade, Fidelian equivalent of "Corporal"
**In truth, due to complications in coordination by the Tribes as well as tribal forces rallying and launching secondary sallies, incursions continued through the night and through the next day.



(Fhamesq town, Early Summer 41 IA)

VhirJaifrel* Gath Second of Somni inspected the scene before him and found it good. Before him was a battery of five ten-vaul cannons, now silent after their brief bombardment of the main Fhamesq town. It had been two weeks since the Day of a Thousand Spears, time that had been spent readying supplies, scouting out paths of advance and marching five hundred of his men and three hundred mercenaries for three days over rough terrain facing down raiding native raiders and a thunderstorm. For all of that, the siege was brief. A few shots were fired, the walls were shattered at key points and the settlement was stormed. The palisade had not walks for soldiers and only one turret, primarily as a lookout post. The town was then stormed and the armored gun wielding forces managed carved through the remaining resistance without much issue. He'd feared that they would fight on to the bitter end but for every man that attempted to resist, ten surrendered.

As he'd took in the shattered enemy town, he felt a surprisingly complicated set of emotions. There was regret, he'd been trained to push forward and storm positions in service of Valnothron and the cause of the Divine Order and by it achieve human spiritual refinement or perfection a blaze of glorious zealous service. But that was no longer his lot, the duty of a commander was to observe and direct. Instead of the thrill of battle, there was the cerebral exercise of strategy and a burden of responsibility for his men and the defense of his newly established home. While he approached the job with diligence and thoughtfulness and he'd gotten used to it over the past four years, he'd never be fully comfortable with it.

Even so things had gone well, the assault was a success and the mercenary captain Acel had said that he'd handled it reasonably well. Casualties were light and most of them non lethal, a nest of vipers had been stamped out and the village was theirs. With that their was the relief of not being found wanting, the thrill of triumph and, even though he worked to keep it in check and remember his place, pride. Both in his forces and in his handling of the situation and what they had done this day.

As he observed, his men and the mercenaries were hard at work going over the hill-town. The native tribes did not use coins, but there was some jewelry and gold and silver ornamental pieces here and there. A few of the of the rugs and cloth were quite nice and were curios that could fetch a pretty penny across the sea. The same applied to their weapons and armor to a degree, but for much of them the Gosho were more valuable. But the real prize for Fidelium was two-fold. First there was three thousand tonnes of maize in the granaries along with a lot of dried meat and a fair number of llamas and capybaras in pens. Enough food to feed Fidelium for months, even with nearly three thousand new mouths to feed. Much of the population had been captured alive and was being marched back to Fidelium. What had been a threat was now an asset to Fidelium, but more than that three thousand humans would be set on the path of spiritual perfection through submission to their betters.

Three days latter after two reserve companies arrived, VhirJaifrel Gath and the bulk of his army would march to the northwest, leaving behind a hundred ex-janissaries and militia to pick over the remains and act as security as the foodstuffs were bagged for transport by barge and cart. It would also serve as a hub for plunder and captives gathered from surrounding hamlets and farmsteads for the next fortnight by small cavalry units. The former was more abundant, since most of the Fhamesq had fled with what they could carry. But enough stragglers had been collected never the less. That job took ten days, after which the settlements was burned. This process would be repeated with the Yarulet and then the Sisnok. In the span of a month the tribes that had allied against the Faithful of Fidelium had been shattered and scattered, with eleven thousand slaves harvested from their wreckage.

But for all it's horror, this retaliatory Reaping would be but a prelude of what was to come.

*"Senior/Superior Jaifrel", equivalent to Major. At this point, the highest rank in the Fidelian Army.



(Valnothron, Summer 41 IA)

Having just finished negotiations for a deal on tobacco with House Xeljaen, Lady Talnara ti'Valcas made her way to her private dining room for lunch. It would be a light affair and quick, but she was looking forward to it all the same. Between business, family affairs and matters of state her life was a busy one. This day in early summer was far from overwhelming, but while she had worked for more than two days straight on a few occasions she had long learned the value of a proper pace and the value of a bit of respite. She made her way through the halls at a steady pace quietly in anticipation.

About half way, she was met by Kaelin ti'Valneth. She'd heard her approach ahead of time, but it was a bit of a surprise for her to drop in on her like this. Normally she'd wait until after lunch if something had come up. She could think of several reasons for this, most of which were bad.

"Lady Valcas," She said giving a slight bow "A report from Ilianvir. Captain Breileth has arrived and is collecting the consignment. Four Hundred and Forty fresh captures between eighteen and twenty five years. Assuming minimal losses, projected auction value is between thirty five to forty eight thousand scimitars."

Her ears twitched in attention at the report, once complete she made some quick calculations. "That would be about nine to twelve and a half thousand in profit."

"Correct, my lady. A complete report is available at your convenience."

"That would be immediately. I would like to skim it over lunch."

"At once my Lady." Talnara said as she continued on her way, her mood improved. While there had been considerable discussion about specifics of implementation and objectives, it was clear from the earliest conception that the Fidelium Project would be a long term operation, starting from an initial encampment and from that being steadily expanded and consolidated. There would be specific challenges that would need to be met at each stage as well as emergent problems, but one which would be constant through the early stages at least would be the need to keep up the program's inertia. A stall in development while things were still coming together could lead to a decline in confidence, a rise in opposition in the government, a decline in funding and further delays and a downward spiral. She doubted that effectively abandoning the project would kill Fidelium as it stood, but a few villages of subsistence farmers just scraping by was not a terribly useful asset. The fact that such a flop would do nothing good for the political reputation of those who pushed for it would be insult to injury.

There had been some concern about the project (to borrow a phrase increasingly popular among her technical people) loosing steam. After the Zaethan intercepted an Allergonian attack, they pushed for an acceleration of the project over the next year. Unfortunately, their opponents managed to use that against them over the last nine months by arguing that the project had used two years' budget in one. They were only partially successful in that regard, as a couple of shipments were scraped together with surplus slave sailors and older janissaries, the Fidelium Fund, some discrete donations and a joint venture with Janilonas. Never the less the risk of a stall still loomed large. The opposition's efforts could be combated with rhetoric and reports about construction and trade deals, but to stop the opposition in their tracks Fidelium needed to show major returns. The current haul of captives taken in the recent war was just that.

She'd had contacts in place that let he know ahead of time and sent a ship for first pick. By all reports, vessels from other other houses were not far behind. And yes, assuming Captain Breileth returns to port without incident the shipment would be worth a pretty penny even with expenses and the vassal's cut. But more importantly, this could played to keep up the flow of funding to settle cleared out lands and develop that foothold by proxy on the Southwestern continent. On top of everything else, the potential for profit there made ten thousand scimitars look like pocket change.



(Near the Dragonspine Mountains, Infrastructure, Autumn 41 IA)

In a corner on the second story of a half finished building there were two hundred and twenty four bricks, not in a heap but neatly stacked up on fourteen wooden trays. One of which was picked up, carried to a section of half finished wall and set down. The string holding the bricks was untied, two of the topmost were picked up and set gently into freshly spread mortar. After a quick buttering with mortar on their tops and exposed sides, two more bricks were quickly picked up as the processed continued.

Over the last few months, Talsi ti'Xolcas had worked out a rhythm of bricklaying down. There were others in this small camp which were quicker, but then again she only was directly involved in construction on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. More often she worked in the kitchen. Both were demanding jobs, if in different ways. Food prep involved a lot of minor tasks and keeping track of a bunch of things, from knives to the time of day. Bricklaying was more physically demanding, but was something that she could do largely automatically. With that being handled, she was both stimulated and more or less free to think.

As she set down the third and forth brick of the stack, a thought went through her mind....

Another glorious day of Freedom, Talsi. That sweet air you longed for in the Mining Camp.

It and variations of which had come up frequently since her arrival here six months ago. With the onset of spring, Talsi and ninety nine other prisoners which had earned the most merit points and had the least infraction were selected by the warden and told that their probation had begun. After a three day journey downhill they reached their destination, a small patch of cleared land in the foothills near a river with a dock, a few square holes in the ground, some tents for them, a few log cabins for the site's staff and a lot of of building supplies and tools in a barn. There were a couple of watch towers, but only a rough fence. There were some guards and "Enforcers", some artisans and a bureaucrat in charge of the operation. A paddlesteamer would come in every few days. Upon their arrival, they were given two options: simply lay about doing nothing and getting nothing in this general area or sign up for a construction contract. A few dragged their feet for a hour or so, but before sunset all of them had signed up.

And so, they were put to work building their new homes. They were shown the blueprints and how to use the tools, though sailors had enough rough carpentry experience that they needed little instruction. Despite that, within a month everyone had gotten the hang of it and work proceeded smoothly with minimal involvement from the infrastructural tradesmen and even less from the guards. Even the arrival of twenty additional probationers to the site three months and another twenty last week ago did not stir things up too badly. What kept them on task was food, bonuses (now paid in credits) and most importantly shelter.

The majority of the buildings that they were putting up was housing. Two-and-a-half storey brick and timber building either with ten small apartments, or with six and a pair of shops at ground level. More specifically, they were building their new homes. In immediate terms, the completion of a new house meant less people sleeping under canvas or less people having to share a 20 square meter flat. So far, eight buildings had been completed with four more in the works. The pace had been picking up to finish these off before winter set in. But beyond simply seeing to their accommodation, these buildings were also their financial future. Once twenty of these buildings were completed, Talsi would would end up owning 1/5th of one of them. While that would have to wait until next year, it would mean that she'd not only have a place to rest her head and a place to cook, but a cash flow as more and more probationers would be sent here where they would have to find lodgings.

As her last brick was set and given a good schmear of mortar, she got to her feet collect another tray. There was still a lot of work to do and things were still rather crude, but each brick set made this place less of campsite and closer to a home. Like it or not she and her fellows were in Infrastructure and the best deal she was likely to see was here. The Coldlanders named this place "Tabula Rasa" and for now she and her fellows would have to write their story here. Might as well do so with a good roof over your head.

(Fidelium, Early Winter, 41 IA)

Five years ago, the first settlers arrived to the shores of what would become Fidelium. Captain Gerhart Deils was among the first to put his boots down on the sand of that strange beach as he oversaw the securing of the site of the encampment and the beginning of his contract. It was demanding job, being isolated in a hostile wilderness with only the strange company of former slaves with only a few translators to act as go between. He'd buried fifteen of his men here. Like all his men, he had his worries and fears about the venture. Despite that, they stuck through it all for this day.

Around five in the afternoon on a fairly unremarkable day he donned his armor. He was aided by his wife Elke, who'd polished it up for the occasion. After giving her a kiss of the forehead and told his lieutenants to assemble the company. Ten minutes latter they'd assembled, formed ranks and marched down to the Great Hall. The name was rather presumptive in Gerhart's option, it was basically a large barn with pews that could seat a couple hundred people, a dais for the prelate and a few offices and a meeting room for the Council. The rear pews was host to a small audience and a few Ex-Janissaries stood on guard. The company soon took a seat and after a short while, Prelate Thimarn arrived with a small entourage. As soon as the Deacons and Guests were seated the braziers were lit, the Prelate spoke a quick prayer and he bid that the company come forward. A queue soon formed with Gerhart at it's front.

"Gerhart Deils, Captain of the Grunerhund company." Thimarn said. His voice was calm, but there was a tinge of satisfaction for doing a new and novel task.

"Your Grace." He replied respectfully.

"You had been commissioned by the Masters Beyond the Sea to protect us in this New World. To fight for us and to teach us to fight for ourselves. In that regard, you have nothing but my thanks and my commendation for exceptional service. Though you are not one of The Faithful, you have earned a place of prominence in our society. Before the witness of your fellow Men, the Intercessors and the Gods do you accept the privileges and duties it entails?"

"I do, your Grace."

"Then you may sign." He gestured to a formal parchment on a small table. He soon signed his name with a Quill. It was a formality, he'd already made his position clear on matters years ago and never changed his mind.

The Prelate grinned and with that he reached down into a box and produced a sword "Then by the powers outlined by the Charter of Mandates, I declare you to be His Honor Gerhart Deils, First Baron of House Greendog and Lord of Greendog Hall. May your line flourish in service to Fidelium." Gerhart bowed and accepted the blade. There was some cheering from the crowd, who were mostly their families.

The newly minted Lord of Greendog Hall soon retreated to his pew and watched the rest of the ceremony. He'd give His Holy Hatness this, he did not drag out the ceremony out. The Queue moved forward, the lines were spoken, documents signs and swords were handed over. Seven other Barons were named from the lieutenants and sergeants, with the rest being declared Knights. Once that was done, they were treated to a feast in the main square.

Per their contract the Grunerhund got four schillings day for most men in the company with a few senior members getting five* or six, adding up to twenty marks a day at the initial full strength. Along with this was another two Marks per day for Company expenses, rations of two pounds of bread per man (with substitution criteria), access to the colony's infirmary, a cut of plunder seized, a final bonus of forty Marks and a few other options. All of which was far better than they could ever have hoped for back home. Technically they could have gotten transport and sailed back to Torion or the Anvosi Peninsula with their small fortunes for what that would be worth. But to a sellsword pay and plunder were bread and butter, but titles and land was the fabled promised land. The plots were not huge, a half square mile for a Knight and Two Square miles for a Baron, but they came with manor houses** and more importantly a workforce. Knights got three ex-slaves working as contracted retainers and eight slaves, lords got twelve retainers and thirty two slaves. It did require that they remain in Fidelium for the next two decades but the alternatives back home, nobody refused.

In doing so, the Grunerhunds went from a force only loyal to money to people deeply invested in Fidelium's political, economic and military success, as would their get. The prospect of ennoblement also provided a useful carrot to get more out of other mercenary companies, among other potential payoffs down the line. The mercenary companies could be a useful asset to the Fidelium project, they had skills that Janissaries lacked and ongoing synergy between the two blocks could create something greater than both. Never the the less to incorporate them properly they needed the right incentives to bind them to the project.

*Five Allergonian Schillings equals 1 Viertal, which is a quarter mark.
**Admittedly about half of these were still incomplete at the time, even with them being fairly high priority.


(About 90 km Southwest of Fidelium, Spring, 42 IA)

Across a valley on a warm sunny day the usual sounds of swaying grass were broken the pounding of feet, the deep reverberating calls of Terror Birds, the desperate panting of harried men and warcries of a party of Gosho raiders. At it's vanguard Liklo Kilhan-Jrohiu Tivosh watched as one of his quarries fell into the grass, annoyed for a moment at the anticlimax but soon recovering as he spotted a fresh quarry and closed in on the fleeing man. He urged his bird Vhri on to full sprint to close the distance as he raised his arm bolas in and and began to swing. In a few seconds he'd got it up to a good speed and with well practiced motions he let it fly. The stones and cord flew true and soon ensnared his quarry's legs. "Gotcha!" he let out as the man toppled over. With that he drew his axe and began corralling up the remaining runners. At the same time, the rear guard collected those that had already been brought down. He'd worn his new breastplate just to be safe, but seventeen men, women and children armed with nothing more than a couple of clubs and a few knives and exhausted by the chase could put up little fight against a dozen mounted raiders. They were soon disarmed and bound.

In total, the party brought in thirty three captives that day, which they lead back to the Host's main camp. A bit scrawny but still in reasonable condition. They had been living in a small encampment which had grown around around a small farmstead on what had been the fringes of Sisnok territory. There were a fair number similar knots of survivors scattered around Sisnok, Fhamesq and Yarulet trying to scrape by ever since the Fidelian assault last year, occasionally making a nuisance of themselves to the newcomers by stealing their pig-beasts and other such mischief. Generally a Gosho host would ignore tiny marginal groups hard pressed to simply avoid starvation. But to the warriors of the Tivosh host approaching Fidelium, they were a low risk high value target. With his share Liklo could get pots, pans, knives and other such metal tools, prime trade goods. Or he could get some additional arms and armor, both for himself and as gifts to gain leverage in the tribe. He was even thinking about getting a Fidelian Fire-Tubes if he could afford it, which was quite the status symbol if nothing else. Even so, things were definitely looking up and he and his War Party enjoyed a happy night drinking corn beer and roast llama.

It took another two days for the host to reach Fidelium, during which time, four more companies brought in a hundred and forty one new captures. Liklo in the end got a new helmet, a short sword, a couple hunting knives, three axes and a dozen iron pots and pans. A couple of his friends pooled their share together and got a flintlock musket and a hundred shots worth of powder. Was it useful in a fight? Yes. Did Liklo still want one? Of course he did. But as his wife told him, he could trade the goods for another slave from some inland farming tribe for when they returned. Even if his party was unable to take any more captives, he'd still be able to profit once they returned.

The Tivosh host at this point was on good terms with the Fidelians and had gotten into the habit of dropping by every six to nine months with a fresh load of slaves that they either captured, extorted or bought on their journeys. Two other hosts had also come to Gnoi bay with trade on their mind and word was spreading among the Gosho. The remnants of the Tribal alliance were easy pickings, but they'd soon be mopped up. Most of the slaves would be sold to the Drow States, who'd provide more supplies and people to expand the growing colony and trade goods to sell to the Gosho.

Before the rise of Infrastructure the Dark Elves would collect a harvest of human chattel from the Coldlands. In war Dark Elven invasions would often Reap countrysides and cities, but typically enough people would escape to rebuild or neighboring lands would be left unmarred to repopulate in a few generations. What was set in motion in the Southwestern continent would be known as The Denuding, and it's horrors would befall millions.


(Dalatyr, Summer 42 IA)

Like many Dalatyr kids, Andrey Sakharov had hoped to get into the Engineering Academy and when he was twelve he took the entrance exam. Like most of those hopeful kids, he did not get in. The entrance exams were hard and there were only 320 slots available to Dalatyr residents for 39 IA. Even so, his family insisted that he'd get a job after leaving school. After a few weeks of searching he found one with the Ministry of Transporation at Road Vehicle Engineering Workshop 4. Roadsteamers were cool after all and even if he was not an Engineer he could still learn lot about them on the job. It seemed like a good compromise at the time. Three years latter, Andrey was having second thoughts about this as he'd been stuck doing the same thing.

Six days a week he went down to the workshop's attached foundry, sit at his bench with a bucket of soapy water and a rag and wipe down whatever casting was put in front of him before sending it off to be machined. There was always a fair bit of sand left on them from the molds and that had to be dealt with. It was long dull work, working either an eight hour shift (or a four hour shift on Tuesdays) getting into the nooks and crannies of various machine bits and occasionally noting major deformations if he found them. About the only thing interesting about it was that he got a good working knowledge of Roadsteamer parts, even if it took some work before they were road worthy. He also noticed some changes.

Starting last winter there were some new castings which had nothing to do with steam engines along with the usual pistons, pipe junctions and other such parts. Only few of them were made at first and they went off to a sealed room for testing. Apparently a lot of the early ones were rejected and melted down for scrap iron with only a few being put onto new vehicles. But as time went on, the number of these increased steadily and the reject rate fell as well. He also got more of an idea about how these things came together as he began to see a few of the new vehicles on the road. Despite this, terms of his job, this simply meant different shapes to memorize in washing.

On a warm summer day, Andrey finished off his last engine block for the day. He cleaned out the last crevices meticulously before leaving the hunk of iron for collection. As the last bit was finished and after a quick towel off he let out a sigh of relief, gathered up his rags and bucket, emptied the bucket in the sink and left the foundry, leaving the four-cylinder block to be collected for the workshop. He'd expected to simply get his hat from his cubbie and go home when he was met by the Foreman who led him back to her office. After some quick pleasantries, she cut to the chase. Engine assembly was expanding a set of fresh hands which had even limited hands on experience with the new mechanisms was better than training a fresh worker from scratch. It meant a wage increase from 9 to 12 credits per day, housing priority and had prospects for promotion and Technician certification down the line. Without a seconds hesitation, Andrey agreed.

His parents were overjoyed to hear the good news; Right away, it meant a bit more money and long term it meant fairly soon he'd have enough money to set off and start up a new family once he got around to that. Even so, there was a point of the promotion which was personal to him; he'd be directly assembling the latest and greatest Internal Combustion vehicles straight from the Central Committee's minds, learning their secrets as he went. He may not be an Engineer, but he was on the ground floor of something that was going to be huge.



(Near the Urblaast/Loriv Canal, Infrastructure, Autumn 42 IA)

On a dirt road near the Urblaast/Loriv Canal, Engineer Vitali Dorsunov walked into work on a cool autumn morning in a somewhat bitter mood. Part of this was the weather, the temperatures had noticeably dropped this week with frosts reminding everyone that snowfall would come any day now. More importantly, he had to walk through it for about a kilometer and a half from his new home to his new workplace. Three months ago in Dalatyr, he and his family had a nice apartment with running water, two flush toilets and all the luxuries the Committee could contrive and he could cover most of the distance to DBSF-8 on a Trolley. This had been exchanged for a glorified wooden shack with basic electrification among a collection of other such shacks and barracks. Even with a pay raise it was still a noticeable drop in their standard of living for him, Lila and the Girls, but he'd been reassigned out here and that was that.

Soon enough he passed the front gates of ULBSF-2 and into the building proper. It was a low to the ground structure with more iron and steel in it's construction than usual. He hung up his coat and put on his helmet and was met with Felka who gave a nod in sympathy. She and about a dozen other hands been transferred out here as well, even if their case the shift had been optional and mainly motivated by a 50% wage increase. After a few quick pleasantries and comments on their families (doing alright, if still adjusting and annoyed) they went to work. She went to the floor while he went to his office and began filling out the reports. He was a better typist than many of his colleagues, especially the old hands who came to power before Typewriters became common. All the while, he sipped at a hot cup of tea and surveyed the operations below. As he began to warm up gradually his mood began to improve.

More or less, ULBSF-2 did the same job as DBSF-8, though it was more specialized. Instead of making Masonry Units, it produced precast panels and panels exclusively. It's gear was more extensive and far less ramshackle than the old Dalatyr operation was, being purpose built for the operation, including a dedicated overhead concrete mixer and a set of drying racks with heaters and fans to keep operations going even in the dead of winter. Once done, they were stored outside and loaded up onto flatbeds pushed by a shunting locomotive to a larger storage a short ways over where they were piling up. Stranger still, the Committee had plans on building a secondary building.

It was weird, but then again this place was weird. There were several prominent factories at this locale, including a massive steel mill. He got the logistics of building a big steel mill near a major waterway, where barges of iron could be brought in from the Dragonspine and good anthracite coal could be obtained from nearby pits. But these were manned by people who had lived for a decade or more in shanty towns. He'd heard that part of this was the war derailing plans, but even so it had been five years since the peace treaty. There were reports and posters which said that something Big was coming soon and Vitali was convinced that the panels he was making were a big part of it.

[Zor]

A common farmhouse from the Western Coldlands, built around 30 IA made of timbers. Numerous styles of houses have been built around the Coldlands making use of local materials (timber, stone, thatch, straw, mud, clay, twigs, fired bricks in a few cases) in accordance to the availability and by 43 IA many of these traditions endure. A fair number of pre-Infrastructural houses exist, but these are generally either being modified or replaced, with communities gradually upgrading their accommodations. Typically the families of a Co-op will work together on such projects. This example is a bit larger than average, being two stories and is able to accommodate a multi-generational family with children, parents, grandparents and often an uncle or aunt.

Many of them have a extended fireplace for heating in addition to an Iron Range. Said fireplace has a secondary shell which is used to circulate heat to a sleeping space on the second floor in winter. The basic design is in truth has been established in the Coldlands for centuries, though it has been refined. Coldlanders take winter seriously.



In the spring of 10 IA in a work-camp near Garrison-2 on the the banks of the Loriv River, a boat was launched. It basically a barge 14 meters long but outfitted with equipment shipped out from Daagsgrad by sled over the winter. Most notably a 36kW steam engine driving a pair of side mounted paddle wheels allowing her to putter along at 5 kph. Dubbed the "Lilypad" by the workers who built her she was the first Infrastructural Paddlesteamer, a type vehicle which would play a key role in the Wars of Unification and the Infrastructural Economy.

Infrastructure has two primary river systems (the Osgum and the Urblaast) which have been since time immemorial trade routes, even if the journey downstream was far easier than that upstream and for 4-3 months the rivers are frozen over. Paddlesteamers were a technology that was comparatively easy to implement as they could simply be built, shaken down and put into service. Paddlesteamers transported troops and supplies for numerous expeditions and in a few cases were used as artillery platforms. Once areas were secured under Infrastructural rule paddlesteamers would become major cargo haulers and passenger transports, establishing and expanding links, provisioning major projects, disseminating industrial equipment and products to far flung regions, bringing workers to where they were needed and generally generating revenue. With the completion of the Urblaast/Loriv Canal, their utility increased even further, as it meant that supplies could come up north to The Yards (Daagsgrad and Borogskov) from the southern regions and vice versa.

There has been steady refinement in Paddlesteamer Construction since the Lilypad, with paddlesteamers ranging from improved engines and structural steel components to electric fans and flushing heads. Even so, a lot remains the same. Paddlesteamers are shallow draft boats driven by a pair of paddlewheels. By 43 IA are between 20 and 65 meters in length with a cargo capacity between 50 to 600 tonnes. There are few larger examples, with the largest being the Verteb Dawn, a 112-meter long 3,700 tonne behemoth. Both sidewheelers and sternwheelers are used. Prop driven river-craft also exist but they are less common.

The Little Alisa (pictured) is an older model constructed in 23 IA and a bit on the small side, but fairly typical. She can carry up to 150 tonnes of cargo or 40 passengers and does odd jobs both for the Infrastructural State and local businesses doing a steady 16 kph. She's owned and operated by captain Fedorov Peresild and has a crew of eight which includes his wife, two sons and two daughters (the youngest of which is the craft's namesake). As of 43 IA there are some 850 Paddlesteamers working Infrastructure's waterways, of which about 480 are privately owned. Some of these have been commissioned by third parties, but the majority were either operated by the Infrastructural State before being sold off or were "awarded" to their crews after a period (5 or 10 years) of service.

There are several sites in which Paddlesteamers are built, among them are Garrison-2, The Yards and Vertebograd. However the most notable site of Paddlesteamer construction is the small city of Docklands. Located on the Southern Urblaast, Docklands has a direct rail link with Dalatyr since 19 IA and is home to a large number of timber yards, sawmills, machine shops, a couple of foundries, thirty four drydocks and a (most recently) the Docklands Engineering Academy. With 38,000 Residents, Docklands have emerged as an important secondary city in Infrastructure, one which is also home to several Roadsteamer workshops. Several Paddlesteamers have been shipped over in pieces to the Petrolium Colony to ply the Discovery River.

In addition to their obvious logistic applications as well as more specialized technical functions such as dredging, paddlesteamers serve a secondary role in terms of mechanical education. Over the last three decades a large number of teenage peasants have decided to make some credits and see the world by working on a Paddlesteamer and spent time helping keep it's engine and mechanisms in working order. In general, Paddlesteamers have done a lot to raise general mechanical literacy in the Coldlands. They have also been replicated beyond it's borders. When the first Paddlesteamers chugged their way down the Verteb people took notice, notably foreign merchants. Word spread to the nations of Illvanicum and soon enough there were people which were considering replication in lands with no shortage of navigable waterways. While they are less refined, Paddlesteamers are an increasingly common site in the Allergonian Empire, the Kingdom of Torion, Principality of Oestia, the Anvosi Penisula, Dwarven territory and in many Dark Elven States and their Colonies.


For the past three decades Phonographs have been a commercial success story for Infrastructure. The first cylinder phonographs were made in 7 IA as a proof of concept and the first consumer variant was put for sale in 12 IA. Though output was slow at first and prices were high, there were enough buyers to make it a worthwhile venture. Further success was had when phonograph exports began in 16 IA to raise foreign exchange capital. In 20 IA, flat discs made out of imported Tidentleaf lacquer from the Dalisid Seraphate were introduced. This meant that specific recordings could be easily mass produced by engraved master copy printing, gradually superseding wax cylinders for music, audio-plays and other such recordings. Consumer models are mostly sold under the brand name of "Sonus", though some are sold under other brand names for other purposes such as recording minutes.

Naturally, a recording industry emerged alongside phonographs. Various musicians and bands have taken recording deals with the Ministry of Culture, with recording studios being set up in the major cities. These range from folk singers to military bands to the newly formed Dalatyr Orchestra. A few deals have been struck with foreign performers, which has proven to be a profitable export item.

By 43 IA there are more than 300,000 Phonographs in Infrastructure and another 200,000 Infrastructural Phonographs beyond it's borders. In major cities, it's common for established families to own a Phonograph and a few records and many taverns, restaurants and other such venues have phonographs for ambient music. In the countryside they are more scarce, but it's become normal for a Cooperatives to have at least one phonograph for social events. Abroad, Infrastructural Phonographs usually end up in the hands of the nobility, patricians or the wealthy merchant classes with a small number being bought by local governments for civic purposes or the Order of Keepers.

Most Phonographs are crank operated and an entry level model costs about 300 credits. Even so, an increasing number of gramophones are run by electric motors while others are made to use electric speakers. There are three main factories producing phonographs with a combined output of 240 a day, with plans to expand this capacity going forward. At the same time, several Dwarven guilds, Venoan firms and House Crayith (vassal of House Valcas) and Breilan of Galthirith have begun production of their own phonographs. Output is still low, but the mechanism are not too complex and the existance of competitor products has been noted by the Central Committee.

[Zor]

(Galthirith, Late Winter 43 IA)

Galthirith was a land of serious winters; ocean currents spared the northernmost Drow State the extreme temperature drops of the Coldlands, but they were long and dark and wet. The end of winter involved cold rains, mounds of slush and rivers flooding. Most of the population, Dark Elf and Slave alike, still welcomed the change even if it could be a cold soggy ordeal to those who worked outside. On a small fenced in compound, this was compounded by the smell of the contrivances they operated; a set of huge metal and stone tanks crisscrossed by pipes, warmed by furnaces and with pumps driven by a repurposed mine-locomotive engine. The whole affair rattled, gurgled, chuffed and groaned ominously as it went along and it's contents sloshed about within it's iron guts.

"Well, the still certainly is impressive." Captain Firath ti'Doljeth of the Galthirith Navy said to the mechanism, politely leaving out the exact nature of the Impression that it gave. "And it can produce how much Dark Distillate?"

"Nineteen barrels worth a day from Still-Three, give or take." Tharsien ti'Uival replied with a more enthusiasm than decorum usually permitted. "Still-One can provide eight, Two can make fourteen and Four can make twenty two, though it's currently down for repairs."

"So they can supply sixty three barrels on a good day?" The captain replied.

"Yes, among our other products. Still-Five should be working in about six weeks and should be able to make another twenty five to thirty to the total."

"And the new complex that your patrons are building could provide six times their combined output by years end." The Captain remained focused on Dark Distillate.

"Slightly more than that if all goes to plan." Tharsien replied "And the process should go a lot more smoothly."

"Indeed. Master Alchemist, I must ask these mechanisms seem rather..."

"Crude?" Tharsien interjected.

"I would use 'inelegant'."

"Well in truth we are more or less making this up as we go."

"But why not simply recreate Infrastructural Stills?"

"First of all, we don't have detailed reports on them. The Committee keeps those facilities well guarded. Secondly our agents would be unlikely to get the whole picture tomorrow. Thirdly even if we get all the blueprints we'd have to make workarounds anyway. Finally while I don't doubt that the Stills that Infrastructure built in the Black Ports are better than these there's value in working things out on our own."

"To me it sounds like a lot of extra work."

"It is, but working things out for ourselves gives us a better understanding of why they work and lets us better solve problems when they arise. If a full folio of Infrastructural Stone Oil Still blueprints was dropped on my desk right now and the same was given to House Narxath we'd make better use of them quicker because of it."

"That was exactly what I wanted to hear." Firath replied grinning. "But as crude as your operation here is, I am satisfied with what I see and have confidence in what you can achieve. Dark Distillate is exactly the edge we need and your work here brings up closer to finally driving the Eternal Foe from the seas once and for all. Tell your Mistress she has my full support."

Tharsien gave a quick bow "It will be my Honor."

Four Years ago Tharsien and her team worked out how to fractionally distill Petroleum for House Noljas. Three years ago, a rowboat was outfitted with a small kerosene burning steam engine. Two years ago, Noljas shipyards refit a river paddlesteamer with an oil burning engine and put another in an small coastal freighter. Last year, an oil fired brig was built for Noljas' fleet and as a demonstrator for the Navy. Of course, there was some skepticism as well as the ever present specter of inter-house politics. Even so, there were also some clear advantages to burning refined stone oil over coal even leaving aside the matter of Infrastructural interest. More than that, Galthirith had the advantage in over the Coldlands in that their territory had substantial Stone Oil deposits. With the Navy's approval, Galthirith could pull ahead of the other Drow states in the Ironclad race by switching to an Oil Fired fleet early on. Not that the fact that it was thanks to her research that it was possible nor the fact that she was getting rich off the venture were overlooked by Tharsien.



(Near the northern Forks of the Vera River, Infrastructure, Summer 43 IA)

It was a hot summer day at Cooperative Verawylka 44, the sky was sunny with a few wisps of clouds and it was a balmy 32 degrees. In the fields men and women worked with sickle and scythe cutting through wheat, barley, and rye as kids came out with buckets of water. The Co-op had been issued a mechanical reaper last year, but with 18 square kilometers of planted fields most of the work was still done by old fashioned means. Yefim Tymich was grateful that he got out of that by milk duty. He loaded up a cart with milk cans and made his way into town, where it would be sold to townsfolk* and a Ministry of Agriculture dairy who'd turn it into butter and cheese. It was good money for the Coop, but more importantly for Yefim was the fact that the most of the work was done by Bereza and Sosna, a pair of strong and reasonably well behaved but still quite stupid oxen. He'd already completed his first run into town and was coming in on a second, glad to take it easy this day to recover for the harvest tomorrow even if the trip was rather dull.

Then suddenly things changed. After rounding a bend in the road he saw something moving fast and kicking up a fair bit of dirt. It was on wheels but had no driver. He steered to the side as the thing rushed by. It soon rushed by, making a strange puttering sound as it went along. Sosna mooed in agitation, but he soon got her back under control. Eventually the thing past by he made out fine details, from the rivets to the fuel tank and leaf springs to the wooden bed loaded with boxes. He continued to watch it as it receded into the distance. As he went by he saw a familiar face in the fields.

"Hey Alisa!" He shouted to his childhood friend. "You saw that?"

"Yeah." She said "I think it was one of them Roadsteamers. Never saw one before."

"Same, pretty impressive though."

"Yeah. Wonder what it was doing around here?"

"It was carrying something. Don't know what or where. I'll ask about."

"Alright, talk about it tonight." She said as the distance grew. Two hours latter he asked about it at the Dairy. It turned out that the Lorry had arrived a few days ago to transport goods to from the river port to Hub towns. It also apparently wasn't a Roadsteamer as it had a new type of engine which did not rely on a fire boiling water to work. Yefim's knowledge of such things was limited to what he could gleen about the riverboats, a few vague statements in school books, the occasional mention in newspapers and facts that have made their way down the grapevine. Verawylka 44 had been on a waiting list for a Steam Tractor for over a decade now and the rail line going into town was still a year away.

Over the span of 43 Years, Infrastructure had grown and grew over the Coldlands and had set in motion rapid changes. Dalatyr had grown from a small town into an industrial city of hundreds of thousands, Daagsgrad and Borogskov had more than doubled in population and now boasted the facilities to build and service a growing fleet of steamships. New cities such as Docklands and Vertebograd were coming into their own linked together by paddlesteamers, rails and roads. Electric lights lit up the night, music and news was broadcast, beasts of burden and animal drawn wagons increasingly competed with bikes and an increasing number of motorized vehicles. In the area around Dalatyr and increasingly around the other prominent urban centers work was increasingly mechanized.

But for all of that, for more than 80% of Infrastructure's population the pace of change had been far more sedate. Post unification the standards of living did gradually rise due to security, more even handed local administration, improved education and healthcare, improved trade, goods from Ministry of Distribution stores and various supplies provided to improve productivity. Even so, the routine reaping and sowing, storing supplies for winter, building homes from local materials, rising with the sun and setting down at dusk, milking cows, yoking oxen and cleaning out chamber pots continued. The true transformative nature of Industrialization had yet to unfold, but it's time was coming.

*This was at the point still legal, even though the ministry of health increasingly pushed pasteurization.



(Kingdom of Torion, Autumn 43 IA)

Six and a half years ago Juanillo Fillipe Gruzman De Manoro's world had come to a catastrophic end. The third son of one of Avesia's oldest and greatest families he was born into a life of leisure and luxury on the family's estate near Whipmouth. His childhood was largely carefree and while adolescence came with responsibilities it still had it's pleasures and he could set his own way. Though he was unlikely to inherit the plantation, he had plenty of options and he found one that he liked. He had a knack for keeping track of commodities, deal making, reading people, and knowing when people were willing to buy, sell, haggle (and to what degree) and gently steer someone into the right mindset sign as well as worming out other useful bits of info. He'd gotten reasonably good at it and by seventeen had negotiating big rice deals with other plantations. He had money, influence, connections, slaves, good friends, girlfriends, loving parents, titles and (thanks to his mother) a mainland noble pedigree. He had a glorious future laid out in front of him.

Then one day a fleet of Infrastructural Ironclads showed up in front of Porta Liberium and soon after everything went to hell. Their army and mobs of freed slaves swept over the island like wildfire. He'd been in a platoon of militia cavalry which went up against a patrol of their Riflers on horned wheeled contraptions. He had his horse shot out from under him and he'd been lucky. They kept him locked up, first in a pen with thousands of other Avesians and then in a cell once they found out who he was after he was forced to sign a document he was unable to read. About a week or so latter was put onto one of their steamship with a few other people from prominent families that sent him away. A couple days latter they were escorted at night with bags over their heads into another cell in a mainland city. Over the next few days they waited with a mixture of hope and fear as one by one they were lead away until it was his turn. In spite of what the guards told them, they feared the worst. Despite that, his fears abated he was shoved in front of his uncle, count Diego De Gruzman.

The nightmare had ended, but he'd awoke into a dim grey world. His parents were dead, as were his brothers and his friends. His home had been ransacked and converted into lodgings for some brute of a rebel captain and his thugs. His nation stamped into dust by Coldlander boots and a vile republic thrown up in it's place. He was lucky in that he escaped death or the abject poverty that most displaced Avesian refugees found themselves in, though it was clear from his rescue that his savior had no love for him. The Count's concern was for blood and the well being of House Gruzman as a whole, of which he was only a peripheral member. For his ransom he had to sign over the remaining Manoro assets (including a trade galleon), work as a factor and marry the vapid daughter of a prominent merchant family to secure a ten year contract. The local peers mostly scorned him as being nothing more than an up-jumped pirate, the commonfolk kept their distance and while he found a couple of marginal friends and had gained a son, a daughter and had a third child on the way he was busy and isolated. As far as he could see, his life would be one of service as a sworn retainer who'd be subject to persistent scorn.

Thus it came as a surprise one evening when he was told that the Count wanted to to share a drink with him on the balcony. Normally the Count avoided him as much as possible beyond giving him terse orders, at most giving him a blunt "acceptable" or "satisfactory" if he succeeded. He normally ate at the far end of one of the three tables in the main dining hall. Even so, it would be foolish to decline.

The Count was there, it was hard to miss him. The Patriarch of House Gruzman looked the part; a well preserved sixty year old more than six feet tall, broad and muscular, bald, bearded and mustachiod and with a severe face which generally gave off an air of tempered disapproval. As the story went his grandfather had been both a lush and a gambler and had squandered much of the family's fortune and accumulating a mountain of debt. His father had been run ragged trying to sort the mess out and pay off his creditors, succeeding in no small part by marrying his daughter into House Manoro. When Diego took the throne, he also inherited his father's determination to rebuild the family's finances, but also it's reputation. He'd been a successful cavalry officer and was just as determined and ruthless in trade deals and court politics. He was judicious with money and miserly with signs of affection. He had a reserve of wrath, though he normally kept that banked. But for all of that, he cared for family deeply. He had a glass of wine in hand and he took in the landscape.

"Juanillo." He said neutrally raising his glass slightly. "Red or White?"

"Red. Thank you Uncle." A servant poured a him a glass, handed it to him and quietly departed. A sniff and a sip found a decent vintage. "How was your trip to Noldolia?"

"Productive, despite some unpleasantness." The Count replied. "I saw something most unexpected on the road."

"What was it?"

"An iron carriage, puttering swiftly about on fat black wheels without a team but with a pair of pipes spewing smoke. It bore the livery of House Valarisno, but it was the maker's mark that troubled me."

"A Hexagon?" Juanillo's eyes narrowed.

"Indeed." The baron took a swig of wine. "The land of snow and soot has brought yet another new contraption to our shore. Another toy which they amuse both children and the childish."

"...Uncle. I bare no love for them, but I must speak against being dismissive of their work." There was a bit of risk to the outburst, even if neither of them was fond of Infrastructure.


"Rest assured that I don't. Even if they use it to impress idiots a land engine free from rails* has obvious potential, especially given the stories of their steam powered war wagons. The issue is who's making them. Not some clever tinkers, not a clan of dwarves, but those damned machine cultists and their golem masters. Every year, they worm their way deeper into the kingdom gaining wealth and leverage. But more than that, they bloat our money lenders and give peasants and artisans ideas above their station. You father may have been the get of pirates, but at least they were pirate kings. The Committee will give any lickspittle peasant who can read their garbage a Bureaucrat's hat..." He spat the words "...and there are a few deluded fools who think we should do things like that here, even if it would be our ruin."

"Madness." Juanillo said.

"Madness that will be the ruination of the world, and madness which claimed your mother. We were close in childhood. It broke my heart when she was sent away, word of her death broke it again." He did not tear up, but his voice softened ever so slightly with that sentence. "All because the tin cowards would not take the fight to the Drow directly. They have hurt us and they are more than able to do it again. It is high time we contemplated revenge."

Juanillo nearly spat. "Revenge, against Infrastructure? But how? It's not that they don't deserve it but...they're well, Infrastructure."

"Have you heard of 'Fidelium'?"


"That village released Drow slaves far to the Southwest?" The story had gotten out in the last few years by a few Infrastructural statements as well as the general rumor mill.

"It's a bit more than that now. The last I heard there were more than twenty thousand people living there and it climbing, among them some mercenaries which they have declared 'lords'. Even so, it presents to us an opportunity."

"How?"

"The Dark Elves built Fidelium to spite the Committee and eventually strike at their Colony down there. By the looks of it, it's aimed at Infrastructure's weak point. The Committee is keen on Rock Oil, buying it by the shipload in the Kingdom and elsewhere. Keen enough to cross the ocean to claim it and fight off four Drow States at once to keep it. Cutting them off from their main well would disrupt their plans, possibly crippling them through thirst. The sooner the better, and that's where you come in."

"You're sending me there?" Juanillo was shocked.

"And your wife and children. I've sent my agents ahead and the Fidelian priesthood approved of my plan. Consider this a reward for service to the House. To my surprise you have proven to be adaptive and resourceful. Not that you would have to get by on your wits alone. You will go with some supplies and provisions, a purse fifteen hundred Trono will be sent with you and a hundred and fifty more will be sent annually for the next ten years, as well as a pair of capable men in my pay to serve as servants and bodyguards." It was a modest but serviceable nest egg and stipend, more than enough to establish one's self in reasonable comfort and establish a cash flow. The servants would be helpful, even if they would also be his minders. "And in a year or two once you have your new home in order, you will help your countrymen start new lives."

"You mean in Fidelium?"

"Correct. There are at least five hundred displaced Avesian Citizens in Noldolia alone, most of them living in poverty. In Torion they are day laborers, thieves and whores, in Fidelium they could once again prosper and work towards vengeance. Imagine Avesia reborn on alien shores standing triumphant as the Coldlander Colony burns, it's fools given the gift of a worthy master's domination. Your domination. Does this appeal to you?" In other circumstances, he might have asked for his approval or his consent to the plan. With Juanillo that would not be necessary. He could either go along with the plan willingly, go along under duress or if he was truly defiant be cast out.

Fortunately, that would not be an issue. "Very much, Uncle. I would like to work out specific provisions with your clerks as soon as possible."


For the first time Count Diego gave Juanillo a smile. "Excellent."

*By 43 IA the Kingdom of Torion like many kingdoms was beginning to experiment with rail travel, with several groups including the Tivro Foundry and several Dwarven Holds building prototypes, short demonstrator lines/fair rides and work has begun on a few initial railways are being built.



(Dalatyr, Winter, 43 IA)

On a cold winter night a figure made it's way through Dalatyr, furtively moving from alley to alley, over fences, through yards and still construction sites and occasionally along walls. If it had to cross an illuminated thoroughfare, it would become fuzzy and translucent in it's dash. While it could not keep effect up for long when it in effect it made him close to invisible. All one would be likely to see would be vague sense of motion and a blur that could easily be mistaken for a shadow or a bit of snow caught up in the wind by someone not deliberately looking out for it. If one was to catch a glimpse of the figure otherwise, one would see a tall humanoid in dark clothes, face concealed beneath a heavy hood. In of itself this would be suspicious, more-so if they got a good view of the figure's face.

It's course was anything but direct. Partially to avoid detection and partially to throw off any pursuer which might had noticed it. Night shifts, electric street lights, security guards and Enforcer patrols made this city more difficult than most to operate in, let alone the other measures the Committee had set up. Fortunately most of those were concentrated around the Dalatyr Citadel and the remainder were mostly focused on a few key factories and facilities which the Infiltrator scrupulously avoided. Once the destination was reached, the risk factor went up. That involved scaling a building and getting in through a sky-light. Usually roofs were safe, but the Committee had eyes in the sky. There were not many of them and bad weather did limit their operations, still it would mean being exposed. The figure scrabbled up the wall, crossed the roof top, secured a line, opened a window carefully and repelled down to the warehouse's floor.

Raijhiv ti'Toryth's fine boots touched the hardwood floor softly, making nary a sound. He took in in the dark surroundings and listened carefully for a few seconds. He heard no footfalls, no chatter nor challenges, no doggy murmerings. Just the faint sounds of wind against the windows. With that he let out a grin. So far, so good. He'd evaded detection in his infiltration. Now he could get to work. He channeled a flow of magic into his left hand and cast a spell. It was a simple, one of the first spells you learned as a child, but it still had it's uses. A light appeared in his hand which he left to float in the air casting a dim glow. It would only last a few minutes, but that was more than enough. The shadowy figures around him resolved, but as they became more clear his good mood drained away.

Over the last year House Valcas' spy ring received word from one of their Dalatyr Contacts about a big project in motion at Foundry-3. The main furnace had been modified, new machinery had been brought, a couple new buildings had been built in and it's workforce had nearly doubled in size with most of the staff being promising. In of itself, this was not unusual. But unusually this was happening on the quiet. There was little fan-fare about the project in the paper or on the broadcast. It could be that Foundry-3 was working on a major project, some new weapon or key bits of industrial equipment.

Instead there were Radiators. Big solid cast iron things that were filled with water to warm up rooms. You saw them in some offices, shops, workshops and some apartments. By the looks of it there were hundreds of them in the warehouse, probably more than a thousand. But beyond a few well worn push-carts and winches that seemed to be everything this warehouse had.

He let out a faint sigh. This was a risky operation he was out on, but the leads had been promising. Getting a lead on some new type of weapon, vehicle or manufacturing machine even before the Committee could fully use them would do a lot to narrow the gap. Uncovering their plans to arm up could let Valnothron properly respond and could probably be leveraged against Infrastructure. Instead it turned out that they were casting things to make Coldland winters less miserable for their toiling masses. In of itself this was a relief, though he'd gain little glory. Even so, he took out his Spark camera from it's special holster and took a few pictures for completeness' sake. They would not be good given the poor lighting, but they'd suffice. In any case, casting happened on it's own time table and the last thing is for a few workers to add a few more radiators o the pile while he tarried. With that done, Raijhiv climbed back up to the skylight and left the Hot Water heater be as he began his return journey. It would involve more dashing about, catching a ride on a box car and six hours trudging through the snow to get to a makeshift cabin, time which he spent coming up with the best possible way to word the fact that the leads were a bust to his Handler.

A summery of Raijhiv's report was relayed to Valcas house with a comment from his immediate superior that previous reports of a major project in the works had been false positives. It would prove to be a remarkably short sighted addendum.



(Fidelium, Summer, 44 IA)

In Portus Fidelium* Belis Second of Vhas stood attentively if somewhat anxiously by her stall. Around her was the bustle of the marketplace: men and women buying, selling and trading items. These ranged from carpenters tools to toys to chairs to bowls, but most people were like her selling food. Everyone needed to eat, more people were regularly coming in and more homesteads were constantly being set up to feed them. The market was rich with former slaves, as well as some mercenaries, a few Gosho traders and a smattering of other outsiders. Over the last four years Belis, Drim and Soth had brought in eight harvests on their farm. They sent their grain to a mill, taking some of the flour for their own bread and selling the rest of it through it. They grew a lot of grain and they could get a fair deal of money doing, but you could get more coin for a cartload of produce on market day. She'd made the day-long journey into the city with Drim, who was currently out selling a pig and buying some new cloth while she minded the stall. Out of the three of them, to whom the closet thing that any of them had to money before coming to Fidelium was Ceramic Reward Tokens, she was the best at dealing with money. She also had to mind her two little ones.

Eventually a pair of figure made their way to her stall slowly and deliberately. One was a well built man, the other was a short young woman moving along at a slow steady pace on a pair of peg-legs and a cane wearing a well made new tunic. A familiar sight and a welcome one.

"Scribe Kainla!" She said in greeting to one of her best customers.

"Day's blessings Belis." Kainla replied. "I hope all is well."

"We're just fine." She said as she hushed her daughter Melnin "Business has been bit slow today." She'd moved some produce and the day was still young but it was

"I'm surprised." Kainla replied "These are beautiful vegetables fit for a Drow's table."

"You're too kind."

"And you're too quiet. People would want them if they can find them."

"Humility is an Anthropic Virtue you know." It was a common axiom for Drow Slaves and one she'd been told all her life.

"That it is, but we're talking about the produce here. You and your two partners grew it and harvested it, you are selling it on their behalf and on behalf of these little ones." She gestured to Morhi as hid from view. "This is not about making yourself out to be more than you are. This is about better serving your family and your customers."

"I guess so."

"Anyway, I'd like three cucumbers, eight tomatoes, two vaul of green beans, five vaul of sweet potato and a chicken. That should be twenty six assarii**."

Belis gathered up the produce, weighed them up and counted off the coins as she went. She'd never been taught mathematics as a child, but she was getting a grip on it. The chicken was a big sale and she tied it's legs and beak up with twine for Kainla's assistant to carry home.

As the last coin entered her hand and was put away in a cash box, Belis smiled at Kainla. "Your custom is most welcome, Scribe Kainla."

"And I would like to propose some more. The next time you'd come into town, I think that you should come to my house before you reach market. That way we'd have first pick of your fine produce. We'd pay you an extra As for every four in your regular prices."

"Well, that is a lovely offer Scribe. But where do you live?"

"62 Devotional Street. Devotional is four streets uphill from the market on Prelate's Way, then go north for two blocks and you'll be there. It's green with a two-man saw over the door. Don't worry if I'm not in, i'll instruct Snerl to see to you. Just give him this." She handed Belis a piece of paper. She could not read it, but it had the address and the basic arrangement written on it.

Belis was shocked and at first did not know how to respond. She fell back on politeness. "Well this is most kind, thank you scribe. I will remember this next time."

"Wonderful. Now I must be going. Give Soth my day's blessings." With that Kainla walked off and.

"Mom who was that?" Menlin said as he tugged at her apron.

"A Scribe who's made our lives a little nicer." Belis said in response. A short while latter, she gave a cry. "We have nice Vegetables here! Come buy them!" She'd continue to do so and it soon enough it seemed to work as more buyers came by. At the end of the day she had two Gladii, four Denarii and eight Assarii in small change. This had been her best market day, though better ones would come.

*The initial settlement of Fidelium that rapidly grew into it's first city. Initially this was largely synonymous with "Fidelium" but as satellite villages and towns began to emerge, the need for differentiation became more pronounced.
*An As (plural Assarii) is a low value fidelian coin. 12 Assarii is a Denarius and 12 Denarii is a Gladius.



(Dalatyr, Late Autumn, 44 IA)

Around the clock come rain or snow, trains arrived in and departed from Dalatyr Rail Logistics. It was the world's first Rail-Station and even as new ones were established and grew it would not be eclipsed for decades to come. Even when passenger services was largely shifted to Dalatyr Central Station in 28 IA and a few factories were given their own branch connections, it continued to grow. Dozens of silos, warehouses, storage yards, aggregate stores and (most recently) oil and petrol tanks were attached to. Among them was Warehouse 71, which had a pair of overhead cranes for loading and unloading, stored a wide variety of products and was otherwise unremarkable.

Keeping this system running in 44 IA were over three and a half thousand stevedores, Signallers, supervisors, Shunter crews, technicians, mechanics, crane operators and more employed full time by the yard with more coming in as day-laborers. Seymon Nil had been working here for fifteen years. He'd did not have a lot of education and it had been reasonably well paying job. He'd been taking Adult Education classes in the evenings and he had hopes of making supervisor at the next quarterly test. That would mean a larger wage, more time indoors and less heavy lifting.

Even so, on a cold late autumn evening he had a train to load and cargo to square away. Fortunately for him, he did not need to do a lot of heavy lifting at the moment. That was done by an electric winch on the overhead crane, which lifted the heavy objects up and set them down. He had to make sure that they landed softly and in the right place on a flatbed car, removed the harness and then securely fastened them to the flatbed. After that he'd cover them with padding and over that a tarp. Once that was done he'd close up the sides, signal the shunting engine and wait until the next car to be brought into position. By the look of it, he had another three and a half more cars to go which would probably take up the rest of shift. An extra set of hands would be useful, but he was not worried about falling behind.

Currently he was loading up a lot of big heavy complicated machine tools. He recognized a few of them from the yard's machine shops, but others he could not make heads or tails of. One of them looked kind of like a large Drill Press. It said that it was for "cylinder boring" though what sort of cylinder would need that much boring he had no idea. Even so, he secured it and continued on with his work. Loading up machine tools was nothing strange in of itself. There were always new factories being built, expanded or upgraded. Though it was normal for a train to carry as part of a mixed payload but over the last month that had changed. In the last week alone, he'd loaded two other trains with nothing but machine tools and he'd heard scuttlebutt of more such payloads. Something big was happening, though he did not know what.

Despite that, he did not let his speculations slow him down. The last three carts were filled up and sealed up nice and Snug. Seymon spent the last half hour of his shift moving crates and went home to his family. As he left, another train of flatbeds assembled was loaded up with machine tools at warehouse 71. Like the one Seymon loaded it would be sent off it was sent to the same destination. This would continue for the next month. During said time, Seymon would pass the exam and get promoted to supervisor. In no small part because two hundred DRL personnel (among them forty two supervisors) would be transferred to the same location as the Machine Tools on the Urblaast/Loriv Canal.



(Tabula Rasa probationary settlement, Infrastructure, Late Winter, 45 IA)

On the other side of a window snow fell in large wet clumps, making it hard to see across the street. Talsi ti'Xolcas took this in for a couple of seconds before her gaze went to a pot of game stew simmering away on the iron range. A pleasant aroma wafted from it, soothing her woes. As always, she had a lot to do. But at least she could do most of it in the warm.

She let out a sigh and surveyed her domain, taking in the familiar 30 square meter room, the dining area with it's tabled and kitchen sectioned off by a counter-top, currently empty save for herself. There were still a few dishes from breakfast to wash, but the counter and tables were clean. A pan full of Pirozhki sat ready for the oven and a flattened out section of dough by it. In about ten minutes a clockwork timer would chime and she'd take out a set of fresh baked batch of the stuffed buns to cool on a display stand, put the uncooked batch in start working on the next after that. The dishes were not pressing, but this was as good a time as any to sort them out.

As she scrubbed, she heard a chime and a brief drop in temperature. An hour ahead of the noon Lunch Rush someone had come out of the cold on a day like this, that limited the possibilities considerably. A quick glance confirmed her suspicions.

"Good morning Virath." She said calmly. "Cold enough for you?"

"It's not the Cold Talsi." He said as he hung up his jacket and slipped out of his boots. "It's only about negative five or so. It's the snow and wind." The light prod put him into a receptive frame of mind.

"The regular?"

"Please."

Talsi filled a bowl with borscht and added a dollop of sour cream to it. The Coldland Soup had become surprisingly popular with Drow POWs, beets where cheap and kept well and she could make it better than most. "So, how are the pipes treating you?"

"Nothing unusual, hooked up another toilet today at no 3 Pine." Virath took a seat, setting down his tool box. "Still have one to go, thankfully it's the ground floor." Flush toilets had begun to show up earlier this year, with each building being issued two by the Ministry of Construction. It was a much needed improvement, even if installation had taken some time. Virath had been taken on as a plumber's apprentice in the camps, completed his training not long after and he'd been making good money installing and fixing pipes and fixtures. "Also found out that Xelyian's pregnant."

That perked her ears. "Really? How far along is it?"

"If I had to guess, about three or four months. But I could be off."

"Well, she'd better take it it easy at the Infusery." Most of the residents of Tabula Rasa did some work there at least some of the time, feeding mana into raw potions and stone slabs for rune-craft. A straightforward source of income based on piece work and less physically demanding than the sawmill, but not something everyone could could keep up full-time especially when pregnant. The last thing you wanted was to drain yourself dry day after day and out and have your baby born Unkindled*. "But that's the third pregnancy i've head about this month alone. Guess little Jihrei opened the sluices." She set the soup and a couple slices of dark brown bread for Virath.

The idea of having a Drow child in Infrastructure had been absurd back in the camps. What sort of life would they have living in a barracks toiling away under the thumb of lesser beings, hated and reviled by their kin for being the get of disgraced cowards and betrayers of the divine destiny of their race? Things began to change when people got onto probation. People began to talk about it more, typically to run through the reasons against it or as a jest of some sort. But that the idea was being articulated more openly in of itself was in retrospect a sign of the change. Gradually people warmed to the idea in spite of all the arguments against it, especially once their apartments were finished. When Naxthet zi'Mourkel announced her pregnancy it caused a stir, as did the birth of Jihrei seven months ago. But it was a stir that had it's defenders. There were still objections of course around town, even so she was convinced that many people simply did not want to be the first.

"She's a decent hand with leather and can take care of herself. But have you considered having a little one scampering about?"

She gave it a brief thought "Maybe some day, but there's no rush and I'm already swamped."

"Fair enough." Virath grabbed the counter and leaned to the side. "But if you're feeling lonely in your room on these cold evenings I can help you with that in a more mature fashion."

Talsi smirked as she poured his tea. "I'd give that one a seven out of ten, and I might be open for it on Wednesday. But right now I'm just too damn busy."

"You considered hiring a helper down here?"

"Of course, it's just that's it would be a big expense."

"But you'd get more done without wearing yourself out."

"Yeah. If things go well I'll probably do it this year. I'd just want some more savings in reserve in case things go pear shaped." She was proud of her little Restaurant, she'd started work on renovating the storefront as soon as she got her share of her building. She spent months getting it presentable, from laying tiles to setting up a fresh sink. It took months and a lot of sweat to get set up, let alone the effort to keep it working. Despite that it her cafe was popular. She regularly had dozens of patrons and over the last year usually got thirty to forty credits a day, though there were expenses, most notably ingredients even at bulk-rates. Cut off from her former life, she'd found purpose and fulfillment in Tabula-Rasa. Similarly, she'd seen several other ventures falter, fail or never catch flight. This made her wary of expenses and prone to save as much as she could in case something happened. That said, new arrivals came into town fairly regularly, which meant more customers and more customers meant both more work and more folk in need of a job.

"Fair enough." He replied as he took his first spoonful of soup. "Lovely as always."

*Unable to generate magic internally. For Elves this is considered crippling, especially since it cuts the lifespan down to at most two centuries.



(Infrastructural Railways, Spring 45 IA)

"All Aboard! All Aboard!" The familiar cry and the ringing of a bell echoed through the passenger car. A few seconds latter, the doors opened and new passengers began to file in. Many of them had been returning passengers who'd stepped out on the small station for a stretch on it's hour-long stop, but there were some new faces who'd just begun their journey. Ghrody Tsimil was in the latter category as he clumped his way in. He let the conductor punch his ticket and following the examples of other passengers stowed his bag in the odd cabinet before taking a seat on the bench as he tried to make himself comfortable.

He was sharing a seat with another passenger, a well dressed woman with glasses about his age reading a small book. She seemed pretty into it and it seemed rude to pry, so he simply sat back. He considered finding another seat, but the car was packed. A short while latter the locomotive's whistle blared, it's bell rang, it's pistons chugged and the train began to rattle forward. Soon it cleared and he took in the landscape as it rolled by his window. Fields were being tilled and seeded, herds of cattle and sheep grazed and trees moved by. It was hard to keep track of any one thing for long, but regardless he was fixed on it.

"Quite a view." The woman seated next to him said.

"Oh yes." Ghrody replied. "I've see these sights all my life, but never like this."

"I was like that on my first trip. Still impressive, even if you eventually get used to it."

"How often have you travelled by train?"

"Thirteen times, not including this trip."

"So where did you go?"

"First to Dalatyr for school, then back to Fyodirm for solstice for the last three years."

"You've lived in Dalatry?" Ghordy was impressed, he'd heard stories of the city. "What's it like?"

She rolled her eyes "Full of riches and mechanical wonders, lively, busy, cramped and dirty. Some parts are better than others. I was as a clerk at Dalatyr Writing Machinery, which was fine if a bit dull at times."

"So you don't work there anymore?"

"Not anymore. There was a new posting that offered 16 credits a day. It's for a construction project called UL-144."

"Really." Ghrody replied. "I was hired to work on UL-144, along with a bunch of guys from my Co-op. That's how I got my ticket."

"Not surprising. There's a bunch of guys in this car alone who are heading to UL-144, including yours' truly."

Ghrody was a little surprised with this. "So how much Clerk-Work would a construction project need?"

"Plenty. Handling payroll, progress reports, requisitioning supplies, making memos. So many memos. The bigger the operation the more paper you need to keep it moving."

"Well well. My name's Ghrody by the way. Ghrody Tsimil."

"Lavra. Lavra Lymirelko. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"The same to you. Just out of curiosity, what were you reading."

"Tatanya Tikorov and the Azure Rose. It's about a Detective who has to catch a thief who leaves a blue flower after each robbery." For some reason, Lavra seemed enthused about the story. "It's part of a series and it's pretty good."

And so the conversation continued. While there would be some breaks, the dialogue would fill a significant chunk of the next four hours. In general both of them found the experience pleasant and by the end they'd counted each other as friends. In total there were 64 passengers in their car and 367 on the train in total, most of whom did not have as pleasant an experience as Grody or Lavra did, but all of them arrived safe and sound early in the evening near the Urblaast/Loriv Canal. Tomorrow another fully loaded passenger train would empty there, and two on the day after that. More arrived by Paddlesteamers and barges, which also brought in supplies and provisions. The Central Committee's latest project required an army of workers which were recruited, mustered and deployed with frightening efficiency.

[Zor]

(Approximately 8,500 km east of Dalatyr, Early Summer 45 IA)

Tamanota Hishatobe, third son of the Southern Shogun of the Empire of Higato; did not have an easy life. Privileged, yes. But not easy. He was unlikely to inherit his father's throne, but he was fully expected to prove his worth to the family. This meant regular meetings with the dynasty's sixteen subordinate Domains to keep them in line, managing the various guilds, attendance at the Imperial Court in Chūōkyo , dealings with the other three Shogunates, supervision of the departments to keep the roads maintained, the public granaries topped up, taxes collected and stipends paid. But most of all there was the increasingly demanding matter of defence.

Slave raiders from the southern kingdoms of Tahajemit, Ilhong, and Ztuhrim had been an issue for centuries, though in his lifetime they had become an increasingly serious threat. Around twenty five years ago (just after he came of age) a few raider crews came with new hard hitting muskets that could hit a man at 200 Ken*. At first there might have one or two of these new guns in a forty-man Raider landing party, but that number would soon rise. Stopping them from making off with holds full of loyal subjects became increasingly difficult and bloody. As more returned, their numbers increased. Hishatobe had been charged with a program to copy captured weapons. But while his Gunsmiths had managed to make serviceable rifles with the new flintlock mechanisms for Tamanota forces, the raiders acquired even more formidable weapons. Volitile ignition nubs, revolver pistols, breech-loading rifles and rifled cannons all came as a nasty shock, each providing new challenges for his scholars, artisans and foundrymen to try to match even when captured specimens could be obtained. All the while villages were being devastated, depopulated and military casualties mounted.

It was soon learned that the new weapons came from the Far West, though that had only revealed more mysteries. Captive slave raiders claimed they were inventions of corrupted Elven slave lords, though traders from Illvanicum told a different tale. Apparently these new weapons came from 'the Country of Roads, Bridges and Canals' ruled by Golems. It had emerged a few years before Hishatobe was born and rapidly grew in some icy wastes. A ship had been dispatched to investigate this nine years ago, but never returned. Between constant naval patrols and military spending, plans for a second expedition had been delayed and set back repeatably

Then in the Summer of the 31st year of the Hōfugi Emperor, things changed. A trio of strange ships were spotted off their shore. They were huge, the largest was the size of a Xin tower ship and all approached against the wind with smoke billowing from chimneys and bore the hexagonal insignia. Fortunately they flew parley flags and requested to set anchor in Kaniwan harbour and they it wanted to send an envoy. He rushed to meet the landing party.

The largest craft sent a small motorized boat down which puttered it's way to a designated diplomat's dock. It had a pilot in blue, another blue clad figure who carried himself as an officer, two body guards with armour, and a trio what he assumed to be officials of some sort. A man and two women, the officials wore matching black clothes bearing the same mon**. Save the pilot, all of them carried boxes. For all of that, it was clear who their leader was given how the others treated her and how she took the lead when the party disembarked. She was a tall striking figure, but the thing which gained the most attention was her ink black eyes. She and her party executed a proper bow before his dais.

"Noble lord of Tamanota Clan, we are honoured by the welcome to your lands and reception. My name is Vision of a Distant Supernova in the Night Sky-53202, member of the Central Committee of Infrastructure. The short form of my name is Supernova." She'd replied in Higatoan and her diction was perfect, despite the cumbersomeness of her name.

"On behalf of our Shogun and in the name of our Emperor, I give my welcome. You may rise...venerable Committee member." Hishatobe replied. There were protocols and procedures for receiving with foreign Merchants, Nobles, Ambassadors, Mandarins, Kings and even members of Imperial houses. What they heard about the Central Committee was a muddle of accounts which were often contradictory, but one consistent point was that they as a group had unquestioned authority over their realm. Exactly what that meant in terms of diplomatic formalities was up in the air and would probably be the subject of interminable discussions by the Protocol Masters for years to come. As it stood, the only option was to make up a lot as they went and let the masters of etiquette debate issues.

She got to her feet "I extend my sincerest gratitude. As a gesture of good faith, I would present you with several works of our industry as gifts." She placed her box in down in front of him, as did the other five members of her party. Several attendants collected these boxes (themselves well made, if unadorned beyond their mon) and presented their contents to him, which they described. This included a clockwork mechanism which could play music recorded on a disc, a selection of said discs, a finely made clock, a device which could be used to capture images and it's associated tools, a mechanized model of the solar system and a metal wheeled toy which had a small oil burning kettle that let it putter around a ring of small metal railways pulling pulling a small wagon.

"I commend your artisans and extend my thanks to you and your nation." Hishatobe said in complete honesty. These would be impressive. "But even so, I am curious as to the reason of your arrival. If you seek trade, then my commissioners can formulate a fair arrangement. But I believe you have more in mind, Committee Member."

"That is correct, noble lord. I am fully prepared for trade discussions. Even so, we would also desire an Audience with your Emperor."

There was murmurings from his retinue. "To what ends?" Hishatobe said.

"The formalization of relations between Higato and Infrastructure and mutual strategic benefit."

"Elaborate."

"There are numerous factors at play, but here and now the principle factor are the Slave Raiders which have caused your people much grief. The majority of the victims they take alive are traded to the Dark Elves to toil in their fields, mines, workshops and factories. They are forced to either produce or support the production of weapons, armour, cannons and warships that threaten our people and our interests. On the same note, they are forced to produce goods that are traded to Slave Raiders for more slaves. In particular weapons and ammunition based of our designs. It is in our best interest that the slave raiders are stopped and the best way to achieve that goal is to strengthen your Empire against them."

"By providing Higato with arms?"

"To begin with, yes. But more than that, we can provide you with the means to make them yourself and so much more. The cooperation of the Imperial Throne will insure that this happens and that it's impact on Higato happens quickly and smoothly."

Hishatobe mulled it over for a few moments. "Committee Member, it is clear you have prepared for this meeting and that you have some understanding of our ways and the military situation. To us however you are an unknown. Caution is required at a bare minimum, many will see your motives as suspect and mountains will not be moved in a day. Even so, you present an opportunity which can not be overlooked. We shall consult with my father this evening and while I can not yet vouch for your position in full I can advocate against summery rejection." Left unsaid was the fact was the potential this had for advancing his own position. Opportunities did not come every life-time. Not that he was solely motivated by self aggrandizement. After all it was the duty of those in power to guide and protect their subjects, of a son to serve his family and father and a subject to serve his Emperor. If this was what it seemed whatever kami had guided them to his shores had his eternal gratitude.

Supernova smiled and bowed "The Committee understands the reticence you might feel. Never the less, we are grateful for your consideration and that progress is being made towards our desired ends."

The next few days involved a fair deal of discussion, meetings with his father, the signing of a preliminary trade agreement, the delivery of several more gifts (including a book outlining the construction and uses of lathes and metal grinding machines translated into Higatoan) and information on their realm and people. Eventually, the Shogun requested an Audience with the Emperor and it was granted with Hishatobe and a party going along as advocates. To deliver them as quickly as possible to Chūōkyo, they would take the Infrastructural ship Aurora. When he and his retinue came aboard they were met by Supernova. After greetings were exchanged, she offered him a tour of the massive vessel.

"If I may ask, what are those flared tubes?" He said, gesturing with a folded fan.

"Foghorns, they can emit a loud blaring sound to signal other ships."

"Much like the trumpets on your phonographs."

"In broad terms yes."

"Fascinating." He said as the tour continued, in which he took note of the ship's mechanisms as well as the various quirks of the foreigners which operate them and made their home. Two days latter they were in the capital and two weeks after that the Treaty between Higato and Infrastructure was signed. Several gifts were given to the Emperor and the Imperial Court, including a couple of Roadsteamers, five hundred Type-4R rifles, and an Ironsides class Ironclad. A technical staff including several Engineers and Technicians were left behind.

Of all the foreign relations that Infrastructure would make on this world, few would be as consistently cordial as those with the Higatoan Empire. Nor would Infrastructure be as open with it's technical secrets with any other power. Interference with the Drow Slave trade in the Eastern Ocean was the stated objective of the mission. The cultivation of a powerful ally among the Eastern Empires was another that many foreign observers would take note of. Even so, a primary concern of this endeavour lay in the Committee's original and ultimate objective.

*364 meters
**Insignia




(UL-144, near the Urblaast Loriv Canal, Summer 45 IA)

Ghrody Tsimil had grown up on a small farm in a co-op with forty nine such farms. About two clicks from his farmhouse was a small village with his school, a bar, and about a hundred residents. Seven clicks away was a Hub Town with a variety of stores, a rail line, a sawmill and (when he left home) about 2,700 people. Construction site UL-144 was something else entirely. Between 9:00 to 17:00, some 4,000 people were employed on or around the site directly and thousand more worked over the night in two shifts. This was leaving aside the various mechanics and technicians who maintained machinery and tools, cooks, clerks, quartermasters, lorry drivers, teamsters and more who worked just off site to support the operation, nor the hangers on which had come to sell stuff to the influx of new customers. There was even a rail line and a canal inlet set up specifically to service the vast undertaking.

After five days of safety priming and security briefing he was issued a hard hat, assigned to a team and was let loose on the worksite. Where he was concerned this mostly involved in heavy lifting. Mostly it followed a basic pattern. First basements were dug and piles were driven in. Then concrete was laid and the skeletal steel frames were assembled, gradually being enveloped in scaffolding as they rose and being fitted. Even with steam shovels, cranes, bulldozers and other mechanical aids a lot of the process involved a lot of earth moving as well as man-handling girders, planks, sacks of concrete, machines (usually broken down and reassembled) and bricks. The most memorable part of the job was wheeling about girders about on specially made pushcarts after they had been brought up by cranes to get them into position. It took a lot of coordination and even though the paths were marked out for safety purposes, you were well aware of how high up you were and that there was a lot of empty space under foot as carpenters installed floorboards a couple meters away and the sounds of sawing, hammering, machines and muffled conversations flowed in from every direction. On the other hand, it was fascinating to watch things come together for something so big. A single building on UL-144 was massive and could be more than a hundred meters long, and more than a dozen of them were under construction. This was leaving aside the forges and furnaces, massive brick structures, as well as the various connections. A lot had been done in three months, but there was still so much to go.

He'd met Lavra a couple times at one of the improvised bars that sprouted around the work camp. They'd shared a few beers and more hot cups of tea and they talked about life in the camp and work. He was initially dismissive when she talked about her workload, though his opinions changed when he saw a room full of clerks hammering away on their typewriters with dogged determination. There was also talk about home, everyone was sending letters back and a lot of people (Ghrody and Lavra included) were also sending money. Even so, there was still a lot of discussion about what this massive complex was for. By all indications it was a factory and going by what they could observe and what some of the electricians and mechanics said, it would have some metalworking capacity and a lot of machinery. Most likely they'd be making machines here and lots of them, but what they were planning particular was still up in the air. Only time would tell.

[Zor]

To the East of the Dragonspine Mountains and the Naga Rajs lay what are known in Ilvamicum as the Eastern Empires*. A set of powerful nations (currently six) mostly populated by humans which share many fascets of their culture that have developed along their own path. Between 7000 and 5000 BIA small semi-nomadic tribes began to establish more permanent settlements that would steadily grow into small city states with their own systems of writing which eventually formed Kingdoms. A process which unlike the Student Men happened independently from the High Elves of Ilvanas. This had biased the High Kingdom against the east even after the rise of the Sage Kings in the 6th millennium BIA, powerful Mage-Monarchs who forged Empires who were larger than any of the Student Kingdoms. At least until the aftermath of the War of Four Centuries in which their realms were largely left unscathed (though they would face comparable devastation of the Great Cataclysm Wars of 3248-3006 BIA). The full history of the Eastern Empires, including the Second Cataclysm War of 1206-1083 BIA, the three Grand Empires and the rise and fall of various Dynasties in the ever shifting map of the East of the Primary Continent and the state of affairs by the year 45 IA is both vast and beyond the scope of immediate attention. Our focus lies on one specific empire based on an archipelago.

Between 2620 and 2270 BIA, a minor petty kingdom based on the Land-bridge connecting Eastern and Western Minotochi came to unite said island. Through control of both Inland Seas and the trade-there-in, marriage, political dealings, the services of nine legendary mages, alliances with a small Dwarven minority and the Nekon peoples of Northwest Minotochi, the fractious peoples came under the rule of the Solar Throne in Chūōkyo, giving rise to what would become the Empire of Higato. The unification of Minotochi was done with only marginal use of force, the same could not be said about the pirates of the South or the warlike tribes of the North. To achieve that end a new class gradually took form and rose to prominence between 1900 and 1500 BIA: the Samurai. With the Unification of the Archipelago under the Solar Throne, there were a couple of centuries of Peace before a gradual economic and a botched invasion (part of the spill-over of the Second Catacylsm War) by the main led to civil war in 1165 BIA, the marginalization of the Solar Throne and Samurai dynasties dividing much of the landscape among themselves with the emergence of Shogun

The next nine centuries was largely chaotic with seven Shogunates, three Warring states Periods, two invasions of Mainland Empires, one attempted invasion by a Mainland Empire and in general a lot of bloodshed. Eventually, however a rough period of peace was established between 294 to 287 BIA in the Tetskinu Restoration. This restored the prominence of the Imperial Court and a good chunk of it's power, in particular in regards to foreign policy and matters which affect Higato as a whole. Despite this, the Samurai still remained prominent, even if some of their former powers (such as being able to cut off the heads of disrespectful commoners) had been curtailed. Beyond the Capital and it's Environs and a few Imperial Administrative Districts, most of Higato is managed first and foremost by the Four Shogunates. These include...

• The Tamanota/Southern Shogunate: the Southern Shogunate is warm and agriculturally rich. It also has the most contact with Long Distance trade. It's common to see traders from Torion, Venoa or Dalisid Seraphate in the trade districts, and it is not terribly unusual to see Elves (both High and Dark) making their visits. The Tamanota clan is generally cosmopolitan and has an interest in foreign affairs and developments.
• The Tsunari/Eastern Shogunate: the Western Shogunate is notable for having unusually high levels of ambient background magic and maintains closer links with the other Eastern Empires. The Tsunari clan are the most traditionalist of the Shogunal households.
• The Fubara/Western Shogunate: The Western Shogunate is the largest in terms of land and the most populous, kept warm by ocean currents. House Fubara is the most Martial of the Shogunates, as well as the youngest. Previously the Usanagi clan ruled in the West between 287 and 185 BIA, but their last two Shoguns abused their commoners, flaunted Imperial authority, raised large armies and kept imperial tax income for themselves and were destroyed.
• The Kanada/Northern Shogunate: the Northern Shogunate is the most lightly peopled, but is among the richest in resources. The Kanada Clan is infamous among the traditional minded in their familiarity with the other Four Orders of society, often being lax in protocols and overtly dabbling in commercial ventures.

To maintain loyalty, a system of Alternate Attendance is in place. In short, the Shoguns are required to spend half of their time in Chūōkyo and about half of their time in their seats administrating. But while they are in their in their seats, their families are kept hostage in the Capital. Beneath the Shogun, Daimyo manage regions of the country and the Samurai fill various military and administrative roles. Of course there are only about a million Samurai in a Empire of some 35 million souls. Higato Society is formally divided into the Five Orders (Samurai, Scholars, Artisans, Peasants/Labourers and Merchants) with an unofficial underclass which does all the mucky jobs. With the exception of the Scholar Class (which one enters through study and the approval of one's teachers) these classes are largely hereditary and there are distinct rules, customs and etiquettes applied to each. Among the human poulation are some 500,000 Dwarfs (mostly integrated into the Artisan class, with some presence in the Merchant, Scholar and Samurai class) and 5 million Nekon (fairly evenly distributed among the socials stratum). Even though Higato society is formally stratified, slavery is explicitly illegal.

In general, the Empire of Higato has been at peace over the last three centuries despite the Usanagi Rebellion, a couple of minor peasant insurrections and a couple of involvements in the wars between the Empires of Baeghuon, Xia and Jiang (all at the request of an allied power for concessions). Even so Slave Raiders from have become a steadily increasing problem over the last two centuries (as well as for other coastal Eastern Empires in general). Fortunately for the people of Higato, in 45 IA some newcomers have arrived.

*Or the "Eastern Kingdoms" in the Allergonain Empire, which hold to the position that there can only ever be one Empire and it's them.



For thousands of years, the peoples of the Coldlands have fermented grain in water to produce beer. Much of this had historically been done at a household level, though most towns would have a couple of full-time brewers (who often operated taverns) and Daagsgrad and Borogskov each had their own Brewer's Guild. The rise of Infrastructure had lead to professionalization and commercialization of beer production as the number of customers increased and dedicated brewers could invest in improved gear. Despite this these small operations face competition from Infrastructural state operated breweries and their products sold under the label of Hygienic Beer.

Distilled spirits were the first commercial product produced by the Central Committee and played a significant role in the formation of the Infrastructural Economy. Even so, hard liquor was a double edged sword as drunkenness, addiction and health deterioration degraded workforce output. Branching into beer, which remained popular and significantly lighter in alcohol was a logical move. It was also an industry which they were quick to modernize to both improve the quality of the product and make it safer for the consumer. Between 3 and 8 IA the basics of industrial brewing were contrived and gradually expanded and improved upon since then.

In 45 IA the Ministry of Agriculture operates eight breweries around Infrastructure. These are highly mechanized, tightly monitored for quality and are held to exacting sanitary standards (hence the name) and manufacture beer in accordance to seven standardized recipes. Much of their product is put into barrels for taverns, but a significant volume is bottled for individual consumption. Recipe 21 Lager (pictured) is the most popular, but the new Recipe 65 Pale Ale (devised for the Petrolium Colony and introduced in 36 IA) has also been well received especially in the summer and is growing in popularity. While there are plenty of people in Infrastructure which prefer the work of some local private brewery, most Coldlanders find "the Hygienic" to be at least adequate. It's impact outside of Infrastructure has been marginal, largely due to lobbying by Brewer's Guilds against foreign competition.

As a measure towards public health, each Hygienic Beer bottle has a secondary label around the neck urging customers to Know Their Limits and to Drink Responsibly.



Along the Equator to the South of the Eastern Empires and to the East of the Naga Rajs are a set of archipelagos and peninsulas. Wet and hot, these lands are often seen as the overlapping periphery of both aforementioned civilizations. But while both had their influences, the cultures and peoples of this area are both numerous and diverse. Stone age hunter-gatherers live mostly peacefully a few kilometres away from thriving trade-ports. The area is home to a modest population of Naga, a species of Semi-Aquatic Otterfolk, another of Elephantfolk and a couple of enclaves of Elves in High-Background Magic forests, though the overwhelming majority of the population is Human. In any case, for most of it's history the area has been divided. Between 944 BIA to 807 BIA much of it was under at least the nominal authority of the short lived Monsoon Empire, but that was that was the exception rather than the rule. Either way, the general rule for the area is small to middling kingdoms. Over the last three centuries, three Kingdoms have risen to prominence by less than savoury means.

Between 311 BIA and 230 BIA, the Dalisid Seraphate restored the Imperial Canals to navigability, making trade between Illvanicum and the East safer, easier and quicker. Among those who made use of the Canal were the Drow States, especially (though not exclusively) those involved in the Slave Trade. To that end, the Merchant Houses identified willing participants who were willing to trade captives for weapons and goods. As this was a cut-throat business by 180 BIA this was largely reduced to three primary partners: Tahajemit, Ilhong, and Ztuhrim. These nations are each fairly well removed from each other and are culturally and linguistically distinct. What they have in common is that they are modest sized island kingdoms with strong maritime traditions, either a commerce minded warrior class (Tahajemit) or merchant class which is more than willing to get hands bloody (Ilhong and Ztuhrim) and a notion that a conflict is properly resolved when your foe is prostrate before you in fetters. At first their predations were largely confined to their immediate surroundings, but gradually many of their captives set their eyes further afield. In particular to the Empires to their North. Especially after 17 IA when their Drow partners began to supply them with Flintlock Rifles and other gear copied from Infrastructural sources.

As of 46 IA Southeastern Slave Raiders have two main types of craft. The first are comparatively small three masted junk-rigged raiding ships about 20-30 meters long. These are usually armed with between eight and twenty cannons (most of which are of Dark Elven make and many of them are now rifled guns) on a single gun-deck and carry a complement of about 80-100 sailors and raiders. These are, as far as sailing vessels go, respectably fast and manoeuvrable and are good for shaking down cargo vessels. But they lack in terms of storage capacity, limiting the number of captives they can carry back. For this reason, when they launch more northerly attacks they usually do so in small fleets with two to four of these fast pirate ships and one to two cargo junks. These are slower, but they can carry several hundred captives back to the market.

Such raiding fleets can deploy forces up to 250 raiders ashore to collect their cargoes. Said raiders are typically a motley collection, at first appearance little better than a mob. They typically have little armour and what they do bring will be light, for speed is essential in their operations. In contrast they are typically well armed. Most of them will have a sword and either a Rifle (Screw Breachloaders are the norm, but cartridge breachloaders are becoming increasingly popular, while some still make do with rifled muskets) or a Revolver, with some having shotguns and others having grenades. The men of Ztuhrim sometimes bring hunting dogs as well and it's fairly common for a few mages to be in their ranks. Regardless, their objective is simple: secure the town, round up locals, collect valuables, stamp out resistance and load them up as soon as possible. These raiding parties will also fight against patrols which attempt to stop them and they can be surprisingly good marksmen and capable at volley fire. Even so they typically do not tarry, as soon as they've collected their captives they load up and leave. Modern weapons are a powerful force multiplier, but a couple hundred men can be overwhelmed.

Raiders are typically a mix of members of the warrior and merchant classes, with a few peasants and vagabonds thrown in for good measure. Warriors are usually seen as muscle who hit hard, keep their cool and many act as rough NCOs and lieutenants on the ground. Merchants are typically either common grunts or leaders, given that they own the ships, with middling sailors typically staying on ships. Either way, many of them are young brash men. Even a junior member's cut of a successful raid can easily be worth several years wages and is a solid nest egg to start a family with. Many of the captives will end up on the estates of the ruling classes for at least a time, though the fate for many is to be loaded up into the hold of a Drow slave-ship, which in turn will provide more weapons and ammunition for further raids thus continuing the cycle.

[CENTER][/CENTER]

In 31 IA a partnership was struck between draftsman and tinkerer Enzo DiTovri and Dwarven ironmaster Bulmir Smhorison. Both of which had an interest in the possibilities of steam power and sought to replicate some of the accomplishments of the Coldlands, though they were far from the only ones thinking along those lines. Even so they worked well together: both had useful skill-sets that the other lacked, differing points of view that let them approach matters from different angles and were happy to both concede error and make adjustments. The fact that both of them were both modestly wealth Citizens of the Serene Republic, Bulmir owned a small foundry outside of Venoa Proper and had useful connections also did not go amiss. They started out making engines for factories and cranes, though as time went on they looked into the locomotive business.

Despite being one of the first non-Infrastructural states to get a handle on Steam Power the development of railways was slow going and generally lagged behind that of the Allergonian Empire, Valnothron and Galthirith. The biggest reason for this was obstructionism by several prominent Patrician families which owned major estates and the Guild of Teamsters. Never the less after some discussion, a decent amount of bribes and a bit of leg pulling by several prominent Banks clear paths were made out starting in 40 IA, with development happening rapidly afterwards. Three railway companies emerged and all of which had a need for locomotives. To that end they organized a Steam Fair in 40 IA. DiTovri and Smhorison had already build two locomotives beforehand, one as a ride and another for use in a marble quarry. When they entered their 3rd locomotive in the fair, it left with the most prizes despite some fairly capable competition.

Their 17th locomotive completed in 46 IA, the Volpe is a fairly capable vehicle built for the Western Mountain Railway. Laid out in a 0-6-0 configuration with inside cylinders and set to a narrow gauge of 4 Venoan Feet*, she can reach a top speed of 70kph. She's not the fastest Locomotive in the Serene Republic or even on the WMR, but she is strong for her size and is well suited to hauling cargo and is better able at handling inclines. Like many Venoan locomotives, she is adorned with some neoclassical features, most notably in her smokestack and the fish lamps in her front.

DiTovri and Smhorison's is not the only locomotive works in the Serene Republic and compared to steamworks of Infrastructure, House Valcas or House Noljas it is fairly small. Among other things, this means that it can only produce a couple of locomotives at a time and each one is unique. On the one hand this does limit total output and makes servicing these vehicles more difficult. On the other hand, it means that there is constant experimenting and refinement, especially given that there are three other competing firms in Venoa alone. At the time of it's completion DiTovri and Smhorison are also in negotiations to provide locomotives like this one to railway projects elsewhere in the Anvosi Peninsula.

*1.248 Meters



This basic structure was set up in 45 IA by the Ministry of Construction in the summer of 45 IA near Construction Site UL-144, one of a hundred and twenty four such structures built between the autumn of 44 IA and late winter 46 IA. Based off army barracks designs and built out of rough timber, it's broadly composed of two parts. In it's "back" is the primary structure, which accommodates a hundred bunk beds and chests. It's "front" includes a a small office and some storage, but it's main function is as a bathroom and a changing room. It has basic running water for sinks and a set of showers. It also has latrines, though these are simple bucket affairs that are cleaned out daily. Heating is provided by a set of of cast iron wood stoves (two of which can be used to heat up shower water in winter). It also has basic electrification for illumination. This is typical for most dorms, but some lack either power, plumbing or both.

In general, these structures provide basic lodgings at least 12,400 workers, more if a hot-bunking system is in effect and some have a few more bunks squeezed into odd corners. Despite this, these Dorms were insufficient to accommodate the entirety of the workforce employed by the various Ministry of Construction projects. Dozens of additional Dorms were planned, but were either delayed or cancelled due to various complications, including the destruction of Dorm-12 and partial destruction of Dorm-53 in a fire. This has lead to various efforts to quickly address the matter to make up the gap for Ministry of Construction personnel. The dorm complexes are also surrounded by informal settlements, mostly inhabited by various hangers on not directly employed by the MoC staff. Even so, despite the need for additional accommodation construction on new Dorms would come to a halt in February of 46 IA. Ultimately these buildings were a temporary measure, with work shifting towards a more long-term solution.



Alongside lorries and tractors a variety of more specialized self propelled vehicles have been built by Infrastructure, with Steam Shovels being among the most common. The motorized shovel assembly was first built in 24 IA though it was placed on an unpowered chassis, with the first self propelled unit being completed in 27 IA. Production of free roaming steam shovels was comparatively slow but steady at 4-5 vehicles annually for the next six years until the outbreak of the Escort War. Only four were completed over the course of the conflict, including two that been under construction at the beginning of hostilities. After the war production of new Steam Shovels was increased as a number of major construction projects. By 46 IA some 170 of these vehicles were active, with 85 of them assigned to the various construction projects along the Urblaast Loriv canal.

Steam Shovel No 157 is fairly typical of these vehicles, completed in 44 IA at the Dockland Construction Vehicle Plant. She has a wooden cab and is operated by 2-3 people: the crane operator, the fireman who tends to the boiler and as often as not an apprentice operator. She's not fast on the ground, with a top speed of 5 kph on a good road. Even so, she can move more than a cubic meter of dirt or gravel in one go, allowing at most three people to do more work than two hundred workers with shovels and wheelbarrows. This means that Earthmoving can be done more quickly and cheaply and those extra 200 workers can be put to other tasks.

In addition to their use on state construction projects, it is possible for Infrastructural Citizens to hire out these vehicles for their own endeavours.



Members of the Corps of Engineers while on the Job are required to wear a uniform. There has been some revisions to this over time and some variants for weather and climate, but a crested hard-hat, button collared multi-pocketed shirt, utility belt, cargo pants and steel toed boots have been common features for decades. It's a durable practical form of dress, but it's also rather severe and can look very much out of place in an office or at a reception. For this reason in 39 IA after several requests to the effect were made, the Committee designed a dress uniform.

It consists of a tailed double breasted orange jacket with shoulder insignia and four pockets, a green high collared cotton shirt, blue pants and black dress shoes. Some Engineers have embraced it and use it wherever they can while others think it's an impractical extravagance compared to the hard wearing work uniform and avoid wearing them as much as possible.


Ashigaru are common-born soldiers in the Empire of Higato. Drawn mainly from the Peasant and Artisan classes, they serve as infantry and artillery crews. In times of peace, the number of Ashigaru is typically quite small with a few volunteers recruited to garrison forts and provide authorities with strong backs when needed for odd jobs with most matters of security and policing being handled by the Samurai class. In times of disharmony and war, they can be raised in vast numbers. In such trying times many Ashigaru are conscripted, but many more volunteer as military service and valour on the battlefield is a means by which a common born warrior can rise through the ranks.

Technically the Solar Throne, the Shoguns or the Local Daimyo have the right to raise Ashigaru. In practice since about 100 BIA the Daimyo's direct role in the process has been significantly reduced. Standards of equipment and training have been steadily raised, as have wages. Similarly many Daimyo typically prefer it when their peasants are tending the fields rather than dying in droves. As such, many Daimyo see sending money to their Shogun to raise Ashigaru on their behalf as a cheaper and easier defence strategy.

This fellow is a typical Ashigaru in service to the Kanada Shogunate in 46 IA. He has a reasonable suit of painted steel armour bearing the Mon of his Shogun. His armament is fairly new, a percussion cap rifled musket based off Drow made guns captured from Southeastern Slave Raiders. So far most of the raiders' attention has been on the Southern Shogunate, but Kanada merchants have contacts with the Kaniwan Gunsmith's Guild and managed to strike a deal in 42 IA. At the same time, Kanada Jinsan is of the attitude that a momme of prevention is worth a kan of cure.



Here we have two toys which belong to Yeva and Raya Dorsunov, the daughters of Engineer Vitali Dorsunov. Aki is a plush Akula (shark) and belongs to Yeva and Miss Hatofski is a rag-doll Bureaucrat that belongs to Raya, both of which were made by a small toy-shop in Dalatyr and both are fairly common Infrastructural toys.

[Zor]

Alongside lorries and tractors a variety of more specialized self propelled vehicles have been built by Infrastructure, with Steam Shovels being among the most common. The motorized shovel assembly was first built in 24 IA though it was placed on an unpowered chassis, with the first self propelled unit being completed in 27 IA. Production of free roaming steam shovels was comparatively slow but steady at 4-5 vehicles annually for the next six years until the outbreak of the Escort War. Only four were completed over the course of the conflict, including two that been under construction at the beginning of hostilities. After the war production of new Steam Shovels was increased as a number of major construction projects. By 46 IA some 170 of these vehicles were active, with 85 of them assigned to the various construction projects along the Urblaast Loriv canal.

Steam Shovel No 157 is fairly typical of these vehicles, completed in 44 IA at the Dockland Construction Vehicle Plant. She has a wooden cab and is operated by 2-3 people: the crane operator, the fireman who tends to the boiler and as often as not an apprentice operator. She's not fast on the ground, with a top speed of 5 kph on a good road. Even so, she can move more than a cubic meter of dirt or gravel in one go, allowing at most three people to do more work than two hundred workers with shovels and wheelbarrows. This means that Earthmoving can be done more quickly and cheaply and those extra 200 workers can be put to other tasks.

In addition to their use on state construction projects, it is possible for Infrastructural Citizens to hire out these vehicles for their own endeavours.

[Zor]

(Velnariath, Late Summer 45 IA)

Exhaustion, Frustration, Boredom and low key Dread. Those had been Reival ti'Valcas' primary emotions over the last five years.

As governor of Velnariath, he had a lot to do and little to do it with. Initially he had two hundred and ten Drow and five hundred slaves. Most of the former were drawn from the Discarded and half of the latter were Disposables. There was also the Khylhon in the first year, but she and her crew only provided minor aid early on and mostly loitered about in case of attack. Additional supplies and a couple hundred more settlers and slaves would be dropped off about twice a year. But even so this operation was still little more than a dingy village. There was a couple make-shift taverns, the occasional hunt and some improvised bands, poetry contests and sparing matches, but there was still little diversion in this sweltering land. His wife Kyrial had made that clear.

Not that setting it up was in any sense easy. The first goal on arrival was establishing shelter, storehouses, a dock, pens for animals, wells, defensive fortifications, collecting rock samples, setting up wards and coaxing what crops they could out of the dry soil. He did more shovelling in the first year than he'd ever expected to do in his life on top of the paperwork and meetings. Work on such things would continue with new arrivals, but once the basics of survival had been achieved other ends could be effected. Thirteen months in, work began on a pair of mines (one for iron and another for coal). This meant establishing the mines themselves, as well as billets for miners, roads to mines, railways to mines* and storage yards. This was followed by a basic blast furnace for basic smelting. Already about 1,600 ven of pig iron had been sent back to Valnothron and 400 more had been traded with Novo Oestia for wheat and Ilhong for Rice and some more manpower, though that was a drop in the bucket of the mission's cost.

All the while there was the ever present risk of attack by the Eternal Foe. They had arms and armour and several shore batteries, but even so there still only 800 soldiers. Even though this was about as far off the beaten path as you could get, a few Arrowships to snuff them out. There was also a scare when a Coldlander fleet was seen sailing East. Even thought it did not come anywhere near and the treaty was still in effect, it was enough to put people on edge. This was leaving aside the possibilities of a renegade pirate fleet from the North or Oestian Treachery which were less likely but still quite possible.

But despite all of that he remained committed to this project. Both out of loyalty to the family and what it could mean for his state and himself. And after a lot of work, it had begun to come together.

Two days ago a pair of ships had arrived with carried some anticipated passengers. Master Tyrjhen ti'Donzul of the Valnothron Runesmith's Guild, along with two journeymen and four apprentices. The Guild was one of the most powerful institutions in Valnothron with a permanent seat on the Council, vast wealth, a lot of inluence, several companies of formidable warriors and their own agenda. For all that, they were a fundamental part of the venture. After a day of rest, he showed them their new workshops and that evening he took Tyrjhen out to see a key development.

Five miles from the main settlement on a patch of hilly ground there was a small base. Most of it was unremarkable: a pair of watch-towers, slave barracks, drow quarters, field kitchen, well, pen, a couple of sheds, an makeshift warehouse, a couple of miscellaneous buildings and a fence surrounding the whole affair. All of which existed to support a strange contrivance which sat the complex's southeastern corner.

"So, this is the Vyankaill*." Tyrjhen ti'Yilijath said after she dismounted.

It sat on a specially made iron carriage mounted on a secure pivot, similar to those used by the latest naval cannons. The whole affair could be rotated by means of a wheel running along a rail and a two man crank and the array itself could be oriented by means of another set of cranks. It was incredibly slow, but precision was far more important. The array itself was counterbalanced by a set of concrete weights behind it and mostly consisted of a large dish of finely polished mirrors on an iron frame. All of which directed light into a metal cylinder. A number of slaves worked around it as dusk began to fall.

"A Vyankaill, we set up three smaller arrays over the last two years for tests, training and to work out issues." Reival said. "This one is made for practical production. It can track the sun to gather light and focus it into the collector."

"Must take a fair bit of work to keep it clean."

Reival grinned "I would hand it to Mistress Izlien."

"A full polishing is done every night past sundown." The site's supervisor said. "If there's a storm, we secure the array and cover it up with a tarp. My teams can have it done within four minutes. We're tapping the furnace for the night, would you like to see?"

"Indeed."

"Crew! Prepare for tapping!" A wheeled staircase was manhandled over the rocky terrain and a slave soon walked up carrying a large crucible. Very carefully he put the crucible, into position, pulled to open the furnace, filled it up with molten iron and sealed it up again. When that was done, he took the resulting metal down and poured it out onto into a depression in a box full of casting sand. He repeated the task four times, leaving six ingots.

"Four carriers would be quicker." Thyrjhen said as the fifth ingot was poured.

"They'd also jostle against each other going up and down the staircase. One hand can do the job quickly enough and doing so prevents spillage and unnecessary injuries. A device is in the works for winching up a crucible and pouring remotely."

"Indeed." She did not sound impressed. Reival had seen the mentality before: the way you got something done was with slaves, if you want it done faster use more slaves. Runesmiths were as a rule insular and self-important concerned about the Guild, their craft, the market for their goods and the proper training of apprentices and inductees. Technical solutions beyond their field were trivial matters. "Even so, i would like to inspect today's crop."

"Of course." Reival said as Thyrjhen approached the length of still molten liquid. She crouched down, extended her hand to near touch one of them and closer her eyes.

A couple seconds latter she opened her eyes and got to her feet. "Not perfect, but still more than adequate for most of our purposes and consistent with the samples you've provided. This device can make sixty vaul of infused iron at a time?"

"Yes, every four days. Over the last two months we've produced twelve loads. Within two months we will set up another one that should be able to handle seventy at a time."

Thyrjhen stood "Lord Reival, when she proposed it your mother's plan sounded like pure madness. Upon seeing your little outpost, I can say that it remains absurd to travel half way around the world to a godsforsaken desert to build massive iron teacups. As such you should be grateful we live in absurd times and I can not deny the effectiveness of your plan. You have upheld your end of our deal and we shall work on ours, we will have our metal and you shall have your flasks."

"It is an honour to accept your services." In truth, it was more of a relief. The long-term objective required Guild cooperation since they had a vast pool of skilled runesmiths authority over the manufacture and sale of any Runic item. Even slave Runesmiths needed to be registered with the guild who got a cut of the sales of any goods they produced. Strictly speaking there was still a contract in order, but an uncooperative master would be a major pain at least. It took a fair bit of discrete strategic bribery to get the Guild on House Valcas' side even though they stood to profit by it. Runesmithing required iron infused with magic and getting it in was a tricky business. Providing the Guild with a steady supply of infused ingots would raise their output and profits considerably, but that was just the beginning once the other function of these solar collectors was in full swing.

Managing Velnariath was a demanding job, he did it because he knew it could be a key driving force of Valnothron's economy and the edge needed to finally achieve ultimate victory.

*At the time, ox powered. A small locomotive was being built for the operation, but it would not arrive for another four months.
**Mirror Blossom


(Urblaast/Loriv construction zone, autumn 45 IA)
There had never been a lot of Dwarves in the Coldlands. A few outcasts had been forced to carve out a chilly life for themselves and a few clans that established Holds in flanking mountain ranges. Even so between the climate, low levels of background magic too low for their agriculture and raids by warlords interested in high value slaves there were only about 18,000 Dwarfs in what would become Infrastructure during the Wars of Unification. The Committee brought the six Coldland Dwarf-Holds into line by eliminating enemies and negotiation and in general they did well. They retained a decent degree of autonomy and gained security, improved trade opportunities and access to some impressive machinery. Even so, they were still fairly small components in the Great Machine.

Dhori Nolfrikson of Brundinkhor Hold had grown up with that change. He'd been 5 when the Infrastructural envoys arrived and he'd seen the changes first-hand. Demand for copper and defensive rune-stones were high so the clan made healthy profits and the population was growing. Despite that, there was still a resilient sense of insularity in Brundinkhor among the older generations which you could not really blame for having. The younger generations were a bit more open to the prospects that this new world could offer than three centuries in a modest hold in the Greytooth mountains.

As such after mulling it over, saving up and putting it off on his 33rd birthday he gathered up his pack and set out north. He'd thought he'd find work on the railways digging tunnels like his older sister Feltr did, or maybe in one of the new factories. To his surprise, the job he got was a construction job along the coast of the Urblaast/Loriv canal. Once there he was shifted from UL-109 to UL-077 to UL-121 and then to UL-152, but these projects were basically just sections of a greater whole, a massive fresh water and sewer system.

The basic procedure involved digging a long trench and setting down pipes. Smaller pipes were simply lowered in and fastened into place while larger main lines were built out of bricks. These were massive, a human could stand up straight in a finished pipe and they were by far the most time consuming to build. Even with multiple bricklayers working together setting up even a meter of main line was a long and involved process, leaving aside the building and rebuilding of scaffolding. Dhori could keep up a pace that most humans could not and found himself quite popular because of that. Each team of bricklayers had a length they were expected to do each shift and if that was exceeded they got a bonus. You could also earn more by doing overtime, and he usually got a couple extra hours in every day. He normally made about 20-24 credits a day, about 8 of which went back home to his parents.

In general, there was a lot of work being done here. The UL-144 had the largest workforce assigned to it, but there were dozens of other projects in the works in the area as well. There were tens of thousands of workers here, the vast majority of which were humans. You did see the occasional Dwarf here and there and he had shared a few pints with them at the pub but most of his circle of friends here were human. For someone who'd lived most of his life mostly underground in a mountain with the Clan for decades, it was a major change. In a month or so, things would slow down as winter set in and a good chunk of the workforce would go home until spring. Even so, Dhori was planning on staying on board. The pay was good, he found the work relaxing, he did not like to leave things unfinished and he found watching the great meta-project the Committee take shape to be fascinating.



(Valcas Estate, early winter, 45 IA)

In general the years after the Escort War for Jailys zi'Valcas had been busy. Long days and nights working on dozens of projects involving electrical expertise; from studying Coldlander equipment, working on prototypes, setting up new factories and workshops, electrification of the complex and translating documentation. Despite that, she pushed through partially; because she enjoyed her work and partially because of a prospect once distant and remote but increasingly within sight. In 43 IA a marriage was arranged between her and Fharien ti'Valcas, a distant descendant of one of Lady Talnara's uncles and a reasonable clerk. It came with a massive dowry which included the ownership of a home within the walls of the city, a few domestic slaves and the service of several body-guards. The next year she had a daughter, which was enough for the foundation of a new Minor House. Within her first century, she'd gone from an orphaned gutter rat to an indentured worker before emerging as Familiarch of House Zhonjath. She still owed fealty to House Valcas, but the rights and privileges of her new station were most definitely appreciated.

On a cold winter morning thirty five Drow youths filed into a makeshift lecture hall. They took to their seats and readied paper and quill in anticipation, before them was a curtain that was pulled back to reveal Jailys, well dressed and poised by her table. From a corner her assistant Beilaith announced "Students I present to your teacher for the day Mistress Jailys ti'Zhonjath*!" before slinking off. Jailys question the theatrics of it, but it was tradition and ultimately a minor issue.

She took in the crowd and smirked. "Interesting..." she said "...these are the ones that her esteemed Ladyship has sent me this year. I see some who's reports had shown considerable potential and had my recommendation and others...with another disposition. I don't know what criteria her Ladyship and her esteemed progeny make their selections, but I know they have their reasons." Mostly these were political. The majority of this lot were the sons and daughters of other Valcas vassals, along with a few wards and a couple of children of middling houses sworn to an major ally. "But regardless, the powers-that-be have instructed me and my department to instruct you in the mysteries of this."

In a quick motion she scooped up an electric light and flipped it on. She did not have the carefully constructed poise of the highborn and some of her students did find her efforts to be quaint, but the point was made.

"The marvels of Electricity. You've seen the new lights, experienced a few novel contrivances and maybe have even heard a radio. But make no mistake, this is but a sampling of what can be done with electrical power. Greater marvel are being drafted, built and tested in our workshops as we speak and marvels greater still lie in the future. A bright future that will be shaped by your will, if you pay attention to both your lessons and to what you're doing. Last year there were thirteen electrical fatalities, four of them Dark Elves. It's like a fire spell, if you don't handle it right it can easily burn. Electric machinery may be key to defeating The Eternal Foe, but to do that House Valcas and Valnothron need skilled masters of the electric arts. We don't need the charred remains of damn fools who fry themselves on live wires stinking up up the workshop." That got a nervous laugh. "So I implore you to be attentive in your studies in the wonderful world of the Electric."

"To begin with, we'll start with the most simple of electric mechanism: the Circuit." With that, she ran through the basic principles, using a few props for demonstration and explaining concepts such as conductivity and resistance along the way. In general the class paid attention and most were enthusiastic, though she noticed that there were a few resentful. Most likely those who fancied themselves warriors upset that they had to learn a useful trade, even when the Navy had an increasing demand for electricians as much as industry.

For the most part, these lectures were handled by Beiliath and a few other trusted subordinates. Even so, she liked to carry out the first one herself. It would be another four years at least before this lot was up to snuff and another three years of apprenticeship after that until they'd be fit to operate on their own. This was leaving aside those which needed to be up to date on the theoretical side which also involved Coldlander language lessons. More still for some of the more specialized fields that were cropping up. Even with another 120 or so ahead of them in the primary electrical training and there were still a chronic shortage of skilled masters of electricity. Despite the suggestions of some, there was no general way to accelerate the training process without reducing quality. They could just expand the intake of new students to hopefully keep up with future demand.

In classrooms like this and in workshops, manufactories, shipyards, warships and mines a new class of Dark Elves was rising. One which would shake their society as much as the machines they tended. A fact that Jailys might have seen coming if she was not constantly swamped with work.

*Drow naming conventions stipulate that a ward or a houseless individual vassal sworn to an establish House adopt the last name of the house with the "zi" prefix (which means "associated with") instead of the "ti" (which means "a part of"), prefix used by full members of the House either by Birth, Marriage or Adoption.


(Urblaast/Loriv Construction Zone, late winter 46 IA)
Every day in Dormitory 27 at 6:00, there was a wake up call. The lights were turned on and a bell was wrung. With that a hundred people were stirred into activity. Over the next few minutes they got to their feet, some making their beds as they went. Once that was done they filed their way to the changing rooms where they could wash up, brush their teeth, relieve themselves and get dressed for the day. This was normally done within half an hour at most. With that done most went off to the nearest canteen for breakfast and then to their various construction projects. Even on days off, people rarely lingered in the dorms while they were awake. The long two storey structure was designed to provide workers with a reasonably warm place to sleep and ready yourself for the next day, not to live. The fact that a hot-bunking situation was often in effect sealed the deal. Even so, the Dorms were still better than the informal warrens made of whatever could be scavenged up that some people (mostly the hangers on not directly employed by the Ministry of Construction) had been forced to make do with.

Lavra Lymirelko awoke with the rest of them but was among the last to get up. Two days ago there had been an accident at site UL-144 involving a fire at one the worksheds that spread to a storage pile and caused a steam engine to burst it's boiler. Thankfully nobody died, though eight people were injured and numerous machine tools and construction materials were lost. She was of course worried about the accident and felt for those those affected by it and it was no small relief to hear that Gordy and a few others were unhurt. But for her, that meant paperwork. Lots of reports which needed to filed to document the event, requests needed to be drafted and sent out for replacement equipment and materials, clean-up efforts to mobilize on top of the usual request forms which the construction sites ran on, all of which needed to be typed out for the Engineers and Bureaucrats. She could do sixty words a minute and she had to put in an extra three hours of work to get most of it done. She was exhausted at the end of it when she crashed in her bunk and even with a good night's sleep she was left beat.

Groggily she peeled herself from her sheets, got her glasses from the nightstand and with a well practised hand taking orders from a brain that had yet to build up steam put them on. She groaned in frustration as she got to her feet and shuffled forward to the stairway. She'd have to get her mess of a mop into order and she would not have much time for breakfast even though she badly needed a hot cup of tea. Spring was just beginning to stir, which on the one hand meant that she would not have to bundle up super tightly, but it also meant that things would be wet and muddy.

As she made her way to the daily grind she considered what she was working for. She was making a better wage than in Dalatyr and her savings account was filling up, even so there was not much to spend it on here. Nor did she have much space for anything she bought. The Ministry of Construction was not charging her for her bunk and the canteen's grub was cheap and adequate. She did send some of her wages back to her parents and there were a few places to find diversion around here on your days off. In general this was a good thing, even if the fact that the fruits of her labour largely lay in the future was frustrating.



(Urblaast/Loriv Construction Zone, Spring 46 IA)

A slab of concrete, 3 meters tall, 2 meters wide and for the most part 20cm thick with a large square hole a meter tall and 120cm wide rose into the air. Lifted up from a stack of such slabs by a large motorized crane, it was moved through the air purposefully as it's carrier moved along a set of rails and rotated gently. Nobody wanted it out of control and either slamming into something or to come crashing down, especially not onto some worker. This was especially true as it was brought to it's destination, as the Crane's operator communicated with workers three storeys up on what was currently the roof of a rough building. This was particularly the case in the last couple of meters as it was carefully lowered down while two workers guided it down to rest right on the rim. Among them was Ghrody Tsimil.

"Alright, looking good here Kilrova." He said to the young woman who was behind the panel, holding it by the window. He on the other hand was straddling the rim trying not to fall over. He had a safety line tied to his belt, but not actually falling over the side was always the best option.

"Looking good, just gotta pull her in a bit more, mind your feet." Kilrova replied.

"Of course". Ghrody replied. With a few quick shoves and pulls they got the panel right where it needed to be as it landed a smear of mortar and was braced up against another panel. "Looks Good."

"Still got a few hundred to go." Kilrova replied.

"Yeah yeah. Let's get this one secured". They went off to put in a couple fasteners to hold it in place as the mortar set. After that, they disconnected the chains and signalled the crane operator to repeat the process.

Ghordy had been working here at site UL-178 for nine days now. The Ministry of Construction frequently moved resources and people on and around UL-144. Various projects and stages in construction frequently concluded, new ones were starting up, more people were coming in and workers who'd received training (either formal or on-the-job) or were simply experienced were often in demand. Spring saw the beginning of several new projects as the weather made things generally easier. After the completion of floorboard installation on one of the huge complex's offices, Ghrody was not surprised and he and his general crew were sent off here. It was a bit out of the way, but walking a few clicks to his dorm and back was at worst a mild annoyance.

What did surprise him was the strange way the building was built. Lorries, steam tractors, cargo trams and ox drawn wagons brought in a constant supply of the concrete panels from either a storage yard or direct from ULBSF-2. Each one was a wall or a floor which just needed to be set into place with mortar and there you go, you got a wall, or a floor or a supporting pillar. The same went with stairs, which were also made in large number fully formed before being dropped in. Even on UL-144, you had to build a framework and then floors and walls from basic materials rather than making everything out a few types of subtly different but large segments to assemble the structure. Apparently this sort of thing was called "Prefabrication" and he had to admit that if nothing else it was fast. When he'd arrived, this was just a hole with some cranes. Now more than half the work was done, even though there was a lot of stuff being done downstairs, installing everything from windows and flooring to electrical systems and toilets.

For about a year now, Ghordy had been on this site and in that time he had slept in tents, half-finished structures, makeshift shacks, a dugout and a cramped wooden dormitory. A few dozen old passenger railcars had been brought in to serve as barracks, and they were considered to be an improvement by those who dwelt in the shanty-camps. Back on the farm he'd shared a room with three brothers, but even so the living arrangements left a lot to be desired at the best of times. It came as a relief that UL-178 was to provide housing to people, especially given how bit it was. When it was completed it would be more than 70 meters long and have more than 80 flats in it. At the same time there were another three buildings like it going up next door, four more were going up across the road and more foundations were being dug. The shanty-towns and Dormitory camps had served their purpose and soon will be a thing of the past. That fact in of itself was good enough to keep him in high spirits.



(Urblaast Loriv Construction Zone, spring 46 IA)

Engineer Vitali Dorsunov walked up a stairwell and down a hallway as bemused thoughts went through his mind. These days he went to the factory in his work uniform, a hard wearing robust functional garment designed for someone who got their hands dirty with soot and motor oil, and he spent most of his time talking to people, reading reports or typing up paperwork. Today he was in his dress uniform hauling boxes and chairs from a wagon. Admittedly he left the heavier loads such as the bed, table and his desk to some porters he'd hired, but there was still a lot number of more sensitive items he preferred to bring up himself. The notion ran it's course as he got to the west end of the hallway and opened the door into his new abode.

As soon as the door began to open, his eldest daughter Yeva darted out and soon ran to him. He grinned. "Woah there kid!"

"Dad! This place is amazing! It's Ginormous and there's two toilets, this huge bathtub, windows as tall as me, fancy walls, closet doors that slide," she reached over and demonstrated this "air tunnels, fancy floors, these hot metal things..." she was going full tilt as an impetuous seven year old could.

"...Well I know something it did not have...." he said as he cut her off "Aki! Grrrr!" He picked out a plush Akula from the box and loosed the stuffed sea creature on her without mercy. She burst out giggling with delight. A few seconds latter she collected Aki along with a few other things from the box.

"Now you can play for now, but you have to do it in your bedroom. Have you chosen one yet?"

"Yes I did!" She soon ran down the hall and pointed a door out. In their previous dwelling they all shared a bedroom that made up basically the entire upper storey.

"Does mom know this?"

"Yeah I told her." There was a pause from Yeva. "And thank you for making this place."

"You're welcome. But even so, I just keep the machines working at the factory and made sure the panels were properly made. There's a whole lot of people who put this place together."

"Yes dad. We're all part of the Great Machine and we can do together what none of us can do on our own. You still made it, even if others helped you."

"Well then you should thank the workers building more of these buildings." Anthropomorphism was a trait of humanity and it could badly skew how they viewed the world. When people saw something and wonder how it came to be, they preferred to imagine a human face as it's creator and ignore the hundreds or thousands of people who worked to bring it about. He loved his daughters dearly, but a little gentle correction needed. "Some of them are living in this building".

"Oh I will." She said slightly indignantly.

"And tell Raya that I have Miss Hatofski is here and the rest of the toys will be up here soon." He turned away to go down stairs for the other box.

Given his position as head Engineer at ULBSF-2, Vitali was at the front of the line for a housing upgrade. As soon as the first prefab apartment buildings was completed he was assigned one of the double-sized three bedroom family flats. A much needed upgrade from the basic house they'd called home for the last few years, not that their old residence would go to waste. From what he heard the shack had already been reallocated. Lila was a bit uncertain about the place in general terms, but she changed her mind quickly enough once she'd taken a quick tour. It was further away from the factory, but a few steam buses had been set up and a trolley route was planned.

Despite the decor, the empty set of rooms felt oddly sterile. It would take some time to make this assemblage of prefab panels a home. Even so with heating, plumbing, a new gas stove, plenty of electrical outlets, ventilation and other conveniences it offered along with the view of other such buildings going up around it, it definitely felt more civilized.



(Urblaast Loriv Construction Zone, Late Spring 46 IA)

At 5:50 on a warm morning in late spring Liv Nereskovo casually drove her streetcar on it's route through the Urblaast/Loriv Construction Zone. There was not a lot of traffic yet nor a huge amount of passengers at most of her stops. There were a few early risers such as canteen workers and some graveyard shift personnel at UL-144 and a few more of the big projects going home and in about half an hour there would be the surge of day-shift workers but for now things were fairly easy going. As she considered this, she was surprised at how quickly she'd settled into her routine. She'd been transferred from Dalatyr Transit and arrived here three weeks ago as the first passenger streetcars were finished* and did a few practice runs before services officially began a week latter.

She knew that a lot of people were working here in general of course; there were news articles, posters, recruitment and a fair number of people from Dalatyr which were either hired or transferred here. Even so, she'd been amazed at what had been done. It was amazing to think that a couple years ago this place was mostly empty fields. UL-144 was a massive complex, but in truth she was more impressed by the new blocks of flats. In a fortnight she'd seen just how fast these structures could be built as panels were put into place, with partially completed structures getting finished and buildings rising from basements with remarkable speed as cranes just carried walls into place. One morning you went to a station to deliver workers to their construction sites and the next evening you were were unloading them to their new billets. They were mostly used as dorms at the moment and the gods knew that they needed it. Even so, that was a temporary measure. Other buildings were also being put up around them and the foundations for more buildings still were being dug by dozens of steam shovels, lorries and battalions of workers with shovels. Like many people she ended up musing about this place and it's constant buzz of activity by armies of men and women. UL-144 was a factory and factories made things, but as big as imposing as it was it was only part of a greater whole. She wondered what it would be like when it was done, she'd find out sooner than she'd expected

*Cargo Streetcars on the network had seen some use before her arrival for testing and to aide construction.

(UL-144, Summer 46 IA)

On an average day in the summer of 46 IA, UL-144 had about 5 to 7,000 people directly working on it. This was a slight decrease from what it had been a few months previously, though more of the work became more technical. Several of the primary structures were completed and now they were being outfitted with it's equipment. In particular the number of Engineers on site rose to from 25 to 37 with nearly twice as many Apprentices*. At their head was Engineer Administrator Natasha Smedth, one of the most senior and prominent figures in the Corps and well respected by her peers. Even if she spent far more time in meetings and dealing with her subordinates, the Bureaucrats and Foremen, visits from Committee Members and a vast swath of paperwork than she cared for: for that reason she relished each opportunity to get down on the floor.

On a warm morning before things got to hot, she threw on her hardhat and a clipboard and went down to inspect some of the completed work in her morning briefing. On that list was a set of eight new lathes that had been set up. She looked them over and took some notes as her aide gave her some commentary on their features. These were high end devices, complete with their own electric motors and made to remarkable tolerances. She turned one on for a bit to see it go and was impressed by the speed. At her feet were a few steel shavings and she was given a small object which had been made on one of these lathes as a test item. She returned it with a smile.

"Very good" she said as she jotted down a final note "and now back to the grind."

Considering what she had to work with in the twenties, she was definitely jealous of the new generation. The same went for the pantograph milling machines, the new Drill presses and a dozen other upgraded mechanisms that had been installed, were being installed, in storage or were coming. This was leaving aside some of the huge specialized mechanisms under construction. Part of the reason why she'd been assigned to UL-144 was her experience in it's ultimate function and you could do a remarkable amount of work with just good lathe. But even so, this set of eight lathes would be just minor tributaries to the river this monster factory would become.

*Trainee Engineers which have graduated from the Academy and spend a year or two working under the supervision of a Senior Engineer for field experience before being fully inducted into the Engineering Corps.

(Tabula Rasa probationary settlement, Infrastructure, summer, 46 IA)
A blade moved swiftly, peeling off skin, cleaving it's target and staining all around it crimson. Talsi ti'Xolcas watched Neljiith ti'Vhireht as he cleaned and chopped up a beet for today's borscht. He took note of every move of the knife, the position of his hands and all the other little details. When he felt he was done he turned his head to her.

"By the gods, watch your hands. I don't need your fingers in my soup. And eighths are still too big."

He looked crestfallen. "I was going to chop them up fine once i'd I had a few beets peeled and sectioned. That's what you do."

She let out a sigh. "I'd cut them in half initially. Big difference. Still, you are liable to cut yourself up. Let me show you..." And so she showed him a few tricks on how to keep one's digits safe while dicing a beet, which would also be useful for tomatoes, onions, various vegetables and even meat.

Neljiith had arrived in Tabula Rasa about a year ago, part of a regular batch of new releases from the camps, and soon found work at Talsi's cafe. He could chop firewood, wash dishes, clean the tables, mop the floor and all the other little tasks that let Talsi focus on cooking, taking orders and making change. Even though she paid him ten credits a day her revenue increased by more than twice that and sometimes she collapsed in bed not completely exhausted.

Now she had plans and the first step in this was taking on another employee. She could use some more hands in the kitchen as the sooner diners were served the happier they were and the sooner they'd be on their way, making room for fresh diners to fill their seats. In that regard, she saw teaching Neljiith how to do some basic jobs for a couple extra credits and hiring another new release as the easiest path.

So far, it had been hard going. He'd never learned how to do any meaningful cooking beyond dressing rabbits. With a fair bit of criticism he'd proved that he could dice carrots and peel potatoes, now they were moving onto beets. He kept making a bunch of small mistakes that end up wasting time or getting his fingers nicked. It was a frustrating experience, especially since she knew that it was frustrating for Neljiith as well. Especially since she knew that her skills at teaching left something to be desired. Being raised in a society in which the grunt work was done by slaves leaves an impact in a lot of different ways, especially in management style. Often she found herself realizing that she talked to Neljiith too harshly and aggressively for trivial faults.

"Now" she said, calming down "can you try again?" Neljiith got another beet, peeled it and cut it in half neatly and safely, if still a bit slow. "Better, but you can do better still." And so they continued until the diced beet bowl was full and remained, to every-one's relief, finger free.



(Petrolium Colony, autumn 46 IA)
A bale was set atop four other bales on top of a net on a dock in Petroligrad, the main settlement of Petroleum Colony. The mass of soft off-white material was surprisingly heavy, requiring four stevedores with harnesses to manhandle the soft mass atop another. Once that was done three of them walked away while Jacek Torinsweis was left behind. With the economy of motion of a well practised hand, he secured the clinch ropes of a cargo net to the latches of a ship's crane, giving each a quick test tug. It was a simple task that he could do on autopilot and in general easier than hauling the massive loads. With that done, he looked up and gave a thumbs up.

"Secure!" He said, giving a thumbs up to the crew onboard the ship

"Secure!" Deckhands onboard the ship replied as they moved to receive.

"Aye!" The crane operated replied. A couple seconds latter the winch was turned on, the lines rose and the mass went up with them and the payload soon disappeared over the hull of the ship. As that happened Jacek set down a fresh net on the X painted for that purpose before going back to collect another bale of rubber.

This was the thirtieth bale he'd moved this shift, with four other teams moving another hundred and twenty and there were plenty more on the docks and in the warehouses. Another ten had been loaded one at a time with a gangplank, push-cart and a winch. It was hard work and it had only been a few hours. This was leaving aside the heat. The days were getting long and sweltering and they still had an hour to go before lunch and a two hour siesta. Even so, they still had a lot of work to do. There was a 25 Credit bonus to getting this ship filled by Friday.

In the last few years, Petrolgrad's port had grown considerably. More ships were coming in, delivering more colonists and equipment and collecting more product. Petroleum remained the biggest export though tea and cotton were both coming into their own and latex was exploding. There were a few Infrastructural Orchards that were producing and more that were still growing from saplings, but still the bulk of the latex was imported from the tribes up north. He got the need for tea and cotton, after all a nice iced tea was a refreshing treat and comfortable light clothing were both welcome in his book though the massive demand for rubber was more obscure to him. It would not be the first time he wondered about such things, nor the last before he found out. Even so, he had a job to do.

[Zor]

(The former construction site UL-144, winter 46 IA)

With deceptive ease, the mass of a drop hammer rose into the air before it came crashing down onto a length of red hot steel with a heavy crunch. The process repeated as the length was shifted from die to die by a pair of graspers to further refine it's shape and a spritz of lubricant, and was shifted again to repeat the process further after that. Then what had been a simple bar of heated metal was pulled free of the massive jaws of the mechanism and put onto a hook on the chain.

Andrey Sakharov inspected the product and found it good. It was impressive what these machines could do, even though it needed a strong hand do to it. The form was complex and deliberate, designed to do a specific job, but it was still not done. He put the glowing form on a set onto a wire conveyor which sent it off for fine processing.

A month ago, some Recruiters went to his workshop in search of experienced workers, machinists, technicians and mechanics. They offered wages starting at 25 Credits a day for experienced workers along with a housing voucher and numerous benefits, though it meant moving up north to the Urblaast/Loriv Development Zone. There was a lot of people who were going up that way for more than two years, though most of them had jobs which related to the construction industry. There were a few people he'd miss back at work and he'd would be leaving his parents, but between the pay, benefits and the chance of being part of something bigger than himself the decision was clear.

Now he was here in the monstrous Factory and he had plenty to do. Outside it was snowing, but you'd guess it deep in the heat of the metalworking section. After safety briefings and some tutorials, he soon got into the rhythm of the machinery and it was amazing how quickly the rough blanks were turned into Crankshafts. Even so he was but a small part of the workings of this place and there was always need for more.



The freshly forged crankshafts were sent up a level in the factory. There they were put through finishing and quality control in a steady stream which soon became a tributary to a greater tributary as they were put into cast iron engine block moving along their own line. Said plates would continue on to have other components added to them in a precise order at other stations, along with various tests and inspections until at the end a new four-cylinder inline engine was completed. Once completed these were hitched to a bracket, winched up, moved to a trapdoor and gradually lowered into the factory's ultimate Assembly Line.

Natia Kuzemko and her colleague Victor Gurevych watched as the 181 kg mass of iron and steel descended to their level over the chassis. In general things looked good, but you could never be too careful. Both reached up to grab the massive thing to guide it into it's new home. With care and precision they guided the massive form into place so that it's sockets slotted into their holes neatly. That done, Victor removed the harnesses while Natia fastened the Engine into place, making sure that everything was firm. The bracket was winched back up, the chassis was pulled away and a new one was brought in. Soon enough, the process repeated.

Of all the people working at the Urblaast/Loriv complex Natia was a bit of an outlier in how she looked at the place. Victor could and did wax poetic about the place in the cafeteria or when he was off shift. Beforehand she'd worked at Dalatyr Bicycle Factory and much like that, there was an assembly line which step by step made frames, wheels, handles, brakes, seats, pedals, chains and so forth and put them together to make something you could ride around on with workers doing one thing as they put things together. As far as she saw this, the Urblaast/Loriv Automobile Factory (formally UL-144), while definitely imposing and impressive in it's scale and and magnitude was just this process scaled up. It was not that she begrudged Victor's rose tinted vision of the place and she did take some pride in the final product, but the romantic appeal of this place had a lot less grip on her. First and foremost she had a job to do which was, once you got into the routine of it, boring. Even so, the pay was exceptional, she did not have to work out in the snow and she had three kids who'd have nicer childhoods than she ever did. As far as she was concerned, that was more than enough.



There were many abilities that the Central Committee had that were impressive and seen with respect, awe and often jealousy by others. Natasha Smedth, who had more experience with them than most, found herself admiring the fact that they were utterly unfazed by cold. It was only five days until New Years Day and she lead Transition Of Mobile Macrofauna From Marine To Terrestrial Environments-402122 (Transition) through an inspection. Transition was just fine stomping about in -15 degree weather in an office uniform while Natasha had to bundle when they went out to ULAF's external storage yard to inspect it's ultimate product. Two hundred new SL-47 Lorries stood ready, parked in neat rows before they would be sent off.

"Have you operated one of the factory's vehicles?" Transition said apropos of nothing.

"Yes Committee Member." Natasha replied. "Twice, one of the test batch made three weeks ago and another on Wednesday."

"How does it drive?"

"Pretty good, not as good as some of the projects in Dalatyr. Turning radius is a bit wide, the breaks can be jerky and the clutch is a bit stiff, but I've driven plenty worse. The factory's driver's reports go into more detail, so would those working on the construction sites outside."

"Correct, but they are experienced drivers. Thousands of novices will be taking to the road for the first time next year and that number will increase going forward."

A couple seconds latter, the factory door opened and a new lorry puttered out to it's space in the lot.

"Ten minutes and thirteen seconds. Within expected parameters for the initial phase. Very good."

When it came to moving goods from Point A to B, Infrastructure had several options. Paddlesteamers and Trains were both immensely useful, though they both had limitations. Roadsteamers and the newer Internal Combustion road vehicles were more flexible and certain advantages over short to medium distances, but their use had been limited by being expensive and difficult to produce. For every motorized road vehicle in Infrastructure, there was a vast number of horse, ox and donkey drawn carts which plodded along at little better than walking pace. ULAF was made to correct this and would soon improve logistics at the ground level considerably, leaving aside things such as firetrucks and ambulances. Her considerable wage was still appreciated but being at the forefront of technological progress, especially when it would improve the lives of millions gave her a thrill that no credits could match.

"Thank you ma'am." Natasha said smiling as they continued on.



(Cendoliath Colonies, Northwestern Continent, Early Spring, 47 IA)

Like many members of the ancient warrior houses, Lady Kaithal ti'Zaljan was not well disposed to the Colonies on the Northwestern Continent. It was not an objection to expansion, she did firmly believe that it was the destiny of the Drow to rule this world - the issue was who had established themselves in this far land. She could respect the audacity and determination of House Jalnoth to carve out a home for themselves in the Far West even if they had been small-minded incompetent spendthrift reprobates, but they set a precedent which gave the dregs of society an easy path to power and prominence. Instead of proving ones' worth to the race through martial skill or mystical prowess against the High Kingdom, Dwarves or the battle hardened human realms of Ilvamicum, at most all a Discarded wretch needed to do was fight off some savages that barely have iron tools and the odd bandit while exhibiting basic sense and they'd could easily obtain a plot of land. The fact that they were competitors on the grain market was a secondary but significant factor in her opinion. Even so, she had eventually financed a few of her vassals to establish themselves about a century ago and regardless the colony of Kzeth Cendoliath* did have a surplus of resources and space, which would serve her needs.

A week ago, she had arrived in the colonies mostly on High Council business. There had been changes in the city since her last visit thirty seven years ago but mostly her opinion remained the same, a ramshackle facsimile of the ancient city that was now slightly larger. On her agenda was a visit to the holdings of House Gilyeil to see one of the most promising developments, leaving with a small retinue. As she approached noticed something strange: a train of wagons laden with iron plates being pulled along by a Valcas style engine along a set of rails. The vehicle had been imported a few weeks before the creation of the Mechanical Military Relevance Board and was grandfathered through. It was not all bad, the smoking things were useful for moving bulk cargo and slaves about the colony overland. Still she was glad that the reasonably compliant House Cytrath had been issued a monopoly on their use and a ban had been issued for running Drow passenger services.

House Gilyeil was one of House Zaljan's greatest vassals, initially a minor merchant house which acted as one of their factors in international trade they had done well in the last century and a half by establishing a foothold in the Far West after the war with the Raptors, becoming the nucleus of a new fishing town and eventually building some Drydocks. After Barded Leviathan was put into order, she'd poured money into it and made sure that they got contracts. In no small part she was here to see her investment.

After greetings were made, she soon got to work. Refreshment was offered, but she politely declined a full meal for herself after arrival and settled to have a flask of amber wine brought along for her convenience. First they went by the Timber Yards where logs were shaped and boards were processed, then the rope walks and forges, the workhalls where slave carpenters shaped forms and after that one of the main observation towers. The ascent was a bit of a pain, but the view was exceptional. Before her six massive hulls were taking shape surrounded by scaffolds, cranes, ramps and piles of supplies as teams of workers swarmed over them and around them under the supervision of stern overseers. Two of them were little more than keels while four were well under way, with hull planks and black iron plates.

"I see that our investment has paid off." She admitted. The fact that facility had quadrupled in size and capacity over the last five years was a good sign. "Going by your last report, the four ships to the left would be completed in ten to fifteen months. Are things still proceeding on schedule?"

"Indeed my lady." Weifran ti'Gilyeil said.

"And the issue with the cranes have been resolved?"

"The final issues were sorted out last week. The last of revised boilers arrived last month from House Galxrath. With then we've had no burst seems and coal consumption has been reduced by twenty percent."

"Very good. The last thing we need are more delays."

"We've also have begun switching from hammering armor plate to rolling them out. This has improved daily output and general quality."

"Indeed." Lady Kaithal said as she moved over to get a glass of wine. In truth, she had little concern about the technical details of shipbuilding or the ways it had changed over the last few decades. The main thrust of improvement here was still a matter of applying sufficient labour to the problem. What did matter about this venture was that new Ironclad ships were being delivered to the navy and that House Gilyeil was delivering them on time. Part of this was recouping her investment as House Zaljan got a cut of Gilyeil's dividends, part of this was securing connections with House Galxrath who provides the engines and other such mechanisms for the new ships as well as their cannons and rough armor plating and of course undermining House Celizoth and the rest of the Merchant Reformist ilk. Barded Leviathan was a massive construction push and despite their efforts Celizoth was still profiting by it. Every contract that was snatched from Reformist hands was a minor victory for the cause of maintaining the proper order of things even in the face of the new mechanical age.

*"Child of Cendoliath". New Cendoliath was considered as an alternate but rejected as there are no meaningful deposits of Obsidian in that part of the world.



(18km off the coast of Galthirith Colonies, northwester continent, Early Spring 47 IA)

"For countless millennia beneath a veil of stone...
...we rested together in mountain's bone.
Dark and cold it was, but that matter not...
...for we were together in that gloom.
We thought we would stay there forever...
...till a slave's pick sundered us from the earth."

These lyrics* were accompanied by the music of a lute and carried themselves over the rumble of waves and the rhythmic chugging of engines. They were recited in a voice which was pleasant and fair, but carried a measure of sarcasm. It would not be reckoned among the works of the masters of verse by any means, but it did have its impromptu charm for it's specific setting. Overseer Fharsiish ti'Znolin and and Gun-Master Grythej zi'Grolex were close and their second favourite thing to do together in their off hours was to perform and in general their songs and poems were mostly well received aboard the Vherimtraut** with a good repertoire of well known classics and original compilations which applied to the particularities of the ship and her crew. This one was in the latter camp, though it was mostly directed overboard to their temporary partner.

The poem continued on, following a love story between two lumps of iron ore which were separated by the circumstances of mining and smelted separately. There was pining and want between the two, until they met again. One lump ended up in the Vherimtraut's hull and is grateful and happy that it ended up as part of such a mighty warship, until it bore witness to the fate of the other as it was smelted into hull of the Throlixreth***, the ship which they were currently patrolling the coastline of Galthirith's colonies with, which it decried for it's shoddy workmanship. A few of the crew supplemented this with their own jeers and cat calls.

Rivalries between Drow ship's crews were normal, indeed rivalries were normal in general in Drow society. Even so, this one was a bit deeper than most. Vherimtraut and Throlixreth were built respectively by Houses Noljas and Narxath. Thirty years ago this would most largely have been overlooked. Now it had been inflamed by the Ironclad race and the politics associated with it. House Noljas by any reasonable standard was in the lead; having started earliest, extracting a lot of Infrastructural secrets and working out work-arounds to plug the gaps and building the factories, ironworks and machines to build these new ships which were second only to the Committee's work. In contrast House Narxath had been sluggards who started modernizing late, were usually slow on the uptake and made up for the difference by cutting corners. Despite this, they still got contracts because of Noljas' political rivalries.

The Throlixreth was emblematic of this. She was built alongside the Vherimtraut and were both launched at the same time and was notably cruder. House Noljas had pushed the envelope with an oil-fired engine, steel construction and a variety of the latest feature to improve performance from electric lighting to laundry-washing machines. In contrast, the Throlixreth was for the most part simple and basic as far as Ironclads went. About the only good things about her were a pair of 120-Vaul Noljas cannons and the rotating turret they were mounted in. Four years earlier there was an explosion with a test-turret at Noljas' shipyards which set back the project and let Narxath take the lead on that front. Foul play had been suspected, but was never proved. As such the Vherimtraut had her heavy guns in her hull as broadside weapons. The fact that an otherwise inferior ship had one big overt thing it's favor was something the Throlixreth's crew would brag and otherwise be utterly insufferable about.

That was the opinion of the crew of the Vherimtraut anyway and especially captain Freilysiin ti'Jaimis. For the last decade she'd worked with House Noljas on some of their steam frigates and was thrilled when she received news that she'd be given command of one of the new oil-fired Ironclads. The same went for many of her crew, who'd also worked with Noljas shipyards on various projects. She knew that they were pulling strings behind the scene to create Noljas aligned crews and frankly she was fine with that given her experience with Narxath gear. The important thing was that the crew was in high spirits as Fharsiish and Grythej got calls of encouragement from their crewmates and she could make out distant boos and disparaging remarks from the Throlixreth. She rolled her eyes at this as she made her rounds. Even so it would be advisable to direct her people to avoid going to the same bars as the Vherimtraut's crew on shore leave.

*Which loses a fair bit in translation.
**"Inevitability"
***"Troll Slayer'''



(25km southwest of Portus Fidelium, Fidelium, Spring 47 IA)

Juanillo De Manoro inspected the small vineyard on his small estate on a clear day on what at these latitudes was the end of summer, taking note of the progress of the vines. It was currently a side project that had yet to bear fruit. It would still be about a year before they would yield their first grape harvest, though he had high hopes for it in the future. After the wheat harvest checking up on the vines. Even with family and extra hands it was a backbreaking ordeal, though at the very least the harvest was excellent. He was measuring a stem crawling up it's tressel when his eldest son Adao came and told him that the new arrivals had arrived. He told the eight year old to get refreshment ready and that he'd see him.

About twenty minutes latter he stood out in front of his new house as a small crowd of fifteen people rounded the corner. Five men, six women and four children, all of which looked worn. Clad in ragged dirty clothes and carrying makeshift backpacks, sacks and a small hand-cart the motley collection carried themselves differently than the reserved and unobtrusive way that most Fidelians did, nor did they have the rigid discipline of Janissaries nor the strutting swagger of mercenaries. In general their body language conveyed relief. Whatever doubt might have lingered died when their leader advanced and spoke.

"Good morning. I am Grinoldi De Bravoure, most likely the Baron De Bravoure by Right though our estates lie in the hands of rebels." He spoke with an educated Avesian accent and made a show of looking strong.

"Welcome, Baron De Bravoure." Juanillo replied, the use of the title put a smile on the man's face "I am Jaunillo Fillipe Gruzman De Manoro and this is my humble abode." By the standards of his childhood it was humble: a simple two-storey stucco and brick brick building with a smaller wooden building attached and an external kitchen though it was luxurious by the standards of Fidelium. For simple things like bricks at least a Trono went further here than in Torion.

"For the last decade, my family has survived in exile in Noldolia as best we can with our limited means. As have many of our countrymen until we received word from your uncle's agents of his plan. Though the journey was long and hard, we are more than willing to make a new home here."

Juanillo Smiled and put his hand on Grinoldi's shoulder. "My Baron. There may have been rivalries between our families in the past, but that was then and this is now. We've all been through the ordeals of the Invasion and Exile. All the works of our forefathers snatched away and crushed in the the steel jaws of that damnable Great Machine. It would be my honour to help you establish yourself here, long with the rest of your party. It will take hard work and I will need you to render some help on my farm while things progress along, but together you can tame this land quickly and build comfortable farmsteads. And while we put the land into order we have beds and the means to feed you. I offer this freely and I want not your payment or debt for this, I only ask that once you are established and able, you help bring over more of our peole and once they arrive help some of them as you were helped." His tone was gentle and reassuring, and Grinoldi began to weep. This was the second group his uncle sponsored and twice the size of the first. Juanillo and his people were just finishing getting the first group settled, with two out of three homesteads finished and the last two mostly done. Hopefully he could use this lot to finish that job in about a week. The fact that Hugo and Matero were both willing to help feed this lot was another plus. If Novo Avesia was to prosper, it needed strong connections.

"Thank you, good sir." He said meekly.

"It's only the decent thing to do. But now, you and your people look thirsty." He snapped his finger and a slave came over with a flask of lemon flavoured water. A cup was poured and Grinoldi knocked it back without a second thought. Currently Juanillo had three slaves and was planning on acquiring a forth. Keeping 160 acres in order was hard work in of itself, let alone caring for more than a dozen refugees.



(Urblaast/Loriv Construction Zone, Spring 47 IA)

"We're doing okay?" Ghrody Tsimil asked as he backed up with a massive backboard in hand.

"Yep, just peachy. Just two more doors to go. Maybe thirty meters" His partner Stepan said, as he was in the rear he was the eyes the operation. Both of them alternated and had confidence in the other's coordination.

"Good to here. Don't want to drop it and mess up Fedorov."

"Oh I hear that." Stepan said with a smile. Downstairs there was a room called a 'gym'. Apparently it was supposed to be a place to exercise in during winter or in heavy rain, but right now it was home to a lot of miscellaneous items, most notably a lot of blackboards. These each had a room number chalked on them, but a few of them had a few pictures scrawled on by board workers. Ghrody had no idea what moved someone to draw a picture of a frog driving a Steam Tractor, but both he and Stepan liked it. A short while latter they navigated through a room and they quickly put the blackboard in place and fixed it into place. The two of them admired the froggy absurdity for a second and went back down for another.

Even though it involved lugging heavy loads about, this part of the job was comparatively easy compared to some of the work he'd done and those that he'd likely be doing for some time to come. Like many at the time, Ghrody had thought of the general construction effort around the Urblaast/Loriv canal as being mostly about UL-144/ULAF with other projects to support it. Apartment buildings for the workers in that monster factory, trolley lines to move them from their flats to the factory and back, that sort of thing. Once he saw the trucks that it had made, he'd figured that things would begin winding down on the construction front. This school, a far cry from his humble one-room schoolhouse, seemed to him to be one of the finishing touches along with the landscaping. Instead they continued and if anything were picking up. Dozens more apartment buildings were under way, along with roads to reach them, sewer and water lines to service them, other structures who's purpose eluded him and more warehouses and factories now that spring had come again. In a couple more days, all the fixtures would be installed and he'd be sent on to the next project. Not that he was troubled by this, steady work was steady work. But like many he was left wondering.

The image Federov the Frog would remain unmolested for several months and would be recorded for posterity by a photographer by one of the teachers. For decades to come, Frogs driving Tractors would be a running joke for the students and staff of Kiavier District Elementary.



(Urblaast Loriv Automobile Factory, Late Spring 47 IA)

Six months ago, Lavra Lymirelko was offered a position at ULAF when it began operation. A fair number of the Clerks who had done the paperwork for it during construction were given similar job offers and like most of them she accepted. It was steady work and the pay was better, though it did mean leaving Dalatyr behind; that was a bit sad, but she could deal with it.

Much of the work was familiar enough in any case. She was put in Procurement, dealing with the inflow of supplies needed to keep the monster factory running from steel and machine components to toilet paper. She processed requisition forms, relayed information to suppliers, inspected received shipments, compiled logs, that sort of thing. Even with twenty four other Clerks in her department there was always a lot to do. The hammering and ringing of typewriters was a constant buzz in the background as she worked. With such a volume of paperwork to deal with, most of what she dealt with was soon lost to memory. Even so there were occasionally things which stuck out.

On a warm day late in spring she received an unusual memo. It started out fairly with something fairly routine: 'Special Requisition for Cafeteria Provisions'. ULAF employed 7,000 people and while brown bagging it was reasonably common on average a majority of the workers got at least one meal a day from it, so it's pantries needed regular provisioning. But as she read on she noticed an oddity in the list '20 m3 Hygienic Lager (barrels preferred)'. That was odd, the Cafeteria usually served nothing stronger than Kvass and drinking on the job was strictly banned. The rest of the list was more prosaic, but includes a fair deal of meat and a few other items. Then there was the deadline 'Deliver for 28/6/47 IA. Priority-B. Bureaucrat L-7 Alexi Vavilov, ULAF Director of Supply.'

She knew the handwriting, though the signature and stamp made it official. Priority-B was remarkably high for food, a fair deal of the actual manufacturing inputs were typically listed as Priority-C and occasionally D. Some of this would be requisitioned from Ministry of Distribution and the rest would come from independent suppliers. There was a month to sort it out at least, though it would a lot of paperwork, requests and in many cases face-to-face meetings and some of the items would have to be delivered fresh.

She fed a fresh sheet of paper into the typewrite and began to type out the first request form. If she was to hazard a guess, it looked like they were aiming to provision a feast for the workforce on the summer solstice. This was hardly unprecedented, it was a holiday and not a unwanted development even if it did mean a lot of work for herself. An assessment which was not wrong, but only part of the story of that day.



(4,800km SSW of Higato, Late Spring, 47 IA)

The Drow were framed for their pride and arrogance, it's rather strongly encouraged when your culture firmly believes that is it's divinely ordained destiny to dominate the world. Countless stories and accounts of this pride and arrogance have been told many of which have at least a grain of truth to them. Thus it would come to as a shock to some when Dhavris ti'Dailath, eldest son of Gatahrin ti'Dailath got on his knees and bowed before Jayhamrhasa Turnukrani, fourteenth King of Tahajemit. To achieve the glorious ends it aspired to it needed to be reigned in.

"Your Serene Highness, it is a honour to be in your presence."

"Indeed Master of Janilonas, you may speak freely." The King said. At thirty he was handsome, keen and intelligent though still impatient. He'd made his name in the border wars against the petty kingdoms and had made good use of the capital his father had gifted him. Thankfully this meant that he was more willing to dispense with

"In the last few years we've received disturbing reports to the North."

"You speak of those Infrastructural making overtures to Higato and providing them with new weapons?" The King replied, he did try to keep up to date on current affairs. "I've heard of the reports on several expeditions and the casualties they've suffered."

"Of course. But far more worrying is that they've more open with their mechanical secrets than with anyone else. I fear that if we leave it, that field shall grow fallow for your brave men."

"And your merchants will suffer as well."

"Indeed so."

"And since you're here, what is your proposition to prevent this prediction? More orchards of those 'latex' trees I presume?"

"I would not argue against that." The price of Latex was going up. Previously it was a largely curiosity discovered on a few islands close to Raptor territory which saw some use in drain plugs and pencil erasers, but over the last decade the Coldlander's interest in the substance, their sulphur treatment processes and industrial uses had seen it's value shoot up. A couple years ago, a few enterprising merchants convinced some local nobles to grow a few saplings on their estates as Tahajemit's equatorial climate was well suited for them, though harvesting was a few years away and it would take longer still to scale up production. "Even so, a more proactive course would be more productive."

"Very well, explain."

"A coordinated expedition by thirty ships to Higato, each outfitted with new model cannons and with heavily armed crews. They could easily bring back seven thousand captives. More if we can get more crews to go along and if they take a few trade ships to pad their numbers."

"Expeditions are launched on their own time-tables at targets of their captain's choosing. So I trust you have financing in mind."

"Indeed your Majesty. House Dailath and three associated great houses are willing to provide some 60,000 scimitars to commission the expedition through your government, as well our merchants would be willing to extend a discount of 1/5th to contract holders for a few new cannons and rifles."

"To me such an offer does seem a costly affair." The king said as he scratched his chin.

"We prefer to think of it as investment to insure the continued success of a partner that has been imperilled by unforeseen circumstances."

"What of the potential Infrastructural Retaliation?"

This was the tricky part. "They are on the far side of the world. Similarly they have signed a treaty with the Coldlanders which protects your sovereignty from their aggression. Should they seek war, take comfort in the the fact that four Drow states stand between you and them." The fact that such a war would be a bloody one even with the new Ironclads sailing out of Dark Elven drydocks was not worth mentioning.

"I would have to read the proposition for myself, as would some of my senior courtiers. Even so, you have our interest and and baring uncharacteristic duplicity we will be receptive."

"Thank you, your grace." He signalled an aide to present the document for the king's perusal. Whatever the thoughts and intentions of the Committee might be in aiding Higato, undermining the far eastern slave trade was an obvious goal for them. Already some crews (including those from Tahajemit as well as Ilhong and Ztuhtrim) had faced Higatoan warriors with Coldlander rifles which had raised casualties and there had been a spike of repulsed expeditions and lost ships over the last year. A situation which could only get worse if left unintended. About the only only people in the Drow States who'd profit from that were Lady Valcas and the rest of the damned fools who supported that Fidelium nonsense. This needed to be nipped in the bud. A single massive raid that would sweep away several villages or a town or two would cost Higato and hinder their development, as would follow ups to be launched over the next two months. His colleagues in Ilhong and Ztuhrim were making similar offers to their monarchs and in by what he'd read they were receptive.

In of itself this would not be a mortal blow, but it was a low cost low risk measure which at the very least would buy them time.



(Smedth District, 3km from ULAF, Summer Solstice, 47 IA)

Summer Solstice was a holiday in Infrastructure, not as weighty as New Years' Day, Unification Day, Worker's Day or the Bounty Festival but still generally a pleasant affair. Many factories offered a day off and there was usually music, dancing, flyting contests and other competitions and so forth. Around the Urblaast/Loriv construction zone for 47 IA, things were ramped up. Factories offered their employees and families a substantial feast, Hygienic Beer was distributed in the streets along with Kvas, tea and pastries, a parade was organized, mechanical rides were set up and several big shows were organized. There were even a few foreign ambassadors in the area, who were well wined and dined in their Hotels even though they wondered why they had been brought out here.

Most of these activities were pre-planned and organized ahead of time with posters set up. Even so, there were also fliers distributed on the day itself which simply announced that in Smedth District there would be a big announcement at 21:00. As the hour approached about twenty three thousand people would approach a small but well secured stage. People wondered what it could be about, until 21:00 came and arriving in an SL-47 Lorry arrived Supernova, who took to the platform with only the shining of spotlights and a brief fanfare by a marching band. The area was secure and cameras (including both film Cameras and a smaller Fabricated unit) were set up to document this historic moment for general distribution.

"Citizens of Infrastructure." She said. Her voice amplified by loudspeakers and relayed by Radio. "On this fine Solstice, have you been having a good time?"

There was general cheering. Supernova grinned at this, finding their exultation stimulating.

"Very Good." She said as the roar faded. "For at this Midyear we have much to celebrate. A week ago, ULAF has completed it's sixth thousand Lorry. Fifty two new Apartment Buildings have been completed, along with Eight new Schools, Twelve daycare centres and other such facilities. Three new Trolley routes are in operation, as has a new hospital and ground has been broken on a new Engineering Academy. This Month a new Bread Factory was completed. But while all of this is all worthy of commendation, I have not come here to simply rattle off construction figures and statistics."

"Over the past few years, much has been built here. Much remains to be done in this Zone still and will continue for time to come. Even so, the preliminary goal of an automotive assembly line has been here achieved." The was another round of applause. "And with that, we can announce the true function of this venture. Many have believed that what has been built here was simply a Duotown, an overgrown Monotown built merely to accommodate and support the workforce of the Urblaast/Loriv Steelworks and the Urblaast Loriv Automobile Factories. An impression which we lightly encouraged and this was an objective, but one which falls short of our purpose here."

"Today we celibate not only the longest day of the year, but the creation of something the world has never seen before and it's formal creation. A City built from it's foundations up by Industrial means with homes, shops, workplaces and recreational spaces built with technological convenience first and foremost. Where transport is easy, waste is dealt with efficiently and everyone has access to Medical Care, Artwork and Entertainment. Homes warm in winter and green in summer. A City that shall show the wonders of the Great Machine, a beacon who's brilliance shall show the world the way to a glorious new technological age."

"Citizens of Infrastructure. Welcome...to the Radiant City!"

With that, banners were unfurled and the bands struck up. There was cheering in the crowd and throughout the Radiant City it echoed.