The City: In Dialogue (Chapter 1)

Chapter 1

In order to be king, one must be merciful and kind, for fear he be found out a tyrant. Although, for a king to be loved, he must be heavy handed, for people love a strong leader who keeps order as well as prosperity. While doing so, a king must be mindful of God, for He is king among kings and ruler of all who rule. Being king is an arduous task, a feat most men cannot accomplish with any longevity. So it is that a king must respect the devil, for Satan is ruler of all those who fail.

“Ugh! Why do you read this blather to me, Jepsin?” I inquired dryly.

“I read it, Magistrate, because your cousin is gaining much support by doing the same, and you need to be aware of it,” he responded.

“He gains support with the working plebes,” I snapped. “I still command the full loyalty of the army—not to mention the Managers.”

“The Managers are not to be trusted,” he scowled. “Their loyalties would shift in a slight breeze, if it suited their needs. And as far as the army is concerned, they’re not allowed within the wall, and he controls the defense force.”

“What the hell is Thason so mad about,” I shouted, pushing the papers Jepsin slid toward me straight off the other side of my desk. “The motto of the city is right there, etched in the forum. ‘First, always, the wellbeing of the city and its people.’ Does the city do anything but prosper and, by default, the people too?”

“Yes, Magistrate,” he scurried over and crouched to reassemble the scattered papers. “I believe he is upset that some citizens appear to be prospering better than others.”

“Piss on him,” I spat the words, as if they left a bitter taste in my mouth. “He cares nothing for the plight of others. It’s arguable; he lives better than I do. You don’t see him offering to part with any of his estate to help equalize any perceived discrepancies.” I contemplated for a moment, strumming my fingers on the desk. “No, this is about that religious nonsense he’s gotten into his head; he wants a state religion.”

“Your Fathers did come from a religious background,” Jepsin chimed in. “I think, primarily, he’s…”

“No!” I asserted. “Neither one of the Fathers wanted this city to be run by the influence of dogmatic nonsense weakly passing itself off as morality. And even though my ancestors have been dead for generations, I won’t have the likes of you sullying their memory by suggesting otherwise.”

“No, Magistrate, of course not,” he backpedaled. “I’m merely trying to…”

I held a hand up, cutting him off again. “Wait,” I ordered. “Bear with me, Jepsin.” That was the closest I could come to apologizing to him, given the difference in our status. “I know what you were trying to do, and it is appreciated. You are very good at your job, but for now I need no further advice.”

I stood up, grabbing and twirling my jacket off the back of my chair and around my shoulders in one skillfully swift maneuver, and I headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Jepsin called.

I stopped, turned my head to face him, and cocked an eyebrow.

“I…eh…I…ahem…must…notify your detail,” he recovered, ever so graceful.

“You needn’t bother,” I resumed my stride. “I’m just retrieving the kids from their lessons. Besides, no one would dare harm me.”

The large, ornately carved, doors to my office closed behind me—further punctuating the end of our conversation.

“You think that now,” Jepsin mumbled under his breath.

*****

In a small, but lavishly decorated, room an elderly professorial figure stood pontificating instruction to three seated boys.

“Through specific recruitment and selective allowance, they populated the city to its first-phase capacity. And, for a pre-set period of time, they maintained an isolationist policy, so the city—and her inhabitants—could adjust and grow without negative influences. And so it was, the two brothers, their children, and their children’s children, built our wonderful city of Renace.”

“Mr. Battista,” the oldest of the three boys inquired, “what happened to those other governments the Fathers had to negotiate with?”

“Well Remus,” frustrated with the interruption, the teacher turned to speak directly to his inquisitor, “after a few generations, the city was still isolated within its great wall—further protected by its superior defensive technologies. A growing number of inhabitants were beginning to protest until the world fell victim to a plague. News reports attributed the sickness to a special vaccination for a new flu strain.”

“Are they sure it was the flu?” the boy said wide-eyed.

Though he certainly did not appreciate being repeatedly interrupted, the teacher continued lecturing, “Whatever the cause, the world’s population was devastated. Wherever people had gathered in close number there was no chance for survival; the disease worked very quickly. Towns and cities around the world were abandoned as their streets filled with bodies.”

All three boys’ mouths were open but remained silent.

“Within a few years there seemed to be no more sign of sickness, and—though there is no way to be sure—the population of the world had to be down in the few hundred million range.”

“Is that when we started to expand the republic?” Remus asked.

“No,” the teacher paused briefly at the outburst. “The city was self-sufficient and safe from the sickness, so there was no rush to break the timeline for the second-phase, but soon after that expansion the population grew too quickly. Incorporation of new territory was required. At this point, of course, several generations had come and gone, so none of the previous claims to land outside of ours existed anymore.”

“That’s when the army was created!” one of the younger boys exclaimed.

“Telemachus,” the teacher scolded, “your cousin has developed some bad habits; you’d do well to discourage the same behavior in yourself.”

There was a short silence as the boys turned back and forth to look at each other in awe.

The teacher started up again, “When men of proper decorum want to address a superior or, in this instance, a mentor, they do so by sounding said superior’s name and then waiting for the acknowledging approval to go on.”

There was another brief pause.

“Mr. Battista,” sounded the voice of one, now timid, Telemachus.

“Yes, Telemachus.”

“Is that when the army was created?”

“Yes. And so started the days of the republic.”

“Mr. Battista,” Remus hissed, clearly being upset at the not-so-subtle admonishment.

“Yes, Remus,” the teacher grinned, being pleased with the reestablished order.

“If there were no more cities or governments, and the people scattered into the wilderness, how, then, are there so many kingdoms and nations now that the army constantly has to control or conquer them?”

“Good question,” the teacher encouraged. “As I had said, several generations had gone by, and—though nature had reclaimed almost all of what we refer to as the Old Civilization—people did eventually start to gather into groups again. They, of course, were having children just like we did, and they began building their respective societies.”

“Societies, huh,” Remus sneered.

I had entered the room just as professor Battista was finishing his statement and well in time to hear Remus’ outburst.

“Remus,” I shouted.

The boys all jumped and turned to face me; the teacher sharpened his stance as well.

“Yes father,” he snapped cautiously.

“Though I deal with barbarians on a regular basis, I have no patience for it in my own home,” I stepped further into the room. “When your professor is speaking, you do not interject at will.”

As I casually strolled around the back of the room, not looking at its occupants but scanning it as if taking some sort of inventory, I continued, “Just because other nations are primitive does not mean we must lower ourselves to their level when learning about them.”

“Executive Magistrate,” the teacher appealed.

I held a ceasing hand up, “Upon entering, I did not notice my cousin’s sons behaving like animals.” I dropped my hand, “Tell me professor, is this my son’s natural state?”

“Of course not, Magistrate,” the teacher said confidently. “He was merely taken over with zeal. He gets that way—on occasion, as young boys do—when learning the history of our great city.”

Professor Battista, then, leveled an almost blatantly accusatory stare at me and continued, “Many of the boys under my tutelage over the years have had the very same issues to overcome. It always seems to pass with a little gentle encouragement.”

“Ah, of course, it does.” I replied, knowing full well what he was insinuating. “Well, that’s settled then.”

I crouched down and extended my arms. “Come here boys,” I called to my eight and ten year old nephews in an exaggeratedly excited tone. “We’ve got to get you back to your father. Remus, thank your professor for his instruction,” I nodded to my old teacher.

The two boys ran to my embrace, and Remus turned to face his teacher.

“Thank you, professor Battista,” Remus said in a sincerely humble voice.

“You are quite welcome, young sir,” Battista winked at Remus.

The boy smiled, turned, and quickly joined our little mock marching group, and we headed off down the hallway.

(End of Chapter 1)

The City: In Dialogue (Prologue)

Prologue: The Founders

“Are you nervous because you haven’t seen your brother in such a long time?” my wife said in a lovingly reassuring manner.

“No,” I shrugged, but continued, “I’m nervous because I am not sure he’ll be interested in my proposal. And, if he’s not, then this will have all been for nothing.”

“You don’t have to give up on your dream, if your brother doesn’t agree,” she encouraged. “You’ve done so much work, and you have other options.”

“No,” I barked, much more severely than I had intended. “Doing this is going to be near to impossible,” I continued, steadying and lowering my tone. “If I don’t have someone I trust implicitly helping me run it, it will never work.”

“I wish I could be that person for you in this,” she said while maneuvering around to my back, placing her arms around my chest, “but I just don’t have what it takes.”

“Are you kidding me?” I chortled. “You’ve been phenomenal! It’s just that I’m going to need someone with his experience and abilities. Not only that, but I’ll need someone who can be adamant about disagreeing with me when necessary, and I don’t want that to be you. You are the wind in my sails. And though we have disagreements at times, this project is going to cause issues of staggering proportions.”

“I know,” she soothed, “and I’ll be right there by your side the whole time.” She smiled lovingly and looked into my eyes.

******

My wife and I stood in the airport terminal, waiting for the jet to open its door and release its passenger.

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle it, if he does not agree to do this with me,” I confided to her.

Slightly wedging her arm in between my own and my chest, she answered my doubt by saying, “Well you should prepare yourself for that eventuality, because it is an awfully risky venture, and it’s not as if you two have ever been very close.”

This did not comfort me in the manner I believe she intended.

“Just because my brother has always been the typical close tied, family guy does not mean he’s ever held the fact that I am not against me,” I responded. “He knows I love him and that we’ve always had a special connection. Albeit not like most others, to be sure, but he knows.” The last was said more for myself.

“I hope so,” she offered.

“Whether he participates in this or not, nothing between us is going to change,” I followed quickly.

“You say that now,” she said, a little more doubtful than I would have liked.

“I know, I know. Things are going to change, aren’t they?” I conceded. “I guess I just meant if he doesn’t join in, most likely, nothing of mine and his relationship will change.”

“Well that’s probably true,” she chuckled. “The two of you hardly ever see each other, as it is, now,” she smiled, and gave me a loving poke.

“Really,” I smiled, “Now?”

“I’m just playing,” she smiled. “I am certain he’s going to say yes.”

“Well, I guess we’re about to find out,” I patted her cradled hand, “here he comes now.”

******

Once my brother and I were relaxing comfortably in the living room of his hotel suite, he decided to up the ante of the conversation.

“Alright, so what’s this all about?” he inquired. “You and Carol were pretty tight lipped on the ride from the airport.”

“What are you talking about? We all chatted the whole way here,” I feigned innocence.

“Yeah,” he scoffed “I’m not saying you both weren’t pleasant and chatty; I’m saying you both changed the subject with dubious skill whenever I tried to ask anything about why you so urgently brought me up here.” Pausing, he looked around and changed his tone entirely, “Speaking of which, why are we up here? And how, for that matter, could you afford to bring me here on a private jet?”

“I’m sorry. Was it not as nice as yours?” I said in jest.

“Come on, you know that’s not what I meant,” he laughed back. “Seriously though man, you’re a professor,” he proceeded more seriously. “Cryptic phone calls, urgent trips—on private jets, no less—what is going on David? You’re starting to scare me.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t be scared,” I assured. “It’s not the time for that yet.”

“Yet,” his eyes widened, “is that supposed to ease my concerns right now?”

“Nope,” I asserted, “I very much meant it; there will be plenty of occasions to be scared in the near future.”

“This is not helping David,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Thomas, I want you to listen to—and consider, with all seriousness—the proposal I am about to put to you,” my tone was finally serious enough to appease him. “It is going to sound like a joke—and a completely absurd one at that—but I assure you, it is not.”

“I figured as much,” he acknowledged. “You’ve got my attention. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I want you to help me start a new country based around one ideal city—just like dad had always talked about, but with quite a few more of the details worked out,” I said, laying it out flat.

“Excuse me?” he queried

“I am, in no way, playing with you right now,” I told him. “We have acquired a significant piece of land in The Provinces, north of here across the border, and we’re going to build a city. We’re going to develop everything from the ground up, and we’re going to follow our principles of community, justice, exploration, and environmental stewardship.” I continued, “And above all, we are going to be a completely sovereign state with no one else’s inefficiency or ignorance to stand in our way.”

There was a long pause.

I started up again, “We have the majority of the plan in place, but I need someone like you to help ensure success.”

There was another pause.

“How, exactly, am I supposed to do that?” he asked.

“Well your business acumen is going to be crucial,” I added immediately. “I mean you did, after all, build a multibillion dollar a year energy company—genuinely from the ground up.” I took a short pause, and then added, “More than that, though, I need you to be my partner in keeping all that this is going to entail under control.”

“Huh!” he snorted. “You’re talking about building a city, and running a country. Exactly what level of control do you think will be able to be maintained?”

“It’s not like men, less capable than us, haven’t been doing this for millennia,” I said, “and we’re going into it far more prepared than any of them ever did—with quite a few more advantages.”

“There’s that hubris I’ve seen in you before,” he said morosely.

“Exactly!” I jumped, pointing a finger at him. “Yet another reason why you’re going to have to be there with me.”

“I can’t do this,” he stood, as if to challenge my finger pointing. “This is ridiculous. You can’t do this! The federal government is never going to let you go; they’re never going to let you do this.”

“They are, and they will,” I challenged right back.

“I don’t understand,” he shrugged his shoulders. “You already have the land? How is any of this possible?”

“Well, it is complicated,” I sat back down to continue explaining, “and I will explain it all to you in detail, but for now it is suffice to say I have spent years putting together a coalition of people who share the same types of values as us. These people want to live in a responsible environment but simply cannot find any place that is willing to support their values.”

He sat down too, with a look of shock on his face.

“Anyway,” I carried on, “many of these people are fairly powerful in different respects. Through their connections—as well as my own—I have been working on brokering a deal with several governments and corporations to make this happen. Here is where you come in.”

“What does that mean?” he said, slightly bewildered.

“You would have to sell your company as part of the deal.”

“What!” he was on his feet again. “What do you mean sell my company? How did my company get involved in this? No…wait.” He stopped his newly begun pacing. “Actually, I can’t sell my company,” he tilts his head and furrows his brow, “and you know that—ever since that issue with the federal courts.”

“Yeah, that actually helped quite a bit,” I leaned back into the plush sofa cushions.

“Besides,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me, “selling my company won’t fund this little operation of yours. I am legally forbidden from selling my company for any price higher than a thousand dollars.”

“Yeah,” I paused briefly, “you won’t actually be selling your company. You will be signing it over to the federal government. In return, they will be giving five hundred billion dollars in grants to private corporations working on building projects in the city, and they will allow UniCom to donate another five hundred billion to our organization with no tax burden. Then they will take over operations of your company. Plus,” I added, “it was part of the negotiation to get sovereignty.”

“A trillion dollars…Pheeew…Wait a minute! How did UniCom get involved in this?” he barked.

“Listen, I know you don’t like them, but…”

“Of course I don’t like them! You know they…”

“I know, I know. That is neither here, nor there,” I said trying to calm him. “You don’t like them, and they don’t like you—neither does the federal government, for that matter. So let’s take their money and go start our own country! Do you not get the monumentality of this opportunity?”

“Yes, I get it,” he chimed, “but what you’re talking about doing is almost incomprehensible. It is not going to be as easy as you think.”

“Easy! I don’t think it’s going to be easy at all,” I insisted. “In fact, it hasn’t been so far. Besides, nothing meriting the term monumental should be easy. Also, that’s why I want you by my side.”

“Well that figures,” he rolled his eyes and flipped his hands up. “You still didn’t tell me what UniCom has to do with this,” he probed.

“You know what they have to do with this. They want your company, and the federal government wants them to have it,” I said, almost exhausted at that particular issue. “I say you let them have it and build a bigger, better future for even more people.”

“I don’t know about all of that,” he shrugged. “Anyway, this is all moot. Not even a trillion dollars is enough money to do what you’re talking about doing.”

“Oh I’ve got more than a trillion dollars,” I smiled, “four trillion, to be specific, but it’s not like we’re just going to be vacationing up there. We’re going to have industry and agriculture. In fact, we are already set to start manufacturing on five different contracts in two years, and the first crops should start producing yields next spring.”

“Next spring!” he sat down, again. “David, how far along is this thing?”

“Oh, I’d say we’re at least knee deep already,” I chuckled.

“Right,” he pointed at me. “That’s about when you find out whether you’re going to fall on your face or not.”

“Exactly!” I exclaimed hopefully. “That’s why I want you to come with me.”

“Wait a minute,” he puzzled. “How could you have begun the project already? You don’t have the money, or the sovereignty, from me signing over my company—and I haven’t agreed to do this. Don’t you think you might have put the horse before the cart little brother?”

My demeanor got more solemn, “You are not my only option. Within the deal I brokered, I have two other possible options to pull this off. However, I am not going to exercise either of them. I just negotiated them, so they would allow the project to begin. You’re in, or the project stops.” There is a slight pause. “I want you to help me do this. I want you, and Tess, and the kids, to come with us, and we will build a new country from the ground up,” I finished.

“Oh my god!...Tess!...David, how am I supposed to bring this up to my wife—let alone my kids?” he asked, looking off, not really expecting me to answer.

However, after a brief pause, I answered anyway.

“A, your kids won’t care, and B, you shouldn’t let that be a factor in something as important as this anyway. And as far as Tess goes, just ask her the same way I asked you,” I said sincerely.

“Oh! Sure!” he scoffed. “Hey honey, wanna go start a country today? Maybe we can make you queen, or something.”

“First off, uncanny impression,” I said sarcastically, “and second, don’t joke about the whole queen thing,” I said, much more somberly.

“Oh relax,” he scolded. “You know I wasn’t supposing tyranny, or anything of the sort.”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just…well…we’ve already got someone in mind for queen,” I shot him a toothy grin, and we both broke into laughter.

*****

As my brother and I sat comfortably, in one of our two larger jets with about forty five other passengers flying to the city, the conversation turned a little sour for my tastes.

“You know, that crack about the kids was wrong,” Thomas stated.

“Hmm… What crack?” I looked over to face my brother, as he was seated on my left.

“About my kids not caring and their opinion not mattering anyway. It was wrong,” he said pointedly.

“To be clear, I didn’t say their opinion didn’t matter,” I consoled. “I said you shouldn’t let it be a factor in something as important as this. And you know, I simply meant that you, as the father, shouldn’t let important decisions be left to the sway of children’s adolescent desires.”

“Yeah, I know what you meant,” he acknowledged, “but sometimes it worries me how quickly terse and callous comments can roll off your tongue.”

In an effort to appease him and get off this subject, I replied, “Believe me, it worries me occasionally too, but you know it’s not meant with any kind of malice, right?” I smiled.

“I do,” he smiled and reached his arm up and around my shoulders.

There was a short pause.

Thomas broke the silence first saying, “So, I thought you said we weren’t going to have an airport.”

“I said we weren’t going to have airlines,” I nudged him with my elbow. “There are certain things that simply require the use of airplanes. I don’t demonize the tool; I demonize its misuse.”

“Sure…sure…So trains huh,” he smacked my knee. “You know the nearest major city is more than two hundred and fifty miles away.”

“Yep,” I nodded.

“Doesn’t that mean it’s going to be a while before we have steady, and reliable, supplies?” he queried.

“Nope,” I shook my head.

There was a long pause.

Eventually both of us smiled at each other.

“Remember that discussion we were just having about you being terse?” he said through a forced smile.

“It rings a bell,” I smirked.

“Well?” he pressed.

“Well what?” I evaded.

“David!” he chuckled.

“Alright, alright,” I said, laughing. “Construction on both the heavy and the high-speed lines started four years ago.”

“Seriously!” he said taken aback. “We’ve got a railroad.”

“Sure do,” I supplied, with a big smile. “State-of-the-art. Mag Levs, even. Cost us a pretty penny.”

“Just one line for each?”

“Technically,” I responded, “but, actually, there are two complete guide-ways for both the heavy and the high-speed; they’re unidirectional paths. None of that pesky shuffling-the-trains-on-a-single-track for us, brother—efficient, efficient, efficient.”

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to have one guide-way for each, and save the materials?”

“That might be the opinion of some,” I conceded, “but having the double tracks allows one to act as a backup for the other during maintenance or problems, and it makes our scheduling capabilities far more efficient for all the other times.” I paused briefly, but before he could say anything, I added, “Anyway, the last guide-way will be done in three months.”

“Wow,” he said somberly. “Three months, huh. So this is real.”

“Oh it’s real, alright,” I agreed. “Just wait until you see the city so far. Once you do, you’ll sign those papers in a heartbeat and never look back.”

*****

“I am incredibly impressed with how much is already done here, David, but how is this expectation about me setting up and operating the energy distribution supposed to work?” he asked. “It’s not as if I built my company on my own, you know.”

“First off, don’t sell what you did short,” I encouraged, “but in regards to your concern, a clause to help with that was written into the agreement. Of those employees you should choose—and that are willing—you’ll be able to bring one thousand.”

“What!” he said slightly stunned. “I’ll be able to bring a thousand of my employees with me?”

“Yes.”

“How is that going to work?” he threw his hands up. “They’re just supposed to uproot their lives and move to the middle of nowhere.”

“No one is going to force them, by any means,” I assured. “Furthermore, don’t you think any of them would be enticed by what we have to offer them?”

“What we have to offer them is foreign, undeveloped, untested, frontier living.”

“Frontier living, you say,” I eyed him brusquely, “with state-of-the-art facilities in every capacity, free healthcare, the most efficient transportation system, guaranteed income, better housing, and safe and secure living.”

“Yeah, but it is in the middle of nowhere, and it is all untested,” he reiterated.

“Thomas, you’ve walk the streets; you’ve seen the facilities. Don’t you think some of them will be interested?”

“Yes, you’re right,” he smiled. “I’m sure some will.”

“So you’re on board!”

“Yes, little brother, I am. Now let’s head back and gather up our families; we’ve got ourselves a country to run.”

(End of prologue)

The Six Cities (Prologue)

The Six Cities

Prologue

The view afforded to me from my vantage point in the large tree I had climbed was admittedly closer than I would have preferred, but the risk was necessary to capture the full field of battle.

The armies of Keep Tholl had gathered to press their challenge of Lithos—one of the six great cities. As foolish as this may seem, given that Lithos was one of the last few vestiges of true magic in the realm, the force Viceroy Ta’al had gathered was unlike any I had ever seen. 

Though I am only in my thirteenth cycle, I have seen more battles than many seasoned warriors. I have always been obsessed with the idea of warfare, and, since my father runs a traveling band of mercenaries, I have had much opportunity to witness the spectacle. Of course, I never got to participate in my father’s endeavors, but I was usually able to find safe places from which to view the battles. This occasion was different, however. 

My father had been contracted by the city of Lithos as back up. This in itself was strange, since my father’s services were usually much more of a frontline effort, but, finally being able to take the whole scene in, I completely understood.

Worry for my safety had left me exiled to our company encampment a day’s paces to the east of the great city—nestled in the low portion of one of the clefts defining two of the many massive mountains that guard the rear and flanks of Lithos. This was fine for the wives and children, but I was nearly a man and—if I do say so myself—a skilled warrior. However, no matter how much training I did with my father and the other men of the company, my father still failed to recognize this fact.

Having left the safety of camp, and hiked closer in towards the city’s magnificent wall—which protruded seamlessly from the mountain encircling the city in its great crescent—I was forced to climb this beastly tree that gnarled its way out of the stone earth to get a proper view. It appears this tree had to fight for every hand (the unit of measure, that is) of its life, and all along its enormous height it bore the scars of that battle. The large crack in the stone base from which the tree had grown was dark and seemed deep. It was clear through observation that the tree had forcibly enlarged the crevice over time—just going to show that stone does not always beat wood. 

After climbing roughly thirty arms high, I had begun to get dizzy—not for lack of faith in the aged tree, for the trunk was still many arms in circumference at the place to which I had climbed, but apparently my eyes take issue with being this high off the ground. However, now—just off to the side of the great city’s perimeter, and well elevated—I had a clear and unobstructed view of the whole theater for the pending battle.

Now, as to why my vantage point gave me cause for concern. Though it did live up to its name—giving me a superior advantage in viewing this battle over anyone else who might be attempting the same, including many of those actually involved in the battle—it also put me much closer to danger than I had ever imagined when I was standing at its base.

Hiking the sparse but healthy woods below, I had no idea what was about to take place. No matter which side won, it was going to be nothing short of a massacre.

On my walk here it was not hard to catch an occasional glance of infantrymen through some of the many gaps in the trees. The invading army had formed ranks in the rolling plains that sprawled out from the city’s front gates. It wasn’t until taking my aerial position that I saw the full scope of said army.

Thousands and thousands of men—each adorned with weapons and armor—fill the plains in columns. There must be a hundred of them for every person I have ever seen in my life. To be honest, I cannot say even roughly how big the army is, because it stretches out over the horizon.

What gives me greater concern for my life at this moment is the multitude of varied siege machines—which, to my knowledge, are more destructive than they are accurate. I am not currently far from their intended target.

Having weighed my options, and seeing that I was going to be no safer scrambling back to the camp, I have decided to stay. Soon I will find out whether my fetish for studying warfare will kill me before ever actually fighting in one.

It doesn’t take an expert to see the odds are unmistakably stacked in favor of the invaders. On the field in front of the wall stands twelve groups of no more than twenty men each—most of whom carry the implements of war. The groups are in rough formations, but nothing like the precision of the Viceroy’s army. The groups are positioned in two rows of six. None of them seemed to include any of my father’s company, but from what I understood he and his men would be inside the gates to repel any breach. This was of great comfort to me now, because I had been told many stories of the impenetrable wall of Lithos—built and protected by magic and composed of the finest stone on the face of Ra’Kaar.

I am able to breathe a little easier knowing my father is safely on the inner side of the wall. Still, it seems strange that Tholl would be willing to brave its army in this fashion unless it was certain of victory. For that matter, this must be every man capable of fighting in the whole fiefdom of Tholl and then some. In fact, the king must be involved in this, because I am now able to make out the colors of at least two other fiefdoms. Why would the king sanction an action such as this? Surely it will do nothing but upset the other magic users of Ra’Kaar. At any rate, I am no longer breathing easy; this is more serious, even, than I had originally imagined. As if intended to break my line of thought, the battle has begun.

For the invaders, the start was unimpressive. Enormous horns were sounded, and the columns of troops began to march in step towards the wall. For Lithos, however, the commencement was awe inspiring.

The few men in each of the twelve groups, who are not dressed for battle as the others, are engaged in a whirl of dancing and gestures—the result of which is hundreds of man-sized posts of earth bursting out of the ground within the ranks. Needless to say, more than a little mayhem is breaking out in the columns. Some men are being thrown high into the air as the earth beneath them explodes to reveal the aforementioned posts. Others are simply slamming into them, being unable to stop before realizing the terrain has changed. Nonetheless, the army proceeds.

This one, seemingly simple, maneuver has me enthralled. Though I’ve seen carnival magicians whose trade is entertainment and illusion, I have never seen actual magic. Until now, all the magic I’ve witnessed can be seen as fraudulent when viewed with a scrutinous eye, but this. This was real magic.

Homing in on one of the central mages, I watch as he begins his performance. His hands twist in a flurry in front of him. His left leg lunges backward placing him in a crouched lunge, and his hands drop and rise in a slow scooping fashion. Now, as his hands begin another round of flourish, I can see a bright line of energy being drawn in the air with the movements of his hands. It is a tangled weave of glowing lines. At the sudden clap of his forward extended hands a large boulder—about the size of a small house—unearths itself from a flanking mountain and is hurled across the battlefield.

Luckily, the branch I am sitting on is broad and firm. Otherwise, at this last action, I surely would have fallen.

As I regain my composure, I can see the invaders picking up speed in their march. Impressive as the mages are, the army is affected very little by the numbers lost.

Paying closer attention to the mages now, I can see each of them are creating those strange glowing drawings with their performances. The final maneuver of each routine results in yet another wonderful feat of earthen magic. At this point, I cannot tell which mage is orchestrating what effect, but the battlefield is getting chaotic.

Currently, the field is dotted with several clay walls approximately six or seven arms long—apparently intended to retard the invader’s charge. A very large group of light cavalry on the army’s right flank is bogged down, franticly trying to work its way out of an even larger area of mud. On the left flank—closest to me, I might add—an impressive sized group of heavy cavalry have found themselves smashed into the bottleneck of two long stone walls that almost join to form a wide V. Some horsemen are slowly making their way through the gap, and some, a very few, are even jumping the wall. However, the melee of horse and man that is ensuing within the V has effectively neutralized the heavy horse threat. All the while, admirable barrages of rocks are heaving themselves at the scattered—but still advancing—columns of infantrymen.

As impressed as I am watching the mages draw their symbols and loose their destruction, I still can’t help but notice movement further back in the army’s ranks. The siege engines are being advanced.

Many of these machines I recognize, but there is something different about them; they are far more mechanically accessorized. Plus, there are so many beasts of burden—many more than just those needed to transport the engines. Catapults, ballistae, trebuchets, battering rams, and siege towers were being moved forward in great number by elephants. Elephants. I have heard stories of these creatures, but…I…wow…so many elephants.

The ballistae were the first to take up placement, but as I said, there is something different about these machines. Instead of simply looking like giant crossbows, these had some sort of large cylindrical assemblage merged to the bottom of each machine, as well as one large wheel—not used for transport—mounted on each side of the weapons. There is a decent sized peg extending out from each wheel.

When the ballistae come to a stop, the two elephants pulling each machine are brought around, one on both sides of their respective ballista. When the signal flags drop… Machines, elephants, and the men operating each of the rigs spring into action. Not being even vaguely able to tell how they were working, the results were unbelievable. As the animal on either side of a machine used its powerful trunk to crank its respective wheel in opposition to its partner the ballistae began firing huge wooden bolts in rapid succession. Hundreds of bolts—each two arms long and at least a hand in diameter—soar through the air right towards the groups of defenders.

Many of the bolts are being slammed off course by sizeable rocks being flung into their path, and a number of rock domes spring out of the earth to give shelter to two or three people each, but this assault kills several men in each of the twelve groups.

There are now several more mages atop the wall; they, too, are motioning full body to construct glowing symbols and committing them into actions.

A few deep fractures have been opened in the ground a hundred, or so, paces in front of the remaining defenders. Boulders are rolling to and fro taking out the occasional siege engine as well as several attackers.

Now the catapults are in place. Again, an elephant flanks both sides of each machine. This time they appear to be harnessed to a shaft protruding low from the side of the catapults. There is also a tall, vertical tube straight off the back of the machines that seem to readily drop a hefty rock into the quick firing catapults each time they’re ready to fire. The flanking beasts are walking back and forth in an oscillating pattern, and every time one of them gets to the front of the catapult a stone is hurled. Given the number of these rigs, the effect is a rain of stones.

Many of the rocks are whipped aside as if by an invisible hand, but still many carry on. This time fewer domes go up, and now the invading troops are in striking distance. Even having been deterred by obstacles and voids, the columns are still mostly well formed, and they persist with ferocity. Waves of men crash forward, and the war machines cease their fire. As the ocean laps at a cliff side, so, too, the invaders seemed to propel themselves up the wall a bit.

Large chunks of earth were turning themselves over, smashing and burying many with each churn, at the base of the wall. A new pattern of the horn is now sounding, and the columns are retreating in a well-formed, controlled manner.

The battering rams are now clearing paths through the obstacles for the teams of creatures pulling the towers, so the only maneuvering they have to do is around the voids in the ground. And, the trebuchets are now firing.

The field is now clear of any defenders; bodies and wreckage are strewn everywhere, and there remains but seven mages on the wall. Now that the accuracy of the siege engines is proving to be fairly good—and I haven’t been in any real danger—I am terrified for my family. My father, of course, is in eminent danger, but, now that the full breadth of this army is visible to me, it is entirely possible the soldiers will raid the company encampment.

With boulders flying overhead, the towers wheeling forward, and the soldiers resting at a ready halt, the ballistae and catapults are advancing to take closer positions. I am stunned. The size and implication of what I am witnessing is sinking in, as is the fact that I am helpless to do anything about it.

The trebuchets, too, are more mechanized than any I had ever seen. There seems to be a double counterweight system; one is used to propel the sling arm, and the other seems to be used to re-hoist the primary weight. The secondary is then re-hoisted by a pair of elephants while the sling is readied for the next shot. A hefty cart loaded with similarly sized boulders is placed by each machine. Two additional elephants are using their trunks and tusks to grab and load stones into each the primed slings. I wouldn’t say it cuts the firing cycle directly in half, but it definitely increases the firing speed.

Without fail, seven of the ten boulders from each barrage are stopped short or hurled to the side. Now my focus is on the mages. So far the boulders that strike the wall are doing minimal damage. The feats of repellant magic in the field, however, have come to a complete stop—as the mages are focusing on repelling the trebuchet assault.

Just as the next salvo is being loosed from the trebuchets, the central mage swoops his hands together to the left and then the right. He makes a high sweeping arc over his head, and then slowly straightens his arms out in front of him. And then, as if it is difficult for him to do so, he squats down—pushing his arms down in their outstretched position. Upon completion of this action, the glowing symbol he had drawn vanishes, and three of the boulders slam straight down to the ground. When they hit, they continue to roll forward killing soldiers and destroying a couple siege engines before they come to a halt. Only one boulder strikes the wall this time.

Trying to pay closer attention to the maneuvers the mages are performing, I fail to notice the rest of the siege engines have reached their new positions and are ready to fire.

A ballista bolt strikes the particular mage I’m concentrating on square in the chest and sends him flying backwards off the wall. A torrent of artillery collides with the city; most of it hitting the wall, but some clears the wall into the city. The last magical act I can see is one of the boulders coming to a dead stop at the apex of its trebuchet’s arc and smashing down to obliterate the machine underneath.

The wall is crumbling in several spots, and where it’s not, the towers are being positioned. All the siege engines are being advanced and the troops are in an all-out charge. The invading army is teeming into the city.

It’s time for me to go. I know I shouldn’t be crying; I have to get out of here. It is all I can do to descend the massive tree. Tears blur my vision as I grope the trunk searching for grips to secure my uninjured escape. Running up into the mountain, with everything my legs will give me, I cannot help but sob over what is surely to happen to my family.

Finally, my panic waning, I stop running. Realizing I am in no immediate danger, I decide to try and circle back through the woods to camp.

While traversing the higher forest, I try to block out the continued sounds of destruction from within the city. For some reason, before—even though it was not an equal engagement—the wretched cacophony didn’t bother my mind nearly as bad. Perhaps that was due to me being fascinated with the displays of magic or the spectacle of improved war machines. Or maybe, it’s because now it’s no longer a battle and solely a massacre.

Even though I had predicted a massacre, I don’t think there is anything I could have done to prepare myself for the sound of it.

Before my hike is over, I hear the siege engines begin the pulverization of Lithos.

My name is Del, and I have born witness to the fall of the first of the six great cities.