Long gone were the days of struggling to set up the infrastructure. Long gone were the days when those in need relied on them. Long gone were the days when the biggest concern of all mankind was to keep the city alive. Forty-six survived the Storm out of the original forty-five, with a guest of honour from nowhere else than New Manchester. The Seedling Arks survived, but more importantly, New Manchester survived. And that, was to be their legacy... but as Guardians of the Arks, their job was all but over. Since they had lived through the Storm, it was now up to them to investigate the strange shimmer that appeared two days after the Storm passed, in the South Pass. However...
"We need to check on New Manchester. Help where ever we could. We did give them the materials they needed on a short notice, and I fully expect some buildings to have collapsed in the Storm." Said one of the engineers inside of a small, well lit room inside of one of the Workshops.
"I agree. Most of us will go to New Manchester to help rebuild, only after we ensure we have enough Automatons to bring with us. How many Steam Cores do we have left?" Asked another engineer, this one with goggles on his eyes, and with graying hair.
"About seven Steam Cores. We only need six Automatons, so we can build one and send it with a normal scout team to the South Pass, and take the rest with us." Spoke another one of the engineers, now gaining nods of approval from the others. One of the engineers got up from the small table, as to declare the final decision.
"Then it is settled. Alfred, George, Oswald, Neville and I go with an Automaton to inspect the strange shimmer of light. The rest of you go to New Manchester with Harris, and help out where you can. I think he deserves to see his new home."
The scouts rode through knee-deep snow, determined and resilient. The Automaton was close-by, following their every move like an obedient dog. Being from Oxford and Cambridge had its benefits, for the scouts knew the deeper intricacies of Automatons, and, if need be, modify them on the go. The temperature was kind to them, only at -30C this time of day. The winds were weak, as well, but that never stopped the snow from falling.
"How much more until we reach the South Pass?" Asked Oswald, whilst adjusting his goggles slightly.
"Just above this small hill, and we should be there." Answered George, as he carried with him a hunting rifle, seeing as he was one of the few which brought one. However useful they'd be when not jammed.
The scouts continued to push onward, the Automaton lighting the way for them with the aid of its built-in spotlight. Truly it was a marvel of engineering, standing at no more than fifteen meters tall, with its quadrupedal design purposefully made to endure the Great Winter. As the group passed over the last hill, they could, at long last, see it. It was a very decorated archway, with its pillars being in the style of old Roman ones from the second century. All in all, not so impressive, except for the fact how it got there in the first place. Stranger yet, there seemed to be... something, from between the pillars, in the middle of the archway. Until they could get closer, no one would be certain.
The scouts were distracted by the sounds of a man struggling to walk, let alone live, echoing throughout the valley. Taking a far better look at the space surrounding the Roman archway, they found a man some distance away, heading towards the South Pass. Judging by his speed, it was best they got to him, and quick.
It didn't take long, about fifteen minutes on sleds, but the scouts reached the man in the end. He had, quite literally, as much leather and fur on him as was possible. The man was on the ground, passed out, but still alive.
"Poor bugger, all that leather and fur did its job, but its weighing him down." Observed Neville, kneeling next to the man.
"Pick him up and put him on the sleds. We'll return back here once our friend recovers." Morgan, the scout leader said, picking up the man by the legs, whilst Neville picked him up by the head. With care, the man was put at the back of the engine-powered sleds, and strapped tightly. Once everyone was ready, and the Automaton left at the Roman Archway to slowly keep the snow near it minimal, the scouts set out back to the Arks.
EARTH: ARKS, 5:52 PM
SURVIVOR P.O.V
He slowly woke up. His entire body ached, but he felt warm. Covered in something, he took a better look at the space surrounding him. It was some sort of room, made out of wood and steel, dark brown and silver in colour, with a window letting the diminishing rays of sun flood into the room. He lay on a bed, covered with nice, warm blankets. However, he knew not where he was. Finding that he was still in his armour, he uncovered himself, and slowly got up from bed. His boots were still there, but his warm clothes were nowhere to be found. Whoever took him here took his coat, too.
Carefully putting on his boots, he opened the door to the rest of this strange place, and found a flight of stairs. That was good. Stairs led to an exit, most of the time. He made careful care not to make a sound, yet the small creaking of the wooden stairs gave him away potentially. He could hear the sound of something hitting something else, likely the walls, but paid it no mind. As soon as he was down, he saw a man, hammer in hand, hitting a nail with a hammer into the wall to the right of the doors. The man wore a hat most unusual, alongside some sort of leather vest, and, at first glance, at least from his angle, glasses.
"You can come out, now. No one's gonna hurt you." The man said, slowly finishing with his business. Even here, the language he spoke was known. That was good, at least. But he didn't answer, for the survivor was sceptical of the man's claim.
"Please, do sit down. I was just about to make some tea for myself until you woke up. I bet you're thirsty." The man said once more, jovially so, whilst pointing at a free chair on a table with his left hand. The survivor, with reluctance, accepted the man's offer. Sitting down, the survivor saw the man move past him, into some unknown part of the house. But even from there, they could converse.
"The name's Oswald Bigsley, by the way. I never got yours." Half-shouted the man, earning a sigh from the survivor.
"Marcus Quintus is my name." He answered flatly.
"That's an awfully strange name for someone in this age, but seeing as you're basically dressed like a Roman soldier, and can write Latin from the notes I have, I shouldn't be surprised. What city do you come from?" Oswald asked. Roman...?
"Sadera... I come from the Saderan Empire's capitol." Quintus answered, some measure of pride seeping into the sentence towards the end, but a reply from Oswald came a little later than usual.
"Now you're making no sense. This world's covered in snow. All the governments collapsed, and trust me, forming a functional government at this day and age is nigh impossible."
"Not here. Another world, and continent." Quintus' answer made Oswald chuckle, but he didn't know why.
"Now you're just pulling my leg. There's only seven continents on this world 'ere. All of them frozen, might I add. This here, besides New Manchester, is, I fear, all that's left of humanity. If the others didn't reach their Generators on time, that is." Oswald replied, now coming back into the room where Quintus sat, two ceramic cups in hand. Taking a seat opposite to Quintus, Oswald set his cup on the table, and passed the other to Quintus. He, however, was reluctant to drink it. There could be poison.
"Watch it, it's a little hot." The man stated, taking a slight sip from his own cup. "You know. It's not everyday that someone uses Latin to speak to others. It's a dead language. You know any other language?"
Quintus shook his head, which made the engineer scowl a little, making him adjust his glasses.
"Shame. Would've been much easier to talk with you if you knew any other language. I'm a scholar, but even I have my limits when it comes to-" The rest of his voice was drowned out by something very loud that came from near the two men. Quintus tensed, and reflexively tried to reach for his sword, yet found it nowhere. All the while, Oswald looked unphased.
"Well, work day's done and over. Not like we do much except theorize about the many things that could've led to the Great Winter. I swear that the Patagonia quake was actually a meteor strike..." Thought Oswald out loud, in his own native tongue, which Quintus could not understand. It had been a good few minutes of odd silence, with Oswald drinking the contents of his cup at a steady pace, whilst Quintus just looked at his. But... if this man truly wanted to kill him, why not do it when he was unconscious? So, he took his own cup, and took a small sip. It was a heavenly taste, one that the soldier could not describe with words alone.
"Like the tea? It's not what it used to be, but we still try to make it taste good." The engineer asked, receiving no reply, and instead, got the message when the soldier took another sip. But then something crossed Oswald's mind. 'Academic curiosity' he called it, but it really was just hope beyond hope. "Look. About where you come from... I guess I'll give you the benefit of doubt. Say, you did come here from another world. How'd you get here?"
"Through the Gate. You must have missed it, if you know not of it." Quintus replied, finally being only slightly interested.
"Hm, you have a point. How does this... Gate, look like, exactly?" Oswald asked eagerly, and received his reply soon after. Quintus went into great detail on the Gate. From the height of the pillars, to the ornaments on the Gate. But what caught Oswald's attention was the description of the pillars. It fit a second century Roman pillar. The same one that was on the Roman Archway.
"That awfully fits the description of what we saw near the place we found you at. We'll check it out, tomorrow. But now, I think we should eat. Grab that coat on the armchair and just follow me."
The two got up from theie chairs, only after finishing their tea, with Oswald waiting for Quintus at the door to grab his coat and put it on. Surprisingly, Quintus thought, the material was of good quality.
"Let me be the first to congratulate you on your first steps inside our little city." Oswald mentioned, finally opening the door to the world beyond the Gate. Upon stepping out, Quintus was bombarded with conflicting thoughts and emotions. Before him stood a large tower of metal, with smoke spewing out from above triumphantly, in defiance to the snow he could see falling. Most of his vision was obscured by the tall buildings, neatly surrounding the tower in a circle, but he could clearly see one other thing. Giant beasts of metal and wood, with four legs making giant steps where ever it went. He could hear each and every step, and was lost in all his thoughts of what divine being blessed this community with such gifts, that he only snapped out of it once he was pulled aside by Oswald.
"Careful there. Those Automatons are easily noticable and avoidable, but if they step on you, well, say goodbye to your leg or arm. Strong enough to amputate. With frightening accuracy, might I add." He said, as the Automaton slowly passed by them, turning a corner eventually, and now out of proper sight.
"What God blessed you with that beast? Was it Duncan!?" He shouted, obviously determined to know just how they got all these blessings, but it only made Oswald crack a slight laugh. Quintus didn't understand why he was laughing, but it soon became clear once the answer came.
"I don't know who this 'Duncan' fellow is, but believe me, we've prayed to a lot of gods in our past. Each one fake as all hell. We built all of this ourselves, with our own two hands." Oswald stated, patting the soldier's back, moving towards the Cookhouse. But Quintus was in disbelief. This couldn't be achieved without the blessing of a god! It had to be a god, Quintus' mind tried to reason. Alas, he said it himself: all the gods these men worshipped, in their long history, were fake. Was this truly the work of mere mortal men...? The two walked around the large tower, until they finally came across a wider building: green roof, strange words and some sounds coming from within. Following Oswald inside, he couldn't but notice how noticabely hotter it was compared to the outside. Just like in that building they were in...
"Oi, Oswald! I see you've finally arrived. Why'd you run off half an hour ago?" Another man, sitting at a table with four more men, asked.
"Ah, Neville, I see you and the lads are already here. Well, I had to nail something to the wall, and then make tea for myself and our guest here."
"So he's awake? That's a speedy recovery if I've ever seen one." Said the man known as Neville, sighing in relief.
"Come on down, sit with us. The food isn't poisoned." Said another man in Quintus' language, this one slightly taller, and with a growing beard. Sitting next to the bearded man, Quintus, oddly enough, felt more at ease now that there were more people. It was a feeling he couldn't explain, but deep down knew existed.
"So, where's he from, Oswald? Did you find that out?" Asked a third man, who was found polishing some sort of glass piece.
"Well, this is just a theory, but I guess its worth checking out. Remember that Roman Archway we found near the South Pass? Apparently that's a portal to another world." His friends grew pale, but were on the verge of laughing. Such a ludicrous thought.
"You're serious? There's no such thing as portals to other worlds. Let me guess, your 'Academic curiosity' sparked up again, eh?"
"Yes, George, if you must know, it has. And let me ask you, has it ever led us astray?" This sent them into thinking. While it was simply outlandish that such a thing as a portal existed, no one could argue that Oswald had a feel for things that would work in their favour.
"What I want to know is why you are here, sir..." George asked, still not knowing the man's name. The man merely sighed, and gave him an answer.
"Quintus. My name is Quintus. I was sent to look for the three legions that were sent through the Gate. They never returned, and I was amongst the first to be sent."
"Three whole legions... we're gonna have to search for them. I suggest you eat, Quintus. We will have a long day tomorrow."
And it was as they had said. They would embark at dawn, the following day, and arrive before breakfast. And after one sound-sleeping night, it was time. The self-propelled sleds still fascinated him, and even more so the things that kept them going. It was now obvious that these people used coal, a sign of a poor man, as the 'fuel' for the 'engine', but to rely on it so much, and find many uses for it was still fascinating. Upon reaching the Gate, the six of them were met with the Automaton, vigilantly keeping the Gate's surroundings clear of snow. As everyone dismounted the sleds, they approached the Gate, in all its glory, and saw a black void inside.
"So, this is the Gate that leads to another world?" Asked Oswald, eyeing the Gate with far more attention than before.
"Yes. The space between the worlds is black, for what reason I do not know. It will take a few minutes of walking to reach Alnus Hill. The Allied Kingdoms have been sent in the Empire's stead to safeguard the Gate on the other side, but they would never move too close to the Gate." Reasoned Quintus, clutching his coat tightly. The winds picked up speed: the temperature was to drop any day now. Neville tinkered with the Automaton for some time, until, finally, he spoke up.
"It's good to go! We're all but ready!"
"Great! Alright lads, time to see this world beyond the Gate, if Quintus wasn't pulling our leg and this was just a cave." Cheerfully said Alfred, supported by Morgan and George.
"Then let us move." Quietly said Quintus, leading the men and the Automaton through the Gate. As they slowly entered the black void, the Automaton's spotlight came in useful for illuminating the way ahead, as it stuck behind everyone else. Not only that, but its Steam Core was a source of lighting, as well. They walked in silence, finally seeing but a shimmer of light, slowly getting bigger and brighter.
"This is it. The other side..." Muttered Oswald, adjusting his glasses as to not get blinded by the light.
"Holy shit... the thermometer's going wild. It's... 2°C and rising!" Morgan yelled out, everyone but Quintus surprised.
"Above zero!? This truly must mean...!"
"Then we move onward! Into the brave, new world!"
With newfound determination, the group made the final thrust through the Gate, and found it to be... beautiful. It was a bright blue sky, with barely any clouds in the way. The sun shone brightly, and sprayed warmth all across the vast lands. It was so hot, that the men had to take off their coats as to not receive a heat stroke. And the thermometer, most importantly, showed a pleasant 21°C, something practically unheard of ever since the Great Winter begun. The engineers, too stunned to say anything, simply took in the scenery. This is what Earth was like. This is what Earth should have been like, even now.
To see these men full of joy, seeing the green, open fields, brought some amount of joy to Quintus, too. After he had expected to die in the frozen wasteland, and then be brutally tortured, his view on the world was practically flipped upside down, after only one night with not only academics, but true survivors. To survive, let alone thrive in the cold wastes demanded the utmost respect, even from the Empire. And it required what were perhaps monumental sacrifices, incredible risks, and most of all: courage and determination to see through a plan until the end. But... where were the Allied Kingdoms? Were they farther away?
FALMART: SOME DISTANCE FROM ALNUS HILL, 9:10 AM
ALLIED KINGDOMS P.O.V
King Duran of the Elbe Kingdom was on edge. A whole three days had it been since he heard from the three legions, and a day since he sent the messenger to try and find them. The Empire had to deal with several troublesome elements, thus the Allied Kingdoms were summoned to keep watch of the Gate. Yet none dared approach the Gate itself. Rumors circulated that the Gate was taking people by force through itself, either by using whatever, or whoever, was on the other side, or by giving them the urge to go through themselves. So when King Duran got a report from one of his scouts that the messenger returned, he was more than relieved at first. Yet... the news came with a bad side. Said messenger brought not only a few of the otherworlders with himself, but a giant beast of metal as well. Whilst on horseback, approaching the Gate, King Duran had many options. He could imprison the otherworlders and his messenger, but the beast was likely to give resistance to such a decision. He could always ask if they had willingly become slaves of the messenger, and if so, congratulate him, and send him back through to try and find the legions again. But if he had defected...
"Your majesty. The messenger wishes to speak with you. He has brought a supposed academic from the other side. He vouches for their compliance." A soldier stated, standing still and resolute, patiently awaiting his king's reply. He eyed the two individuals behind the soldier, still on his horse, carefully. The messenger looked in no way, shape or form harmed, but he lacked weapons. Meanwhile, this strange man was an enigma to him. Clothed like an otherworlder, spoke like an otherworlder, and acted like an otherworlder.
"Hmm. Exploratores Quintus Valerius. I have heard that you brought otherworlders with you. Why is it that you have not killed them?" Inquired King Duran, with a commanding voice. The otherworlder stayed silent, but Quintus spoke, in a solemn tone.
"My king, if I may speak of what these otherworlders have done. While I was looking for the lost legions, I had weakened considerabely, and fell unconscious. I had woken up inside of their city, cared for, and even considered one of them for the time I was there. They had carried me all the way from the Gate back to their city, through the terrifying cold that killed all unprepared for it. I dare not think of my fate had it not been for them."
"So I have heard... and you, otherworlder? What say you?" King Duran said, keeping a close watch on the otherworlder. They could all be walking into an ambush set up by them, but his face showed no sign of contempt, or any hostile emotion.
"Well, my king, I would first like to present myself, as I am now part of my world's delegation. I am sir Oswald Archibald Lockwood, aged forty-seven. I was born in the city of London, the capitol of the former British Empire, which controlled a quarter of my world. As for the circumstances in which we found your messenger, well... we did what we had to do. We could not leave a person to die in the freezing wastes of the Arctic. We've already seen too much death in our world. Not many survived the Great Winter, but those who did, thrived. At least I hope so." Oswald spoke with respect, his posture straight and fit of a noble. Such revelations made King Duran freeze completely. An empire that once ruled a quarter of not only its continent, but the world? A cataclysmic event which saw such empire perish? It was impossible for him to comprehend it, but this man, the otherworlder, who was there, claimed as such. And he claimed that survivors existed. He was one such survivor. Such a thing was ludicrous! However, he did mention the Arctic... were they attacked by the same tribe of barbarians which had almost defeated the Empire two-hundred-and-fifty years ago?
"You mentioned something about the Arctic... tell us more. Was this where your empire was?" The king of Elbe asked, now dismounting his horse. He wanted to hear each and every detail perfectly.
"Well, my king, our empire wasn't in the Arctic. It was further south. It was one of the greatest nations to exist, but one which has always had a turbulent history. In the eve of the Great Winter, the British Empire sent its best academics to discover the reasons for the world growing colder and colder. There were many reasons, yet not even a single one of them was the sole reason. We built Generators, which supplied heat to them, and at present, for those which survived. When the Great Winter came at long last, everyone tried to flee. Most never made it past the frozen ocean. By god, we had to endure an apocalyptic Storm which I cannot even describe with words. You simply had to be there to understand. But, my fellows here, and forty others which are not here at present, were sent with a special mission in hand. Every seed of our world was collected, and given to us, to keep safe from the winter. We were chosen as the Guardians of the Arks, but the Great Winter forced us to choose such professions. We adapted, and we survived. The Arks survived. But most importantly, a city which we found, helpless in the cold... survived. Thanks to our decision to help them, despite endangering our mission, and the future of our planet." The academic finished, making a small bow, perhaps to show some level of respect. But this had truly left King Duran speechless. He wanted to dismiss it all as some sort of lie, but the man's tone, his posture, and the messenger swearing on his life that all he said was true, simply left the king confused. If this man were to talk to anyone from the Empire, he would've been dismissed on the spot as a lunatic and a barbarian, a filthy savage from the other side of the Gate. But Duran was wiser, yet still as weary.
"I see..." He said, uneasily so. He then took a glance at the other four men behind the academic. They were likely just like him, survivors of an empire which held immesurable power, undone by something he could not even understand. Yet the spirit of this empire lived on through these men. They controlled these metal beasts with ease, built large towers to heat them in the cold, and made cities in which they could survive.
"May I... see, this world of yours? This sounds too grandiose to be true, and I must know. You have shown no hostile intent, and as such, I shall show none in return. But I must insist on bringing bodyguards with me." Asked Duran, still speaking with a commanding voice, but a commanding voice which sounded more relaxed, more relieved at the thought that he would not need to fight, even if it denied him glory.
"You may. But be aware of the Automaton. If it steps on you, either on your arm or your leg, it will tear it from your body. We have tried to make it safer, but that is all that we could do. And if I may insist, bring warm clothes, but not too many. The amount you gave to Quintus Valerius weighed him down tremendously." Said Oswald, finally turning around to his comrades, now shouting. "Oi, lads! Grab your things and let's get back to Earth! We ride with the king 'ere to New Manchester!"