Banner was displayed. It was a red rectangle with a white circle in the middle, and inside that was small black circle with three black triangles around it, with one above and two slightly below at either side to represent Central Isle and the world’s three continents. At the very bottom, ‘IMPERIA’ was written in formal black and gold lettering. Previous to the Great War, each nation had its own banner. Imperia’s was a similar design to the current one except it had a black ‘I’ in place of the circle and triangles. Industria’s was a purple diagonal cross on a light grey background, and Tropica used to have a green banner with a large triangle in the centre split into three sections by horizontal lines. The top section of the triangle was orange, the middle was white, and the bottom was yellow. Nowadays displaying any banner other than the World Banner or the vintage Imperian one was a serious offense.
They exited the Capital and moved from wide roads to thinner ones, the traffic dying down when they headed east into the hilly country regions of Rura. The surroundings became more rural and thick pockets of trees became more common. They stopped at a small hillside village cafe that over looked the wide grassy plains that the Capital was situated in the middle of. It was quite a contrast seeing the massive foreboding city in the heart of such tranquil nature. The tall concrete walls gave it a foreboding, almost oppressive feel, and Winston wondered if that had been the point. The very thought of attacking such a monstrosity was threatening in itself.
Alexander and Winston hopped out of the van and Lynette and Kavarne dismounted the bike.
“What the fuck was that about back there?” Kavarne growled.
“I’ve never seen tech like that!” Lynette added nervously.
“I’m not totally sure,” Alexander began, “but the boss is looking into it. My theory is that the new Autocrat is making a name for himself. He’s flexing his muscles, showing that he’s not going to be as laid back as his father was in his later years.”
“Do you reckon he knows about his dad?” Kavarne asked.
“Knows what?” Winston inquired. He’d heard many rumours and conspiracy theories about the old Autocrat’s life, and it was always so strange that he relentlessly conquered the world only to sit idle after his wife’s passing. It was like all the fire in his heart had been extinguished at once.
“That the Trinity killed his mother,” Alexander replied casually.
Winston was shocked but not totally surprised; it explained an awful lot about Edgar the first’s post war behaviour.
“Yeah,” Alexander continued, shaking his head. “The bastards assassinated Edgar the first’s wife and then threatened to kill his son if he spilled the beans about us Supernaturals. It was a totally unnecessary bit of savagery; he was a good man and was quite content to keep his mouth shut about our existence. We did help him win his war, after all.”
“Fucking Trinity,” Lynette said viciously. “Sooner they’re gone the better, useless old pricks.”
“Hear, hear,” Alexander agreed.
They decided to stop for lunch before moving on. Alexander ordered a ploughman’s salad, Winston had a bowl of cheesy pasta with garlic bread on the side, and Lynette and Kavarne demolished several plates worth of steaks, bacon, eggs, and fries. They tipped the staff generously before setting off.
The way to Woodsholme took them steeper into the wooded hills of Rura. They twisted and turned around the perilously winding roads until they reached the approach to the mountain tunnel in the early evening, to the eastern part of the continent where it began straightening out again. The mountain tunnel cut all the way through a hill too large to be a hill, but too small to be classed as a mountain. Everyone just termed it as a mountain out of simplicity.
It was on the approach that they noticed they were being followed by three motorcycles, each
They exited the Capital and moved from wide roads to thinner ones, the traffic dying down when they headed east into the hilly country regions of Rura. The surroundings became more rural and thick pockets of trees became more common. They stopped at a small hillside village cafe that over looked the wide grassy plains that the Capital was situated in the middle of. It was quite a contrast seeing the massive foreboding city in the heart of such tranquil nature. The tall concrete walls gave it a foreboding, almost oppressive feel, and Winston wondered if that had been the point. The very thought of attacking such a monstrosity was threatening in itself.
Alexander and Winston hopped out of the van and Lynette and Kavarne dismounted the bike.
“What the fuck was that about back there?” Kavarne growled.
“I’ve never seen tech like that!” Lynette added nervously.
“I’m not totally sure,” Alexander began, “but the boss is looking into it. My theory is that the new Autocrat is making a name for himself. He’s flexing his muscles, showing that he’s not going to be as laid back as his father was in his later years.”
“Do you reckon he knows about his dad?” Kavarne asked.
“Knows what?” Winston inquired. He’d heard many rumours and conspiracy theories about the old Autocrat’s life, and it was always so strange that he relentlessly conquered the world only to sit idle after his wife’s passing. It was like all the fire in his heart had been extinguished at once.
“That the Trinity killed his mother,” Alexander replied casually.
Winston was shocked but not totally surprised; it explained an awful lot about Edgar the first’s post war behaviour.
“Yeah,” Alexander continued, shaking his head. “The bastards assassinated Edgar the first’s wife and then threatened to kill his son if he spilled the beans about us Supernaturals. It was a totally unnecessary bit of savagery; he was a good man and was quite content to keep his mouth shut about our existence. We did help him win his war, after all.”
“Fucking Trinity,” Lynette said viciously. “Sooner they’re gone the better, useless old pricks.”
“Hear, hear,” Alexander agreed.
They decided to stop for lunch before moving on. Alexander ordered a ploughman’s salad, Winston had a bowl of cheesy pasta with garlic bread on the side, and Lynette and Kavarne demolished several plates worth of steaks, bacon, eggs, and fries. They tipped the staff generously before setting off.
The way to Woodsholme took them steeper into the wooded hills of Rura. They twisted and turned around the perilously winding roads until they reached the approach to the mountain tunnel in the early evening, to the eastern part of the continent where it began straightening out again. The mountain tunnel cut all the way through a hill too large to be a hill, but too small to be classed as a mountain. Everyone just termed it as a mountain out of simplicity.
It was on the approach that they noticed they were being followed by three motorcycles, each
Similar Books
