EXPANDING OPPORTUNITIES
Unified Kingdom of Yoruba and Dahomey
The Flash
Adaega Merbaker glanced over at the clock on the mantle in her office and noticed it was already nearly time to leave for the evening. She took a deep breath and splayed out her fingers as she worked out the soreness from using the typewriter to draft a new university policy for the last several hours.
As the distinguished Director of Operations, Adaega held a position of prominence within the vibrant nexus of Lokoja University. Her ability to navigate the complexities of the academic behemoth bespoke years of experience and dedicated service.
Under her administration, the university had grown not just as a beacon of education, but also as a vital institution supporting research aimed at keeping the nation one step ahead in the ongoing Cold War against the specter of communism.
This commitment was woven into her daily tasks, be they large policy decisions or small administrative matters.
This particular day, bathed in the benign glow of sunlight filtering through the rustling leaves of ancient trees, appeared no different. After tackling a morning inundated with meetings and paperwork, she emerged from her office, ready to navigate the familiar trails etched into the university's landscape.
Her path wound through the academic labyrinth, leading her toward the parking lot where countless vehicles were parked neatly. Among them was her car with its elegant curves and gleaming chrome accents basking under the dappled shade of a grand baobab tree.
As she reached out to the car door, her world transformed. The serene expanse of azure overhead erupted into a spectacle of shifting colors–blues, greens, and purples that seemed to breathe with life. Enthralled, Adaega froze, her hand resting on the cold metal of the door handle, her eyes captivated by the cosmic dance above.
This visual symphony was interrupted by a blinding flash, which rendered the world momentarily sightless and was closely followed by an earsplitting sonic boom. The ground beneath her trembled as her car, reflecting the otherworldly kaleidoscope in its chrome trim, rattled slightly.
A sudden gust-like force washed over her, a chilling sensation that surged through her body, causing an involuntary shudder.
Then, as quickly as the spectacle had begun, Adaega was devoured by an abyss of darkness.
When she next opened her eyes, Adaega found herself somewhere else.
✦ ✦ ✦
Boding Star System - Terran Interstellar Union
The TMS Idryss, a reconnaissance frigate belonging to the Terran Interstellar Union, tore through the inky vastness of space, its engines laboring at their maximum capacity.
Lieutenant Aedan Solla felt panic creeping into his veins. They had been summoned by a beacon to investigate an unexplained anomaly, an unidentified substance that seemed to be originating from some sort of void. Now, it was advancing toward them–and everywhere else–with alarming speed.
The captain's voice reverberated throughout the bridge. “Communications, transmit the emergency sensor data to Command. Now!”
Transmitting data packets via faster-than-light channels was a power-hungry task, hence smaller vessels like the Idryss were equipped with such capabilities only for dire emergencies. Aedan flipped open a protective cover and turned a key that would unavoidably overload their relays, as the demanding emergency communication system guzzled power from their already strained reactor.
Inhaling deeply, Aedan slammed his palm down on the transmission switch. Instantaneously, all sensor readings and internal communications were amalgamated and dispatched to Command Headquarters.
Suddenly, the sensor operator's face contorted with increased alarm. “Whatever that anomaly is, it’s closing in rapidly! We can’t outpace it while our FTL drive is recharging. Captain, it’s almost on us!”
The captain responded immediately, hitting the shipwide intercom.
“All hands! Initiate anti-radiation protocols! Brace for impact!”
Aedan reached out for his helmet, but before his fingers could curl around it, the wave was upon them.
He stared at the forward viewscreen, the image of a massive glittering nebula-like bubble hurtling towards them seared into his retinas. He drew a sharp breath, holding it as the ship convulsed violently. The twinkling mass penetrated their shields in a heartbeat, surging through the hull and the crew.
Then, all was darkness.
✦ ✦ ✦
A month had passed since Aedan had found himself in this primitive world.
He strolled through the vast underground passages, tunnels, and spaces that made up the dwarven city of Dheg Malduhr and soon arrived at a structure carved into the very wall of the cavern. He walked in, smiling and waving at the young dwarf receptionist who sat at the counter and made his way through to the office in the back.
He smiled as he walked in, standing there was Norie, the dwarven woman he had become acquainted with and worked closely with since his arrival.
The shorter woman was hunched over something but turned to him as he entered. “Aedan! I’m glad you’re here. I think I've cracked it!” she exclaimed.
His eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. He took a few strides forward, recognizing the object of her scrutiny–his conduit probe from the ship that had somehow arrived with him.
Joining her at the workbench, he found her animatedly pointing at a series of glowing symbols that had somehow been added to the probe's surface during his arcane transit to this world.
“I've been analyzing these and I am positive that they're exuding the arcane energy. Now, with that in mind, I am inclined to suspect that these are words of power, or akin to it,” she theorized, her voice brimming with conviction.
Puzzled, Aedan leaned closer, studying the symbols. “You're suggesting the arcane energy has an inherent language? That implies…”
“Exactly!” Norie interrupted. “It means it's not random, it's being directed! These changes we've seen, they're guided by something!”
Taken aback, Aedan lifted his gaze, lost in thought. After a few moments of silence, he felt Norie's comforting grip on his hand. “Consider the potential of this, Aedan. The council is becoming anxious about the mounting tension between the Empire and the Sovereign Cities. Let's delve into this discovery, and perhaps we can contribute to preserving the safety of my—our people.”
Looking down at Norie, her eyes ablaze with hope and wonder, he couldn't help but smile. If he could never return to his home, maybe, just maybe, he would be okay here.
Aedan was fortunate. Despite the disparity in their knowledge, Norie's intellectual prowess was unmatched. He had no doubt she would soon bridge the gap.
And for that, he was eagerly waiting.
“Let’s see what we can do with this revelation.”
She smiled and nodded.
✦ ✦ ✦
Ducal Residences, Strathmore
Roslyn Tiloral, future heiress to the Duchy of Tiloral, sat at her vanity in the soft light of a new day. As the future Duchess, her role in her grandfather's dominion had been carefully etched in her daily lessons and rigid etiquette training. Her mother was the designated heiress, yet, after her ascension, the mantle would fall upon Roslyn.
While the servants meticulously prepared her hair, Roslyn contemplated the day's schedule. The foremost item was a meeting with her mother, the purpose of which she could only surmise. Now in her eleventh year, it was a customary time for her family to discuss her impending duties and responsibilities.
Perhaps it is about my future path.
This very notion made Roslyn scoff, causing an involuntary tug on her hair from the surprised servant, forcing Roslyn to wince at the sudden pain.
Ouch. Focus, Roslyn.
“My apologies, My Lady,” the telv woman hastily said, regret reflecting in her eyes through the mirror.
“It was no fault of your own,” Roslyn reassured her. Just mine, but an heiress never directly apologizes to the staff and she deflects blame away from them.
She resisted the urge to rub the area as she knew that would just require her to sit there longer to correct her hair.
After giving Roslyn a moment to recuperate, the servant resumed her task, and Roslyn returned to her thoughts. The upcoming meeting, if it was indeed about her path, would be purely ceremonial. Her future was predestined, inscribed in the annals of Tiloral tradition.
She was bound for the prestigious Royal Academy of Avira, walking the path paved by previous Dukes and Duchesses of Tiloral. As the next in line after her mother, her obligations extended beyond mere attendance; she was expected to excel.
Such was the weight of her heritage, and she was ready to shoulder it.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
After her appointment with her mother, Roslyn was certain the remainder of her morning would be claimed by some other duty. An empty space in her schedule was like a canvas for her mother's whims. Fortunately, her afternoon was earmarked for a walk through the bustling market, a brief respite where she intended to procure attire for the upcoming court her grandfather was hosting in the near future. The event was in honor of a newly arrived House in the city—a tedious affair, in her opinion.
And one that I do not want to attend, but am being forced to.
However, the singular focus on this new House hinted at its importance.
Likely a Marquess. What do I care about some marquess?
It seemed characteristic of her grandfather to establish ties with a new march; anything lesser wouldn't warrant such a ceremony.
Once she was primped and primed for the day, Roslyn stepped out of her suite to find Ser Roderick and Ser Janine, her loyal telv knights, awaiting her. The pair bowed slightly, and Ser Roderick greeted her, “Good morning, My Lady. Trust all is well?”
Roslyn responded with a slight nod, “Indeed, it is. I took my breakfast in my suite and am prepared for the day ahead.” Turning to Ser Janine, who managed her schedule, she confirmed, “We're scheduled to meet with the Marchioness, are we not?”
At her formal reference to her mother, Ser Roderick raised an eyebrow, a reaction she had grown accustomed to.
Practice makes perfect. Mother insists upon it.
Ser Janine, however, remained composed as she replied, “Yes, My Lady. We will see what Lady Tiloral has for you at the meeting I suspect. She should be leaving to return to Maireharbora soon. I believe Lady Tiloral has specific tasks for you to undertake during her absence.”
Suppressing a scoff, Roslyn responded, “Naturally. Lady Tiloral never falls short of expectations. Whatever tasks she assigns, we shall ensure they are fulfilled.”
Hopefully, she will at least give me time to myself. I’m tired of all the social events in particular.
Leading the way, Roslyn, accompanied by her knights, navigated the sprawling ducal palace towards the wing designated for the Ducal Heiress during her stay. Nestled beside a verdant courtyard, the Heiress' wing lay adjacent to the opulent estate occupied by her mother's younger brother.
This lavish abode served not only as residence but also as the administrative center for the current Count or Countess of Strathmore, thus the roles of city governance fell to the Duke's second child.
That will be my brother one day. When Mother takes her seat as Duchess, I will be required to move into the castle at Maireharbora.
Roslyn herself would inherit a courtesy title of viscountess upon her fifteenth birthday. This title would serve her until she inherited the responsibilities and status of the Marchioness of Maireharbora.
The Duchy of Tiloral, among the kingdom's wealthiest, showcased its affluence through the grandeur of the ducal palace. Its prominence was rivaled only by the Duchy of Avira, although Roslyn seldom considered this comparison, given that duchy’s exclusive association with the Royal Family and the fact that the Crown Prince held the title of Duke of Avira.
Roslyn herself was firmly within the noble faction.
Or I will be when people do not see me as just a child.
She saw how often her grandfather and mother complained about the stranglehold the royals liked to put them under. They seemed almost fearful of the influence and power of the Duchy of Tiloral and constantly established royal mandates that seemed to only target them.
This perception bred frustration in her grandfather, a man who had always held unwavering loyalty to his kingdom.
Her mother had reprimanded her several times when Roslyn had expressed her feelings on the subject and desire to support the noble faction. She remembered what her mother had said, ‘We must remain neutral, Roslyn. We cannot choose a side in the Polite War. Our status and the importance of our role in the kingdom necessitates it.’
Hmph, I don’t see why we have to remain neutral when the royal family constantly pushes us and treats us as a threat to their power.
Tiloral was host to three important cities within the kingdom and its only access to the sea. The responsibility of housing the kingdom's sole naval forces consequently fell on the duchy.
While the Royal Fleet was larger, the duchy’s fleet was nothing to scoff at. The Royal Fleet might have been larger in numbers, but the duchy's fleet commanded respect with its modern, formidable vessels. Their role was to defend the limited coastal access of the kingdom, while the Royal Fleet was more expeditionary in function. The roles should be reversed. It’s an embarrassment for such old ships to be seen more than our own glorious vessels. That will change when I am duchess.
Though Strathmore didn't match the size or economic vibrancy of Maireharbora, the duchy's largest city, it functioned as an essential trade hub, linking the Dwarves of Dirn Loduhr and the Kingdom of Meris. As the primary port of the kingdom, Maireharbora stood second only in wealth and population to the capital, offering her mother a level of power and influence commensurate with most duchies. As it should, it is only right that we are respected for all that our family has accomplished, even with the pressures we withstand.
Upon entering her mother's wing, Roslyn and her knights were greeted by Ser Primrose, one of her mother's advisors. “My Lady, the Marchioness is expecting you. Please, right this way,” she gestured down the hall, leading them to the office where Roslyn anticipated her mother would be.
As they approached the door, a number of individuals filed out, recognized by Roslyn as representatives from various Guilds. The last to exit, Lady Batteux, graced Roslyn with a smile. “Lady Roslyn, it's lovely to see you. How are you today?”
“I am well, Guildmaster Batteux,” Roslyn replied, noting the woman's business with the Marchioness.
Matching the reaction of many when Roslyn referred to her mother by her formal title, Lady Batteux lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed, some potential business matters to discuss with your mother. Nothing too serious,” she shared, her expression light
“I'm eager to hear more, Guildmaster. Now, if you'll excuse me, I wouldn't want to keep the Marchioness waiting.”
Lady Batteux's surprise was brief before her adept recovery—no less than Roslyn would expect from the head of the Guilds in Strathmore. “In that case, I wish you a pleasant day,” the Guildmaster replied, offering a respectful nod before heading off to join her colleagues.
Roslyn observed their departure, recalling what she had been told about Lady Batteux. As the Guildmaster of the Banking Guild in Strathmore, the woman was an anomaly, being a noble within an organization that typically eschewed nobility. Her title was the result of a favor owed by the kingdom to the Guilds—a favor Batteux had earned through impressive deeds, repaid in the form of a minor peerage.
Guided by Ser Primrose, Roslyn entered her mother's office while Ser Roderick stayed outside. Ser Janine, on the other hand, was allowed in to document the proceedings, settling quietly into a chair near the entrance.
Roslyn's mother stood at her desk, back turned, engrossed in a ledger. As the door closed behind Roslyn, her mother shut the ledger and turned around.
“Ah, Roslyn. Thank you for coming. How are you this morning?”
Roslyn drew in a deep breath. They were in private. It was an appropriate time. “I am well, mother. Naturally, I would not miss our scheduled meeting. I see you've had a meeting with the Guilds. Hopefully, it was productive.”
Her mother dismissed it with a casual wave. “Yes, yes. They were keen to discuss these newcomers that have surfaced—the terrans. An entirely new people that supposedly appeared after the Flash.”
Roslyn’s brows furrowed. She had heard whispers, but nothing definitive. “I may have heard a passing mention, yes.”
Her mother smiled and gestured to the two chairs in front of a fireplace. “Please, join me.”
As mother and daughter took their seats, a servant entered quietly from a side door, bearing a tray laden with tea. Roslyn liked her tea sweetened with just a single sugar cube, while her mother preferred a touch of honey, stirred into her cup with a small silver spoon.
Roslyn leaned back, savoring the delectable aroma of her beverage. Her mother, thanks to her title and influence in Maireharbora, always managed to secure some of the finest teas brought in by ship. The tea before Roslyn now had journeyed from a small tropical kingdom in the south. Its bouquet was a captivating blend of floral notes, subtly punctuated by hints of herbs and spices.
Roslyn patiently waited for her tea to cool to a drinkable temperature, but her mother, evidently growing impatient, rolled her eyes.
“Drink the tea, Roslyn. It’s going to get cold.”
Roslyn winced at the reprimand and tentatively sipped her tea, which, despite being too hot for her liking, was still undeniably exquisite.
They spoke brief niceties while they sat and Roslyn counted down the time until her mother would finally address the real reason she was there. Her mother did not simply invite her over for tea without requiring something. When she set her tea back onto the saucer and placed it on the table next to her, it seemed to be the cue her mother needed.
“My dear, I wanted to discuss a few important topics with you today, which is why I called upon you.” Her mother said.
Roslyn simply nodded. Nothing the woman had said required a response.
“It is time for you to start taking on responsibilities befitting your status. You will soon leave for the Royal Academy as expected of you. Now, both your grandfather and I believe you should be given duties until that time.”
That’s strange. There is no back and forth. No questioning of a path. “...Of course, Mother,” she replied, a slight stumble in her words betraying her confusion.
Her mother narrowed her eyes slightly. “It is expected of you. Surely, you did not consider anything other than what is required of an heiress?”
Again, Roslyn was surprised. She knew she was in line for the duchy, but everyone else… Ah, there’s my mistake. I considered incomparable circumstances. That will not happen again.
Roslyn tipped her head in acknowledgment of her fault. “I had a brief lapse in thought. I made a slight error, my apologies, mother.”
Her mother stared at her for several heartbeats, taking the measure of her. Finally, she nodded. “Very well. See that such errors do not occur in the future. Your role was given to you at birth. There has never been but a single path for you to follow. Now, where were we? Ah yes, the Academy. You will attend next year, therefore you will need to leave before the end of the season. This will give you ample time in order to winter in Drakensburg. The manor there will be prepared to accept you and your retainers.”
She looked down in thought. Reaching that city did not give her terribly long before she had to leave. While the distance to the capital was only about four hundred kilometers, the travel would take her months. Winters in West Ikios were severe, and the roads became even more dangerous during the worst part of the season.
Usually, wintering just meant the time between the festivals of hearth and love, which was about forty days.
She considered the route and realized she may need more than just Ser Roderick and Janine to join her. Roslyn had never been to the capital herself.
It was exciting.
Especially since she would be representing her House and the duchy.
She looked up at her mother. “I will be prepared. Will you be here when I leave or are you departing for Maireharbora soon?”
“I will be departing within a fortnight. The ferry to Fen’s Crossing has already been reserved.”
Roslyn nodded. Fen’s Crossing was a town that sat on the opposite side of Lake Gori from Strathmore, it was the quickest way to travel there since the southern end of the lake bordered the Kingdom of Meris and the northern land route added a week to the travel time.
Roslyn glanced at the window, trying to gauge the time. “Was that all you wished to discuss, mother?”
Her mother chuckled ruefully. “Roslyn, do you desire to leave my company so soon?”
Roslyn felt her eye twitch. “No, of course not, mother. I merely considered that you have many pressing needs upon your time and did not unduly wish to burden you with idle talk.”
Her mother sighed. “Roslyn, I am your mother. Could you please speak to me as such?”
“My apologies, mother. I simply wish to maintain proprieties as you have instructed.”
Her mother tilted her head backward and closed her eyes. Roslyn was not sure what the problem was. It had been made clear to her numerous times how she was to speak when in her mother’s presence when on official business. Is she testing me? Do not worry, mother. I will not make a mistake again.
The marchioness took a deep breath and refocused on Roslyn. “Moving on. You have an additional appointment today” she said while glancing at Ser Janine who nodded and prepared to take notes. “You are to meet with the Archpriestess, herself, one bell past midday at the Grand Temple of the Celestials. Father set up this appointment, so do not be tardy.”
Roslyn’s eyes widened. The Archpriestess? In what situation would I be stupid enough to be late to meet with the leader of the Church?
Oblivious to her daughter’s mental thoughts, her mother continued, “There will also be duties to perform within the capital after you arrive, however, father wishes to speak of that himself before you leave. Now, be off. You do not want to waste time if you still wish to go to the market.” Her mother said.
Roslyn stood and bowed her head. “Thank you for the tea, mother. I hope to see you again before you depart.”
Her mother embraced her, then kissed her on either cheek. “You will. Now, be off with you.”
This is going to be a lot of politics.
She sighed lightly as she left the room. First, the upcoming court where her grandfather would acknowledge a new House, and now a meeting with the Church.
I hate politics. Nothing interesting ever happens. Just a bunch of pomp and circumstance.