Let Them Eat Chow

[Wilhelm Bosche]

"The death of a god, wizards and clerics, a world in conflict, these are the things I came to Althanas to see," Wil said with satisfaction after listening to Elenore's somber recitation of recent events.

The man had arrived in Uiria the day before and arranged to meet with Elenore as a diplomatic envoy from Eudaemonia to one of its "wayward colonies." The initial discussions were terse and extremely cautious until the psion realized that the young man was a rebel himself, and not the vanguard of another Coronian Invasion. Eventually, the two sat down in the living room, before a fireplace burning with the last of winter's lumber. Wil stared in awe at the portrait of the late Arius and Linnea Mephisto over the mantle, before turning to notice Elenore scowling at him.

"It must be very exciting to you as a tourist, but this world is not your playground. It's that kind of thinking that has caused much suffering wrought by Eudaemonian hands," Elenore chastised him.

"I don't mean to dilute the seriousness of things, but the peaceful world that Arius envisioned for you is waiting for you in Architelos right now if you would like to live in it. It is a drab city full of drab people leading drab lives of hundreds of years. How does that sound?" Wilhelm challenged her.

"At least my mother would still be alive," Elenore said wistfully, speaking firmly to a set of values utterly different from Wilhelm's. "What do you want from Uiria, Bosche?" She spoke his surname with the contempt his ancestor had earned for it.

"Access. I want to read your records, hear your stories, learn what my people have done in this world. I want to be a part of our culture here," he explained. "I'm an exile no different than your father, but I seek a different sort of respite."

"Citizenship, then?" Elenore responded. "It is a rather rigorous process."

Wilhelm glanced across the room at her with a wry smile. "I am a Eudaemonian of the old stock: Progress always," he recited.

Elenore simply rolled her eyes and stood at the sound of the teakettle's whistle from the kitchen. She walked away without a word, leaving the man to his posturing. He was easily several decades her elder, if what he said about Eudaemonian life spans was true, but she could not help but find him a petulant child, no better than her brother. Having another of his sort around the city would be more dangerous than almost anything else. Reaching into the cabinet she retrieved an old crystal flask and poured a bit of rum into her tea before turning to the other room with the two cups.

"Very well. I have no doubt of your intellectual qualifications, but we are a very selective group of people. Unlike our kin in Beta Space, we cannot breed perfection in children, but we can choose meritorious adults. If you want to join us, you can show that you are capable of bearing the burden of your ancestry," Elenore preached, pleased to have constructed a win-win proposition for herself. "I have recently completed negotiations with a representative of the League of Salvic States, you are familiar with them?"

"League? Salvar is a monarchy, or it was last Architelos heard of it," Wil responded, intrigued to update his understanding.

"Things have changed. Civil war rages between the aristocracy and the clergy. Neither are particularly noble, but as a Eudaemonian you must understand that we find it easiest to deal with greedy noblemen than irrational zealots. As such, I have agreed to assist them with supplies and a few technological devices from our stores. Nothing that will imbalance the region's power structure, ultimately, but hopefully enough to tip the scales in their favor."

"Isn't that just the kind of arrogance that you seem so distrustful of?" Wil pointed out.

"Uiria has every right to influence world events with a light touch just like everyone else," Elenore scowled. "Unlike my brother, I am unwilling to replace that with an iron fist. Understood?"

"Whatever distinctions keep your ideology running," Wil smirked. "Where do I come in?"

"Nowhere if you don't change your attitude," Elenore took a gulp of her spiked tea and attempted to calm herself a bit. "There is a freighter stocked with other goods bound for the League leaving port in a few hours. I'll arrange your transport there, you arrange that our assistance arrives safely. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Wil nodded without further snark. He followed Elenore's directions to the basement where he loaded several crates into his storage buffer. They were all labeled with nondescript sounding stamps: foodstuffs, raw materials, medical supplies. While he knew that even these could be quite devious if they were Eudaemonian in make, the final crate gave him the most pause. It read 'Uirian Goods'. He stored it away all the same.

"Is there some transport I should be boarding?" he asked.

"Something like that," she smirked and waved her hand. Her psionic energies punted him through the fabric of space as effortlessly as one might flick away an insect, and with much greater accuracy.

When the world around him stopped spinning, he found himself at the docks of a bustling port. Which one, he couldn't be sure, but there was a small vessel to his right, styled the Red Wake. He hefted his storage buffer and glanced through the crowd for a gangplank.

[Laureolus]

One member of the crowd Wilhelm was currently peering though couldn’t help but stick out like a bloody thumb with a spotlight on it. Looking fresh from a battlefield with arrows still stuck in the battered tower shield strapped to her back, a pile of rings falling from her chain mail as she haggled with a local merchant, and green blood still soaked into the undershirt of her amour Laureola almost looked ready to kill someone. Of course, this didn’t include the eagle, an irritating bundle of soft dawn light which only gave highlight to alien nature of Laureola’ current…. attire.

“Look. Just sell me the cloth now, forget the purple dye, forget the sewing supplies. I just want bundle of cloth.” Laureola’s frustration while easily seen from the angry gleam and flushed face did not bleed through to her voice.

While clear, melodious, and perfect in tone for someone on stage it was not the voice of the woman standing in front of said merchant. That’s why, if one had sharp enough ears, one could note that the tiny immaculately crafted silver owl, wings and feathers fluttering as Laureola shock about, around her neck was speaking.

“I’m giving you five aurei for this bundle of cloth, “ Laureola's leaning into his personal space now stated as she forced the gold into the poor merchant’s hand. “ Be happy you can get away with charging that here.”

Before he could try and respond she stomped away from the stall, practically shoving her way through the crowd and nearly knocking over several onlookers Wilhelm included.

-20gp, add a run of decent cloth for three full tunics

[Wilhelm Bosche]

As Wilhelm made his way toward the gangplank, he was suddenly tosselled as the crowd shifted to accommodate the swift motions of a strange looking woman. He had seen a great variety of creatures, clothing, and customs since he had set foot in Althanas, but something about this one stood out. It wasn't her red hair, that was common enough. It wasn't even her battle-worn attire and strange manners. It was something about the oddly sing-song voice she spoke in. It seemed terribly out of place.

His mind churned through the databases he had read. What was it? It was almost as if she was using a translating device, like the ones Arius and his troops had used before they bothered to learn Tradespeak. If that was it, it certainly wasn't a technological device. The woman looked even more backward than most of the world in that respect.

"Aurei"

Gold? Latin for gold coin? Wilhelm glanced toward the boat to make sure it was not departing and then pushed his way back through the crowd to indulge his curiosity. It was an extraordinarily long shot, but how many such opportunities would he get?

"Ave femina!" he shouted. "Quo vadis?" Hey woman, where are you going? Not the most elegant turn of phrase, but the best he could muster from his memory of the language in the few seconds before she vanished into the crowd.

[Laureolus]

There were few things that could make Laureola want to turn around and head back towards the ten or twenty people she had just brutally shoved aside. The murderous stares and dark mumblings from those still picking themselves of the ground was enough chastising to cool off her own dark mood.

Someone else who knew Latin was one of those few things.

“Vos teneo romani? Qua es vos ex?” You know latin? Where are you from? Laureola eagerly barraged Wilhelm with questions, the first hint of hope softening her hard set face. She continued on in Latin, never noticing that her voice was the one used. “How did you get here? Can you get bac-“

She stopped mid question, again chastised when she realized she hadn’t even introduced herself.

“Sorry for the trouble,” she inclined her head in compunction and gave a quick look behind her. The glares made her quickly turn around and continue.. “I haven’t even introduced myself! Decima Julia Laureola, Trib… former Tribunus Laticlavius of the 29th Legion.”

Not one to focus on the currently unfixable she asked, “What brings you to… wherever this is?”

[Wilhelm Bosche]

Wil furrowed his brow. As the woman spoke in surprisingly articulate Latin, he tried to piece together how exactly this could be. She certainly wasn't Eudaemonian, nor was she from any culture they had encountered. Everything she said suggested that she was a genuine Roman, but how could that be possible? The best minds of Architelos had abandoned time travel eons ago as essentially impossible and disastrous even if it could be done.

More importantly, she was a female legionnaire, a sheer impossibility in any historical version of Rome. No, this was something much more interesting, something that warranted careful investigation. Unfortunately, his thoughts were just then interrupted by the distinct chime of nautical bells. The Red Wake was setting sail.

“My name is Wilhelm Heironymous Bosche,” he said, giving his tripartite name in accordance with his understanding of Roman custom. Still, he knew that his German-derived appellation would sound terribly barbaric to a Latinate ear. “I'd be happy to discuss where we are now and where we each came from, but that bell is coming from my ship. If you're as lost as I suspect you are, coming aboard is just as good as any other course, so what do you say?”

He didn't really think he needed an assistant on his dull delivery mission, but he could certainly use company. Eudaemonians had no sailors as such, but if real ones lived up to their literary reputation, he would be in for a very painful voyage if he didn't bring along a source of conversation. The bell rang out again and he knew he had no time to wait for a response. He simply nodded, grabbed his designated cargo and made his way up the gangplank.

At the top he was met by a stout man, weathered a bit by the sea, but otherwise hardy. He wore no fancy insignia or other markers of rank, but this fellow was unmistakably the captain. The air of poise and confidence about him was more telling than anything, even the occasional orders he shouted as the Eudaemonian embarked. Wil imagined that this man was in fact younger than him, in absolute terms, but that he was still likely to call him 'boy' or some such. If only his hair were a darker color so the few grey streaks could give some record of his age.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Bosche,” the man said with a surprisingly elegant tone. “Lady Mephisto sends word for your arrival. Anyone working in service of the League is welcome in my ship. George Weiss,” he extended a callused hand.

Wilhelm shook it and smiled at the man's magnanimous spirit and humility. Perhaps the voyage would not be so bad. The question remained, how had he already heard from Elenore? Nevermind that, he decided.

[Laureolus]

Laureola visibility blanched as Wilhelm gave her his name and offer to come with him. With a name more distinctly German then Roman, Greek or Carthaginian he wasn’t a citizen unless he was a former legionnaire. Given the lack of Roman provinces in the area that was unlikely. At least he knew of Rome, the first person today that had such knowledge.

No, the real problem was that he was getting on galley. That wasn’t sitting on land. As in floating. On water, not mud. Inside a real sea, not a flooded coliseum.

She tried to end that saddening line of thought and caught up to Wilhelm as someone greeted him. Laureola couldn’t tell who he was, still distracted by the thought having to sail on the open sea. “The sea? On a galley? Are you sure there isn’t a land route we can use? There has to be a road leading wherever we’re going right? This place has roads I take it? Nothing worse than having to take a mud track somewhere, except for sailing there.” She continued on in Latin, her face blanching even further as she wobbled her way up gangplank.

"What could you be doing that needs a galley?"

[Wilhelm Bosche]

"I regret to inform you that we are probably on an island," he said, genuinely unsure of their location, but aware that Uiria and nearby Corone were both insular. "Unfortunately, you'll find one of the primary ways in which this land differs from the one you're accustomed to is that it does not consist of a ring of land around a central sea," he commented to her, recalling the Roman distaste for sea travel. "In fact, even the world you came from has much more water in it than your people thought, you just never reached much of it."

Wilhelm looked to the Captain for approval and received a nod before entering the ship's hold and setting down his briefcase. He took a seat on a crate of vaguely marked 'goods' and folded his hands in front of him.

"The last time you remember, what year was it, relative to the founding of the city of Rome?" he asked, figuring that asking for that year relative to the birth of a trivial desert prophet who might not even exist yet in her time would likely be a waste. "For reference, the last year I remember in Terram orbis is about three thousand years after the founding of the city."

Wil imagined he would speak to a great number of off-worlders about Earth history when he left his home and entered Althanas, but he never imagined he would be speaking to someone from his own world, especially from such a remote time period. It was a fascinating opportunity. In the back of the mind he wondered, however, whether she was really from the Rome he remembered. The best explanation that he could conjure thus far was some kind of related-reality idea which would explain both the time differential between her arrival and his as well as how she could have experienced similar events to the ones he had read in histories, while still exhibiting other characteristics that were not. . .

His thoughts went on like that, almost every minute of every day. Being Wilhelm would be a tiresome chore for anyone but him. The only things that would briefly pause the ramble of his internal monologue were new questions to ponder, which would heap themselves upon the old, filling his mind with piles of queries, stretching back for years, most unresolved. Oh, and sudden jolts, like the one he experienced as the ship cast off its mooring lines and sloshed off into the sea, northward toward the coasts of Salvar.

[Laureolus]

“It’s just; we had the Carthaginians handle this sort of… travel.” From how she spat out “travel” one would have thought that it was going to kill her. Again.

Laureola had the courtesy to nod as the passed by the man at the head of the gangplank, even as she was about to start questioning the usefulness of his services again. When Wilhelm remarked on the difference between Althanas and Earth ending her complaints and focused her attention on his questions as she followed him into the hold.

With no direct view with of the venomous body of water they were on, Laureola could put it out of her mind and start answering questions. Thinking about home and how she had left it wasn’t the thing to improve her mood however.

“It’s 1526 AUC, thirteen years since the start of the steppe migrations, and forty-sixth year of service of Emperor Gaius. ” she paused, not waiting to think of the next part. “It was year after the start of my fifth campaign; we were in the steppe to the northeast of Dacia fighting against the centaurs and Scythian hordes. Things weren’t going too well.”

Putting down the bundle of cloth she was still holding, she looked at her hands. They were dirt caked and traveling up her the blood stained undershirt gave little better image. Even the soft light eagle on her shoulder, which would be a prize to most people, did little to soften the image.

“This guy,” Laureola shrugged her left shoulder, causing the eagle to flutter its wings in protest “would be the standard of my legion. I'd... I'd have I kinda died back there.” Her shoulders slumped and head fell back at the admission, forcing the eagle flap over to create for a less troublesome perch.

[Wilhelm Bosche]

What the woman had said posed more questions than it answered, but it did confirm Wil's suspicion. Whatever Rome she was from, it absolutely was not the one that existed in Alpha space. The years and names didn't add up at all, to say nothing of 'centaurs.' It's entirely possible that it was just some slang term and not actually a man-horse, but given the circumstances, Wil was prepared to let that pass.

"This is all extremely fascinating. I'm a scholar by trade, particularly interested in the sorts of experiences you would have great insight into. Still, I feel I owe you an explanation that no one else is going to give you. You're not on Earth, or even the same," he pondered a good ancient analogue to the word, but then just went with his first instinct, "dimension. I could go into more detail than you care for, but my people have discovered that there are infinite worlds, existing side by side, with different events, people, and even speeds of time."

He wondered if there were even something comparable to being told this in his own experience. He grew up knowing and believing in the vast multiverse and worlds that had magic, deities, and all manner of strange things. It was a sad reflection that there were few things that could blow his mind. Then again, he supposed, most people probably think that until whatever they had never thought of comes along.

"The place you're in now is called Althanas. If your world had deities and centaurs, then perhaps you're not all that out of your element. It's a magical land. The world I'm from, an Earth, but a different Earth from yours, doesn't have gods. People used to believe in them, but they aren't real," he said definitively. He wondered if that might sound offensive, but it was difficult to be polite when explaining some things.

"In any event, my people call this world Gamma Space. They had a fetish for all things Greek, just as your people did at one point in their history, at least the history I know. And right now we're sailing on the sea toward a place called Salvar. It's very cold, mountainous, like Helvetia. There's a war going on right now between the ruling aristocracy and a group of cultists. We're bringing supplies to the nobles. I hope that squares with your political beliefs," Wil added. "Because there's really no backing out now."

[Laureolus]

As Wilhelm explained his thoughts and understandings of the universe, a few of the things he said did click into place. For one, this was not Rome. She’d never heard of Althanas, what little she had seen in port didn’t match anything culturally. Not one public monument, no temples with painted marble busts, and not a single bath anywhere in the port. Rome stretched from Hispania to the outer steppes and from Britannia to the Southern Sahara Desert and every port of note would have had a bath. She clearly wasn’t in her… dimension as he put it.

“Do you know what I did today?” Laureola asked, rolling her head and drumming her fingers on her thighs. “For the first time in three years the sun beat me up. When I walked out the room I found myself in I didn’t find the compiled reports of almost one hundred scouting parties waiting for me. I didn’t spend the next two hour revising logistical trains, troop deployments, and filing general orders for the day. I wasted entire day doing nothing but ending up trapped on this forsaken death trap.”

“If you know this much about workings of… whatever this place is, I’ll finish your mercenary work and then we can figure out how I came to be here. “ She state with some regained confidence while heading toward the hold door, her eagle following. “I hold little concern for internal politics of a nation I don’t even know the name of an hour ago. As I see it civil war builds character," She joked trying to lighten the mood. “Whichever side you’re going to help at the moment has my aid.”

She opened the hold door and the eagle flew out into the pleasant sea breeze and startling a few of the crew members hadn’t seen it come on board. Her reaction to the view was slightly different.

“How… how long are we traveling on this galley?” She asked, as pale as she had been on the gangplank.