Cole Book One

By Chris J Thompson

Alexander Cole and his crew are survivors. Whether by luck or fate, or the will of The Three they've made it through their share of scrapes, scraps, and full-scale battles. When a side job brings them the promise of an early retirement, they find themselves wrapped up in the twisted schemes of politicians, magic-wielding zealots, immortals, and other beings beyond their imaginations.

Nora Edmund is the daughter of a well-respected senator in The Allied States, one of the largest human settlements in Median. The protected life she has come to know and despise is about to end, as she is thrust into the world beyond The States' borders, where her beliefs will be challenged, and secrets long buried will finally see daylight.

As the fates of many become intertwined, new bonds will be forged, old ones broken, and lines between ally and enemy will blur.

Welcome aboard.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781365715815

Book preview

Cole: Book One

Cole: Book One

1st Edition

Copyright © 2022 Christopher J Thompson

All rights reserved.

ISBN: [978-1-365-71581-5]

Chapter One

~Chase, the fifteenth day of Umbre, 1870 C.A.~

It was a warm summer night when the stagecoach brought the Cole family to the small town of Chase. Crickets and skimmers chirped into the dark expanse that stretched to either side of the mostly forgotten road. The occasional dead tree dotted the landscape, meandering by the window like a drunk after a long night at the pub.

Inside the small coach two bench-style seats of burgundy leather faced each other, with a small rectangle of carpeted floor between them for luggage and foot space. The trip had been long and tiresome and had afforded little rest for the three passengers, thanks to the rudimentary shocks that barely made any difference. Even with these marvels of engineering the passengers could feel every pebble on the road. How young Alexander wished that his father had simply chartered an airship. But he knew that their new home had no port nearby, or landing pad, and was far too remote for such things.

Alexander’s parents sat slumped in the forward-facing seat, their fine clothes crumpled from the days of travel and lack of proper care. He laughed quietly at them as they approached the town, their bodies jarring slightly as the coach passed over the first of the cobblestones that marked the road leading into town.

Samantha’s head rested on David’s shoulder, her long black hair mostly tucked behind her ear, with a few strands falling haphazardly across her dark cheek. David’s head was resting on a small, rolled blanket that he had placed in the frame of the oddly shaped window. Under the seat, tucked into a small crevice between two pieces of luggage, the butts of David’s pistols were just visible. Alexander noted that his father had left them easily accessible, just in case.

The boy had found himself in a state of excitement for the duration, having the boundless energy that eight-year-olds do, and as soon as the dim lights over the horizon had become visible, he knew he would not sleep until they arrived. Alexander’s final hour of the trip in a near-giddy state but he kept himself in check so as not to wake his parents. His father had been awake for a full two days prior to their sudden move, and Alexander knew he needed every moment of rest he could get.

Only Althea’s smallest moon, Mir, shone over Chase as they unloaded their cases and brought them into their new home. The automaton driver, one of the ancient cogs from the look of it, made no move to help them. It only watched with an emotionless, sidelong stare as they took their belongings from the hatch at the rear of the carriage. When they were finished, David, bleary eyed and still half asleep, handed the driver a stack of marks, which the automaton reached for with one segmented, porcelain hand. It nodded, tilting its shiny, chipped head, and tapped the tip of its top hat with one finger. Silently, the automaton urged the mechanical horses onward.

The family did no unpacking that night, only found their bedrooms and slept in the strange beds that had been left behind by the previous owner.

The home was already fully furnished, as the previous occupant had died suddenly and there were no living relatives to sweep in and clean out the old man’s belongings. Alexander’s room had been the man’s guest bedroom, and being so was immaculate other than there being a thick layer of dust on everything. It took a few good shakes of the comforter to remove the years of fine particles that had come to rest upon the bedding.

That night, Alexander slept the fitful sleep of one in a new place, and more than once found himself staring at the ceiling or looking around the room at the new shapes the night presented to him. It was not fear that kept him awake, only the feeling of something amiss.

The next day was filled with rain and fierce winds. The Cole family had arrived on the eve of a Tempest, as Alexander’s father had not been willing to wait for it to pass. He had seemed to be in a rush to leave Shel and had been planning the trip for only two weeks, but for reasons unknown to Alexander, he had waited until the last minute to purchase the tickets for their passage.

This was how Alexander knew that something had gone terribly wrong. There was no other reason for David to have used a false name when purchasing their tickets, or for the last-minute rush to the station with their bags.

Alexander trusted his father though. He knew that if David felt the need to move quickly there was a good reason behind it, and he knew better than to question his father in such things.

The three days of the Tempest were spent inside, unpacking and sorting what little they had brought and sifting through the things that had been left in their new home. Most of the decorations left behind were simply gaudy bits and baubles that held little to no value. These were respectfully wrapped in paper, packed up, and placed in the large attic above the second floor to be promptly forgotten.

Other, more useful items, like the cable audio system, or a few old weapons inside a display case in the grand living room stayed just where they were.

Furniture was rearranged, or moved to the attic as well, mostly to Samantha’s desire, as David had no preference as to the arrangement of the home’s interior.

Each morning began with David and Alexander going through their stretching and exercises, though the perpetual rain made their range of exercises limited to what could be accomplished inside the house. David promised that soon they would have a proper exercise area that would suit their needs, even during a Tempest.

After the daily routine came showers and breakfast, and whatever schoolwork Alexander needed to accomplish for the day. The routine helped Alexander more than he realized, something familiar in an unfamiliar place.

By the time the third day of the Tempest came, Alexander was feeling a bit of pent-up energy. The walls of his new home were boring him already, and he longed to explore his new town.

Finally, his wish came true. He awoke to the sounds of birdsong outside, a drastic change from the beating of rain and the howling winds that had pervaded the last three days. He rose from bed, changed into his loose-fitting, gray and white student’s uniform, and found his father. They went through their morning exercises, and after breakfast Alexander was out the door, carrying his favorite clockwork zeppelin.

As he bounded down the short staircase from the porch of his new home, Alexander looked around to see the first clear view of his small neighborhood. There were other houses spaced somewhat evenly, each on their own acre or so of land. Most had their own gardens, and barns, and water pumps with lines that came from a central blockhouse, running above ground to each home or an outdoor spigot. Their own home was much the same, architecturally, with a dull red roof setting it apart from the others with their gray and black shingles. Soot-stained red brick chimneys promised winters of cold and snow, and nights to be spent by a warm fire.

The sodden soil beneath his boots squished and slid as he made his way to the center of town. He immediately recognized a statue of Ini, the indifferent goddess standing gracefully on a raised pedestal in the middle of a grand fountain. Around her at the four cardinal directions were four stone fish, frozen forever in an elegant leap from the stone waves that crashed around the base of Ini’s stand. Water flowed from the mouths of the fish to fill a shallow bowl of stone whose circular wall was low enough to be used as a bench. A park had been cultivated around the fountain, perhaps over time, perhaps by design from the time the town had been founded. A large field filled with picnickers on blankets surrounded the fountain, with stone paths leading to and from it, and outward to the surrounding cobblestone streets. The grass here was yellow and orange, a sort of hearty golden variety that had come to be popular in the rural areas due to its ease of upkeep. White and pink flowers dotted the scene, standing taller than the grass as they fought to gather as much light as possible from Akashah, Althea’s bright, orange sun.

The sound of children laughing caught Alexander’s attention, and he eased around the fountain for a better look while slowly winding the clockwork insides of his zeppelin. A small group of children, roughly his own age, were playing a game of Stolen Plates. 

The girl at bat had her raven black hair tied into a ponytail high on the back of her head and held the stick tightly over her shoulder.

The baller, a boy a few years younger than the rest with shaggy blond hair and a wide smile, stood about twelve meters away, and lobbed the orange-sized ball to her. There was a loud cracking sound as the girl at bat made contact, sending the ball into a high, nearly vertical arc. She watched it momentarily, smiled, and then took off, running to the first plate in the wide pentagonal pattern that surrounded the baller’s mound.

A girl in a purple dress and a black hooded jacket shouted and ran for the ball as it began to fall. It hit the golden grass, with a thud and bounced once before she swept it up and threw it hard to a boy in a blue vest who stood at the first plate. He caught it and placed his foot on the plate just as the raven-haired girl made contact. The boy with the vest said something to her and laughed. She flipped her hand at him in aggravation before storming back to the home plate in a huff.

The coiled spring inside of the toy zeppelin became too tight to wind, and Alexander held it above his head. He flipped a small catch on the side of it and it began to hum, as the luftenstein internals were electrified. It pulled gently skyward, so he released it cautiously. It angled its nose toward him and drifted back a few paces. The toy zeppelin followed him now, thanks to a small device in his left pants pocket. He wasn’t sure how it worked, but he was sure it wasn’t magyck as his father had told him, but he supposed it didn’t really matter as long as it did what it was supposed to do.

Alexander took a seat on the opposite wall to watch the game and scan the crowd. Other than the children playing ball there were hardly any others his age. A few older teens, fifteen and sixteen-year-olds from the look of them had gathered by the two uprights at the park’s north entrance. The two massive stone pillars stood in line with the road that led to the docks.

Chase was a fishing town, bordered on the north by the expanse of the Kelten Sea, and Alexander was surprised to find that they still used sea-faring vessels to fill their nets. The idea itself was strange. Having been on plenty of airships while accompanying his parents throughout Shel, the thought of using a ship that traveled in the water simply made no sense. Traveling by air was faster, and smoother from what he understood, and there were fishing airships made to cut down on time at sea, and the danger associated with ocean travel, so why bother with watercraft at all?

You lost, there, boyo?

A girl’s voice spoke slightly behind him, and to the left. Startled, his head snapped to where his ears had told him the newcomer was, and he was on his feet, reaching for a gun holster that wasn’t there.

Easy, lad, she said and laughed. Her accent took him a moment to pin down, but as soon as he saw the bright red mess of hair on her head, he knew that she was from Flett. Take a deep breath. I’m not gonna hurt ya.

She had been around the bend of the fountain’s wall, which was why he hadn’t seen her approach, but still her footsteps had been quiet enough that he hadn’t heard her until she spoke. He found that bothersome.

Sorry, Alexander said. I was distracted.

Well, who are you, now?

Come again?

"You were ‘Distracted’. Who are you now?"

Alexander struggled. Got the joke. Then shook his head, smiling at his own idiocy.

I get it, he said. I am Alexander. We just moved into the Banner home.

Well, she said. Sounds like it’s not the Banner home anymore, is it? What’s your family name?

Cole, he said.

She casually held her right hand up to her left shoulder with her middle, ring, and pinky fingers extended. The index and thumb formed a loose circle that could be mistaken for her adjusting the lapel of her green dress. She watched him as she made the gesture, waiting for the flash of recognition. As soon as Alexander’s face shifted, she smiled and turned the motion into a gentle brushing of her hair from her shoulder.

I knew it, she said. It’s the way you walk, you know? These civvie kids, they hunch o’er and let their heads lead ‘em. We were taught better, aye? She nudged him with her elbow as she moved to sit down in his former spot on the fountain wall. Lead with your center o’ balance, an’ all that, yeah?

Yeah, Alexander said, dumbfounded. How do you –

He was interrupted by a great shattering sound and a clinking of metal on the stone behind him. He spun to find his zeppelin in pieces on the walk, and a ball rolling to a stop at the base of the fountain. He picked up the ball and turned to the field as the group of kids rushed over to them.

Great, said the boy in the blue vest as he looked Alexander up and down. Another stray.

Hush, Dominic, said the raven-haired girl. Her ponytail bobbed left and right as she walked in rushed, indelicate steps. I’m sorry about that, she said to Alexander. I hope it’s not broken! She gave the redheaded girl a quick, dismissive glance and then turned her attention back to him. The redhead smiled and watched them approach, seemingly without a care in the world.

If I could get a real bat, I could probably hit the ball straight, she said.

If you would grip the stick properly, it wouldn’t matter, snorted Dominic.

She replied with a single finger raised in his direction. He scowled but said nothing further on the matter. Alexander laughed and handed her the ball, saying, It will be fine. I can get replacement parts if anything is beyond repair.

Alexander sighed and pushed a snapped piece of wood that had been an inner support with his foot.

The girl regarded him expectantly as the two others approached.

I’m Peru, she finally said, taking the initiative. This is Dominic, Marla and the little one is Owen.

Dominic, the boy in blue, snorted again at the mention of his name, but the girl in the black hooded jacket and the younger boy smiled and nodded in turn.

Are you new to Chase? she continued, though the answer to the question was obvious.

Yes, Alexander said, finally remembering his manners. I am Alexander, and this is –

Quinn, the redheaded girl said, smiling.

I didn’t ask about you, copper-knob, Peru said in a matter-of-fact way. I’ve seen you about lately. You moved here a couple weeks back.

Aye, Quinn said. But ye’ve only spoken to me just now.

Would’ve preferred not at all, Dominic said. My dad says you’re both from The States, and I shouldn’t dirty myself with you. Come on Peru, you’ve got your ball. Let’s get back to our game before the priestess comes looking for you.

Yeah, Peru said, looking back to the field. Madame Trudeaux can get a bit testy. She turned back to Alexander and said, You can join us, if you like. We’re a few players short. Actually, we’re a team and a half short, but, so it goes, right?

Maybe later, he said. I have to clean this up and take it home first. Did he say ‘priestess’?"

Yeah, Peru said. Marla, Owen, and I live with the Kunnite priestesses. Our parents died a few years back, during a sickness, and we didn’t have any relatives, so . . .  

She shrugged and tossed her arms out slightly in a helpless gesture.

I am sorry, Alexander said, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. I should not have asked.

You didn’t know, Peru smiled. 

I don’t even remember my parents, Owen said happily. So, it doesn’t matter that they’re dead!

Gods, Owen, Peru groaned.

Alexander looked at him, and was better able to gauge the boy’s age, placing him around four or five. Obviously, he had not come to have a true understanding of death just yet.

Well, Peru said. It was nice meeting you Alexander.

They turned as a group and made their way back to the field.

Quite the warm reception, that, Quinn said. She knelt and began to pick up the pieces of the wrecked dirigible but continued to speak. I figured that Dominic would be a bit of an arse, but I hadn’t pegged Peru for it too. I think he’s just a bad influence on her.

You just moved here as well? Alexander asked as he too knelt and began to pick up parts with her.

Aye, she said. My mom an’ da’ just up and hauled me outta our little home in Jennings a couple weeks ago. No reason given, just packed, and gone.

Same here, Alexander said, and then lowered his voice. Which of your parents is in The Order?

I was right, then! she exclaimed, then remembering herself lowered her voice as well. Bloody good! It’s my da’. He’s been trainin’ me up since I could walk, so he says. I suspect the same of you. I’m right, aren’t I?

He smiled and stopped looking for pieces of his ship long enough to stand and stretch his back.

Yes, you are right, he said. I think we’ve found all the important pieces. I should be able to get it back together, now.

Want help?

He shrugged and said, I suppose. If you really want to.

She looked back to the group playing Stolen Plates, and said, Not like I’m getting invited into that game any time soon.

Quinn stood and flattened her dress down, pushing the wrinkles out where she had been hunched down, then smiled brightly at him.

Best I can tell, she said. They’re afraid.

They are not like us, Alexander said, watching the other children with a mixture of pity and longing. And we are not like them.

I meant our parents, Quinn said and gave an indelicate laugh. Then she looked at the group, watching them play, ignorant to the greater workings of the world around them. Just kids being kids. Her laughter faded, and she sighed. But you’re right, there, boyo. We aren’t like them.

Chapter Two

~Over the Median Continent, the fifteenth day of Rem, 1884. C.A.~

Alexander Cole stood at the bow of his great airship, cutting through the bright day like the tip of a blade. As he gazed toward the low horizon the entirety of the planet seemed to stretch out before him. A patchwork of red forests, open fields of dark purple grass that grew higher than a man’s head, the tell-tale rows of crops that indicated farmlands, and the great cities that stood out harshly against the beauty that nature expressed so readily were all interwoven in a multicolored tapestry that rolled slowly below.

Much of the planet he had already seen in his short twenty-two years, but far more had yet to be explored. And explore he would. But those yet unknown places would have to wait. He had more urgent matters to attend to in the near future and could not waste time pining for far away destinations.

He absently adjusted his white cuffs and straightened the brass-framed goggles he wore over his eyes. Their dark tinted glass shielded him from the harsh light of the star Akashah as it shone brightly to the east and from anything which might blow back into his eyes. Too many times he had been blinded by dust or the occasional hawk-beetle. And some things just stuck to his eyeballs in ways that made cleaning them difficult.

The mahogany brown, leather cloak he wore around his shoulders and face tugged at him as the harsh headwind buffeted the airship. At times it was a struggle to stay upright as the vessel flew ever forward through the bright blue of the evening sky, but this was all a part of what invigorated him. Few experiences compared to the open air, the wind in his face, and the sight of Althea’s vast plains and valleys from a kilometer above.

His mind had wandered again, as it was apt to in these rare quiet moments. Now though, instead of distant places he had yet to see, his thoughts took him back to places and people he had known years before. The memories were unbidden, but as tenacious as the very wind that he seemed to fly upon. He saw these people, these places in his mind's eye as clearly as if he were reliving the moments again in a loop.

He remembered the first time Chase had come into view in the distance, through the window of a black, automaton-driven carriage.

He remembered his mother as she cooked in the kitchen of their new home. She would always smile at him as he approached, asking her what was for supper.

He remembered his father as he taught him and the other children in Cole’s circle of friends the finer points of how to shoot and care for their revolvers, and how to sharpen and oil their blades.

He remembered Peru's face when she had set her survival pack on a hawk-beetle nest. Her supplies were quickly and silently stolen by the large insects. He had never heard her swear so fervently before, or after. It was impressive for a girl of ten to know so many vulgar phrases.

He found himself smiling broadly, and even though he was alone, and his face covered by the cloth gaiter that was part of his everyday wear, he became self-conscious. The sudden self-awareness was enough to bring him out of his reverie.

Dark clouds on the horizon told him that the ship was getting close to its target. He turned, grabbed the brass railing to steady himself, and slowly made his way to the stairs which led up from the main deck. At the top of the stairs, and to his right stood a door made of brass and reinforced glass. He opened the door to enter on the starboard side of the ship's bridge.

The bridge of The Phoenix was similar to most other Lakshmi model airships, but there were certain modifications that Cole had insisted upon. The front was all made of thick, steel-reinforced, tempered glass made to withstand constant heavy winds, hand-held weaponry, and even cannon fire given enough distance. The crisscrossing steel wire that ran through the glass cast a faint, distorted diamond pattern on everything inside the bridge. A rack of communications tubes stood to the left of the ship's wheel, which itself protruded from a podium such as the ones found in the pulpits of the churches of the Old God. Maps and other important papers were rolled up on top of the wooden structure now, as opposed to sacred texts and collection bowls.

Captain on deck! a woman's voice called out as Cole entered. The bridge crew's attention turned to the door, all smiling familiar faces with a look of mischief shared between them. These were Cole’s most trusted allies, whom he kept near to him, and these few had the most important duties on the ship. He kept them separate from the hired-on labor for multiple reasons, but most important being that he had grown up with this core group. And they were of the few people on Althea that Cole would call friends.

Peru, Owen, Marla, Dom, and Cole had grown up together from the time Cole was eight years old. They had seen many triumphs and tragedies together and shared in the greatest loss of their young lives. An ordeal that had brought them closer to each other than most people could imagine.

Cole closed the door behind him and pressed on, his expression unreadable behind the goggles and cloak. Peru stood at the wheel, sarcastically giving a States' Navy salute. She also wore a wry smile on her lips. Her unnaturally purple hair hung freely to her waist, only tamed by the square-framed welder's goggles atop her head. Her blue eyes watched Cole as he walked slowly past her. He took a deep breath and sighed. Stow it, will you? he said. What's our ETA?

Peru's expression soured.

Gonna be that kind of day, huh? she said flatly. Fifteen minutes until we hit the Tempest. One hour to Kruxchiev.

Cole made his way to the single chair which stood in the middle of the room and dragged his gloved fingertips across the side of it.

All good in there? he shouted toward the back of the bridge.

Sure thing! Marla called cheerfully. Though her voice was muffled by the roar of flame and what sounded like a metal barrier between them, Cole could hear the excitement in her tone.

Good, Cole said. He looked to the floor and began to turn, but stopped short. He looked again toward the back of the bridge. Are you sure you're up for this?

Absolutely, Marla said. For this many marks I could float an armada.

Good, good, Cole said and tapped his fist absently on the arm of the chair. He turned around and finally sat down in the Captain's Chair.

Captain's Chair was a generous term and was used with an undertone of irony. There had been no chair for the ship's previous captain, as the Lakshmi were devoid of such things. The Vraji who had built them were notorious for their doggedly resistant attitude toward anything that may give their soldiers any semblance of comfort. This particular chair had been pulled from an old Jormundgandr warship that Cole had happened across in a ship graveyard in Corbin. It was a white, fully functional barber's chair, to which Cole had attached a makeshift headrest. As Cole learned later from the keeper of the ship graveyard, the soldiers of Corbin were very studious regarding their hair care, even until the end of the war. The thought of people placing such import on trivialities such as hair care during wartime had always struck Cole as foolish, but to each their own, he supposed.

Cole sat down, and a familiar wave of weariness flooded through his body. He leaned his head back against the headrest and took a deep breath. He held it, counted to ten, and then released it slowly while pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. His father had taught him to do this as a basic centering technique. He used it to give himself a moment to think, or not to at times when things were going downhill. Mostly the latter.

You know, Peru said conspiratorially. She was bent at the waist with her mouth alarmingly close to his left ear, so close that he could smell the subtle lavender fragrance of her bath oil. Typically, he could only clearly make out such delicate scents during moments of intimacy shared between the two of them, but since she had showered only that morning the scent was still fresh on her. 

Despite the pleasant thoughts brought about by the feeling of her lips so close to him, the suddenness of her presence jarred him, and Cole wondered if he had drifted off without knowing. A spark of anger was struck in him, and he chastised himself for slipping off again.

You should really get some rest, Peru continued, her tone genuinely concerned. I can take over any time you feel like you need a break.

Without thinking and still riding the wave of anger from his failure to guard himself, Cole said, I get more done during my naps than you do in a day. I hardly think you're ready to take command any longer than it takes me to use the priv.

Right then, she said. She puckered her lips disgustedly and stood upright. Next time I wake you from one of your uber-productive naps, it'll be with an explosive round next to your ear.

Such a charming lass you are. How some sweet, young man hasn't stolen you from my services is beyond my ken.

Come now, Captain, she said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. You know you're the only man for me. Her facial expression turned serious. Besides, I'd scare the Hel out of any 'sweet, young men'.

Cole nodded his head slightly in agreement.

Given, he said. The image of a spider descending on a hapless insect comes to mind. Cole gestured toward her with his hands. "You being the spider in this scenario, obviously."

Obviously, she said, squinting at him evilly, as if the look could pull the very soul from his body.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed as the bridge crew looked on, no doubt wondering if this was destined to become another weeklong quarrel between the two.

Prick, Peru finally muttered, and returned to the wheel.

Maybe later, Cole said. But if we could focus on the task at hand, that would be lovely. If we botch this job there’ll be Hel to pay, and we’re already in enough debt.

One by one the bridge crew returned their attention to their stations, and away from the Captain and his Second-in-Command.

Much better, Cole thought. He retreated inward again. What they were about to attempt was dangerous, and if it were not for their unfair advantage in Marla, it would be damn-near impossible.

But the payoff would be immense for the entire crew. Even the hired-on Stripes in the cargo deck. And that made it worth the risk. That and the potential for solitude after the job was finished.

Cole leaned back in his seat and went through the plan in his head again step by step. Every detail needed to be perfect. Nothing left to chance.

He didn’t feel himself slip back into a shallow slumber.

*****

Roughly twenty Kilometers to the East of The Phoenix and half a kilometer lower, the capital city Kruxchiev lay in all its opulent grandeur. The largest of the occupied cities within the Unified Allied States, and the most densely populated, it was the hub of economic activity and the home of the greatest military force the planet had ever seen – or so they told everyone.

Skyscrapers carved out a jagged yet beautiful skyline which was interwoven with power and communication cables stretching in groupings that would make the most industrious spiders envious. They were also a great burden on the economy, due to the excessive costs of upkeep, which themselves stemmed from the terrible danger present to whoever was unlucky enough to have to fix them. Down in the streets between buildings all manner of vehicles carted the population to and from their destinations. Steam-powered motor cars were the most common form of transport, aside from the city-wide sky tram system that was almost as bothersome to maintain as the power and communication lines. The more eccentric, or traditionally minded city dwellers still resigned themselves to horse-drawn carriages. And the truly wealthy had the best of both worlds, thanks to the ever-forward-thinking scientists under the employ of the States. Traditional carriages, drawn by automata with the shapes and abilities of horses, ferried those with the desire - and coin - across the city. Typically, these were used to make a grand entrance at some politically motivated get-together. While they had once been popular with tourists to the city, the quickly rising cost of simply maintaining the grand machines soon made them a commodity only for those with plenty of disposable wealth.

The city itself was laid out as a grand wheel, with the largest outer rim being farmland which supplied the city's food needs, and great pastures for grazing animals. Here also were the factories in which the common people of the capital spent their days toiling about to make the necessities for the city. Power from an always operational coal-burning plant was routed to large batteries that then fed the main city's grid, but not the sparse homes on the rim, as they could not afford the very power they supplied. Their own homes were still lit by oil and candlelight.

Further inward were the rural, blood-oak homes of those who worked in the clothing manufactories which supplied the lower and middle class with their heavy workwear and work boots. Further in still were the first of the more regal structures, such as the temples to The Holy Three, and a few parks with their grand statues of The Three for all manner of citizenry to enjoy, so long as they stayed on their own sides of the fences, of course. Here too was where the merchants had their homes, and the stands from which they acted as middlemen between the farmers and the servants sent from the city to buy food and goods from the outer rings’ lower classes. The center of the city was home to the tallest and most exquisitely designed buildings. They displayed sharp, almost predatory angles, and some had protrusions at odd places housing extraneous rooms, for no other reason than the engineers could be afforded to accomplish such a feat. 

This was where the Allied States' government was seated, along with trade centers, and embassies from other countries. Only the most well-to-do citizens lived there, often in entire floors - or in extreme cases, multiple floors - of the buildings in which they worked.

Here, on a balcony of the eighty-fifth floor of The Huntington Building, (named after the late Theodore S. Huntington, the most renowned of all the States' coal barons, Three rest his soul, and gods touch him) slouched over the railing was where Nora Edmund had chosen to spend the past hour.

Nora had never wanted for anything in all her years. She had the shelter and security which came with life in the capital city. She had the best food, wine, and clean water, along with the finest clothes to enjoy them in. Her education had been the best available, having been administered at none other than the States' Center of Formal Education, the highest of tertiary schools in all the civilized territories. Her living area on the seventy-third floor of The Huntington was almost as large as her mother and father's one floor higher. Though her rooms had considerably more bookshelves than her parents'.

Not only was she fortunate in that she had high social status due to her father's position within the senate, but Nora was also one of the comeliest, and therefore sought-after women in the capital. In that way she took after her mother, looking almost exactly as Jessica Edmund had in her youth, with rook-black hair and the milky, white skin that was so sought-after within the territories held by The States. The only way one could truly tell that Nora was not simply a reproduction of her mother was by looking into the deep blue of her eyes. This, and seemingly only this, she had been gifted by her father.

Many marriage proposals had been fed to the great, stone fireplace in Nora's bedroom, typically after having been torn in half, and thoroughly laughed at. Most of these proposals had juvenile declarations of love at first sight, and more than a few were accompanied by school-boy level attempts at poetry. Those which did not attempt to wax romantic read more as business propositions than an intent to marry, citing mutual benefits for the families of both parties and obvious genetic advantages for any children born out of such potential unions.

That one had given Nora a particularly hearty laugh.

Now, though, as she leaned on the railing and gazed into the Tempest beyond the safety of the balcony, her thoughts wandered to places and people she had never seen, or met, but only read of in her library full of books.

She imagined the island nation of Corbin, with its magnificent natural rock walls.

She imagined the city of Piston, with its clockwork dancing girls, and multicolored lights that were rumored to never go dark.

She imagined The Holy Kingdom of The Three on Orvis, and the gardens outside of the King's Castle.

She imagined the nomads of the Great Wastes who lived in hunter/gatherer tribes and still only dressed in animal skins.

She imagined the warrior scholars of XiaoXin to the south-east, and the dazzling displays of martial prowess they were purportedly capable of.

She sighed heavily and picked up her wine glass from the small and otherwise empty table beside her. Exploration was not for those of her station, and to this she had resigned herself. She was doomed to live out her days surrounded by yes-men, pristine white walls, and endless streams of politically motivated marriage proposals.

The sound of conversation filled her ears, and she dimly felt the heaviness of a presence behind her.

Nora? said her mother’s voice. Nora did not turn to face her, but she heard the glass door ease closed, once again muting the sounds of the drunken party goers within. What are you doing out in the cold? Everyone is inside.

Precisely, Nora said.

Come, Nora, her mother said. Be social? For tonight?

Nora straightened and took a drink from the wine glass in her hand.

You know my opinion of these stuffed-shirt fools, mother, she said and finished the contents of the glass. She returned it to the table and leaned over the railing once again.

Please, Jessica said. A bit of impatience had crept into her voice though Nora could tell her mother had tried to stifle it. Your father promised to introduce you around tonight.

Only so that the others may attempt to foist their sons upon me, Nora said bitterly. I would rather not be paraded as would a prize bovine at some bumpkin county fair.

It would do well for you to at least entertain the idea. These are no simple civilians here tonight.

Gods, Mother, Nora laughed. She tucked her face into the crook of her arm and muttered, I would as soon pluck my own eyes out with a soup spoon than marry any of these children.

Jessica spoke her next words calmly, with only the barest hint of irritation. The politicians’ tone had crept in again.

Please, Nora. Do not make fools of your father and I tonight. After this, you may return to your quarters, and lose yourself in your bloody books again. You will not be forced to see or even speak to us for another month, if that is your desire, but please . . . she let her words fall off, clearly at a loss for what else to say.

Nora took a deep breath and sighed again.

She stood and gave the storm-filled sky a final look before turning to face her mother. Jessica smiled, a thin smile on aging lips that threatened to crack the layers of makeup on her face. Jessica hurried ahead to open the door for her.

Thank you, Jessica said.

An entire month, you said, Nora reminded her.

As they entered the ballroom Nora immediately regretted her decision. She came remarkably close to turning back around and assuming her former station at the balcony railing. Had it not been for her mother's hand on the small of her back applying gentle forward encouragement she more than likely would have followed through on the impulse.

Gas lamps along the walls did their best to hold back the dark of the storm that loomed outside of the glass enclosed room. Being the top floor of the Huntington, the ceiling was substantially higher than on most of the other floors. High overhead, an intricate web of electric lights and chandeliers gave off enough light to enhance the gas lamps without casting harsh shadows. The States' banner adorned the floor in four separate places, lined up to the cardinal directions of a map. Serving tables sat full of food and libations against the easternmost wall, while tables for dining were placed evenly around a square dance floor that was generally reserved for marriage parties.

This night though, was no wedding celebration. This was one of the seemingly endless, quarterly get-togethers which were the norm in Kruxchiev on the three nights of the Tempest. 

The usual band played their string instruments in the same corner as