The Capital of Qua-Toyne. The "Lotus Garden" Residence.

  Sunlight, filtering through the thick canopy of flowering vines that for centuries had entwined the marble columns of the council hall, scattered across the polished floor in thousands of trembling flecks of light. The air was filled with the delicate scent of exotic flowers and the subtle aroma of incense. In the center of the hall was a shallow pond, into which thin streams of water flowed from the mouths of stone carp. Upon its surface bobbed turquoise flowers resembling the lotuses of Earth—a symbol of wisdom and tranquility. But today, that tranquility was deceptive.

  Prime Minister Kanata, head of the Principality's High Council, anxiously surveyed those who had gathered. Everyone was here: the clan leaders, the military ministers, the guild masters—the entire elite upon whose decisions the fate of the country depended. On the agenda was a report that had been lying on their tables for three days, poisoning their thoughts and dreams. The report on the "Sky Spear."

  "Its speed and flight altitude far exceed the capabilities of our finest wyverns," the Minister of Military Affairs, an elderly dwarf with a gray beard plaited into braids, read in a monotone. "Markings resembling red, five-pointed stars were observed on its wings. None of our allies or known enemies use such a symbol."

  The threat was not merely palpable. It was absolute and incomprehensible.

  "What are your thoughts, esteemed members?" Kanata's voice was calm, but this stillness concealed a storm.

  The first to rise was the head of the Mages' Guild, a tall elf in a robe embroidered with runes.

  "My colleagues have conducted an analysis of the mana-resonance left by the object in the atmosphere. It did not use mana for flight. At all. Its movement is based on some other, purely physical principle. It's… it's akin to the technology of the superpower Mu, from the Second Civilization Area, but even their flying machines, according to rumor, are not capable of such speeds and maneuvers."

  The mage's words hung in the silence. At that moment, the head of foreign intelligence entered the hall with a brisk stride. He did not wait for permission and began his report at once:

  "An urgent message from the west! A new state, the self-proclaimed Eighth Empire, has invaded the Second Civilization Area and is crushing the Alliance. Their fleet, according to our dispatches, is composed of gigantic steel ships, and their air power surpasses anything Mu possesses. They wield a weapon our agents describe as 'the fire of the gods.'"

  A nervous laugh rippled through the hall, and just as quickly died. The thought that another unknown power, appearing out of nowhere, could challenge an entire Civilized Area seemed absurd.

  "The Eighth Empire is far to the west, beyond the Republic of Mu," one of the councilors cautiously observed. "And as we know, the Republic of Mu is twenty-two thousand kilometers away from us. This cannot be connected to what we saw over Maihark."

  They had reached a dead end once again, confronted with their own powerlessness and ignorance. At that moment, the meeting was interrupted. The doors to the hall flew open, and on the threshold, brushing past an elven guard, stood Admiral Nouka. His expression was grim, a half-smoked pipe smoldering in his hand.

  "Nouka! What is the meaning of this?!" Kanata exclaimed, scandalized.

  "My apologies for the intrusion, Prime Minister, councilors," Nouka's voice was as steady and firm as the deck of his flagship. "But what I have to tell you cannot wait for protocol. Three hours ago, the picket ship Pima made contact with the source of the threat. It is not Louria, and it is not Parpaldia. It is a previously unknown state that calls itself the Russian Federation."

  He paused, his gaze sweeping over their stunned faces.

  "Their ship… it is immense. Captain Midori reports a length of two hundred and twenty meters. It is made of metal and moves without sails or magic. They have shown no hostility. On the contrary, their diplomatic mission offers an apology for violating our airspace and proposes negotiations to establish official relations."

  The council erupted.

  "Unheard-of insolence!" Lord Vareth, commander of the Western Cavalry Corps, shot to his feet. His family had held the border marches for six generations; his instinct for threat was genuine, if blunt. "They violate our airspace, fly over our capital city, and now they want to negotiate? We must show them our strength before they mistake our restraint for weakness!"

  "Show them what, exactly?" From the far end of the table, the head of the Merchants' Guild, a heavyset beastman whose clan had traded these seas for two centuries, did not rise. He simply looked at Vareth with the patience of a man who had outlasted many wars by not participating in them. "Our fastest wyvern could not catch their sky-spear. Our largest ship-of-the-line would be a rowboat beside their vessel. I have seen the report. I have read every word three times. What strength are you proposing to show them, my lord, that they have not already shown us ten times over?"

  Vareth had no answer. He sat down slowly.

  Nouka gave a cold smile, releasing a cloud of smoke.

  "What strength, esteemed lord?

  Do you wish to send our galleys against a floating fortress? Or our wyverns against something that flies faster than they do? The Kingdom of Quila, our only ally, is on the brink of famine. And Louria's fleet grows larger by the day, threatening to sever our trade routes. We are surrounded. And at this moment, the gods, or fate, have sent us a third power. A power that might be our salvation. Or our ruin. But we do not have the luxury of choice. We have no other option but to negotiate."

  Silence descended on the hall. The admiral's iron logic was irrefutable. Prime Minister Kanata, having heard it all, slowly rose to his feet. His face was weary, but resolute.

  "Admiral Nouka is right. We are trapped. And now, a hand has been extended to us. We do not know if it belongs to a friend or a foe, but we are obligated to find out. We will accept their apology. And we will invite their diplomats to the capital."

  When the meeting had concluded, the others filed out with the careful, subdued movements of men who had been told something they could not yet digest. Kanata remained.

  He stood by the pond for a long time. The lotus flowers swayed in the gentle current created by the carp. His reflection stared back at him from the dark water—a man in his forties, graying at the temples, who had spent twenty years studying the rules of a world that had just changed.

  He had come to power in a time of managed decline. Louria's expansion was not a crisis anyone could solve; it was a condition everyone was learning to endure. His job, as he had understood it, was to delay the inevitable long enough for something to change. He had been very good at delay. He had signed eleven trade agreements in nine years, three of them with nations that privately despised Qua-Toyne, because delay required partners and partners required concessions. He had delayed for nine years.

  Now, sixty kilometers offshore, something had changed.

  He did not know if it had changed in their favor. He did not know if the Russian Federation was a savior or simply a larger, more sophisticated predator than Louria. What he knew—what Nouka's logic had made undeniable—was that it did not matter. They had no other option. When the only hand extended to a drowning man belongs to a stranger, you do not ask for references before you take it.

  He looked at the lotuses.

  Wisdom and tranquility, the old symbol said.

  He had the tranquility. The wisdom, he would have to improvise.

  He looked at the lotus flowers on the pond's surface. In the old legend—the one the head of the Mages' Guild had cited before the council adjourned, speaking quietly and with some embarrassment—the celestial ships had come when everything was lost. The warriors had fallen. The demons had reached the Sacred Forest. And then, from the sky, iron dragons and fire that could not be extinguished.

  He had dismissed the legend when he first heard it as a student. He was no longer certain he had been right to do so.

  Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 30. Calendar of the Displacement: Year 0000, May, Day 16.

  The Principality of Qua-Toyne. The Capital of Qua-Toyne. The "Lotus Garden" Residence.

  Three days had passed since the emergency council. In that time, Kanata had slept a combined total of perhaps nine hours. He had read every intelligence report on the Russian vessel twice. He had personally reviewed Midori's account four times, paying particular attention to the captain's description of the soldiers on the ramp—their discipline, their weapons, the way they held themselves. He had asked Rinsui to find out everything possible about the Eighth Empire's campaign against Mu, because something about the coincidence of two unknown technological powers appearing in the same period of history troubled him deeply, and he could not yet articulate why.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Now, robed in heavy ceremonial garments of turquoise silk, he stood in the receiving hall and tried to look like a man who had slept.

  His footsteps were swallowed by the soft pile of the carpets. Gentle daylight poured through the carved windows, but for Kanata, the world outside the residence walls had ceased to exist. All his thoughts were focused on the massive sandalwood doors, behind which his guests awaited—visitors from an unknown country calling itself the Russian Federation.

  Everything was proceeding improperly. The process of establishing diplomatic relations, honed over centuries into a ritualistic slowness, had been crumpled up and tossed aside. Normally, spies would have worked for months first. Then, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Rinsui, would have conducted a series of preliminary negotiations in neutral territory, gathering information piece by piece, studying the opponent's culture, customs, strengths, and weaknesses. Only then, after long and careful deliberation, would Kanata himself, as the supreme ruler, meet with the ambassadors to sign a mutually beneficial, meticulously crafted treaty.

  But now, with the rattling of sabers on the western border where the Kingdom of Louria was massing its troops, there was no time for rituals. The principality was trapped, and the appearance of this new, powerful force was both a beacon of hope and a harbinger of even greater calamity. The enormous steel ship, which Captain Midori in his report had described as "a floating mountain forged by angered gods," and the man-made "Sky Spear," which made their wyverns look no faster than turtles—all of it inspired a sense of reverent terror. Kanata tried to maintain an impassive expression, as befitted his station, but deep down, he felt like a gambler who had been forced to stake his country's fate on a game with unknown rules.

  The quiet creak of the doors broke his train of thought. Two guards from his personal retinue, clad in lamellar armor, escorted three envoys into the hall. Kanata gave them a quick, appraising glance. By their appearance, they were ordinary humans. But something in their posture, in the way they carried themselves, radiated an unshakable confidence. The eldest of them, a middle-aged man with intelligent, penetrating eyes, took a step forward.

  "Prime Minister Kanata," said Rinsui, who stood beside him. "Allow me to introduce His Excellency Alexei Vladimirovich Sokolov, Special Envoy of the Russian Federation."

  Sokolov offered a slight smile and inclined his head. Kanata, following protocol, returned the gesture.

  "I am Alexei Vladimirovich," the diplomat introduced himself, his voice even and calm. "It is a great honor to be received by you, Prime Minister. On behalf of my government, I once again offer our apologies for the recent violation of your sovereign state's airspace."

  Kanata gave a restrained nod.

  "Your apologies are accepted. Let us proceed to business."

  They all took their seats at a long, blackwood table. On one side were Kanata, Rinsui, and several key advisors. On the other, Sokolov and his two aides, who immediately opened their leather briefcases.

  Rinsui, as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, initiated the dialogue:

  "Gentlemen, your appearance has come as a complete surprise to us. We are open to a dialogue. What is the primary purpose of your visit?"

  Sokolov gave a signal, and his aide neatly laid out several thin, glossy brochures on the table, printed on a perfect paper the likes of which had never been seen in Qua-Toyne.

  Rinsui picked one up. On the cover was something that looked like a map, but with unfamiliar outlines. He flipped through several pages, his eyebrows slowly rising.

  "My apologies, but… we cannot read this script. These symbols are unlike anything used in the Three Civilized Areas."

  Sokolov nodded understandingly, his expression unperturbed.

  "As we anticipated. It appears that the anomaly which allows us to understand each other's speech perfectly does not extend to the written word. Our linguists are already working on deciphering your alphabet, but for the moment, the text remains a barrier. I ask that you focus on the visual data—the maps and photographs—while I provide the necessary commentary myself."

  Kanata and Rinsui exchanged quick glances. The quality of the images alone was shocking—they were too realistic to be paintings.

  "We represent the Russian Federation," Sokolov began, pointing to a vast, colored area on the map in the brochure. "Our country is situated on a massive continental landmass to the north of here, approximately twelve hundred kilometers away. Its total territorial area exceeds seventeen million square kilometers

  A dead silence fell over the hall. Kanata felt his breath catch in his throat. Seventeen million...… It was a number his mind refused to process. Their entire continent of Rodenius was five times smaller. He looked at Rinsui—the man sat deathly pale, having forgotten how to breathe. A joke? A bluff? But there was not a hint of boastfulness in the Russian envoy's voice. He was simply stating a fact. And in that moment, Kanata understood: they were not negotiating with just a strong country. They were speaking with an entire world that had, by some miracle, appeared on their doorstep.

  "Seventeen million…" The words echoed through the hall.

  At the far end of the table, the Minister of Military Affairs—the elderly dwarf who had read the Sky Spear report that morning in a monotone, as though distance from the words might make them less true—was doing arithmetic on the parchment in front of him. Kanata could see the numbers from where he sat: Rodenius total area, 3.22 million. Russian Federation, 17 million. A ratio. The dwarf had underlined it twice and then set down his pen.

  Louria was 1.97 million square kilometers and had the largest army on the continent. Russia was eight and a half times larger.

  "But there is nothing in that region of the sea!" Rinsui said, his voice climbing despite himself, trying to steer the conversation back toward some semblance of sense. "Our best cartographers have studied those waters for centuries. There is nothing but a scattering of uninhabited rocks surrounded by anomalous currents! How could… such a country… have appeared there?"

  Sokolov paused, giving them a moment to absorb the scale of what he had said. His expression remained calm, but his voice now held a note of sympathy mixed with metallic certainty.

  "I understand your confusion. Allow me to be perfectly frank. Our country did not come here of its own will. As the result of a spatial anomaly, the nature of which our scientists do not yet fully comprehend, the entire territory of the Russian Federation was transferred into this world from our home planet, which we call Earth."

  The silence that settled over the hall was heavy and oppressive. The advisors and Kanata looked at one another. Rinsui stared at the envoy in disbelief.

  "Transferred… from another planet? You speak of a level of magic found only in the myths of creation! What power is capable of such a thing?"

  "We do not know if it was some form of technology or a natural phenomenon," Sokolov answered honestly. "But we are here. And we are formulating our long-term strategy in this new reality. I realize that this information sounds… incredible. Therefore, to dispel your doubts, we would be happy to host a delegation from your principality. Let your people see everything with their own eyes. We have nothing to hide."

  Kanata looked again at his advisors. On their faces was a mixture of fear, disbelief, and… avaricious curiosity. He understood that before them lay a chance that came once in a millennium. Casting aside his doubts, he looked directly at Sokolov.

  "Let us assume we believe you. What is your objective, Envoy? What does a power as great as yours seek in a partnership with our humble principality?"

  Sokolov, seeing this glimmer of pragmatism, got down to business. His tone became completely professional, without a trace of a plea.

  "Our country is entirely self-sufficient. But we have found ourselves in a completely unknown environment. Our objectives are strategic in nature. First—security. We want to understand who our neighbors are and to establish stable, predictable relations with them. We prefer good neighborliness to war. Second—unique resources. We are interested in your minerals, your unique flora and fauna—everything that does not and cannot exist on our home planet. These are resources not for survival, but for scientific breakthrough. And third—information. Complete and exhaustive information about the geopolitics of this world, its technologies, and, most importantly, the fundamental laws of your magic. In exchange, we are prepared to offer a trade partnership, access to our industrial goods, and, should an alliance be formed, military-technical cooperation."

  Prime Minister Kanata fell into deep thought. The offer was different. They were not begging for food like the starving. They were offering a deal from a position of strength. "Unique resources"… "information"… "military-technical cooperation." This was the language of a superpower. And this proposal, while frightening in its directness, was incredibly advantageous. In exchange for access to their lands and knowledge, they were offering protection. Protection that could stop Louria once and for all.

  Rinsui, grasping the prime minister's train of thought, turned to Sokolov. His tone became more business-like.

  "We are prepared to send a delegation to you. To familiarize ourselves with your country and to discuss the foundations of a possible partnership."

  A flicker of satisfaction appeared on the faces of the Russian delegation. The plan was working.

  "We will be delighted to receive your representatives at any time that is convenient for you," Sokolov said, rising to his feet.

  Kanata also rose, bringing this historic meeting to a close.

  "Very well. Rinsui, begin preparations for the delegation at once. I am appointing you as its head." Kanata looked at each of them in turn. "Your objectives are three. First: determine whether Russia is a threat to our country or an ally. They have shown peaceful intentions, but so would any power that wanted to lull us before striking. Second: find their weaknesses. Every nation has them. Find the gaps in their strength, the limits of their technology, the points where we might have leverage. Third—and this is the most important—bring back an understanding. Not a report. An understanding of what they actually want from us, and what they are willing to give. Those are not the same things as what they say they want."

  He sat down. "And Rinsui—one more thing. You will be polite. You will be grateful. You will give them no reason to be suspicious of us. But you will watch everything. You will remember everything. Because when you return, everything you observed will determine this country's survival strategy for the next decade."

  Rinsui bowed. "It will be done, Prime Minister."

  He said it steadily, because he was the Minister of Foreign Affairs and steadiness was required. But when the Russians had departed and he was alone in the corridor outside the receiving hall, he stood for a moment with one hand against the cool stone wall.

  He was forty-one years old. He had negotiated with Louria's trade ministers—cold, arrogant men who despised everything Qua-Toyne represented—and had kept his composure throughout. He had delivered the terms of the grain treaty to Quila's king in person, knowing that if the king refused, a famine was likely, and had kept his composure throughout.

  He was now being asked to board a vessel two hundred and twenty meters long, travel twelve hundred kilometers to a nation of two hundred million people whose flying machines outran wyverns, and conduct the most consequential diplomatic mission in his country's history. He would have no preparation time, no intelligence baseline, no precedent to follow.

  He pushed off from the wall and walked toward his office to begin the list of things that needed to be done before morning.

  You must bring us back an understanding.

  He would do his best. He had, thus far, always done his best. He chose not to dwell on the fact that this time, his best might not be sufficient.

  The decision had been made. Qua-Toyne was taking its first step into the unknown—not with the bold confidence of a nation choosing its destiny, but with the careful, deliberate movement of a man on ice who does not yet know how thick it is.