International Space Elevator, Low Earth orbit — January 1, 2020
“Welcome back to the Milishial News Network, where we pride ourselves at providing news almost as fast as it happens! I’m Alana Forlen, here in the Lighthouse Peace Conference—I would say that I’m in the Osean city of Selatapura, but we are currently located in what many have said to be completely unprecedented in the entire history of Elysia—”
The camera panned to the window, where Elysia itself was but a mere blue marble in a black sky—a single needle seemingly anchored the Lighthouse to the ground, and three crafts buzzed back and forth as a near-endless stream of visitors continued to ascend from Selatapura below to the orbital platform above.
“—we are, according to our sources, nearly 100,000 kilometres above the surface of our planet. As you can see, we’re right over the continent of Osea itself, but you can clearly see Philades and Rodenius right along the distance—a fitting reminder of the circumstances that have brought delegates and leaders from every superpower in the Civilized Regions and beyond to this very place. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the second time that I’ve been at the very top of the Lighthouse, but believe me when I say that this sight never ceases to amaze me…”
Inside a pub in Cartalpas, several patrons promptly fainted at the sight or began loudly swearing that they would be giving up the bottle.
“The Lighthouse Peace Conference will be taking place over the following month, in low orbit over Selatapura. Delegates and representatives from Osea, Parpaldia, and the coalition members present during the IUN peacekeeping operation in Philades will be discussing the reorganisation of the former Parpaldia Empire and the subsequent rearrangement of power in the Third Civilization Area; members from most if not all other superpowers have also arrived to observe the proceedings, and even smaller nations from throughout Elysia also now seek to lobby the Conference on matters both relating to and independent of the situation in Philades—“
Alana paused as a voice in her mannacomm quickly spoke to her, relaying news of a new development. The elf’s eyebrows rose in surprise as she turned to address the camera once more.
“I’ve also just been informed that a delegation from the Gra Valkas Empire has also arrived to attend the Peace Conference—it would seem that their arrival to establish formal diplomatic relations with the Osean Federation for the first time happened to coincide with the event itself! Rather fortuitous, if I may say so myself…”
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“We are joined today by Prime Minister Sinclair of the Kingdom of Mu! Prime Minister, thank you for agreeing to this interview.”
“It is always a pleasure to be interviewed by you, Miss Forlen. Ambassador Mugei sends his regards, by the way.”
Alana covered her blush with her free hand, gracefully hiding her flustered expression from the grinning Prime Minister. “Oh, you’re too kind! Give Mugei my deepest thanks on behalf of myself and the staff of MNN—now, perhaps we should get on with the interview.”
“Indeed.”
“Now, for those who have been unaware of recent events, the Kingdom of Mu was involved in the daring rescue of Ambassador Harling from Eshirant and the subsequent peacekeeping mission that saw the collapse of the Parpaldia Empire. May I ask what prompted the superpower of the Second Civilisation Region to join Osea in bringing down its counterpart in Philades?”
Sinclair nodded in acknowledgement. “It would appear rather odd from an outsider’s viewpoint, perhaps, for superpowers to directly interfere in the affairs of its fellow peers. However, we recognised from the moment that we first came into contact with Osea that they might actually be on par with even the Milishials—the conduct of the Parpaldians, on the other hand, suggest that either this never seemed to be the case or they lacked the ability to devise an alternative approach beyond making threats and violating the most basic of diplomatic norms. The fact that Muan citizens were tragically caught in the crossfire most certainly did not improve the situation, and also served as a critical catalyst behind our decision to join the Oseans’ campaign of retaliation.”
”The conduct of Parpaldia, even before the war, would have served to be a point of concern amongst its peers,” Alana candidly admitted. “What does Mu now seek to gain from the Peace Conference, now that the conflict has concluded?”
“While we possess no interest in participating in the local affairs of the Third Civilisation Region outside of the trade deals we have already established with Osea and its partners, we’re looking into ensuring a peaceful transition of power takes place between Parpaldia and Osea as the new superpower of this part of Elysia,” Sinclair handily replied. “We’re also looking to perhaps receive some economic or technological benefits from Osea in acknowledgement of our contributions to their campaign in Parpaldia, as well.”
”As a gesture of gratitude, no doubt! Now, you’ve no doubt heard by now about the arrival of the Gra Valkans to the Peace Conference. As your nation now borders their Empire with the conquest of Leifor, what are your thoughts on the matter?”
Sinclair’s face noticeably soured at the mention of the Muans’ infamous newfound neighbours. “The Gra Valkans? What do they seek to gain from a conflict over several thousand kilometres away and which they had no role in? Then again, we do have delegates from the Conshal Islands and an individual claiming to be part of the now-defunct Leiforian government, so perhaps there’s something I’m not yet aware of…”
“Last but not least, you’ve travelled up the Space Elevator, made it to the edge of the heavens, and saw Elysia as a singular planet—what are your impressions of the view from up here?”
“It’s…” Sinclair paused, his eyes suddenly distant. “It’s…well, how do you describe a sight like that? It’s…”
Alana was silent, letting the Prime Minister gather his thoughts.
“…you see many things in your travels, witness wonders and marvels, mechanical and magic alike. I’ve been to Runepolis, I’ve been to Emor—hell, I’m lucky enough to have seen Leiforia before the Gra Valkans razed the city to the ground. But this…you need to witness this with your very eyes to understand the beauty of it all. I do hope you understand that, Miss Forlen, for I have a feeling some things might be lost completely in translation—”
“Oh, no, I do understand that! Perhaps someone might be able to describe it better than you and I can—”
“Perhaps, Miss Forlen,” Sinclair chuckled amusedly, “perhaps someone else can say it far better than either of us can…”
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“Ambassador Harling?”
Turning around, Vincent’s eyes widened in recognition. “Princess Lumies? What a lovely surprise! I thought I saw you within the Altaran delegation earlier…”
Garbed in flowing robes and a thick veil that sheltered her head from the winds and heat of her homeland, the Altaran princess smiled back with an enthusiastic grin. “My father believed it prudent to send me along with our diplomats as part of the peace negotiations—he would have also come to visit the Lighthouse himself, alas…”
Harling nodded understandingly. “Affairs of the state, no doubt.”
“All of Philades and Rodenius have Osea to thank for destroying the threat Parpaldia posed to us, but we’ve had growing reports of pirates and bandits taking advantage of the situation and raiding shipping and isolated villages along our shores—until a lasting peace can be established, my father has sworn to remain in Altaras and focus on rebuilding our navy. I believe it may be a necessity for my kingdom to step up its efforts in modernising its armed forces—part of the reason why I’ve come to the Conference, in fact.”
Vincent frowned, silently noting down the Princess’s remarks to discuss with Bartlett later. “Osea has been more than happy to compensate for the disappearance of Parpaldia’s efforts—”
“A fact that the Kingdom is profoundly grateful for,” Lumies soberly nodded, her expression sombre yet determined. “But we cannot merely rely on your nation’s generosity for our long-term survival, Ambassador—it would not be a fair arrangement for either ourselves or for your government, especially with how Elysia itself continues to dramatically change with the past few months. Osea has protected us from Parpaldia’s wrath before—could your nation perhaps teach us your ways to defend ourselves in the future?”
The ambassador paused as he stroked his chin in thought. “The policies restricting the flow of Osean technology are unfortunately still in place, but my government might be able to provide weapons and decommissioned vessels still above the capabilities of the average pirate vessel—that said, perhaps our mutual relationship with the Muans might also sway them to provide some assistance of their own.”
Satisfied by Harling’s assurances, Lumies smiled. “That would be most helpful, Ambassador.” Glancing away from the grey-haired diplomat towards the window, the princess’s eyes gazed upon the view of the stars above. “So…is this the future?”
“Oh?”
Noticing the Altaran’s starstruck expression, Harling turned to where the princess was looking—from their side of the Space Elevator, the Sun shone over the distant curve of Elysia’s horizon and illuminated both Rodenius and Philades; Altaras itself was barely visible amidst the clouds between Louria and Parpaldia, a mere speck amidst a vast sea of white and blue. Even around them, several onlookers appeared to be similarly mesmerised by the sight—a few Muan guests had managed to bring cameras and were now photographing the otherworldly view, while a Parpaldian guest on the side was quietly putting the scene to paint.
“Well, in a sense, it is…then again, even less than a decade ago, a view like this was still very much in the realm of the imagination. Who knows what the next decade has to offer, Your Highness?”
“Ambassador, if I may, a question.”
“Oh?”
“Will there be any more of these Lighthouses, Ambassador, or will this be Osea’s sole monument for Elysia to gaze upon and wonder?”
Sensing the Altaran princess’s hesitation, Harling’s thoughts panned over to a certain painting tucked away in a quiet corner of the main lobby down in Selatapura—perhaps he ought to ask someone to have the artwork relocated to a more prominent spot later, he reckoned. “There were some basic ideas for more Lighthouses to be constructed elsewhere in my world, wherever Ulysses had managed to scar the surface of the Earth. Selatapura, for instance, was an unwilling recipient of both the disaster itself and the war that followed—even days before we were transferred to Elysia, we were being approached by our counterparts about having Lighthouses of their own.”
Vincent paused, the brief, fleeting recollections from his final words with his colleagues in Gracemeria and Cinigrad before they were unexpectedly whisked away, passing through his mind just as quickly as they arrived. A thought emerged in the back of the ambassador’s head: how many Oseans would still remember such places, the lands of the Old World, in the span of a few decades? The stories and lessons that the thirty years preceding the Transference had imparted upon Osea in such a brutal manner; would the legacy Harling’s generation left behind be remembered as the tales of falling skies and nuclear apocalypse faded away into legend? Would the Federation even be around when the Ravernals made their fated return, or would whoever brought Osea to Elysia decide to spare them the fate of Mu and Gra Valkas and bring them back?
“I suppose, with a few more years, the idea might be brought up again as more nations start to reach our level of technological capabilities, Your Highness. The Lighthouse was meant to inspire an entire continent to lay down their arms in favour of other, more productive pursuits—perhaps we might see the same happen with an Elevator over Cartalpas, or Leiforia, or perhaps even Philades in a century’s time.”
Perhaps that would be the legacy of Vincent Harling’s long and varied life, the ambassador mused: the man who introduced Osea to the New World as the nation that touched the skies for the very first time. Perhaps, if anything else, that would be the one accomplishment that he would be able to finally see become reality and be proud of—it was definitely something he could live with, he decided.
Lumies looked down towards the planet where Altaras was, her expression somewhat different as a distant image of a needle threading upwards from Le Brias began to manifest in her mind. “Perhaps, Ambassador, perhaps…”
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Carefully making his way through the crowd, Director Kaios’s attention was focused on four Osean aircrafts proudly displayed in a special exhibit inside the space station. Two of the metal wyverns Kaios quickly recognised were of a particular type present in the engagements at Eshirant, while the other two were each of an unfamiliar type—the last one, however, seemed rather familiar…
At the very front, Alana Forlen stood beside an Osean delegate—Kaios quickly recognised the moustached individual as a man named Gabriel William Clarkson: Harling’s subordinate who had managed to stall for time while his superiors somehow found and extracted the famed diplomat from Eshirant. If the man recognised Kaios, he showed no sign of it as he turned to face the Milishial reporter.
“…and we are joined today by Ambassador Clarkson of the Osean Federation, who is here today to introduce the IUN’s new Lighthouse Division—a new peacekeeping taskforce dedicated to ensuring the safety of the International Space Elevator and providing a rapid response to threats to Elysia’s international security! Ambassador, thank you for joining us today.”
“It’s our pleasure, Miss Forlen.”
“Now, perhaps you could show to us the Osean aircrafts in this exhibit? I take it that these will be part of the Lighthouse Division once it’s formally established.”
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“Indeed, they will be! Now…”
Ambassador Clarkson turned towards the two fighters behind Forlen—one had grey tips on all its wings and a snarling red hound as its symbol, while the other had a grey livery with a strikingly familiar three-line emblem on its rear wings.
“The first fighters in our exhibition are these F-15 Eagles—these are the standard air superiority fighters that most Elysians will be familiar with from our peacekeeping missions throughout the Philades and Rodenius continents. As arguably our most successful aircraft in the past fifty years, we expect these to be in operation for at least another decade even as we begin to introduce our next-generation aircraft into service.”
Alana gasped in astonishment. “Three strikes on its rear wing—this wouldn’t be the aircraft that was widely observed in Parpaldia throughout the recent war?”
Clarkson beamed at the reporter’s question. “Ah, yes, this is one of the aircraft used by our best pilots during the IUN peacekeeping campaign—he’s still a young rookie, but he’s nonetheless demonstrated a profound ability to outperform even our most experienced pilots within the field. We’re looking forward to observing his career as a flight lead in the Lighthouse Division.”
“And this other aircraft…”
“This Eagle belongs to a notable individual known mainly on our military records as Cipher—he was one of the greatest pilots to have ever served in the Belkan War over thirty years ago, where the individual and his wingmen were responsible for almost single-handedly winning the conflict and saving millions of lives from nuclear annihilation. For his unprecedented abilities in wiping out entire enemy fighter squadrons and destroying world-threatening superweapons left and right, he’s also referred to by veterans of the war as the ‘Demon Lord of the Round Table’.”
“Surely such a moniker would have been given in acknowledgement of his skills, Ambassador? To perform such feats with this aircraft…”
“The presence of these two Eagles stand as testaments to the achievements that our planes were able to accomplish—the skills that our pilots have are unique, but they also required nothing less than the best planes in order to hone these skills and utilise them to their greatest potential. And for the next generation of heroes and aces, we’ve already begun work on their successors—”
The camera panned from the two Eagles to a new aircraft—one considerably larger and flatter, yet somehow more intimidating in comparison with its dark and sleek exterior. A sizable crowd had already begun to form around this particular model, just as curious as Alana herself as to what exactly this was.
“This is the SR-72, which our engineers have also dubbed the ‘DarkStar’. A new prototype designed with speed and range in mind, this aircraft was originally designed to be an advanced reconnaissance unit but has since also been developed to function as a long-range multirole fighter. As part of the Lighthouse Division, we’ll be testing the DarkStar’s capabilities through the various missions we expect the IUN’s peacekeeping forces to undertake in the near future: anti-piracy operations, monster attacks, rogue satellite interceptions, the list goes on.”
”Oh my…how far can this aircraft go? We’ve heard Osean planes are more than capable of breaking the sound barrier, but considering your nation’s ability to easily reach outer space with the Lighthouse alone…”
Clarkson glanced towards the surrounding crowd, who were listening in with keen anticipation. Better to be blunt with the details than risk having the oftentimes self-assured Elysians mistake being humble for a lack of ability, he decided, turning to face Alana again.
“Osea uses the term Mach One to describe the speed of sound, or 1,192 kilometres per hour—the fastest a conventional fighter aircraft has been able to reach back in our world was Mach 2.83. If our estimates are correct and no major technical issues are detected, we are confident that the DarkStar will be capable of achieving Mach 10 with no difficulty.”
A Muan engineer within the crowd gasped in disbelief. “Impossible!”
“With these speeds, we intend to maximise the range through which the Lighthouse Division can respond to threats even beyond the borders of the Osean Federation. If there’s a sea monster rampaging in Altaras, or a pirate fleet near Cartalpas, or even a rogue warhead inbound for Otatheit, then we will be able to respond to the situation in a matter of hours. I’m reliably told, in fact, that with this fighter we can actually leave for Mu or even Gra Valkas right now and still make it back without refuelling, all in time for dinner!”
From the side, several Milishial and Gra Valkan diplomats visibly paled. Alana herself retained an appropriately astonished reaction from Ambassador Clarkson’s remarks, knowing all too well that even with the Lighthouse now widespread knowledge the Holy Milishial Empire still desired to maintain its image in spite of the sheer technological disparity between themselves and the Oseans now all too obvious.
“Truly impressive, Ambassador Clarkson. Now, perhaps you could explain to us what this final aircraft is? It definitely seems considerably different compared to the DarkStar or even the Eagles…”
In the background, Director Kaios’s eyes widened in recognition.
Clarkson’s hands slowly brushed his moustache as he pondered the red fighter before him—a sharp, jagged aircraft with angular forward wings and fins extending from a canopy where the cockpit would normally be. Even from up close, the numerous circular cameras embedded onto the surface seemed like countless eyes staring down at its onlookers as the lights from the Lighthouse reflected off their lenses; by Elysian standards, the ambassador reckoned, there might as well be no difference between an Osean fighter and an eldritch creature out of the stories of Razgriz or whatever gods and goddesses existed out here, with the sheer power it wielded.
“This is the ADF-01 FALKEN, an experimental aircraft that has been in continuous development for over the past twenty-five years but is now finally ready for mass-production. Compared to the DarkStar’s experimental long-range capabilities, this particular model was designed with showcasing the pinnacle of our old world’s technological capabilities—the FALKEN is the first of Osea’s fighters to use the Connection For Flight Interface, which minimises conventional controls such as buttons and sticks in favour of eye movements and vocal commands. We’ve had basic proposals for exploring using the mind as a primary means of direct control, but we’re still keen on having a tangible, physical approach to our controls for now.”
“Oh, my!”
Alana gasped as the cockpit of the FALKEN abruptly opened, revealing the interior—projections of the surrounding room were displayed around the canopy through a series of hexagonal grids, while the display was illuminated by blue lights that gave the seat and controls a cooling glow. Several pilots and wyvern knights from throughout Elysia peered curiously inside, the scent of a freshly sown fabrics and newly manufactured parts committed to memory as dreams of fancy and ambition began to take root—decades would likely pass before even the Muans would ever step foot into the likes of the aircraft before them, but to someday fly an Osean fighter for the glory of Qua-Toyne, or Parpaldia, or Mu, or even Gra Valkas was something many were now willing to wait or even fight for.
“Truly, your fighters are unlike anything else we’ve ever seen in Elysia—and you say that this is the latest of its kind?”
”It is, indeed, Miss Forlen. With luck, this will eventually replace the Eagles of the IUN and the OADF—and perhaps, someday, a hero of Elysia might just fly a FALKEN like this one to continue our legacy of bringing peace and prosperity to our world.”
“Not just for Osea?”
Ambassador Clarkson shook his head, gesturing towards the large window where their planet loomed from below. “Not just for the sake of a nation like Osea or for personal gain, but for every living being that exists and breathes on this planet. For that, there can be no greater achievement.”
And perhaps there was no greater achievement, many of the guests present admitted to themselves, as their thoughts turned to consider where they were—a hundred thousand kilometres above the surface of Elysia, where all the troubles and concerns that they dealt with on a regular basis were but a mere blue bubble amidst an infinite sky. No wonder the Oseans never did seem all that concerned with whatever the likes of Remille and Ludius had to say or claim—why trouble themselves with puny, arrogant creatures ignorant of their full potential, when the skies beckoned from above?
We never did have a chance of winning, did we?
It was a humbling thought, Kaios mused to himself, as he turned back toward Ambassador Clarkson and Alana Forlen.
“…thank you for agreeing to this interview with MNN. We’ll be right back after this commercial break.”
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“Impressive sight, don’t you think?”
Standing at the observation window and staring at the planet below, Prince Cabal was momentarily confused before recognising the individual beside him, extending a hand in greeting. “Quite the view, indeed. Director Kaios of the Parpaldia Empire, I presume?”
Shaking the Prince’s hand, Kaios replied, “Guilty as charged, Your Highness—I’m part of the delegation for what used to be the superpower of the Third Civilization Area, before…well, this happened.” Kaios gestured vaguely at the space station they were currently in, his point painfully obvious to the Prince.
“I take it you’re not in the best of positions, considering Parpaldia’s circumstances?”
“Well, both Osea and Parpaldia have agreed to place me in charge of the postwar Parpaldian government, so it’s not that bad—that said, it’s not every day that you’re tasked with dismantling the very empire you love and live for right after it’s burnt itself to the ground.”
Cabal winced, his own thoughts instantly turning to his own father’s struggles to keep Gra Valkas together. “My condolences, Director—that must be quite a bitter experience.”
“I’ve chosen not to think too hard about it, Your Highness—Parpaldia’s fall would have come sooner or later, now that I’ve had the time to think about it. Imagine, even thinking that our weapons would have somehow managed to prevail against everything that the Oseans achieved…I suppose that’s what Leifor thought when your Empire arrived, perhaps…”
The Prince paused, his mind abruptly finding itself going down an unfamiliar path as he placed himself in the Emperor’s shoes: once seemingly the most powerful man in his own little world, yet abruptly faced with the prospect of losing centuries of progress and history in a single day—he was suddenly faced with an incredibly uncomfortable thought: what if that could have been us?
Cabal quickly buried that notion—no use pondering in the past, when the matters of the present and the problems of the future awaited. “Leifor was weak, and failed to see the logic in submitting to Gra Valkas or joining us as equals. They suffered the consequences as a result—and I suppose, at the risk of being rude, the same must have befallen your nation when it came to the matter of the Oseans.”
If Kaios took any offence at the implied slight at Parpaldia, he showed no sign of it; instead, the director shook his head and sighed. “Perhaps we were weak—but to everyone else until Harling came to our shores, they were the weak ones. Take care, Your Highness, that Osea does not end up seeing Gra Valkas in the same light as Leifor or even us.”
Frowning, Cabal began, “If you presume to—”
“Consider my advice, from one Empire to another: Parpaldia could have chosen to walk amongst the stars with Osea, yet it chose to cling to its past—and now, it shall stay there, consigned to a dusty footnote in an ancient book of Elysia’s early history that no one shall care to look at. I hope your nation can look at us, Prince Cabal, and choose not to follow our path.”
Kaios took one last glance at the window, where Osea loomed once more from below.
“And why would you choose that, when this world has so much more to offer?”
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Opening Address by Ambassador Vincent Harling to the Lighthouse Peace Conference, Low Earth Orbit — January 1, 2020
Delegates, Ambassadors, Mr. President, Your Highnesses, Your Majesties, Prime Minister:
Twenty-five years ago, the Osean Federation was embroiled in the most violent war our world had ever faced in a century—you will no doubt have seen the numbers of people dead, the artefacts of nuclear warfare in our museums, the recordings and eyewitness accounts. But it’s a far different experience to be standing on the Belkan border, watching seven nuclear explosions billow over the horizon and observing the devastation that followed—and know that the horrors that just unfolded were partly the products of your own actions—of your countrymen, of your government, of every person whose contributing actions all built up in some way to the annihilation of over ten thousand people in the blink of an eye. The cascade of events that led to that moment happened for a reason—a series of factors that could have been individually prevented at any time but were simply allowed to transform into the catastrophe that brought a fiery end to the Belkan War.
Without terrors such as the Ravernal Empire and the relics they left behind, the only monsters we had in our old world were ourselves—and the Osean Federation was no exception. We were ambitious, confident, assured in ourselves and our own ability to demonstrate our superiority to the rest of the world—and so were our neighbours. We had our own Mu and Gra Valkas, our own Milishial and Emor, our own Parpaldia and Altaras—their names are but memories to us now, but their legacies and our collective actions shall forever remain etched into our collective conscience.
In our own arrogance and ignorance, we failed to consider that not only were our enemies just as arrogant as us but had the sheer power and strength to back up their claims. And so when our own actions went too far, the very excesses that the nations of our old world indulged in came crashing down on our faces—a war began that would see entire nations subjugated and cities burnt to the ground as old grudges were resurrected and our weapons were brought to bear. But this came at a great cost, and the very end saw our entire world take one step into the brink of nuclear oblivion—all the while ignorant of a far greater threat that transcended borders and threatened our entire realm of existence.
Imagine your entire life: your dreams, your goals, your ambitions, your fears, your family, your accomplishments, and your failures. Now imagine those of your neighbours, your friends, and your enemies, and imagine every single aspect that makes the lives of every single individual in your world, well, your world—and erase it all.
You are faced with a blank slate, a complete annihilation of an entire universe in the blink of an eye—for us, still struggling in the ground to prove that we were the greatest nation amongst them all, this was what we faced: one hundred thousand fragments of an asteroid called Ulysses were poised from a realm we paid little to no attention to annihilate everything we knew to be our world.
Through great effort and determination, we survived—but barely. Yet even as we stood back on our feet, we had come to a realisation—that an entire world, untouched, existed above us, blissfully indifferent to all our petty wars and selfish ambitions. And so we made our choice, to change—to set aside our differences, to set aside our struggles and recriminations, and to step forward into the heavens as one.
For what is a nation up here when our Earth is just a simple blue marble floating amidst an infinite sea?
We are present here today amidst the legacy of the two catastrophes of Ulysses and Belka—one as a haunting lesson on the excesses of ambition and self-interest, and one as a reminder that far, far greater and more terrifying things exist above our worlds beyond mere squabbles about power and influence. In the decades since the aftermath of the two darkest moments of our history, the Osean Federation made it its mission to ensure that no such horrors should ever be repeated again—it is a goal that we have struggled with time and time again, but always have prevailed in the end. And now, twenty-five years afterwards, we are faced with perhaps our greatest struggle yet.
It has been a year since Osea arrived in Elysia—a world so fundamentally different from our own, yet nonetheless plagued with so many of the same problems that saw our own world torn about and bathed in nuclear fire. We are lucky not to be cursed with another Ulysses, but we are nonetheless present here today to turn a page in Elysia’s history—to ensure that we can confine the excesses of at least a small part of this world to history, where it belongs.
It is perhaps fitting that we are hosting this Conference above Elysia—here, we are but a single planet where borders and nationalities vanish into the distance. Here, there are no Oseans or Parpaldians or Milishials or Muans or Gra Valkans—we are the peoples of Elysia, and may whoever exists out there witness us speak as one.
We, the peoples of Elysia, standing here amidst the stars, stand between two paths: one where we turn our backs to the skies and remain in the shadows of madmen and fire, and one where we make a choice—to step beyond our own world and venture beyond, to seek out what exists out there and become part of something greater than ourselves.
I’m not under the delusion that this Conference will single-handedly bring about a universal world peace overnight—but perhaps we might all come back down to Elysia with an idea of a future that we Elysians might be all able to share one day. And so we might meet again, and again, and again, and we might turn another page, and another page, and another page—until one day, we will reached a point in the story of Elysia where a Gra Valkan and a Muan will work side by side or where a Parpaldian and an Altaran can live together without cause for harm or violence. And so Elysia will turn away from a world where violence and might rules these lands and look upwards—and we’ll be watching down, and waiting.
To those listening, I ask: will you join us?