"I did not know what to expect when I heard the news of the ‘displacement’ on that fateful day 30 years ago, but it now seems to have been for the best of the nation, as our empire has risen to new heights."
—James Lennox, as quoted in "A New World Order" (1st Edition), published 4 Memesa 2025 (4 February 1669)
18:28 AST, 6th of Memesa, 1995 (6th of February, 1639)
Arem City Harbour, Arem City, Arem
When he had first heard of his assignment, Admon Weil had nearly laughed in his superior's face.
A diplomatic mission to a nation that had sprung out of nowhere? It was completely absurd. A ludicrous joke, but his superior would never risk his career for such a thing. So Admon Weil found himself standing at the edge of Arem City Harbour with a brown suitcase. He wasn't alone in this diplomatic venture. Two other diplomats had been chosen to accompany him, as well a few aides, each with their own bags.
There was Ranon Kantor, a thin man that looked as if he could be blown away by the slightest breeze; and Simon Geiger, his friend and colleague for many years, a stout man with thick glasses that magnified his beady eyes.
The evening sky cast a lamp-orange hue over the harbour, and the bustling of sailors and dockworkers seemed distant as the group stood on the pier, waiting for the vessel that was scheduled to take them to the new country.
"Hey, Admon," Simon Geiger muttered as he adjusted his glasses. "Can you believe we're doing this? Diplomatic relations with a... who knows what?"
Admon Weil looked at his friend and couldn't help but crack a smile. "Yeah, sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But our superiors believe it's a serious matter, and it's our duty to represent our nation."
Kantor looked as if he was about to interject, but was interrupted by the blast of a loud horn.
"Oh, well it seems our ride has arrived..." Admon trailed off in shock as a massive, sleek ship emerged from beyond the harbour.
Collective gasps filled the air.
"By the gods," Admon heard Kantor say. "Not even the Milishials have vessels like this."
Indeed, the ship that approached them was like nothing they had ever seen before. The massive vessel that loomed before them was a behemoth. It was a floating city of metal and glass. Enormous tiers of balconies and windows stretched upward like stacks of paper, and a peculiar red contraption shaped like a stretched cylinder perched at the top of the ship like a grand crown with black trims.
"It's like a floating palace," an aide marvelled from behind.
After a few minutes, the ship finally docked at the harbour, its gangplank extending to the pier with a metallic thud. A bald man in a smooth black suit descended from the ship. His piercing black eyes seemed to cut through the evening air.
"Good day sirs," the man began smoothly in Aremic, much to the surprise of the diplomats and their aides. "My name is Voss from the Agency of Central Security and I will be your guide in Neragon."
The group of diplomats exchanged glances.
Admon, eventually stepped forward to shake Voss's hand. "I'm Admon Weil, and these are my colleagues, Ranon Kantor and Simon Geiger as well as our aides Zubin Katz, Pesach Levin, Tuvya Fraenkel, Ezrah Gollancz and Judah Singer. It's a pleasure to meet you, Voss."
Voss blinked, then nodded in acknowledgement. "Likewise, Mr. Weil. Now, if you'll all please follow me."
The diplomats and their aides gathered their belongings and began to follow their new guide up the gangplank.
A few moments later, the entire group was on the Neragese vessel.
"Welcome aboard the OL Rufus Avis." Voss gestured with a polite smile.
Admon managed not to gasp again, the interior was just as – if not more – astonishing than the exterior, the entrance hall of the ship was grandeur incarnate. The space was adorned with intricate golden carvings and polished wood, and elegant chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, lighting up the opulent surroundings.
"This is just insane." Admon heard Simon mumble. Then he asked the guide. "Excuse me, but what did you say the name of this ship was?"
"The Rufus Avis, sir," Voss replied. "We would have sent a larger ship, but we did not think your harbour could've accommodated it… Now, I will show you to your quarters."
21:36 AST, 6th of Memesa, 1995 (6th of February, 1639)
OL Rufus Avis, Neragese-Aremic Strait
After they had been shown to their lodgings, the diplomats had been led on a tour of the ship, gawking at its luxurious design and almost futuristic technology. The highlight of the tour came when Simon had asked what magic the ship utilised.
"Oh, I believed we use runic magic on the hull to protect the ship from damage," Voss had explained. "Other than that, our ship is purely mechanical."
It had then devolved into and explanation into how magic worked in their world. Like the magic of the world, Neragon's magic was seen as a form of energy. However, that was where their similarities end, as it could be used by people born with the ability to conduct it, as well as harnessed by people that had no ability of magic by channelling magic through things like inscriptions with magical properties, rituals, and herbal magic.
Now, Admon lay in the plush bed of his appointed cabin on the OL Rufus Avis.
It was modest, compared to the ship's public areas, but it was still comfortable, with a balcony and view of the sea. Admon had tried to make sense of the "Teevee" which was strapped to the wall opposite of the bed, a rectangular screen that showed moving images and broadcasted programs. He was told it was a common form of entertainment and information dissemination in Neragon much like the Magical Crystal Tubes of the Holy Milishial Empire.
He went over the timetable of the visit to Neragon in his mind, which had been provided to him by their guide. They would be dropped off at the city of Osterwald the next day, where they would ride a machine called a train to the capital of Neragon, Wilding. They would be provided accommodations in a hotel, from there, they would be taken on a tour of the city for the rest of the day. After that, talks with the Prime Minister of the country would occur for the next 6 days.
Admon rested his head on the soft, downy pillow and stared out at the night sky through the glass doors leading to the balcony. If this was an indication of what Neragon had to offer, it certainly defied his initial scepticism.
7:11 WT, 7th of Memesa, 1995 (7th of February, 1639)
OL Rufus Avis, Neragese-Aremic Strait
The morning sun, in all its radiant glory, painted the horizon in shades of golden orange, illuminating the cabin where Admon awoke. He stretched and felt the gentle swaying of the ship beneath him. His gaze wandered to the magnificent seascape beyond the glass, where the waves sparkled like liquid sapphire and a lone seabird soared gracefully on the breeze.
He rose from the comfortable bed, relishing the softness of the plush carpet beneath his feet. After freshening up and donning a succinctly pressed suit, he stepped into the hallway outside his quarters.
He decided to start his day with a visit to the ship's cafeteria, a large elegantly carpeted space at the front of the ship which offered a view of the pristine ocean stretching to the horizon.
As he entered the cafeteria, he noticed skylines just jutting out of the waters in the distance.
"The city of Osterwald."
Admon jumped slightly at the sound of the voice. He turned to see Voss sitting cross-legged at a corner table, a plate of vegetables in front of him.
"Good morning, Voss," Admon nodded with a smile.
The cafeteria was almost as empty as a tomb mainly because the ship was probably built for hundreds, if not thousands of passengers instead of a meagre 8.
"Likewise, I hope you've had a peaceful night Mr. Weil," Voss said. "We will be reaching Osterwald in an hour, I suggest you take the opportunity to have a meal and prepare yourself for the arrival."
"Of course," Admon replied.
The next few hours passed in a blur as the vessel finally docked in the harbour bay of Osterwald. The group of Aremic diplomats stepped off the ship and onto the bustling docks of Osterwald.
The sight that greeted them was vaguely familiar to Admon, the architecture of Osterwald's waterfront reminded him of the Parpaldian Empire's capital of Esthirant, with its imposing white facades. But Osterwald was not Esthirant, as reminded by the towering structures of glass and steel that stood in the city centre.
"I can't imagine how expensive these glass towers must have been." Simon had commented to Voss.
Their guide nodded. "Indeed Mr. Geiger, I believe each one could cost upwards to at least 20 billion Tsene (1 billion dollars)."
Admon's mind went numb when he heard that, although he wasn't sure how much a "Tsene" was worth, the word "billion" was enough to convey the immense value.
Unfortunately, they didn't have enough time for sightseeing, as they quickly boarded a train bound for the capital of the country.
9:26 WT, 7th of Memesa, 1995 (7th of February, 1639)
West Aialand Line bound for Greater Wilding, Jutshire, Aialand, Neragon
The train was a sleek, silver bullet, gliding smoothly along the tracks as it carried the Aremic diplomats and their guide through the semi-urban landscape of Neragon.
As soon as they had reached the train station, they were ushered onboard a private carriage that Voss said had been arranged especially for their delegation. The carriage was luxurious, with plush seats and large, windows that offered stunning vistas of the Neragese landscape.
Simon, had his nose buried in a notebook, jotting something down. Observations and questions on Neragon, knowing him. Admon thought dryly.
Kantor and the aides had settled in as well, discussing among themselves, looking out of the windows, and sharing thoughts about their unusual journey. The mood was a mix of excitement, curiosity, and a hint of trepidation. They were, after all, heading to the heart of a nation that had suddenly appeared in their world.
Outside, Admon saw rows and rows of houses, almost all with the same architecture and design, like an army of clones, standing neatly in rows, their red-tiled roofs gleaming in the sunlight.
Suburbs, Admon realised. He had been in Mu for a while 2 years ago, and he was well acquainted with the distinctive Muish suburbs with their standardised houses and absurdly well maintained "lawns". It seemed this was the same for Neragon as well, a part from the grid-like patterns Mu favoured for their streets.
Muish suburbs had started to appear following a population boom after the long and gruelling Muish Civil War. Did Neragon potentially experience something similar? Admon wondered.
Just then, the front carriage door slid open with a soft squeak and Voss entered the compartment.
"Good morning, gentlemen," He greeted, inclining his head. "I hope you are finding the journey comfortable so far."
The diplomats nodded and polite affirmations.
"We will be reaching Wilding in 10 minutes," Voss continued. "Expect the press to be there for your arrival" – Admon felt a sense of dread form from the pit at his stomach – "so just smile and wave, and I will do my best to assist you." Voss nodded with a smirk seeing the expressions on their faces.
"No pressure, eh?" An aide (Katz, Admon thought) joked.
"Har har," Simon deadpanned, not bothering to look up from his notebook.
Admon appreciated Simon's humour; it was a small comfort.
9:24 WT, 7th of Memesa, 1995 (7th of February, 1639)
Wilding East Station, Greater Wilding, Aialand, Neragon
"Man, there sure are a lot of reporters here," Admon muttered as he peered through the window. The platform of the station was a sea of people and flashing lights, jostled for the best spots to capture the arrival of the Aremic delegation.
Admon stood up, and adjusted his tie nervously, mentally preparing himself for the attention and scrutiny that awaited them outside the train. Kantor looked visibly tense, his hands fumbling with his cufflinks, while their aides exchanged glances.
Simon meanwhile just continued scribbling in his notebook in his seat, seemingly oblivious to the impending media frenzy.
"How can you be so calm, Simon?" Admon asked.
Simon paused for a moment, looking up from his notebook. "Well, Admon, this is history in the making, isn't it? It's not every day one gets to step into a country that's seemingly materialised out of thin air. I figure I'd better document as much as I can."
"That's not really a reason and you know it."
Simon just shrugged but stood up to join the others.
The platform was abuzz with activity as the train came to a gradual stop. Several navy-blue policemen formed a protective barrier around the carriage door as it slid open and the Aremic delegation stepped out.
The reporters, camera crews, and curious onlookers were held back by metal barricades. Flashbulbs popped like firecrackers, and microphones were thrust toward them like weapons.
"Sir, can you tell us what your first impressions of Neragon are?"
"Any thought on the sudden appearance of our nation?"
Admon tried to ignore them as a policeman who seemed to have appeared behind them ushered him forward, guiding the delegation through the chaotic scene.
Voss, standing at the front, pulled something long and thin out of his pocket. An iron stick?
He pointed it to his throat and suddenly, his voice filled the train station.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please give us some space," he boomed in Neragese.
"We'll answer questions at a press conference later," Voss informed the crowd. "Please be patient."
Admon did not know what their guide had said, but it made the crowd of reporters slowly back off, grumbling as they did. Admon breathed out a sigh as they were finally able to proceed through the throng without the constant barrage of questions.
"Erm... excuse me Mr. Voss, but what is that stick you're holding?" Simon inquired once they had reached the outside of the train station, where a line of black cars were waiting for them.
"Oh, this? Well it's a wand." He elaborated further seeing their confused expressions. "It helps us concentrate magic in a specific point to be sent out."
"So you can't use your hand to utilise magic like us?" Simon asked.
"We can," Voss replied. "but wands make it easier to focus and control magic." He paused. "I think a fitting comparison is that employing your hands for magic is akin to using your fist in a battle, while using a wand can be likened to wielding a sword instead."
The listeners all nodded in understanding.
"Now, I believe we have a hotel to get to."
Subject: Operation Steel, Date 08.02.1995
Time: 23:48
To: Dir42
From: ND9
Director C,
The first batch of spies has reached what natives call the "Vestal" and "Rodenius Continent" with their mission progressing as planned.
Initial technological analysis of the two regions shows all powers to be somewhere in the Middle Era. However, cultural and political structures vary greatly. Most states adhere to a feudalistic structure, but 2 display an organised system akin to early modern nation-states: the states of Reatia and Qua-Toyne. Further investigation into the cultural nuances, customs, and political intricacies of these regions is needed.
The flora and fauna of both continents also appear to be significantly different from what we know. I've attached preliminary reports from our biologists for your reference.
In terms of sentient species, the reports indicate the presence of several non-human races including the extinct elves; and "beastmen", humanoid people with the head of animals, we believe this term is a catch-all for a wide variety of animal-headed humanoids.
I will continue to monitor the situation closely.
yours truely,
Agent Nörd
P. S. I am aware it is below my station to say this and I apologise in advance, but I do not believe we should dispatch spies to the Holy Milishial Empire without further examination as countermeasures may be in place assuming their technological prowess is equivalent to the superpowers of the Post-Great War era.
