Aedh Rua
July 27th, 2004, 03:20 AM
Cenabon, Litawijâ
Atenoux Edrini, 2396, B.G.
2:00 PM
Ariotanos III leaned back into his chair, and listened to the report from the Ministry of Tourism. The Minister, a little man, balding, with dark brown hair in a ponytail, was going on in his fussy way about making preparations for the upcoming festival of Aedrinijâ. It sounded like the man wanted the Epates Dedmâs to issue travel permits to every Wassos (serf/factory hand) who wanted to visit the capitol. It would be interesting to see what Nertodumnos Salobrigantios, the head of the Epates Dedmâs, had to say on the subject. He looked over at Nertodumnos, but, as usual, could not read the older man’s expression. He expected that the next few minutes would see one of Nertodumnos’ patented careful, step-by-step, logical illustrations of why the idea was foolish, dangerous, and possibly an indication of insanity on the part of the Tourism Minister.
It would be fun to watch, and certainly beat debating with his economic and diplomatic advisors on the currently hot topics of the trade clauses in the soon-to-be renewed treaties of Wassalijâ with Itsijâ and Tsimû.
There was a momentary flash of light, very slight. Ariotanos barely registered it, and then the lights dimmed for an instant. “Must be a transformer blowing”, he thought to himself. And then, as the Minister of Tourism finished, he watched Nertodumnos begin his careful exposition.
2:25 PM
The debate on travel permits was finishing. As expected, Nertodumnos had proved his point, at least twice, and only the usual small number of Wassoi would be allowed to visit the nemeton outside the capitol, the holiest place in all Litawijâ, indeed, in all of Europe. There was little alternative, not only from a security perspective, but also from that of the available facilities.
The door to the conference room opened, and Ariotanos saw his Tiotowissacos (Chief General) Segomâros Windopennicnos. The stocky man’s blunt face bore a scowl. “Trouble”, thought Ariotanos. He had already met with Segomâros in the morning, and the general did not interrupt meetings without reason. The most likely explanation was another incident on the border between Tsimû and the Afro-Iberian nation of Intexalir. The Intexaliriltirrta were forever chomping at the bit for another war over a swath of useless jungle on the border with Tsimû. Ariotanos wondered why they bothered.
“I am sorry to interrupt, Tiorîge, Arjûs (O-Lords)”, Segomâros was saying, “but a most peculiar matter has arisen that requires the immediate attention of the Tiorîxs.” Ariotanos wondered at Segomâros’ discretion and indirect speech. Normally he was as plain spoken as his common accent implied. The son of an Ambaxtos (common freeman), he had worked his way up through the ranks. “Of course”, Ariotanos answered, “if my worthy advisors will wait a few moments”. He followed his Tiotowissacos into the hall outside before the murmurs of assent had finished.
“A most puzzling situation has developed”, Segomâros began, “one which defies my ability to explain it. About a half-hour ago, a flash of light was seen from all over Litawijâ. You may have seen it yourself. It appeared to come from some kind of border, not that of the country, for it excluded the Rhineland, and included parts of Bolgijâ right on the border. In that instant, roads and cities vanished or changed, military units disappeared, and the radio traffic became unrecognizable.” Ariotanos glanced at him in puzzlement, but allowed him to continue.
“I know how this sounds, but we have enough reports from frightened travelers backtracking, from border units, and from observer aircraft, not to mention the signal corps, that this is all quite confirmed. So, to list the effects simply:
The Rhineland is gone. Simply gone. Travelers report woods where roads should be, and roads where woods should be. A good number of roads do still remain open, though often with changes in elevation and similar problems, and now lead to towns and villages speaking no known language. One of my Runetoi (intelligence officers) says the language sounds like Greuthingi, but he isn’t sure. Noracon is still there, but the transmissions make no sense. Among other things, they are now ruled by someone named Senowailos. I have no idea what happened to Catuwailos, but he doesn’t appear to be in charge anymore. Rassenijâ is also gone. The country that has somehow replaced it speaks a language even less identifiable than the language of the Rhineland. The same has happened to Belaijâ, though there we have picked up transmissions in an alien variation of Wascacâ.
Most disturbingly, an aircraft of unknown design flew across our Narrow Sea shore. Fighters were scrambled, and met it in the air. It was a subsonic plane, probably a passenger craft, though it is hard to be sure. In any case, after a few futile attempts at communication, it flew back across the Narrow Sea to Britanijâ, or whatever has replaced it.
You would have every right to doubt my sanity, so I have taken the liberty of copying printouts of electronic correspondence with a number of observers on the scene.”
Ariotanos took the documents, studied them. They did seem to bear out what Segomâros was saying. Here were accounts of radio transmissions, frightened travelers speaking to checkpoint guards, and that aircraft coming from…..where? He was dimly aware of men in the uniform of the Epates Dedmâs opening the conference room door, of Nertodumnos coming out, conferring with them quietly. He had never encountered such a crisis. He had never imagined such a thing. Well, something could be done, and had to be, to reassure the people, to provide for whatever might be needed.
“So, have you heard from the overseas wassaloi?”
“No. Communications are out with all overseas stations, wassaloi and foreign nations alike.”
“Right. Then we need to assume we are cut off from all tributes. I will need you to get together with the economic people in the next few minutes. We need to know what we get from where, how much of it we have on hand, and how to ration it assuming we can’t get any more. If we should find any overseas wassaloi or trading partners return to the world of reality, then we might not need those measures, but we must still prepare to survive the worst. I want to know exactly what our military strength is. What units disappeared, and which did not. And, we need to contact the Academijâ. I want their best linguists working on the problem of how to communicate with the people around us.
The military should be on high alert. Keep fighters in the air, cancel all leaves, and have all units ready to respond on an instant's notice.
And, I still intend that the nation will celebrate Aedrinijâ. It’s the festival of Lugus, and we need all the divine help we can get.”
Finishing, he took a deep breath and looked around the corridor. Segomâros wore an expression of determination and, evidently, approval of the orders he had received. Other officers, of various agencies were scurrying about at his order or that of Nertodubnos. Things had just got very interesting. He suspected they would remain so for a long time.
Atenoux Edrini, 2396, B.G.
2:00 PM
Ariotanos III leaned back into his chair, and listened to the report from the Ministry of Tourism. The Minister, a little man, balding, with dark brown hair in a ponytail, was going on in his fussy way about making preparations for the upcoming festival of Aedrinijâ. It sounded like the man wanted the Epates Dedmâs to issue travel permits to every Wassos (serf/factory hand) who wanted to visit the capitol. It would be interesting to see what Nertodumnos Salobrigantios, the head of the Epates Dedmâs, had to say on the subject. He looked over at Nertodumnos, but, as usual, could not read the older man’s expression. He expected that the next few minutes would see one of Nertodumnos’ patented careful, step-by-step, logical illustrations of why the idea was foolish, dangerous, and possibly an indication of insanity on the part of the Tourism Minister.
It would be fun to watch, and certainly beat debating with his economic and diplomatic advisors on the currently hot topics of the trade clauses in the soon-to-be renewed treaties of Wassalijâ with Itsijâ and Tsimû.
There was a momentary flash of light, very slight. Ariotanos barely registered it, and then the lights dimmed for an instant. “Must be a transformer blowing”, he thought to himself. And then, as the Minister of Tourism finished, he watched Nertodumnos begin his careful exposition.
2:25 PM
The debate on travel permits was finishing. As expected, Nertodumnos had proved his point, at least twice, and only the usual small number of Wassoi would be allowed to visit the nemeton outside the capitol, the holiest place in all Litawijâ, indeed, in all of Europe. There was little alternative, not only from a security perspective, but also from that of the available facilities.
The door to the conference room opened, and Ariotanos saw his Tiotowissacos (Chief General) Segomâros Windopennicnos. The stocky man’s blunt face bore a scowl. “Trouble”, thought Ariotanos. He had already met with Segomâros in the morning, and the general did not interrupt meetings without reason. The most likely explanation was another incident on the border between Tsimû and the Afro-Iberian nation of Intexalir. The Intexaliriltirrta were forever chomping at the bit for another war over a swath of useless jungle on the border with Tsimû. Ariotanos wondered why they bothered.
“I am sorry to interrupt, Tiorîge, Arjûs (O-Lords)”, Segomâros was saying, “but a most peculiar matter has arisen that requires the immediate attention of the Tiorîxs.” Ariotanos wondered at Segomâros’ discretion and indirect speech. Normally he was as plain spoken as his common accent implied. The son of an Ambaxtos (common freeman), he had worked his way up through the ranks. “Of course”, Ariotanos answered, “if my worthy advisors will wait a few moments”. He followed his Tiotowissacos into the hall outside before the murmurs of assent had finished.
“A most puzzling situation has developed”, Segomâros began, “one which defies my ability to explain it. About a half-hour ago, a flash of light was seen from all over Litawijâ. You may have seen it yourself. It appeared to come from some kind of border, not that of the country, for it excluded the Rhineland, and included parts of Bolgijâ right on the border. In that instant, roads and cities vanished or changed, military units disappeared, and the radio traffic became unrecognizable.” Ariotanos glanced at him in puzzlement, but allowed him to continue.
“I know how this sounds, but we have enough reports from frightened travelers backtracking, from border units, and from observer aircraft, not to mention the signal corps, that this is all quite confirmed. So, to list the effects simply:
The Rhineland is gone. Simply gone. Travelers report woods where roads should be, and roads where woods should be. A good number of roads do still remain open, though often with changes in elevation and similar problems, and now lead to towns and villages speaking no known language. One of my Runetoi (intelligence officers) says the language sounds like Greuthingi, but he isn’t sure. Noracon is still there, but the transmissions make no sense. Among other things, they are now ruled by someone named Senowailos. I have no idea what happened to Catuwailos, but he doesn’t appear to be in charge anymore. Rassenijâ is also gone. The country that has somehow replaced it speaks a language even less identifiable than the language of the Rhineland. The same has happened to Belaijâ, though there we have picked up transmissions in an alien variation of Wascacâ.
Most disturbingly, an aircraft of unknown design flew across our Narrow Sea shore. Fighters were scrambled, and met it in the air. It was a subsonic plane, probably a passenger craft, though it is hard to be sure. In any case, after a few futile attempts at communication, it flew back across the Narrow Sea to Britanijâ, or whatever has replaced it.
You would have every right to doubt my sanity, so I have taken the liberty of copying printouts of electronic correspondence with a number of observers on the scene.”
Ariotanos took the documents, studied them. They did seem to bear out what Segomâros was saying. Here were accounts of radio transmissions, frightened travelers speaking to checkpoint guards, and that aircraft coming from…..where? He was dimly aware of men in the uniform of the Epates Dedmâs opening the conference room door, of Nertodumnos coming out, conferring with them quietly. He had never encountered such a crisis. He had never imagined such a thing. Well, something could be done, and had to be, to reassure the people, to provide for whatever might be needed.
“So, have you heard from the overseas wassaloi?”
“No. Communications are out with all overseas stations, wassaloi and foreign nations alike.”
“Right. Then we need to assume we are cut off from all tributes. I will need you to get together with the economic people in the next few minutes. We need to know what we get from where, how much of it we have on hand, and how to ration it assuming we can’t get any more. If we should find any overseas wassaloi or trading partners return to the world of reality, then we might not need those measures, but we must still prepare to survive the worst. I want to know exactly what our military strength is. What units disappeared, and which did not. And, we need to contact the Academijâ. I want their best linguists working on the problem of how to communicate with the people around us.
The military should be on high alert. Keep fighters in the air, cancel all leaves, and have all units ready to respond on an instant's notice.
And, I still intend that the nation will celebrate Aedrinijâ. It’s the festival of Lugus, and we need all the divine help we can get.”
Finishing, he took a deep breath and looked around the corridor. Segomâros wore an expression of determination and, evidently, approval of the orders he had received. Other officers, of various agencies were scurrying about at his order or that of Nertodubnos. Things had just got very interesting. He suspected they would remain so for a long time.