“And so it was that the riots had claimed multiple lives, Edgar had been killed by Fay, Silof was fatally wounded by the military, Annabel sacrificed herself to save Fay, and also Byron. But while Fay and Byron are safe, back at the monastery, what is going on as the next generation begins? Let us start a little while after the riots, the riots not only claimed lives, but also buildings.”

“The streets are ravaged and remnants of dolls are being cleaned by the militia. The military took control of New Albion and claimed it their own by invoking a state of martial law. All the rights, just as Byron had predicted, were taken away. If you had a doll, or looked strangely at the troops marching down all the streets, you would be shot without a warning. Taxes were raised to make sure the soldiers could be paid.”

“Now the Voodoopunks, what happened to them? Most of them used Charlotte’s mansion to escape the riots and move underground, away from soldiers who were ordered to kill dolls, and their owners. If they find a token of the dead, they will take you away. If you are seen again, you will have been lobotomized, and your memories, were gone. As you were used for production work.”

“Let us take a look at Jackie, she recovered from her wound, the shock of what happened was hard on her, she had been told Fay and Byron died since their bodies were nowhere to be found. Amelia’s dad, was the man who lunged at Byron, the man that Byron killed.”

“Jackie decided to live a double live as she moved in with Dorothy. They decided to hold, normal parties and soirées. The money she and Dorothy raised was used to fund the rebellion, even if most of it was, secret and hidden. This was hard, as the soldiers regularly just barged into homes, if they broke your door in the progress, you had to pay for it yourself.”

“Jackie, one day on a mission to save a stranded Voodoopunk, along with Charlotte, was unaware of the soldiers breaking into the mansion she shared with Dorothy. Her mansion was searched, and they found Thiccy Viccy, Dorothy claimed it was hers. Since she was a Voodoopunk, she was taken away, to be lobotomized.”

“Jackie’s brother, John, had a daughter named Constance. Her mother was named Vivian. This will come into play later, Jackie gained a darker side as Dorothy was taken away, she became hateful of the militia, she blamed them for all the deaths of her friends, Byron and Fay included.”

“The militia is showing no sign of slowing down, or ever stopping. New Albion had turned into a prison for the living people there, in constant fear of being executed, their money taken from them. But no one had the guts or resources to fight back.”

“Now, years later, we are going to look at a man named Paul, or as the military call him, Soldier 7285.”

“Paul, a young man in his early twenties, possessed a lean and wiry frame, a testament to the hardships of life in New Albion under the rule of the dead that Edgar created. His sharp features, accentuated by a scruffy beard that hinted at the struggle for normalcy in an abnormal world, spoke of resilience and determination.”

“His eyes, once filled with youthful exuberance, now carried a heavy weight of disillusionment, a reflection of the harsh reality he faced daily after the riots. The spark of hope that might have once ignited those eyes had dimmed in the face of the oppressive regime that governed New Albion for a long time. But he thought, the military was the answer to bring back New Albion to the way it should be.”

“Paul’s enlistment into the military unfolded against the backdrop of a city gripped by uncertainty and unrest. The once bustling streets of New Albion had transformed into a tense and foreboding landscape, echoing with the distant echoes of conflict and the shadows of a powerful military presence.”

“As Paul navigated the enlistment process, the air was thick with a palpable tension, an undercurrent of fear and urgency that permeated every interaction. The military recruitment center, a stark and utilitarian building, stood as a gateway to a life of service, duty, and the harsh realities of a city under siege by the dead.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Paul, clad in worn civilian attire, entered the recruitment center with a mixture of apprehension and determination. The uniformed personnel within, each emblematic of the military’s control over the city, scrutinized him with a discerning gaze. The air was filled with the mechanical hum of activity as recruits bustled about, their faces reflecting a spectrum of emotions from fear to reluctant acceptance.”

“The recruitment officer, a stern figure with the authority to shape lives in this tumultuous city, reviewed Paul’s documents with a practiced efficiency. Questions about his background, motivations, and willingness to serve punctuated the air as Paul navigated the interview process. Each response carried weight, a potential ticket to a life within the ranks of the military.”

“Paul, now part of the military machinery that patrolled the once familiar streets, embarked on a journey that would test his resolve, morality, and loyalty. The enlistment process had thrust him into the heart of the city’s turmoil, where the lines between right and wrong blurred against the backdrop of a city in chaos and fear.”

“While Paul does his thing and works for the military, why don’t we look at Priscilla, what happened to her? She is now an eleven-year-old girl. She has never been outside of her mansion and hides in the family manor. Charlotte keeps her hidden in a secret parlor. Jasper lives with her, and he has become her guardian.”

“Obscured from the prying eyes of the outside world, there exists a secret parlor, a sanctuary of solitude and mystery. This clandestine chamber, hidden behind layers of tapestries and concealed entrances, was an intimate haven that harbored the enigmatic Priscilla, a young girl of merely eleven years.”

“The parlor, bathed in soft, ambient light filtered through intricately designed stained glass windows, carried an air of otherworldly charm. The walls were adorned with delicate tapestries depicting scenes of whimsy and fantasy, creating an illusion of a world beyond the mansion’s imposing facade.”

“In the center of the room, surrounded by plush cushions and draped fabrics, sat Priscilla. Her youthful countenance held a mixture of innocence and melancholy, her large, expressive eyes revealing a depth of solitude that belied her tender age. Priscilla’s world was confined to the confines of this hidden parlor, a gilded cage where time seemed to stand still.”

“Jasper, the doll, shared this secret sanctuary with Priscilla. A silent companion with a perpetually serene expression, Jasper became the vessel for Priscilla’s emotions, her confidant in solitude. Together, they inhabited a realm insulated from the tumultuous events that unfolded beyond the exterior.”

“The parlor, though luxurious, bore witness to the poignant loneliness that enveloped Priscilla’s existence. The air within held a delicate fragrance, a mixture of aged books and the subtle aroma of dried flowers, creating an atmosphere that spoke of both elegance and seclusion.”

“Priscilla seldom ventured beyond the confines of the hidden parlor, her connection to the outside world severed by the secrets that enveloped her existence. The mansion’s other residents, unaware of her presence, moved through their lives, leaving Priscilla in a cocoon of isolation.

In this hidden haven, time passed with a languid rhythm. The sound of Priscilla’s soft footsteps and the occasional murmured conversation with Jasper provided the only audible companionship within the secret parlor. The stained glass windows filtered the changing hues of daylight, casting a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the room.”

“The parlor, with its ornate furnishings and ethereal atmosphere, became a microcosm of Priscilla’s secluded world. Here, she found solace amidst the trappings of luxury, yet the poignant loneliness that clung to her remained, a silent echo in the hidden corners of the mansion’s secret heart. And it is here, that she played a never ending game of cards with Jasper while the world outside was harsh and brutal.”

“Do you remember all the way back in the beginning, before New Albion was formed that the Monk and the Gambler played their never ending card game? It almost came to an end, but before the game could come to that, the gambler died from a heart attack. Now you ask, why is this important? He died before the final hand was played, so what?”

“Look at Jasper, he is the reincarnated soul of the Gambler, playing cards with Priscilla, and what about her? She is the reincarnated soul of the Monk, after all these years, these souls are still playing cards. There was only one way this could end, and that is where this generation begins.”

“A generation that is not ruled by the idea to invent, the idea to raise the dead, to stop an oppressive regime, no, a generation where people try to survive. Now, let me take you into the next part of the story of New Albion.”