I came to Nashville, not to bring inspiration, but to find inspiration.
Pre-Fall minister.
Nashville, Johanna vaguely remembered from history lessons, had been a major Ancient city. But it had not left ruins. Instead, a gigantic Changestorm had wiped it entirely, center and surroundings, leaving instead a compass-perfect circular lake 20 miles wide, with just a little irregular side where a pre-Fall lake had been located and incorporated into the new Nashville Lake. A few ruins of minor cities were left next to it, but the entire area had been erased.
In practice, that meant the modern Nashville wasn’t the Ancient one; it just took the name. People had managed to make a refuge on its new lake shore, make it through the chaos of the Fall, and build up from there. Seeing the lake, she wondered now if there was a colossal ruin deposited on the other side of the world, like the foreign village on its mesa-like plateau near Zahl. Or maybe it had been split worldwide, and some parts of the former city ended up making up the unnamed ruin near Valetta.
Coming up from Vernon, the hills that surrounded the west of Lake Nashville ended abruptly on the shore. Late November made for a short day and night was coming soon. Thankfully, they were using one of the new railroads, not traveling by foot or even by horse. She would not have relished the latter method. Her buttocks still remembered the trip from New Sandusky, even with Laura’s Talented ministrations at the end of each day.
Once the windsails furled over the six-carriage train, they made it to disembark. It was quite a sight; they were numerous enough to commander an entire carriage. In addition to the four and Ulrich, you had the Executive and an assistant, Undersecretary Michaelson and a pair of senior agents, General Sharpe and another officer, and lots of guards. Kartmann remained behind in Vernon, though. His business called, and he wasn’t strictly needed in any case.
The railroad from Vernon ended at the southwest part of Nashville Lake, leaving a short five-mile trek to the entrance to the capital of the Union. There were tracks laid on there, but for some reason, the wind-powered train stopped away from the city. The Vernon-Nashville station had plenty of light against the falling darkness and activity despite its remoteness.
“Nashville is pretty conservative,” the Executive told her, “so you won’t find people actually living outside of its walls. But there are enough travelers here to make for a decent campsite. Not that it will matter; we do have a residence waiting for us in the city.”
Walking next to the unused tracks, she contemplated the lake. It seemed huge, despite knowing very well it was very small compared to the Great Lake near New Sandusky, which she’d seen briefly back when they made their savage expedition with Miles and Ulrich to recruit them.
“How deep is it?”
“Not much, in practice. Less than a hundred feet at the exact center, I’m told,” Wexler replied. “But the border drops quickly; five feet from the shore, you’re already swimming. It’s also extremely cold, even in summer. People fish a lot, but rarely go for a swim in any case.”
As they made their way toward the distant city, she noted lights on the shore. A few moments later, she spotted a man walking with a wicker lantern. He stopped next to a pylon and ran the string, pulling down a lantern, which he lit up before sending it back up.
“That’s Nashville for you. The city is wealthy enough that they can afford to light up the shorefront outside of the city itself, just in case you have travelers like us arriving late.”
He laughed.
“No, they’re not lighting it for me. But it’s handy when the train arrives late in the day, like this time.”
Closer to the city, they ran into a commercial or maybe factory district, with several businesses still operating even though night had arrived. The road they were following had started to get more traffic, and she could even spot a wagon being loaded.
As they crossed the gates, still open wide, and moved from road to street, Wexler kept regaling them with anecdotes.
“Some of my ancestors moved from Nashville, back before the first War. That’s when Vernon was founded, and they were among the first ones, although my mother’s parents came from the West Coast.”
Harold Wexler kept pointing out places as they made their way across one of the main streets toward the city's central district.
“Best inn – and restaurant – in the city, I think. I haven’t been often to Nashville. Most of the offices of Independence State are in Vernon, after all, including the Assembly. For which you can vote next year by the way,” he added.
“What?”
“Franchise, in your case, is simple. Own a ‘significant’ business. That Talent House of yours will qualify if you’ve expanded to another city already. And that extends to all four co-owners. So, I hope the National League will find your vote. I’m nominally apolitical now that I’m the Executive, but I still remember my affiliations,” he laughed.
Johanna had had no idea she’d gotten some political power. Each State had its own election rules, after all. The Treaty of the Union mandated only one thing for its members regarding local constitutions: that they had one and an elected legislative body. In the Marches of the Montana, only city councils could vote for the Marches’ Senate, and the Warden held absolute veto power if he wanted to, but the Senate wrote and passed the legislation, and thus her birth state fit.
Here, she could actually vote.
Assuming that the army of the Montana did not conquer the State before that election, that is.
They ended up in a slightly upscale area with a reasonably large and decent house. A pair of people were standing on the porch, and one rushed immediately inside when they arrived, as the other came and bowed slightly.
“Welcome to the Independence Residence, Executive.”
Before Wexler could reply, an older man came out, waving.
“Hello, Harold! Come in, come in.”
They all filed in as the two shook hands.
“I got your message three days ago. Quite the entourage this time. You’re stretching the official residence almost to the limit. Dinner?”
“We didn’t have time, so yes.”
“You still know the way, I hope.”
Wexler laughed.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
They came into another of those large conference-slash-dinner rooms as their host excused himself and went away. Wexler didn’t wait and took a seat at the table, inviting the rest of them to do the same. The guards had disappeared as if they had a Talent, presumably to be hosted elsewhere.
“Alberich and I go a long way during our respective Assembly terms. I always told him he was too impatient, pushing for the position of the Senator for the Union when it became vacant. A couple of years more, and he could have tried to compete with me for the Executive post when Jorgen Mars retired.”
“And I would have had way more work,” the Senator replied as he returned.
He took his seat next to Wexler, looking at the guests.
“Uh. General. I remember your confirmation; didn’t expect to see you here. And Katia too. Sounds serious. You five, I don’t know…”
He turned back to Wexler, “So what’s this about? Your message was so absolutely devoid of any meaningful information as to be insulting.”
“I wanted to avoid leaks.”
“No kidding. You know I always tell.”
“You, maybe not, but even the best staff…” Katia injected.
“You wound me.”
Wexler shook his head at the banter.
“This is going to look a bit absurd, but…”
At least this time, it was the Executive doing the explaining, and Johanna simply threw out the usual demonstrations.
“So, the Marches of the Montana are going to attack us.”
“Well, the sun might not rise tomorrow, but I think that is more likely than Maistry not doing that. After stealing those powers – potential powers – he cannot afford to leave someone behind who can raise a force to rival him, or send lawyers after him.”
“First, you send the army, then you send the lawyers. Way more dangerous.”
“You were a lawyer, Alberich, don’t you forget?”
“That’s why I send the lawyers after the army. Okay, it’s a bit too big for lawyers. If you can deploy hundreds of Burning Walkers…”
“They can potentially have a hundred. We have three so far.”
“So far, you say.”
“We’ll have more. But there is a problem.”
“Which is?”
“Not enough seasoned troops. Even with the losses in their war, the Marches of the Montana always had more than almost anyone save the Marches of the South and the Star.”
“And Independence doesn’t have a draft law, in any case… you want to invoke the Treaty of the Union… wait…”
“We need a fighting force with Talents. And we don’t have time to make one home. So yes.”
The Senator relaxed in his chair.
“That’s a hell of an incentive.”
“We’re not going to wave it in front of them yet.”
“But eventually, they will figure out what the help entails.”
“And that’s good,” Ulrich injected.
The two Independence representatives looked at him.
“That was a big question I had once all of this started,” the thirster said. “Once you have an empowered army, what is the guarantee you won’t go like the Warden? Conquer everyone.”
“That’s not what Independence is!” Wexler protested.
“So far.”
“But we didn’t have a choice, did we,” Johanna interrupted.
“Well, yes. The old proverb about riding a tiger. But it’s different with multiple armies empowered.”
“You know, we could ally with them and do that anyway,” Senator Alberich countered.
“It’s not the same. You have to negotiate between powerful people. It’s… well, like the Union. At worst, you have the troublemaker that needs to be reined in, but you’re not going to get absolute tyranny.”
“Unlike the Warden,” Johanna said.
“Unlike the Warden.”
Wexler clapped.
“Good thinking. You want a place in my staff?”
“Lord god, no. I hate politics,” Ulrich replied immediately.
“Sooo… tomorrow’s session should be good,” the senator noted.
“I hope so. I want maximum shock value,” Wexler replied.
At that, the staff arrived with cutlery and glasses and started lining them up in front of the seated guests, and the senator decreed, “Dinner first, plotting later.”
The desserts had way too much sugar but were also irresistible, probably for that very reason. But as infusions – or, in the case of Katia, a powerfully smelling coffee – were poured alongside brandy, the senator finally bumped his fist on the table before standing.
“I knew it…”
He left abruptly, leaving his guests surprised. Wexler shrugged.
“He does that, you know.”
Alberich wasn’t gone for long. He almost immediately returned, holding a book that Johanna, with her expertise, could immediately tell was a fairly modern one, maybe brand new. So, it wasn’t an attempt at getting a set of Talents. Yet, the book seemed familiar somehow.
“I knew it,” he said again. “Your names sounded familiar,” he added, looking at Johanna and then Laura.
“Well, you are famous across all of the Union now,” he said. “Or will be soon.”
Johanna’s eyebrow rose, and the senator dropped the book at the edge of the table. She craned her neck and realized why the book seemed a bit familiar.
The line drawing illustration of a figure clothed in an oversized robe and crowned with a large and pointed hat was the same, although the illustration's color was red, as was the title.
Mages of America and Beyond.
“They usually put out a new edition every six-eight years, always in early October, just in time for the last shipping season and get to the bookstores before winter. I was a bit surprised they had a new edition after only five years. So, this is the eleventh, just fresh from this fall.”
He started leafing through the tome as he continued, “They had three new entries. A minotaur, the first, apparently. A metal sorcerer, able to smelt things at a distance. And, well… Johanna Milton, and Laura Donnall, ‘uncertified’ sorceresses.”
He pushed the tome toward Johanna.
Note for the current edition: This entry has been only certified by a single Sorcerer. Full certification requires a second certified corroboration.
Johanna Marcia Milton, tier 8 fire Archmage.
Johanna Milton is the second youngest sorceress recorded, at an incredible age of 19. Born April 9th, 2154, in Anasta, near the city of Valetta in the Marches of the Montana…
…
Johanna Milton is the first recorded tier 8* archmage, with a continuous casting time of around two hours and forty-one minutes. This is due to also being the first archmage to exhibit four sorcery Talents at the time:
Ground lock – a semi-common earth talent (see page 396).
Flaming hand – one of the most common fire talents (see page 384).
Flame blade – a rare fire talent, the second recorded occurrence (see page 382).
Mana sight – a rare mind talent, often associated with dual or better mages (see page 422).
*See the chapter on sorcery tiers. Tier 7 and 8 are currently tentative, as tier 8 is uncertified, and tier 7 is a mathematical assumption, based on increasing tier times.
She blinked as she read through the page. All the others clustered around her, reading her short biography and description along with her.
The sorcerer entries were in chronological order, so she had no difficulty finding Laura’s entry by turning the page and reading the other side.
Note for the current edition: This entry has been only certified by a single Sorcerer. Full certification requires a second certified corroboration.
Laura Anna Donnall, nee Vogel, tier 6 mind sorceress.
Laura Donnall is the youngest sorceress ever recorded, at an incredible age of 18. Born November 19th, 2154, in Virtu, near the city of Valetta in the Marches of the Montana…
…
Laura Donnall is the first recorded sorceress also to exhibit Saintly aspects* alongside sorcerous Talent. She is not currently affiliated with any religious order and has not been ordained a Saint by the Pope in New Rome (Eagle Republic). Despite having only a single sorcery Talent, she is still ranked at a solid tier 6.
Dreadful Gaze – one of the rarest mind talents, the second occurrence at the time (see page 370).
*Professor Ernesto Gomez of the Nashville Academy of Post-Fall Physics is one of the proponents of the theory that Saint’s miracles in this post-fall world, rather than being a sign of divine help in times of tribulation, are merely an aspect of sorcery and expressed his opinion that Laura Donnall might be an archmage rather than a simply extremely talented sorceress. This 11th editor notes that there is a precedent for a single-Talent sorceress to be at tier 6 with Elena Worchester and, therefore, takes no position on the issue.
“That looks very dated,” Ulrich commented over her shoulder.
“It’s from when we were drafted in New Benton, I think. The biography does mention that part. I know the Sorceress of the Mists sent mail about us to the Society… but it looks as if she never updated anything. I mean, she was there when I lost the Earthbind and gained Fireball.”
“Then you fled,” Wexler noted, remembering their story.
“That, yes.”
“She probably did not want to be associated with the debacle… although that’s a bit bizarre. Why would she suddenly clamp on that information?” Ulrich speculated.