Beyond the Proposal: Part Two

This story - Beyond the Proposal (part two) was co-written with Mathew Presley in 2017. It was written for the fictional world of Escafeld, which I co-created with Mathew Presley and Chris Joynson for Sheffield Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Group to use as a shared world to set anthology short stories in. I have listed the world prompts that I used in the story at the bottom of the story. The group no longer uses this world and the anthologies are no longer available.

Please note, this is my last version I used before it was submitted to the anthology - so any errors in it are mine. Also please note, this story is NOT young adult. I hope you enjoy it.

Beyond the Proposal Part Two

Fifthday

Magic of all colours was bouncing off the walls of the pub as Liam entered, Zack going head to head with Maria’s brother George. Red mixing with blues, greens, purples. Fragments of furniture flung into the air. Elements being conjured. Screams. Sparks of fire, splashes of water, swirling winds. But there was no real sense of panic, not yet anyway. The crowds watched, drinks in hand. This wasn’t the first fight in this pub, it wasn’t even the first fight there this week and until blood started to be spilled there was nothing that much to worry about. So, most would step back, watch and enjoy the show, just making sure that they didn’t get too close to the action.

            There was a loud crack and the floor split. Liam rushed over, positioning himself between the pair. He could really have done without all this with just three days to the wedding, a hectic day at work, and a night where he was in desperate need of a pint. To say that he’d had an atrocious day was a huge understatement.

            Every time he had cleared his desk, people took it in turns to pile something else on it to do, laughing between them as they walked away, muttering about teaching him a lesson. The tailors had rung to say that his suit would not be ready for another two days. Zack had come into his office after avoiding him since they had left the hospital two days ago, with the grim declaration that they needed to talk that night. And now he had walked into to the pub to find his best friend and soon to be brother-in-law in the middle of a fight. Even if they might knock some common sense into each other, he could have done without this mess.

            Neither of them was backing down; George wouldn’t because, well, not only was he a Tyrant, who followed a bull-headed philosophy that discouraged showing weakness, but he was George… And Zack wouldn’t back down to a bully, not unless someone else was endangered. Liam turned on his friend, pushing him away from George. With the confrontation over, the Tyrant smirked, and returned to the bar. Part of the Enlightened tactic was to know when to let enemies win, and when to let them think they’d won.

            “What the fucking hell are you playing at?” Liam said, turning back to his friend.

            “He attacked me,” Zack said.

            “Of course, he did, that’s who is, but does that mean that you have to fire back?”

            “And land in the hospital, like you did?” Zack said. “There’s been enough trying to appease that family.”

            Liam paused torn as Zack walked off. Zack reached the door and looked back at him. That look of mistrust and disdain that he had given Maria was now being sent in Liam’s direction. It almost felt like the end of the friendship. Zack waited another few seconds, as if he was giving Liam one last chance to come with him. To restore their old friendship. But Liam didn’t move. He was torn. The choice between Zack and George should be easy. He should really go after his friend. But instead he focused his attention on George, who was picking up a couple of shots off the bar and downing them in quick succession.

            Zack shook his head, before pushing open the door. He stepped out, letting the door slam between them. His choice was made and Zack wasn’t going to forgive that quickly. Choosing Maria was one thing. But not following his best friend to talk to George Drake, a Tyrant that showed no respect for anyone and had just engaged his friend in a fight. That was another. But if George was to be part of his family, they had to talk. And Zack had always forgiven before, even if it had taken a few days.

            The confrontation over, the barman pulled a rope to ring a set of bells. The floor and furniture shuddered back into shape, spirits whistling through the air to sew wood and glass back together, even giving the tables a wipe-down before returning to the dovecotes in the rafters. Wizard-run pubs had a completely different set of advantages and problems to regular ones.

            Swallowing his guilt, Liam turned his back on the door and focused on George. He seemed to not worry about any dilemma as he ordered another drink from the barman, who quickly served the impatient Tyrant.

            George smiled at him, “What can I say, I was bored waiting for you.”

            “What do you want?” Liam said as George took another drink, “If it’s just to cause a fight then you can fuck off right now and leave me to get a drink.”

            “Pint for him,” George gestured to the barman, “I’m here to talk.”

            Liam took the pint off the barman and took a rather large sip, “That makes a first.”

            “Actually, it’s a last resort. Maria won’t listen to us.”

            Liam laughed. He should have seen this one coming. Why else would George Drake have shown any interest in him when he had spent the last eight years letting him know that he didn’t believe that he was worth a second thought? This was his final play to stop the wedding. That was probably why he had provoked Zack into a fight in the first place. To try and drive whatever barriers that he could between the two of them. Well, if sending him to the hospital hadn’t worked, then this wasn’t going to either.

            He waved over the barman and ordered another drink. George was still sporting that familiar smirk, that he had learnt quickly off Maria, that smirk never meant anything good and you needed to prepare yourself. Tonight, was not going to be a one drink night. The barman, unlike when he had served George, took his time. You didn’t run around after the Enlightened the same way you did with Tyrants, especially members of the Drake family. George smirk grew with the passing seconds, then demonstrated his own power by sending the barman running around after him seconds later.

            “So, you’re here to warn me off then.” Liam kept his smile fixed. He wouldn’t be intimidated by anyone, least of all Maria’s brother. “And why do you think that will work, when nothing that you have done to break us up so far has worked? Why do you think that we would change our minds now?”

            “I don’t.” George said, “I think Maria is stubborn enough to see this through and nothing we say seems to be able to change that. It looks like it’s a mistake that she will just have to make and this time, I’m going to have my little sister fall flat on her face without saving her. But there is time, and Maria knows that. She knows that, when she needs it, her family will be here to support her, no matter what she does. Just like we are with Anna. You see Liam, we Tyrants get a bad name, but that is what we are about; not knowledge, not books, not a sense of right or wrong, not useless things like that, but total loyalty and family. And we Tyrants, we Drakes, we will do whatever it takes to protect that family, to help it flourish above everyone else. And Maria knows that and respects that. Why do you think that even through all this, when everyone would tell her to turn her back, to distance herself, that she still always turns back to us, always respects that level of family commitment? She will always be one of us. And we will always protect her, regardless of the cost or what she has done.” George took a drink and then locked eye contact with Liam. “But let me clear, Liam, you’re not that level of family, and never will be, so just be careful. We protect our own.”

            “Is that a threat?”

            “No, it’s a promise. I made a blood oath to honour my family. Just like all my family has done, like Maria did. And we won’t break that oath. I’m just waiting for Maria to say ‘go for it’ and then the biggest part of your body that they will be able to find is your finger.” George clapped his hand on Liam’s shoulder and smiled. “Enjoy your drink and I’ll see you at the wedding.”

            The crowds parted as George made his way out of the pub. Letting him move between them with ease as if they daren’t come anywhere near him, let alone brush shoulders and start the next fight. You didn’t mess with the Drakes. Not Anna. Not George. Not even Maria. The family was dangerous. Everyone knew that.

            George got to the door and picked up a drink off the closest table to the door. He downed in one go to the drink’s previous owners silent alarm. George offered Liam one last grin as he exited the pub.

            Liam turned back to the barman, “Can I have another drink and buy a replacement drink for him as well.”

Sixthday

“You know I didn’t actually do anything wrong,” Maria said as handcuffs were being put around her wrists. “That you can’t just arrest the first Tyrant that you see because a shop has been blown up.”

            The Night-Watchman pinched in the handcuffs hard, making sure that he caught her skin in the metal, tightening them till they dug into her wrists, ensuring that any movement in her hands would be minimal at best. As if he was expecting her to fight back, taking that image that he wanted to use of her, instead of the reality. The actual person in front of him, who had placed her hands behind her back, in the same resigned fashion, as he requested her to do.

            She had discovered a long time ago that doing anything other than accepting arrest, no matter how unjustified, would cause a fight, and if she refused to engage and just calmly stood her ground, well then, the tasers and stun-spells came out. Tyrants weren’t given time to explain themselves, and the Night-Watch had a policy of knock-out first, ask questions later. She was guilty until proved innocent, and even then, in the eyes of some, like with all of those who came from families of Tyrants, she was still guilty.

            “I’ll take your name and badge number,” she said calmly, “I’m sure my family’s lawyer will be in touch.”

            “Officer Vincent Carlton, miss, 41098. Your family lawyer knows me as ‘Vinny’, we’ve met on several occasions now.”

            Maria checked on the shop, her eyes scanning from where the possible explosion would have come from and who had set it up. The explosion had blown from inside the counter and flashed through the shop, leaving the pavement looking like it had been snowing glass. And this had happened within seconds of her stepping outside. It had to have been triggered. A set up. Seconds after she had stepped outside, with a Night-Watch car going past and the shop exploded. It was a typical Tyrant play. She’d seen it so many times before as her family had tried to get rid of another family that were getting too close to taking a stake in the Escafeld power game.

            “A shop in which you were seen to be leaving after having an argument with the owner over a cake,” Carlton said, “given your families’ history, I think I have just cause.”

            “No, you don’t. You need proof, evidence.”

            “Your surname is proof enough.”

            So much for due process, she thought. The system was just as unfair, unfit for purpose as her mother had always claimed. “That surname changes in two days.”

            He pushed her forcibly into the back seats of the car, “Well then, we may have a different conversation in two days.”

            Maria huffed out a breath; if being reasonable wasn’t going to work then there were always other options. Tyrant options. It would be so easy to use those. Maria looked into the mirror so that she was looking straight at Carlton, holding his gaze. “Well,” she smiled, that old smile, the one she had used before she meet Liam, “if I’m to be treated as a Drake, then just you should be very careful about brutality. We’ve got some damn good lawyers.”

            The Night-Watchman ignored her comment as he drove off. The arrival at the station was greeted by a series of flashes from waiting photographers and questions from their accompanying reporters. The station itself hadn’t changed since she was last here. It had the same smells of smoke and bleach. The old computers were buzzing away and everything was in order. The impression at least on the public facing side of the building was everything was how it should be.

            The cells were darker. They still had that feeling of when the building had first been built, back when they had had an Emperor ruling over Escafeld, and no one had bothered to update them. As well as looking dark and dank, they contained just the basics. An iron bench, which doubled as a bed, a sink and a very grotty looking toilet that you would have needed to be desperate to use. And there was the constant noise, like a mosquito arguing with a wasp; it was the surveillance spell, making sure she didn’t cast any spells or contact any spirits while in detention. The only positive was that things were quiet; her family couldn’t get any spell in or out, and for at least the moment, she wasn’t going to be sharing the cell with someone.

            Maria sank back into the bench as she scanned the room looking for a possible escape route. Her eyes focused in on the window; she was pretty sure that she could force that open if she needed to, but that hardly helped her case that she wasn’t just a Tyrant that destroyed everything in sight. Instead, she settled in her place on the bench. She huffed out a breath.

            She may play her part but it didn’t hide her level of frustration that the Night-Watch were just willing to arrest any Tyrant on sight and any new officer wanting to get noticed always seemed to go after the Drakes. Rumours in the clubs were that they had been known to set up crimes on purpose, just so that they could make the arrest. Not that you were actually allowed to even whisper that the Escafeld justice system may be corrupt if you didn’t want to spend a night in a cell.

            Maria took in a breath; they were just making a point here. They wouldn’t hurt her. No one hurt a Drake without consequences. They were just making a point with her arrest. It wouldn’t stick. And other than frustration and boredom, the only lasting damage was that she was just wasting time when there was still so much that needed doing for the wedding. Maybe that had been the real target for the explosion; some members of her family believed where subtlety fails, fireballs succeed.

            George appeared at the grate of the door, “Well, well, well…” he smiled, “this is quite a sight to see you here, little sister, especially after your recent claims.” His smile grew into a grin, “I thought you weren’t like the rest of us.”

            “How did you get past the guard?”

            “Bribed them. Amazing how all their fancy spells don’t work against that.”

            “No violence?”

            “Yes, no violence, your honour.” He laughed as he held up his hands in mock surrender. “I was such a good boy, just like I should be.”

            “How did you find out I was here?”

            “Heard it over that radio that you stole for us back when we were kids, so I thought I’d come and see what it looks like to see the good Drake, the one who turn her back on all this, on us, back behind bars.”

            “And now you seen that, are you just planning to stand and stare or are you going to be useful for once and get me out of here?”

            “Be nice, Maria, or I may just leave you here.”

            “Liam would come. The second that I finally get my phone call and talk to him. Explain things. Liam would trust me, believe me and be right down.”

            George smiled, “But would you want him to see you like this? See you as a Drake, as a Tyrant? That’s not the girl he wants to marry, even if it’s the girl you truly are, if you let yourself admit it.” He pulled out a camera from his bag, “now smile.”

            She stuck two fingers up at him, “Fuck off George.”

            “Now, now, Maria, behave yourself,” his smile grew as he took the picture, “or this will go straight to the press in the morning. That would go so nicely with all the articles that they are printing on you at the moment.” He laughed. “Maybe you should reconsider wearing white.”

            “And people wonder why I want out of this family. Now get me out.”

            “What are you going to offer in return?”

            Maria paused, glaring at her brother. She got to her feet and walked over to him so there were just the bars in between them. “Seriously George, stop screwing around for once and get to the point. What do you want?”

            “I want you to leave Liam.”

            Maria sat back down, “I hope you got a good photo, I’d hate to look bad in the paper.”

            “Be reasonable, Maria.”

            “I am.” She smiled at him. “And we both know that I have always won every battle, and that means that I can out-stubborn you. See you George. I’d still rather stay here and wait for that phone call.”

Seventhday

Liam watched as Maria slept; she looked so peaceful, so innocent, so much his Maria. He could watch her forever like this. Stare at her delicate body that was so much smaller when she was sleeping than the power that radiated off it when she was awake. She almost looked like a different person. But then she was a different person whenever she let that guard down. When she didn’t feel like she had to constantly go into battle to protect herself. She was just Maria. His Maria. Without the spite, the anger, the aggression. She was pure passion, drive and even a level of innocence. He couldn’t lose that. He couldn’t lose her.

            Maybe she had been right all along. She so often was. That they needed to escape from their family, from society views on them, from Escafeld. They just had so much going against them here. Even after everything they had tried, everyone they had been through and proved that they were capable of. They had shown they were committed, but people still weren’t willing to give them a chance. Even his own family were positive that they would give up on each other and revert back to the Escafeld stereotypes.

            Even if the saying was true, trite as it was, that love did conquer all, then maybe it still needed a helping hand. But if they left Escafeld, where would they go? How would they set up again? What would happen to their lives? Was it worth throwing everything away to start again? Could he really leave his family, no matter what they said about him marrying a Tyrant; they were his family and they only wanted the best for him.

            Slowly after minutes of watching her, weighing up the different possibilities as he saw her body stir. Smiling, he got to his feet and headed out of the bedroom, down the corridor and to the kitchen. He needed a couple more minutes to think this through. To get the ideas straight in his own head before he started to talk to Maria about it. What did they really have in Escafeld that they couldn’t move with them? Both their families were against them, even if his hid it better than Maria’s. And if that changed in the future then they could always visit. Other than that, they had the small one bedroom rented flat and jobs that they both hated. There was nothing to keep them here.

            Boiling the kettle, he toasted a couple of slices of bread and added a couple of spoonsful of cheap instant coffee into the mugs. They didn’t need family money or support to buy them happiness. Breakfast made, he headed back into to the bedroom with the tray. He pushed the door open as Maria reached for one of his shirts on the floor, pulling it on as she sat up. Despite the fact that she had just woken up, her hair was a mess, she had no make up on, right now, in his none too humble opinion, there was nothing more beautiful than the smile that she offered him.

            “Why are so bloody perfect all the time?” Maria said, “you don’t give the rest of us a chance.”

            “I just made breakfast.” He offered her the tray. “I’d hardly call that being perfect.”

            “More than I deserve.” She took a bite of the toast and looked at him. “Do you know where I spent last night?”

            “It doesn’t matter.”

            “I was arrested, Liam. Charlotte came to my rescue and gave me a lift home when they realised they had to release me.”

            “I’m sure that it wasn’t your fault.”

            “Maybe not.” She paused and he waited for her as she took a breath, composing herself. “But it has been before. I’ve deserved to spend time in those cells back then and many would argue that I still deserve to be there.”

            He sat down next to her, frowning at her. They had been through this before. They had talked about her past, both of their pasts, and had decided over an evening of nachos and wine to put all of that behind them. So why, when they were closer than they had ever been, was she bringing this up again? Why was she letting other people influence them? They needed out of this city before it affected them too much.

            “Why are we discussing this now? I know all that about you.” He smiled at her. “Maria, I love you. I want to marry you. And no one or nothing is going to change that.”

            She looked at him, offering him a half smile, “I want to make sure that you know what you are getting into tomorrow. That you are making the right decision.”

            “I know what I’m getting into.”

            Maria let out a breath, “There’s just so much going against us. I’m starting to think that maybe everyone else is like.”

            “Do you love me?”

            “Of course I do, but love isn’t everything.”

            He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. This was his Maria. The one that would let herself be vulnerable and the woman he would support every way that he could for the rest of his life. “The only stuff that is going against us is Escafeld, our families and people’s perceptions.”

            Maria smiled, “that’s a lot of onlys.”

            “Actually, only if we listen to them.” He returned her smile. “I’m starting to think that you were right all along. I think we should elope.”

            “And as you pointed out, if we elope, then we only have the problems to come back to.”

            “Then what if we didn’t come back? What if we left everything behind and started again? There’s a world outside of Escafeld, and no one would know us. No one would ever see you as just a Drake. No one would see me as just some Enlightened prat that they could target. We could be so much better off.”

            “What about our families? They may not be perfect, but there the only ones that we get.”

            “We make our own. You. Me. And whoever else comes along.” He grinned as he pulled at the edges of the open shirt that she was wearing. “And with any luck there will be a lot of whoevers.”

            “It’s not that simple and we both know it. My family would never let me go. I’m not sure that I could let them go either. And I know that you wouldn’t turn your back on yours. They made us who we are.”

            “I’d manage.”

            “I don’t know.”

            Maria stepped out of the bed and started to pace. Taking each step in measure as she started to process, leaving Liam just to sit back and watch. Just like she did so often, like she had done six days ago when she had taken out the tension with her mother on the floor boards. Taking her time and letting her mind process her thoughts.

            He stayed silent and watched. Looking at her movements. Taking clues from them. There wasn’t the same tension, the same crackling energy, there wasn’t any real magic at play. Looking at her now, you wouldn’t dream of calling her a Tyrant. She was just Maria, working through a problem, the same way that she always did. She was determined, and confident, knew what she wanted and how to get it. She was proof her Faction weren’t all self-serving and greedy, just as the Enlightened weren’t all faultless pacifists. It hurt Liam to admit it, but his side were to blame as well. And as much as he talked about it with Maria, maybe they weren’t the ones to change those perceptions of Factions. They had to look after themselves first. They had to leave this chaos behind.

            Slowing down, Maria turned to face him, “Okay,” she breathed, “let’s do it.”

Eighthday

Maria looked in the mirror in the small hotel room, trying to take in her appearance, just like she had planned to on her wedding day. She could still do her hair, twisting it into a braided loop. Still wear her dress, though she’d forgotten the veil and deliberately left the necklace her mother had given her back in Escafeld. Still commit herself utterly to Liam. Only everything had changed and instead of looking at her reflection, she found herself focusing on the small grey tabby cat. Somehow, he had escaped his carrier and was climbing across suitcases that, with the help of some expansion charms, carried their most precious possessions.

            It was still hard to believe that they had actually left. Spent the day backing up and then driven until the early hours of the morning, caught a plane to Semolue and booked a place with a sea-view. Hopefully the hotel wouldn’t mind too much about the cat they’d bought with them; it had involved some powerful spells to keep it sedate on the trip, and now it was pouncing at the curtains excitedly.

            Maria couldn’t stop her mind from drifting. What would their families say when they found the letters? Would her mother chase her down, rather than let her daughter be married in a Hapari wedding? Would her brother take it out on the Enlightened? How long would it take to get their actions out of her head? She took another breath; the Factions had been left in Escafeld. If there were Tyrants and Enlightened in Semolue, she didn’t know them and they didn’t know her. It had been odd enough travelling through Calshan airport; going through the terminal and seeing the capital’s newspapers, you could almost believe the Factions weren’t real; a crazy notion the magazines played up, as fake as a celebrity’s smile.

            She turned, taking in the dress in, all its details. The fitted bodice that needed two strong men to tighten the back. The white choker with an opal clasp. The tight-fitting skirt that, combined with her high-heels, meant she could only shuffle. The train that she’d enchanted to flutter behind her. She didn’t look like herself. She’d never worn a dress like this before. It would make it hard to run if she needed, there was no place to hide any weapons that you might need. She looked like a different person, almost like she had stepped into one of those magazines in the bridal shop. Only when she had first looked at those dress, at this dress, she’d been surrounded by friends and family. Charlotte. Her mother. Even Anna had come. It was so easy to get excited for that wedding. This one was different. She took a breath; no, this one was better. She was away from all that Escafeld mess now. And maybe that was right, because she didn’t feel too much like herself either.

            The door pushed open and Liam stood there in his suit. Just behind him was Charlotte, squeezed into a bridesmaid’s dress that had fitted two weeks ago, and a bleary-eyed Zack, who’d been their driver for the last twelve hours.  Their respective partners following just behind. It was just the six of them and that was all that mattered.

            Maria looked her future husband up and down; he wasn’t quite the Liam who looked good in just his pants, but he did scrub up well in his suit. Not that she would mind ripping it off him later and getting some practice in for those future whoevers.

            Liam grinned back at her, “You look amazing.” He made his way over to her. “We’re in luck; the Lighthouse had a cancellation, and we were first to fill the slot.”

            “Well that’s a bonus. Not that it matters where we are.” She flashed a grin back at him, “It’s who’s there that counts.”

            “Are you really sure about this?” Liam paused as if he was having second thoughts. “We could still go back to Escafeld.”

            “Yes, we made that decision last night, let’s not doubt ourselves now.” She paused, as she drew on a breath and got rid of the last few elements of self-doubt. “Liam?”

            “Yes?”

            She shuffled towards him, taking his arm. “When we walk down that aisle.” She smiled. “Please don’t let me fall.”

            “Never.”

The End

The prompts:

·       AGE OF SPIRITS (Alt-world urban fantasy contemporary fantasy, horror, grimdark)- With the end of imperialism and human technology reaching its limits, the people of Terra begin to lose confidence in cold science, and turn to spiritual pursuits in the quest for self-fulfilment. A group known as the Old Spirit Movement revives lost practices and reconnects to spirits from the Age of Dreams. From these spirits, people learn to become Shapeshifters, Wizards and Vampires, and the city of Escafeld is rife with rival factions. The Age officially ends when alien contact is made; given a new frontier, humanity unites in the face of distant planets.

·       Escafeld City: A post-industrial city, Escafeld City isn’t as important to the world as it once was, but it does boast a unique quality; its connection to the spiritual world. As the Age of Spirits began, Escafeld’s history and location was closer to the spirit world than other, more developed cities. Although still financially and geo-politically small, Escafeld greets disparate cultures as equals, and as the Age of Spirits grows from a fringe movement, Escafeld becomes the focal point for new spiritualism.

·       The Old Spirit Movement: The beginning seed of the Age, the Old Spirit Movement were the first collection of misfits, occultists and cryptologists to contact the spirits from a forgotten time. While many think of it as a single group, in truth there were several groups, with different approaches to their power. As the Movement grew, these disparate groups became the various Factions of the Age.

·       Enlightened: Originally the Altruists of the Movement, the Enlightened seek spiritual fulfilment. By far the lightest, nicest, least-likely-to-kill-you branch of the Movement, the Enlightened are equally the most disparate; there’s no one path to Enlightenment, after all, and Enlightened learn as many options as possible. Paths might converge, split, or loop back, but should never lead to a dead end. Depending on who you ask, these Enlightened spirits are Angelic, Demonic, beings of pure faith, or mystic charlatans. Enlightened would prefer it if you didn’t use such divisive terms, however.

·       Tyrants: Originally the Rebels of the Movement, Tyrants desire only power; once it had been power to cause change, but the change happened, and they didn’t want to relinquish it afterwards. More a philosophy than a set group of spirits, Tyrants selfishly accumulate power in any form; magic, wealth and prestige are all equal. The Night-Watch does its best to prevent the worst of Tyrant’s magic, such as mind control or death magic. The binding of servants, both spirit and human, is a grey area that Tyrants exploit; some servants willingly submit, as it conveys its own magical benefits.

·       Wizards: Originally the Scholars of the Movement, wizards pursue knowledge in all its forms; unlike the other Movement members, wizards haven’t allied with any particular group of spirits, instead studying and bartering with all of them. Although ‘wizard’ suggests magical talent, many wizards don’t have any power, studying magic for its own sake. Those that do have either bartered it from spirits or undergone the Ritual of Inheritance. There are several subsections of wizard; Elementalists, Conjurers, Illusionists, and Necromancers are a few such groups.

·       Vampires: Originally the Decadents of the Movement, Vampires have given themselves over to obtaining earthly pleasures at any cost, even above life. There are many different types of Vampire, and all work in slightly different ways; weaknesses such as sunlight and running water are present in weaker breeds. The common unifier, however, is blood; all Vampires must drink life to sustain themselves. The spirits that create Vampires are known as the Fae, or Children of Lyral, and seemingly delight in the torment and perversion of mortals.

·       Shifters: Originally the Escapists of the Movement, Shifters wanted nothing more than to leave the real world behind. Changing form to an animal was the most popular and easiest method of escapism; to run free with a wolf pack, or soar over the lands as an eagle, was all the Shifters desired. Their power’s come from totemic animals, such as Bear, Wolf and Hawk; a Shifter with many forms is rare, but not impossible.

·       Pragmatists: Although the Age of Spirits is an important period in history, the majority of Terra’s citizens are unaffiliated with the various factions; for most, living a quiet life and working for a wage is fulfilment enough. Though the Old Spirit Movement referred to them as ‘Mundanes’ and ‘The Sixth Faction’, the less derisive name is Pragmatist; most of the world leaders identify as Pragmatist, as this is seen as the neutral, traditional stance. In general, Pragmatists accept the Enlightened, vilify the Tyrants, fear the Vampires, avoid the Shifters, and question the Wizards.

·       Peacebonds: While the various members of factions might seem violently opposed in methods and motives, the rules of the Old Spirit Movement kept certain areas out of bounds from open fighting. These places, known as Peacebonds, are safe zones, where members of any faction (even Pragmatist) can enter and leave without fear of reprisal. Peacebonds are often centres of trade, and dens of conspiracy. No faction, not even Tyrants, would break the peace, though; while the five factions separately are roughly equal in power, if two or more united against a common threat, they could quell any dissident action.

·       Edward Drake, the Honest Tyrant: Pragmatists and other factions often wonder; why would anyone openly admit to being a Tyrant? The name alone tells you they’re bad news. Edward Drake, however, is the rebuttal; he’s an investor, primarily in computers and communication tech, whose always been honest about following Tyrant doctrine. He’s amassed considerable influence, is financially transparent, and has never misled the public about any of his self-interested business deals. Even when he’s involved in philanthropic work, it benefits him in some tangential way that he’ll tell everyone about beforehand. He drives liberals and the Enlightened mad.

·       Night-watch: Although all public organisations are non-affiliated by law, the judicial system knows that Faction criminals require special police. Night-watchers are members of the magical factions who police the Factions. While all Factions could join the Night-watch, it tends to attract Wizards and Enlightened more than others. Although restricted by legality in their powers, the Night-watch does boast a powerful system of divinations, and are able to detect kill-spells and mind control across the whole city.

·       Types of Magic: Generally, the Factions represent different methods of gaining magic, rather than how that powers used. All Factions know of Conjuration (contacting and summoning spirits), Divination (forecasting events and enhancing mundane senses) and Invocation (compelling spirits to perform a service). Illusionists also know of magic to cheat the senses, Necromancers claim to conjure and invoke the dead, Elementalists channel their power into fire or lightning. Both Tyrants and Wizards know of Binding, spells that limit free will or control another person. Its use is something the Night-Watch spends most of its budget trying to detect and prevent.

·       Practice Night: The one night the Factions get to parties. celebrations, and unbridled magical. Also an important day for magical families. Peacebonded areas; free game in other places.

·       Faction Pubs: Escafeld has a variety of pubs and clubs, and some have been taken over as Faction haunts. The Empress and Snake is run by Wizards, and anyone talking louder than a mumble is thrown out. The House of Cards, once the Imperial Post Office, was taken over by the Tyrants and is now a select wine bar. The Claybond Rest, a small tavern with a large beer garden, is where Shifters meet. The Boar-hound’s head and Mason’s Arms have regular Enlightened meetings, while the Sharpwood chain ‘Elven Nations’ is more popular as singles’ bars.

·       Charuband:(Age of Hammers) The predominant power in the Confederacy, Charuband is supposedly an exotic paradise that craves Imperial trade. While this may be true of the port towns, the further inland you go, the less welcome travellers become; although the far southern mountains have rich coal seams, for some reason the local population don’t like the idea of heavy industry in their peaceful villages. In times of war, Charuband is the main stage of battle; although it has no airships, it boasts a large navy, consisting of commandeered Imperial vessels, and has a fearsome reputation in ground warfare.

·       Lhandasa:(Age of Hammers) The Walled Nation, Lhandasa saw the Empire’s treatment of Charuband and Namakha, and decided to close its borders to all Imperial traffic. Only outlying islands such of Masitan and Tallenc are outside the Lhandasan walls. While Lhandasa is technologically inferior to other nations, it retains its own culture, making it bizarre and alien to Imperials. This curiosity is one of the reasons the Empire is so adamant in opening up Lhandasan ports, at gunpoint if necessary; after all, there must be a reason they want to retain their culture despite the Empire’s obvious superiority. What are the Lhandasans hiding?

·       Namakha:(Age of Hammers) Although treated as such, Namakha isn’t technically a country; it has no ruler outside the cluster of semi-independent city-states along its coast, and its population can’t be more than a hundred thousand, at most. Namakha is a vast, inhospitable, featureless desert, with little mineral wealth, a laughable amount of agriculture, and several varieties of nuisance insects, ranging from swarms of biting dust-flies to scorpions the size of house-cats. It is, however, very, very large; the Empire would love to capture Namakha, as it would look impressive and big on Imperial maps.