The dining hall that Piper was lead to was massive – among statues and tapestries, she could pick out artfully disguised baffles that would work to cancel out what would otherwise be some very impressive echoes. And even with the risk of missing a step here, in the heart of the Cyclonic Empire, she couldn't help but take in the ages of history on display.
Regimental-banners spoke of honors earned by soldiers long dead. Artefacts of the-world-that-once-was sat lovingly preserved in crystal cases. A constellation of amorphous crystals sprouted from a rough chunk of obsidian, but instead of the familiar tingle of energy when she raised her hand to them, they filled Piper's mind with a sense of profound and personal grief.
Piper had rarely given thought to Cyclonia as anything more than a puffed-up bully with his own flag. But there seemed to be no end to the memories on display, speaking of a history to this place she could have scarcely imagined. Cyclonis took it all in stride, and seated herself without ceremony at a chair that wouldn't have been out of place in a horror show.
Piper began to pull out a chair, but a creaking interrupted her. A chair had pulled itself away from the table at a gesture from Cyclonis. It was the seat at Cyclonis' right hand, and the significance of the gesture was unmistakable. Still, not wanting to pointlessly antagonize Cyclonis, at least not yet, Piper took the unspoken offering and sat down. Piper could feel Cyclonis' eyes on her, and fixated on the hall's decorations as a distraction.
Cyclonis didn't utter a word until servants appeared with food. Piper had somehow expected a lavish feast, but the fare was surprisingly spartan, and the dinnerware plain.
"Trying to ply me with crystals and tech instead of food, huh?"
"The people of Cyclonia must work to earn anything more than the assigned allotment of resources. Anything else would be wasteful."
"Even the Master?"
"Yes. Doing otherwise would set a poor example for the people."
The statement came off as completely absurd, no matter how serious Cyclonis' tone of voice.
Cyclonis didn't miss the face Piper had made, and chewed thoughtfully before neatly setting her fork down.
"Piper, do you know the story of how Cyclonia was founded?"
"No."
"Of course you don't…the oldest Cyclonian records go back to shortly before the Breaking itself, when-"
"Wait, before? But no-one has any-"
Cyclonis interrupted Piper's interruption with a sharp glance, and the sky knight quieted down.
"As I was saying. Prior to the Breaking, the people that would go on to form the basis of the Cyclonic Empire were members of the old world's military, an 'air force' as it was called then. When the surface of the world cracked and burned, they led what people they could gather to those places high enough to escape the ash and poison."
Piper's mind boggled as Cyclonis spoke. The question of whether she was being truthful or not didn't even cross Piper's mind, being too occupied with looking back over the history hanging from the walls, and wondering if any of it had existed before the world was what it was now.
"But there was a problem. They had been far better at rescuing people than gathering the resources they needed to survive. And like all starving people, some wanted to glut themselves on what was available today instead of thinking about tomorrow. When that happened, when the greedy tried to seize the meager supplies the military was carefully rationing and killed anyone that got in their way, the military in turn found a solution to the shortfall."
Cyclonis took a long drink from a plain cup no different from the one next to Piper's plate before she continued.
"The soldiers slaughtered them. And then they killed anyone who refused to work. And then they killed everyone too weak to work. And the people that were left went on to rebuild. Personal journals from that time spoke of the fear that they were the only humans left alive in the entire world, and that anything was justified in the face of extinction. And when they found out that they were not alone, they conquered those they found and began the killing once again."
"That's…that's insane!"
"Yes, it was. It was standard procedure for some time after the Breaking. Institutionalized mass-murder. Can you work? Do you have something to contribute? Can you justify your very existence? No? Then you are a burden, and allowing you to live threatens a thousand other lives. Tell me, Piper. If you were in that position, if you were faced with the choice of killing a hundred invalids and criminals to save…what may well have been the only humans left alive in the entire world, what would you have done?"
"…You know I can't answer that. No one can."
"The first Cyclonians did. They made an impossible choice, and the people under their protection survived because of it. When they found and brought others under their protection, they insured that everyone had their daily rations. Reclaimed knowledge and salvaged equipment was used for the betterment of all. On their own, a dozen tiny, isolated enclaves of humanity would have died slow and agonizing deaths…but when they worked together, at sword-point if necessary, they survived and multiplied, built cities and infrastructure, and founded an Empire."
"And how often do people in your Empire get thrown off the Terra when they get too old to work?"
"Oh, only a few now and then. Not as many as you might think."
Piper recoiled at Cyclonis' casual tone, who pretended not to notice as Piper began sliding her chair back to have the room to stand and run.
"Jobs are assigned based on ability. Older individuals are given less physically-demanding tasks. With the resources available to the Empire today, it's only in cases of untreatable and dangerous forms of insanity or total physical impairment that euthanasia is mandated by the state. Naturally, this applies to all Cyclonian citizens regardless of rank, class, or station."
"Everyone? Even…"
"Oh yes, Piper. Even me. For as long as I am fit, I serve."
"You mean wage war."
"If that's what it takes. Diplomacy is preferred, of course. War is expensive and wasteful."
"Going by recent history, I find that a little hard to believe."
"Oh, Piper, you cannot imagine how surprised and happy the Empire was to find another piece of civilization out there in the Atmos. If only your Council had kept a tighter reign on its members, the entire war might have been avoided."
"The Council was built to help Terras work together, not to rule over them. We weren't prepared to sacrifice the freedom we'd built for-"
"Sacrifice?!"
Cyclonis' chair flew away and every table in the room shook as she slammed her hands down and stood. Piper nearly tripped over her own chair as she stood and began backing away, seeing the look in Cyclonis' eyes that she was used to...not the calm, eloquent girl she'd been listening to moments before.
"You want to talk to me about sacrifice?! Did you not listen to a single thing I just said?! We are trying to rebuild a world, but the things we could have accomplished together will never happen because your pathetic, mewling little council members couldn't see beyond their next meal! When we tried to convince individual Terras of how Cyclonia would benefit them, we were called invaders and shot at! And they called it 'just!' They called it 'righteous!' And the Sky Knights were happy to destroy centuries of work because it was the 'honorable' thing to do!"
Piper stood frozen, but not by the threat in the energy swirling around Cyclonis' clenched fists. It was her words. This was not posturing. It was not rhetoric. Cyclonis honestly believed. It was almost enough to make Piper believe, too.
The history that filled the hall around her painted a very different picture of the civilization that the recruitment posters insisted was coming to Destroy Them All. But Cyclonis couldn't be telling the truth. That would mean that Piper was wrong-that everything she believed in when growing up was wrong.
The truth she'd grown up with and the truth standing in front of her had collided in Piper's mind, and neither was willing to give ground. She was stuck, stunned, while Cyclonis became increasingly irate at her silence.
"Master."
The Dark Ace stood a respectful distance from the table, ramrod straight and at attention. He had a sheaf of papers under one arm, and kept his eyes on the space the overturned throne should've been, rather than where it currently lay.
"Ace…"
Cyclonis' response was a hiss, barely a word. But the energy vanished and the fallen chairs leapt back into place. Cyclonis seated herself, and Piper could see a change in her body language. She hadn't really noticed it before now, but Cyclonis had been…relaxed…for lack of a better term, in the time they'd spent together.
Up until now.
"The latest geological survey has been finished. The technicians stress that they received some very unusual readings and are asking for an immediate response to their proposal."
He placed the papers on the table at a gesture and said nothing as Cyclonis flipped through them. She scratched something into the cover with a fingernail, and Piper smelt burning paper. The Dark Ace took the papers back and left, without sparing her a single glance, leaving Piper alone with the master once again, who reached for her fork.
"Finish your meal, Piper."
The rage was gone, but the tension remained. Cyclonis was back to her usual barely-constrained self.
"There's a lot of work to be done before either of us see any more of it."
The Breaking is just one of the names given to the event that changed the face of the world. The cause, if it was ever known, is now forgotten. The result was the world of Atmos as it is now. A time of worldwide geological upheaval, mountains and plateaus were created almost overnight, while oceans boiled and the environment was re-ordered.
The Wasteland is the surface of the old world, made uninhabitable by unceasing volcanic activity. Some areas of the wasteland are deep enough that the Storm Layer, the kilometres-thick murk of natural gasses and particulates that now covers the surface of the world, is more liquid than gas. Any unshielded vessels that attempt exploration here are crushed, but explorers often brave such places, chasing stories of wondrous cities that have survived partially intact in pockets of stability.