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Theocratic-Monarchy: SunSide
21st Day of Month 6, Year 1628 DG
The unexpected meeting with the Facilitator, and the violent interaction that preceded it, arouses a rigidity in Alba’s body language that leaves the air fraught between her and Unisa.
The angi keeps her gaze lowered as Alba steps quickly and fluidly over the stone path of the Pass. About halfway through, the road forks. The path on the right continues on to SunSide, while the left leads to a trail venturing up the side of the mountain, at the top of which sits PeakHaven, a city where the altitude allows only angi to breathe easily.
The sign at the entrance of the trail reads “PeakHaven: Alasa Belita, Alasa Nekita.”
“Unlimited Skies. Unlimited Love.” Unisa translates the Nysabaani in a whisper. Her heart aches knowing that she would have received a modicum of that unlimited love, had the Prime not manipulated her parents into abandoning her.
And then she devoted her life to him, his teachings, and his malevolence.
“That’s not your home,” Alba says, bluntly shaking her from her thoughts.
“What home do I have?” Unisa gestures to the sign. “The city that left me, or the city that lied to me?”
Without hesitation, Alba responds, “Home is where your mother is. Always.”
Memories of Ora, the pixie who defines “unlimited love,” flood Unisa’s thoughts.
“I’ve never been away from her for this long.”
Alba gently places her hand on Unisa’s shoulder. “This assignment has tested you in every way, and you’ve conquered it, proving your resilience.” She smiles. “Nothing reminds me more of Ora than that. She may not be with you physically, but everywhere you go, you bring her with you.”
Unisa returns her smile. Everything she’s accomplished has been on the shoulders of the greatest pixie she’s ever known. She turns away from the sign, finally leaving PeakHaven behind her.
SunSide welcomes them with an image of the MegaFather, smiling, holding a chunk of ore. Written under it is “The Future is Forever.”
The image is so unnerving, Unisa turns away with a shiver.
The Pass opens to a wide, grassy field, with a predictably daunting presence of officers. The north side of the field is sectioned off by waist-high ore barricades and a fence of Braver shields. On the opposite side are Doruh families, anxiously anticipating the arrival of their loved ones from MoonSide.
Unisa finds a mix of joyous, grateful reunions, and despondent agony. While some wrap their arms around the loved ones who made it through the Pass, others drop to their knees and release cries that shatter Unisa’s heart.
The mountainous, metallic gates in the distance hide Larso and the monarch. Hover chariots litter the field, accepting customers who haven’t previously made travel arrangements. Unisa’s read about the vehicles, and the ore roads built to give them life. She admits, they’re quite impressive.
“Alba!” a voice excitedly rings out as the Librarians move toward the chariots. A young, jade-skinned Mega approaches them. She’s dressed casually in soft fabric pants that cling to the legs, and a loose top with long, flowing sleeves and a drawstring near the low-cut neckline.
Unisa has only seen her in pictures: Member Saila of the Assembly. Despite her appearance, every Braver she passes stops to face her and place four fingers over their foreheads to salute her. After she acknowledges them, they resume their work.
The confidence she exudes can be felt yards away.
She wraps Alba in a tight embrace, which the Ambassador happily reciprocates. Unisa was entirely unaware that the Mega and the mari shared such a warm bond.
“Your letter completely shocked me,” Saila says to Alba. “You’re back so soon.”
“You know my uncle,” Alba responds, “he keeps me busy. I’m just here to facilitate Unisa’s first assignment.”
She gestures to the angi, whose awe has silenced Unisa.
“Marvelous,” Saila responds. “Welcome to SunSide, Unisa.”
Saila’s hover chariot flows smoothly along ore plates as the theocrat and the two Librarians enter the city. Unisa rests in the back row; though she would’ve been far more comfortable in the sky, she didn’t want to refuse a theocrat’s generosity.
Intricate designs telling magnificent tales have been etched into the city gates. The artwork here is in stark contrast to that on the settlement walls of MoonSide. Where one depicts the MegaFather and the Bravers as violent monsters and tyrannical beasts, the other hails them as benevolent heroes and empowerers of the faerie clan.
“The Assembly and the Four are absent,” Unisa notes aloud. “The gates show the monarchy and the military as champions, but don’t represent the theocracy or the Four at all.”
Saila sighs. “Those gates are made of ore, and they memorialize only those whom the forgers worship. Metalwork is just another industry in which the Ore Mong...sorry, the MegaFather has replaced nymphs and pixies with his clanmates.”
Unisa’s jaw nearly drops, hearing a Member of the theocracy referring to her colleague, and the reigning monarch, by a pejorative, regardless of recent revelations.
Saila continues. “Alba can tell you more about the MegaFather’s industrial influence tonight after you all have rested.”
“You know more than I do, Sai, you can give her a detailed account.” Alba turns to address Unisa. “We’ll be staying in Saila’s home tonight.”
“Oh.” Unisa’s forehead scrunches in confusion. “Isn’t it protocol to stay in the diplomatic chambers in the Castrum?”
Alba nods. “It is, but we’d be far more comfortable staying with Saila during such an”— she pauses—“atypical assignment.”
Unisa can hear a voice in her head, admonishing her for disobeying protocol, but she can’t tell if it’s her own, or the Prime’s.
“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to tell Unisa much tonight,” Saila admits. “I’ll be leaving the city as soon as I drop you both home.”
Alba frowns. “I’m sorry. Had I known you were busy, I wouldn’t have imposed.”
“Oh, please.” Saila rolls her eyes. “You know you’re always welcome. My mother isn’t well. I have to return to the village to care for her. I’m meeting with the village salver tomorrow morning.”
Alba’s eyes widen. “You have a meeting in Eloa tomorrow? Sai, it’s at the other end of SunSide—even you can’t fly that fast.”
Saila’s jaw drops in mock insult. “I most certainly can.”
Alba smiles. “How long will you be gone?”
“Not long. I’ll be back on the Twenty-Fourth around sunsdown. The Assembly has a massive announcement planned.”
“How massive?”
Saila pauses before she responds. “Historic. It’s actually rather serendipitous that you’ve come here. This announcement will change SunSide forever, so it’ll need to be recorded for the Library.”
“Sounds significant,” Alba comments. “We’ll record the announcement before we return to the Library.”
The mari turns to Unisa again, though no words are exchanged; Alba’s expression relays the thought, Sorry.
Unisa forces a smile, communicating, I understand, while her heart sinks anxiously. She’d never willingly prolong this torture.
“Will your father be part of this announcement?” Alba asks the pixie.
“Hmm”—she places a finger on her chin—“indirectly.”
“I see. And will he be joining you to visit your mother?”
Saila scoffs. “You know he wouldn’t do that. He’s too busy fulfilling his duties as Zar-Lo’s pet. Why would he suddenly care about anyone but himself? He doesn’t even know I’ve been called to her bedside.”
“We saw him in Arlun. He tried to stop us from coming to SunSide.”
“What?!” Saila’s volume rises. “Did he detain you? I can inform the Assembly. There can be consequences.”
“Wait,” Unisa jumps in, as a spark goes off in her mind, “the Facilitator is your father?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I’m surprised someone had a child with him,” Unisa blurts out loudly before she can stop herself. “Apologies. I simply meant he doesn’t seem very...fatherly.”
Saila laughs. “Spot-on instincts. He isn’t much of a father. Never was. Always chose his duty over family. Even over his own arm.”
Unisa is hesitant to pry, though the pixie’s last comment invites her. “What do you mean?”
“During the nymph and pixie rebellions here in Larso, twenty years ago. I was fifteen and had spent the majority of my life in Eloa, my mother’s village. But when she started to fall ill, I was sent here to live with my dear daddy.”
“Your father brought a teenager to Larso in the middle of a rebellion?”
“He did. His paternal instincts have always been wrapped in a bit of”—she pauses—“carelessness. While the rebellion fought for land rights, my father was a Braver.”
“A pixie Braver,” Alba specifies, shaking her head. “Defending a monarch who was stripping his own clan of their rights.”
“A rare breed of traitor,” Saila continues. “He was convinced that they could keep the radical scum at bay, but the Bravers lost control of the skirmishes rather quickly. My connection to the Radiance was in its infancy; I barely survived when the battle came through our neighborhood and decimated our home.”
“Where was your father?” Unisa asks. “He didn’t protect you?”
“He was in the Castrum, losing his arm for the only one who’s ever mattered to him.”
“Father of the Century,” Alba scoffs.
Saila nods. “He was named Facilitator that day. Sacrificed his arm and his daughter for a promotion. I lost all respect and what little love I had left for him. I vowed never to share a roof with him again.”
“Did you go back to the village?” Unisa asks.
Saila shakes her head and smiles. “Oh, no. I stayed in Larso after a Doruh family took me in. They had a daughter around my age, Sonali. We pursued our education together and even started the same political apprenticeship.”
There’s a long pause in which her expression dims, but she quickly shakes her head and continues. “I worked myself ragged until I joined the Assembly. He opposed, of course, but my resolve never wavered. In fact, I think the more he opposed, the stronger my will became.”
“Sai’s sharp wit and unwavering ambition terrifies him,” Alba says, shooting a look of admiration at the pixie.
“I stayed focused on my goals regardless of his offers, wanting him to see me around the Castrum as a reminder of what he’d lost—what he’d willingly forsaken for an individual he barely knew at the time.”
She exhales deeply. “Above all, I wanted him to know I didn’t need him. That I was better off without him and that I could make real change in SunSide.”
“An ambitious goal,” Alba comments. “One that often feels impossible since the monarchy feigns devotion to the Four to fool the theocracy into support.”
A soft smile presses onto Saila’s lips. “We might die in the pursuit of the impossible, but hope never does. Perhaps it’s closer than we think.”
High population density with limited space plagues the outskirt districts of Larso. Towering stone buildings stack residents on residents. A maze of streets overflow with the homeless. Outside of the ore infrastructure and the lack of faeries, there isn’t much that differentiates these communities from those in MoonSide.
“The Doruh who migrate here, and the nymphs and pixies who chose to stay after the displacement, settle in these communities,” Saila explains. “They travel into the main districts for work, but can’t afford to live there since the faeries, dragging generations of wealth behind them, thrust property values into the sky.”
“The land around the Castrum was once evenly distributed amongst the three Mega clans, back before this dynasty,” Alba adds. “As were basic social and economic resources. None of those resources followed the lower classes out to these neighborhoods.”
Unisa sighs. “This is all history. I’m a Librarian. I should know this.”
“Your tunic is the very reason you don’t know any of this,” Alba reminds her.
“How do the faeries justify treating the Doruh and the other Mega clans this way?”
“Fearmongering,” Saila responds. “These neighborhoods in the outskirts have slightly higher rates of crime, so the faeries use those statistics to label others as violent.”
Having studied the rise and fall of kingdoms and nations throughout history, the truth seems glaring to her.
“Of course crime rates are higher in these neighborhoods,” Unisa says. “Crime follows poverty and desperation. The faeries don’t keep crime low because they’re faeries; they keep crime low because they’ve surrounded themselves with plenty. With abundance. With luxury.”
Saila nods. “While all of that is true, there’s also the fact that crime statistics come from faerie researchers. It’s hard to gauge how much of those findings actually exist, and how much is manufactured.”
As they leave the outskirt districts behind, residences become mixed with commerce. Mega marketplaces, Doruh bazaars, small teashops and merchants; the non-faerie residents of the outer districts slowly become scarce. Faeries are found in their chariots, or on Doruh chauffeurs, dressed in clean, pressed clothing, laughing and enjoying a life where all basic needs, and more, are provided for them.
“Larso University is in this area,” Saila dictates. “Classrooms are packed with faeries whose parents have either paid handsomely to educate them or have leveraged friendships and status to enroll their children.”
“Meanwhile,” Alba continues, “the non-faeries are offered generous sums of money to attend classes by wealthy faeries to whom they’ll be indebted for the remainder of their lives.”
Saila sighs. “And possibly their children’s lives.”
Unisa’s brow wrinkles as she tries to pull weeds of fallacy from the gardens of SunSide’s society. “I don’t understand. Educating the populace benefits the kingdom.”
She holds her gaze to Alba’s. “Knowledge empowers, right? Why would a society obstruct empowerment with financial burdens that bar citizens from education?
Alba and Saila exchange a long look and allow Unisa’s question to linger as she arrives at the conclusions on her own.
Because pouches of colorful stones can be weighed, and societal success cannot.
They finally arrive at the center of the city. Similar to the middle districts, there is a mix of commerce and residences, but none that seem overly crowded. The ore streets weave like thick vines around buildings, and more chariots appear on the roads, including longer ones carrying thirty or forty passengers at a time.
“The Castrum complex is not far from here,” Saila explains. “All government operations are run from there.”
“That much, I’m aware of,” Unisa responds.
Saila stops the chariot outside of a stout, two-story home. She and the Librarians disembark with their belongings and walk up the stone steps.
Unisa finds herself facing a number of wide, open rooms on the first floor, with a staircase in the center of the home leading up to the bedrooms on the second. To the right of the staircase is the kitchen, and to the left seems to be a study with enormous, full bookshelves lining the walls.
Starlight drips into the home from a transparent glass pane on the ceiling.
“The skylight window is my favorite feature,” Saila remarks before she points to the staircase. “Bedrooms are upstairs. Choose any. I wish I could stay, but I really have to leave.”
“You’ve done so much for us,” Unisa responds gratefully. “Thank you.”
Saila smiles. “It’s my pleasure. I’ll see you on the Twenty-Fourth. The announcement will take place at sunsdown. I’ll be back then.”
Alba embraces her. “Fly safe. Take care.”
With a final wave and smile, Saila takes to the skies, fully expecting to return to the same SunSide from which she now departs.