novelraw Chapter 160: Voyager's End
Chapter 160: Voyager's End
Thalmin
I’d already surmised that I was in the presence of a legend being written.
Though whether or not I chose to participate, whether I would choose this to be my epic, and not some mere aberrant chapter, would all hinge on my assessment of the earthrealmer and her claims.
Though frankly, this process had begun long, long before this point.
“I wish to know where you stand when the calls for apocalypse summon the righteous, Prince Thalmin? I wish to know, should your assertions bear truth, and should the newrealm move from a position of a mere contemporary to one of an active adversary — where shall your loyalties lie?”
Ilunor’s words have always been vapid.
Yet there was one rare instance — one tiny sliver of genuine questioning — that defied this trend, leaving behind a thought so pervasive it remained lodged in my mind ever since.
This seedling of a question, once planted, took root in the soil of my contempt, watered by the rains of Emma’s revelations, and warmed beneath the sun of every offense committed by the Nexus.
Under these conditions, it thrived.
With each social slight, it spread wider.
With every dishonor it flourished and grew, until the soil that bore my contempt was cast beneath its comforting shade.
Yet there was something else amidst the growing branches that I dared not yet touch; a fruit born of hate, contempt, vitriol, and the indignancy of a people scorned.
It beckoned me with its smiles.
It called with soft and fair-seeming wiles.
It cooed like a silent siren song, the promise of escape… a temptation I knew could not slake for fear of fate.
Yet still my hunger grew, all for that fruit that tempted me with its shimmering hue.
…
It was with Ilunor’s words still fresh in my mind that I made my choice. A decision that could, and assuredly would, come to haunt me for years past my mortal life.
I reached for that apple.
And ‘Nexian Sacrifice’ I was no longer.
From the moment I uttered my litany of titles, I committed myself to the fruit of rebellion.
And when I reforged my sacrificial title to my own resolve—
Royal Emissary for the Havenbrockian Cause.
—did I taste the sweetness of the fruit I’d just bitten.
That one reimagining, that single rephrasing of a title so confined to its fate, was in equal measures liberating as much as it was terrifying. This was in spite of the lack of witnesses save for allies under oath, which perhaps proved just how pervasive the Nexian dogma was, even in the confines of my own mind.
But what compelled me, what pushed my otherwise duty-bound self over the edge of indecision, wasn’t just the memories of Emma’s bardic regalings or the proof of her capacity to kill.
No.
It was something far more innocuous, something that perhaps could both be overlooked and taken for granted in passing conversation.
It was the candid reactions of her superiors, her betters, and her seniors — those with the authority, the responsibility, and the knowledge of her realm’s true capabilities. Or more accurately… it was their restraintfor reaction.
The pointed manner in which this Captain Li had just casually listed the Nexus’ threshold of destruction — ‘city-killers, continent busters’ — it beckoned forth the imagery of an officer listing off a weapons manifest for a city garrison… not a man coming to terms with a mighty adversary’s realm-shattering capabilities.
Indeed, the analytical nature that followed in the practical consideration of the bag-of-holding ‘bombs’ felt almost too cold, too calculated, and too mundane.
It felt… as if they were considering something that they themselves not only held the capacity for, but had entirely normalized within their own manaless arsenals.
Moreover, there was no sense of ego mixed in with these discussions. There was no boasting or grandstanding, or any internal political plays as far as I could tell. If anything, the restraint at play spoke far louder than any posturing. For it called upon both a seriousness of intent and simply reinforced the relative normalcy of such capacities for destruction.
It was only at the mention of portals that the humans found themselves in uncharted waters, as fear — genuine fear — started to color their voices.
And even then, such a revelation didn’t start from its offensive capabilities, but its logistical angle; a fact beckoning the words of my sister.
There is something your Uncle, your Brothers, and even your own Father won’t ever give enough credit to, Thalmin. Though it is to no fault of their own, but to the reductive image they craft. That something… is the manner in which you keep a war won. Even in the most mage-centric of armies, logistics still win wars. Oh you can have the most boastful of Dukes, Barons, and Lords go on and on about simply circumventing such ‘trifling’ topics by concocting magical solutions… but at the end of the day, when you wish to consolidate your holdings? When you have successfully laid claim to new lands and fiefs? You find that you alone cannot stitch together a civilization. For that, you need logisticians. For that, you need people like me.
Kalim was right, as she often was.
Though I could only begin to imagine what she’d make of a realm built entirely on the will of logisticians.
This Captain Li had perfectly embodied the mindset of Earthrealm.
A people so lacking in any capacity to will forth their desires, and thus necessitating complexities to underpin everything those desires may need for actualization.
A people who not only knew the mechanisms of war, but placed emphasis where those mechanisms truly mattered.
A people… who likewise considered the realm-shattering capacities of the Nexus a point worth discussing, and not a point that shattered spirits.
This was the proof I needed from Emma.
These were the people I could consider a worthy adversary to the Nexus.
These were a people deserving of Ilunor’s prophecy, a civilization deserving of the title of the Adversary
, the Great Other.Laura Weir
First a dragon, and now an anthropomorphic wolf.
Though I wouldn’t be as reductive as some others, just by appearances and sights alone.
Convergent evolution aside, it was his manner of dress that gave me more pause for thought than the nature of his physiology.
What’s more, my focus quickly shifted towards a palpable pause in the EVI’s translations, a fact reflected in the underlying inflections of the prince’s own native speech.
His latter title, that loaded sentiment, was a calculated maneuver for this eventuality.
This royal wanted to play ball.
And judging by many of Emma’s reports, it was clear what angle we needed to take.
The Adjacent Realms… were the only receptive party open to diplomacy, and the only party with the capacity for receptive change.
This was where the conflict was to be waged, in the kingdoms and nations under the jackboot of Nexian imperialism.
And it all would start — at least on our end — with a smile the wolf could not see. “It is a great privilege and an incredible honor to hear your voice, Prince Thalmin Havenbrock of Havenbrockrealm. My name is Dr. Laura Weir, Director of the Institute of Anomalous Studies, United Nations Science Advisory. Professor of Theoretical Physics at Luna University, Armstrong Campus. On behalf of the Greater United Nations, and on behalf of the people of Earth, Luna, Venus, Mercury, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, to the entirety of Sol, and to all the corners of this galaxy that humanity calls home, we receive you with full respect, and acknowledge the sovereignty of the state from which you hail.” I announced with genuine, brimming excitement and a warmness that came naturally at the hope of our first ally.
Thalmin
There it was. The litany of titles bound to Academia, not to blood nor landed holdings.
However, that point of cultural contention bothered me no longer.
No.
It was instead overshadowed, outshone, and entirely dwarfed by what were ostensibly two passing remarks.
The first, a statement of power, all wrapped within an unassuming warmth of amicability and diplomacy so genuine it felt paradoxically bubbly in its delivery.
The second was a declaration of intent, an acknowledgement in shocking but refreshing bluntness in reception to vague allusions I’d communicated with my self-appointed title.
These simple preambles, when taken critically, painted an image of an Earthrealm far more mature than what Emma could have ever conveyed.
For as much as she was able to deliver, and as much as she was able to spout in her long and informative tirades, none of it could have compared to the rawness of action.
It was one thing to be told the greatness and enlightenment of a realm.
It was another to be interacting with an actor within that state, and a senior one at that.
“The honor is all mine, Director Laura Weir. Though the privilege of this communique is one I must defer to the talents of your envoy, and the mercy of Matriarch Kaelthyr.” I responded instinctively, reflexively, though within that calculated nothingness of diplomatic politeness, a more turbulent storm brewed just beneath the surface.
One which I knew not how to rectify, especially in the midst of an active dialogue for the legends.
That first statement.
That statement of calculated power.
My mind had grappled with it well enough, or at least I’d assumed it had.
At first glance, the list seemed to be a regaling of places.
And indeed it probably was.
Though the nature of those places was what was in question.
For despite what my mind had immediately assigned them to — towns, cities, regions, perhaps entire continents — I knew that not to be the case the instant I heard Luna.
…
That was the name Emma had assigned her moon.
The realm that hung above her realm, floating within that sea of void-filled nothingness.
What came after, if syntax and logic were to be believed, were the names of not cities nor towns on the surface of either Earth or Luna… but categorically equivalent to their significance.
In short… the director wasn’t listing off fiefs, dukedoms, and kingdoms.
No.
She was listing off the names of entire realms. Other realms Emma had not yet broached. Realms that perhaps floated just as listlessly within the inky and empty abyss. Realms whose sizes must rival… well… REALMS.
But what’s more… the director listed them as if they were a mere formality, trailing off not into a finite list but an appended footnote.
Venus, Mercury, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter…
That had already accounted for five additional realms.
What’s more, this painted an image far removed from what Emma had shown me of Luna.
For at that point in her illustrative sight-seer’s history lesson, that realm was but a barren and lifeless desert of white sands and rock.
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But what was being implied here was anything but.
What was instead being implied were not frontiers on the fringe of permanent habitation.
Instead… the manner in which everything was listed was beckoning an established culture and civilization, all distinct from her home realm of Earth.
I did not know how to broach this.
I did not know how to even begin filling the rest of the air once Weir replied to my diplomatic response of empty platitudes.
That was… until I recalled my sister’s words.
Don’t act dumb. That’s the first rule of stately dialogue, Nexian or otherwise. But do you also remember the lesson I told you about apologetics?
Reframe it as gratitude?
Correct. Now apply it to ignorance. How do you rectify this?
… by reframing the question?
Exactly! Frame the question not as a point of clarification, but as a point of expounding disambiguation. Ask for elaboration, and expand outwards. Do not ask for clarification and risk compromising your own position. Never show weakness,ever.
And so I did just that, clearing my throat as I awaited Weir’s response to my diplomatic platitudes.
“I appreciate the tentative performance review of our envoy, Prince Thalmin Havenbrock.” The director responded to my earlier response with a jocular bent, returning the floor back to me, which I would now use to press my curiosities.
“I assure you, Director, if Cadet Booker had been anything short of a shining beacon of honor and integrity, we would certainly not be having this conversation.” I began respectfully before bridging the conversation back to address the earlier point of internal contention. “Though if I may, Director. I would like to address a point left somewhat ambiguous by your opening statements.”
“Do tell?” Weir acknowledged curiously.
“While the Cadet has made excellent headway in unveiling the unconventional nature of your realm, she has yet to have expanded beyond what I know as Earth and Luna. And considering you claim to represent the entirety of your people, I believe that it is prudent to clarify exactly whom you are representing.” I broached openly, perhaps even a bit too brazenly.
An opening this brazen would have not only been shot down but utterly annihilated by any Nexian envoy.
However, instead of contempt or derision, this human merely responded first with a clarification of her own.
“You mean Venus, Mercury, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, and so on and so forth?”
“Correct, Director.” I nodded.
“With pleasure, Prince Havenbrock.” She acknowledged excitedly. “These places I allude to are — as you describe in your vernacular — realms unto their own. Or as we refer to them — stellar bodies. These worlds stand comparable to the Earth by their own right, and if you’ll allow me this anecdotal inference, they all possess populations sharing in the prosperity of the sights you’ve seen from Acela.”
…
I felt a weight being applied and then lifted off my chest in rapid succession.
I felt… a new yearning, to see with my own eyes through Emma’s sight-seer once more.
Moreover, and perhaps more importantly, I now knew the authority with whom I was in conversation.
And that authority… if all was to be believed… possessed holdings only comparable to the Nexus proper.
The Director’s words faded into the background for a moment, as the dawning of this realization settled amidst an uneasy wariness.
Because whilst elation did flood me, justifying me in my otherwise brazen actions in initiating this seditious line of dialogue, an untempered sense of awe started to flood me in a way I’d only felt once before.
That being my first sight-seer into the sheer scale of Nexian primacy.
I wasn’t just talking to an upstart newrealm.
I wasn’t even in the presence of the long-since-forgotten adjacent rebellions from the bygone wars.
I… was in direct communication with a realm of realms, one whose raw potential was as intoxicating as it was unfathomable to anything but the Nexus itself.
And I… now had the ear of one of its leaders.
The very first adjacent realm to make contact with a new Status Nexica.
The director’s words soon returned to me as I recovered from this… realization. And once again, the allusions she made in passing conversation gave both hope and genuine belief in what could be discussed henceforth.
“You see, we humans have a propensity to poke our noses where we weren’t meant to. Indeed, the more inhospitable a place may seem, the more it becomes a challenge rather than a discouragement. From the toxic and acidic atmospheres of Venus to the utter vacuum of Luna, we’ve forged ourselves a unique nook amidst the void. And now, with the revelations we currently face, we intend on forging ourselves a new direction between realities. A direction beginning first and foremost with the spirit of universal friendship and respectful reciprocity.”
The shock, excitement, awe, and eagerness of a lupinor frothing at the mouth for change urged me to chomp at the bit. Indeed, I had nothing but an urgency to reach for such an agreement lest fate or happenstance curtail this one chance for liberation.
And yet… I could not.
At least, not without prodding this sleeping dragon some.
Overeagerness and a desire for regime change had already resulted in the introduction of the Nexus into Havenbrock. And while I doubted the same pattern would befall a relationship with earthrealm, I couldn’t just discount the threat without challenge.
I needed to at least test the human’s logic, pitting it against the unfeeling blades of pragmatism.
All of which led me to my first play.
One which I knew Kalim would disapprove of.
“But what is reciprocity without mutual gain?” I posited abruptly, my posture tensing just imagining Emma’s superiors recoiling with confusion at the sudden tonal shift. “I do not discount what we would have to gain from such a friendship, but I seek to know how these gains would be mutual. What exactly would Earth and its adjacencies have to gain? What possible benefit is there from allying with a realm with nothing to offer?”
That tonal dissonance, one that should’ve shattered any and all hope of Nexian diplomacy, was barely even met by even a second’s worth of hesitation on the part of the Director.
In fact, instead of offense or indignant frustration, her response carried that same overture of calm collectedness; a desire to explain without annoyance or impatience.
“You disparage yourself needlessly, Prince Havenbrock. If anything, I can assert that your mere presence alone brings so much to the table already.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“Prince Havenbrock, I understand the necessity for pragmatism. Indeed, it would be wholly unwise of you to not challenge what could at first seem like an offer without drawbacks. Realpolitik is, unfortunately, oftentimes the predominant mentality throughout much of history. Which is why I will address your concerns with two categories of answers. One which lays the foundation of a practical relationship, and the other, a narrative most outside our bubble may deem fantastical in nature. The former is simple — we both share a collective… adversary.” She stated bluntly. So abruptly, in fact, that it contrasted sharply with the rest of her rhetoric. “And while I am unable to make grand sweeping statements over our foreign exo-reality policy moving forward — given that this authority lies within my superiors — what I can promise you is my guarantee and the outcome I foresee. In short, the GUN will be taking on a proactive preventative posture. We do not seek war or conflict, nor bloodshed of any kind. But seeing as the Nexus refuses all channels of productive and good-faith diplomacy, we thus must look towards preventative measures outside of the Nexus proper.”
My eyes narrowed before I closed them, nodding in understanding. “So you wish to form your own Nexus.”
“No, heavens no.” Weir rebuked. “If anything, we wish to seek what we always have — friendship. Or in this case, an alliance of equals and peers. Which leads me to my next point.”
The director took a deep audible breath.
“There exists a far less practical reason for this friendship. A reason rooted not in any practical considerations of territorial expansion, political dominance, or any such shortsighted drives measured in policies lasting decades and centuries. Instead, this reason is rooted in a dream, a collective narrative that we maintain as a real possibility. We seek community. We yearn for something other than the deafening silence and intolerable emptiness that we’ve found in our trek into the stars. And while we have accomplished this in our own right, forging an interconnected union of countless states, we still seek meaningful connections with others outside of our own kind.”
“Moreover—” Another voice interjected; this time, it was the Captain’s. “—we seek to carry and accomplish the hopes and aspirations of countless generations prior. To finally accomplish one of our earliest directives, one issued by our fourth Secretary-General, a message etched into a golden record that never arrived to its intended recipients.” The Captain cleared his throat, and so did Emma, as they both spoke in unison, with Emma in particular shifting to clasp a hand across her chest.
“We step out of our solar system, into the universe seeking only peace and friendship, to teach if we are called upon, to be taught if we are fortunate. We know full well that our planet, and all its inhabitants are but a small part of this immense universe that surrounds us. And it is with humility and hope that we take this step. Secretary-General Kurt Waldheim, circa 1977.” The pair uttered with both deference and a degree of reverence bordering on ritualistic creeds.
I… was already convinced just hearing the practical considerations of this alliance.
But to be met with pseudo-religious recitations of ancestral promises and idealistic aspirations?
It not only answered a great deal about Emma’s eccentric character but also cemented my working trust with humanity.
With all that being said, I felt a newfound weight bearing down on my shoulders. Though unlike the weights prior, I now felt a different sort of pressure. One where the ancestors of my own kin and the echoes of Emma’s predecessors now observed me from beyond the veil.
“To honor an ancestor’s wishes is the greatest faculty a living mortal can aspire to. I can only hope that I am worthy of being the first to hear your general’s wishes spoken.” I began with a resonant sort of reverence in my voice. “So from the ancestors that came before me, and to the legacy of the Havenbrockian pantheon, let the voices of our collective pasts — both human and lupinor — echo into a harmony that reaches across the realms.” I placed both hands across my heart in a ritual shared only in close company, to which a moment of silence was observed by those on the other side.
Kaelthyr
Were the voidlings fools?
Or were they truly this misguided.
Perhaps they were spared hardship, to the point where pointless idealism dominated their doomed rhetoric.
These words, these recitations, each and every step into their psyche brought forth more questions than answers.
Was this a grand and elaborate trap? A soft and honeyed facade, hiding the darkness lurking within?
Or was this truly who they were?
…
It couldn’t be.
For this softness would’ve spawned a people lacking in drive, lost without initiative, but what’s more… it would have incurred a massive debt on their ability to stomach war.
And yet that wasn’t the case.
These were the same blind clockmakers that had forced crystals into an endless chorus of screams.
These were the same ambitious builders that had crafted not just my crystal’s enclosure, but a room of materials so meticulous in its perfection that it would’ve driven any manaless metallurgists mad.
What’s more… these were the weaponsmiths who’d crafted weapons of war that proved effective in their lethality, in spite of their ‘manaless’ nature, and in spite of these overtures to softness.
How was it then that they held themselves with such… frailty?
Why was it then that they did not demand fealty from this clearly lesser being?
What was it that compelled them to speak not just on equal terms, but on terms that beckoned weakness and vulnerability?
It was as perplexing as it was frustrating to witness.
But witness it I did.
Laura Weir
There was a reason why the LREF had a direct line with sociologists and diplomats.
This latest incident is a precise example of it.
I wouldn’t act like I understood the implications of what had just transpired. But what I could tell from inference was that a deeply spiritual, perhaps even quasi-religious exchange had just transpired.
I would have called for a recess at this point.
But given the time limit we were working with, I just had to keep rolling with the punches.
What’s more, the Captain was now regarding me with that signature cocksure grin of his. Something which tempted my frustrations… though I couldn’t deny the sheer effectiveness of his little sentimental stunt.
Regardless, now that the bridge had been laid, it was finally time to start crossing it.
“Standard protocol would dictate that we begin by laying down lines of permanent diplomatic channels through direct, tangible lines of communication between our two states. However, given the rather… limited circumstances of our engagements, I will have to defer matters to Cadet Emma Booker should all other channels fail.”
“Understandable.” Came the prince’s response. And yet again, I noted that about half of the room seemed enamored whenever and wherever he spoke or even flinched.
“And while we physically may not be able to reach your world currently, once again given the time constraints, I propose that we enter into what we originally set forth to do.”
“Providing my insight on Nexian military capabilities, I’m assuming?”
“Correct, Prince Havenbrock.”
“Very well. What would you like to know?”
“The portals, primarily.” Captain Li came in swiftly, his eyes locking with the wolf who was kept blind of our visual presence. “We need you to corroborate Emma’s findings and hypotheses. In short, we need clarity on the capability of portals. Control, throughput, and range. Whether they can support sustained logistics or only limited transit windows. Whether they permit precise insertion of forces, or mass deployment, or both, and if so, the differences between these two mechanisms of action or lack thereof. Finally, we need to know their capacity — known, hypothetical, and historical examples, if applicable — of their use in the delivery of strategic weapons.” The LREF officer rattled on, his mind clearly focused and in his element now as he brought up what was labeled on the virtual workspace simply as The Six Pillars.
“Starting with Establishment, Access, and Control. Who’s responsible for the creation of these networks, who has access to this system, and under what conditions?”
“It depends, Captain.” The prince started plainly. “The establishment of portals is the same across both civilian and martial paths, namely — mages specializing in portal magic or simply assigned to the role. These are, naturally, nobles. As for who has the authority for their deployment? At a strategic level, it’s the Grand Marshals or Field Marshals assigned to whatever theater of war happens to be active. At the tactical level, it’s field commanders who have the authority and initiative to tunnel portals at their own discretion. All that aside, what you need to know is this — portals are ubiquitous, Captain. They work as the backbone, the core, and the very skeletal framework by which the Nexus projects its infinite power.”
The Captain quickly nodded. “Thank you, Prince Havenbrock. Now, onto—”
I felt a shiver, and heard a hard resonant chime.
Or was it the other way around?
Both had occurred so suddenly, so abruptly, so… thoroughly that it pulled me from any coherent train of thought and into the realm of confusion and disorientation.
The chimes passed like a wave, pulsating in intensity from a barely audible pin drop that paradoxically consumed the entirety of my attention, to something as ‘close’ as a breathy whisper.
I looked around, and so did the Captain, as well as a few other members of staff.
We all paused, glancing in momentary confusion.
“Static?” Someone uttered.
“No, it kinda sounded like chimes? Someone’s ringto—”
“Alright, whose alarm went off? All personal devices are to be shut off prior to entry!” A security officer cried out.
I quickly turned to the signals intelligence officer, who narrowed his eyes across both his physical and virtual workstations.
“Sig-int?” Li questioned.
“I’m…” The man paused, moving his hands across both his physical keyboard and the virtual workspace in front of him. Frantic clacks joined the otherwise silent wooshing of a hundred virtual displays until finally, it all went silent. The officer’s features darkened, though more out of confusion and frustration than any sense of dread. “I’m not reading any other audio signatures. Just baseline ambients and standard vocal traffic. No other signals observed, no other exo-reality entanglement episodes triggered, nothing over-the-baseline or any other abnormalities noted, sir.”
The whole room went silent at that report, all eyes momentarily locking on the otherwise invisible member of the support staff, prompting him to double, triple, and quadruple check his findings.
“Findings are consistent across all timestamps and throughout both sides of the transmission. Sampling error is within acceptable limits. Baseline deviations are within normal limits with no statistical significance noted. We’re clear sir.” He reiterated, prompting most in the room to breathe a sigh of relief, some to turn towards each other in confusion, but leaving only me to ruminate in a stew of simmering anxiety.
This sentiment seemed to be shared across realities, as Matriarch Kaelthyr’s pupils dilated, her features for the first time dipping into something resembling a look of genuine concern.