Legend of Ransera

On the morning of Glade the 8th, 122 Steel, the skies over the High City of the North rained down pamphlets announcing a rally was to be held in the Presidium. It was to be a memorial to the tragedy that fell on the same date of the prior year and a grand announcement was to be delivered an hour before sundown.

By mid-afternoon, the airships that had been dropping the leaflets began to gather like a languid swarm of airborne leviathans orbiting the site that would soon host thousands. Already people were beginning to congregate in the courtyard to make sure they had a good vantage from which to watch history in the making. These were grandiose times for the State of Zaichaer, and a rally of this scale was rarely held outside of the usual holidays. The locals were a punctual lot, and keenly aware that they would need to account for the extra time required to get through the ZDC security checkpoints surrounding the perimeter of the event space.

A dais had been erected in the foreground of the space, behind which stood bleachers upon which the State military band stood playing patriotic music to stir the crowd about an hour before the onset of the proceedings. With about five minutes remaining until the designated time, murmurs were heard as people whose eyes were cast skyward would notice the largest of the airships that had been circling above was breaking formation and moving over the centre of the courtyard. A solemn column of officials clad in black, martial garb began to assemble in a row behind the amplification device that stood toward the front of the dais. When the last of the officials was on the stage, the band began to intone the national anthem of Zaichaer and simultaneously the airships overhead dropped black flags of mourning with: “8 Glade, 121 Never Forget” emblazoned in brass letters that shone against their matted onyx background.

From some vantage points, onlookers would see that the airship that parted from the ring circling above was marked with the designation: ZADC Searing Victory. As it lumbered through the sky above, a black speck seemed to fall from the aft of the ventral portion of the airship, yielding gasps. The figure hurdled downward, accelerating toward the dais until it was close enough that people could see it wasn’t a bomb, but a man with his legs together and his arms held tight at his sides so he fell like a missile until, suddenly, about twenty metres above the dais he extended his arms to either side as the roar of an engine burst to life and fiery plumes broke his fall and set him to a slow, controlled descent that ended before the amplification system. Many would soon recognise this figure for Air Commander Brenner Dornkirk. As he alighted onto the dais, he extended his arms and two soldiers rushed forth to slide the rocket pack from his person. He glanced over his shoulder and cast a grateful wink to his brother, Stefan, who stood amongst the other black-clad officials who represented Zaichaer’s current regime, for it was he who had designed the innovation that facilitated Brenner’s spectacular entrance.


“Citizens of Zaichaer! My comrades and compatriots! Here we are gathered on this day of memory and mourning. We memorialise our fallen brethren lost to the scourge of witchcraft one year ago today on a date that shall live evermore in infamy: Glade the Eighth of the one hundred twenty first year of our Age of Steel. Remember the fallen, for each of them is a hero in the eyes of our State.

“Folker Gerhard, a constable who stood in the line of eldritch fire hoping to save innocent lives and losing his own in the endeavour. Albert Fenster, a riveter from the Windworks who took a vacation day to enjoy a show of justice and met his end most unjustly. Timothy Carrigan, a young corporal missing in action- abducted by the witch and her minions to face an unknown but dubious fate. Hans Heinrich, 74 years old, a senior reconciliator who was exsanguinated two weeks shy of his retirement by the terrorist Venetia Childs. Roderick and Frederick Hähnemann, the only two sons of Agatha Hähnemann who were both slain in the line of duty in service to the Order. Benedikt Anansi, a refugee from Kalzasi who sought liberation in Zaichaer and adopted our way of life by joining the Order of Reconciliation. Miriam Altheim, a school teacher from the East End who ushered nearby children to safety before losing her life to this gross abuse of magic. Little Hannah Orgryn, a six year old girl who Miriam failed to rescue. Torbin Orgryn, her four year old brother. And the two Jane Does and the John Doe whose bodies were rended beyond all recognition by the sheer brute potency of unregulated magic. To all of these heroes who lost their lives, to the scores more who were wounded and traumatised on that fell day: Zaichaer salutes you. In their honour, we will now observe a moment of silence.” Brenner lowered his head and reflected upon his own memories of that vile day. He lingered in that fell recollection and when he lifted his head, tears glistened upon his ruddy cheeks.

“Today is not-…” Choking up, he turned his face away from the crowd, covering his eyes with his palm for a moment.

“I’m sorry…” He uttered raggedly, wiping the tears from his face and straightening his jacket and his spine, as he set his jaw in a show of stalwart resolution. A man with passionate feelings for his countrymen, but whose will was potent enough to command his emotions when duty required.

“Today is not about the past alone. Although Zaichaer failed its duty to protect little Torbin and Hannah, we stand resolute. Your former First Minister, her Excellency Astrid Kelgarde, recognised that a lapse of this magnitude called for a culling of those responsible for allowing Glade the 8th and other atrocities against Zaichaer’s citizenry to take place. You have no doubt noticed an increased military presence in our city. Some of you may have heard gunfire or explosions nearby the Presidium and in the West End. At a time when our relations with Kalzasi are more tense than ever, I have no doubt this was terrifying. But what has taken place is a boon to our security, not a threat.

“I am pleased to proclaim that the faltering regime that has lapsed and abused its citizens over the past few years has been supplanted. Adrian Kane has been taken into custody and many of his loyalists have been removed from the board.” He let that ambiguous language linger to sink in, before taking a breath to proceed.

“I, Brenner Stahl Dornkirk, have been removed from active duty in the ZADC to assume my new posting as First Minister of the State of Zaichaer. My brother, Stefan Klaus Dornkirk…” Adopting a faint smile, he glanced over his shoulder and gestured to the aforementioned, “…has been appointed to the role of Chief Science Officer. And I am honoured to declare that Her Esteemed Excellency Astrid Kelgarde has justly claimed the mantle of Grand Marshal of Zaichaer.” He took a deep, chest-swelling breath.

“This New Regime is committed to correcting the wrongs of our predecessors with an eye on progress, rather than the nepotistic cronyism that corroded our greatest institutions and allowed tragedy to befall us time and again. Rejoice, Zaichaer, for the able hand of our supreme and glorious leader will conduct our people toward a brighter tomorrow.

“As ever more alarming news of threats and aggression against Zaichaeri citizens by the so-called Iron Queen who has flouted the already loose and liberal laws of Kalzasi and illegitimately claimed herself it’s leader, you may take solace in the stalwart stewardship of our new Grand Marshal and her regime. Under Her Esteemed Excellency’s deft hand, we shall prevail over all who would see Zaichaer undone. As it is said in the Imperium: „Wenn du wie die Sonne scheinen willst, musst du zuerst wie sie brennen.

"Für die Zukunft! For the glory of our Fatherland, and the fall of all who stand athwart our inexorable march toward progress. Hail Zaichaer! Hail Kelgarde!”