Zeroth Directive

Archive III

[Classified Log] File ID: 1097***** Level: Confidential Incident resolved. Witnesses have been relocated. File ID: 1054***** Level: Confidential Incident resolved. The leadership of Hercules Company attempting to contact Victoria were properly handled before the military's intervention. Any evidence linking us to Hercules has been removed. Recommend increased guidance and oversight of partners, and continued monitoring of possible Victorian or military response. File ID: 1020***** Level: None To Maylander Selene, On the matter of the Child Rights Protection Foundation, I am in full agreement with you. As for the position of chairman of the Historical Association, I must respectfully decline; while I have nothing against administrative work, I am loathe to allow anything to get in the way of my field work. Besides, were I to sit on that chair, there is no telling when I'd be able to get off it. Your loyal servant, Tin Man File ID: 0920***** Level: Top Secret The craftsmen of Iberia are friendly, but arrogant. They certainly have reason to be proud of their shipbuilding skills, but there has been little progress since my last visit, and yet they sit on their laurels, believing that they have achieved perfection. My attempt to sail out to sea was once again abortive. A ship's body is a bad idea; I could do little but spin in place once I reached the blue ocean. The waves were rough, and I would have vomited quite a bit of oil, if I were able to get seasick. What are you reading, Doctor? ...Good work. He's starting to trust you. You should look forward to when he comes to you for a chat on his own initiative. Enviable, isn't it? Hearing history straight from the mouth of the Maylander Library—half of it, at least. That's how much of their collection he's seen with his own eyes. Oh, I know he didn't give me permission to read it, but there's no need to try to block me. You may have forgotten, but did you think he wouldn't remember the K'uk'ulkan on Rhodes Island who once knocked his head off? What, you think he might have? Tsk, you're mean.

Archive IV

[Classified Log] File ID: ■■■■■■■■■ Level: ■■ 'Give me a reason to spare you.' The headless armor and a pile of scrap cobbled into the shape of a man sit opposite each other at the summit of the quiet volcano. 'I have crossed rivers, seen the new green that emerges on the banks year after year, which not even Catastrophes could extinguish. I have crossed deserts, seen cities fall and rise again, which not even the bloodthirsty nature of Man could subdue.' 'Give me a reason.' 'I have exiled myself like the scavenger, until I find the future that we may reach without immolating ourselves.' '...A reason.' The revenant which looks very different many years later removes a small piece from his shoulder, and throws it into the volcano. It falls a long way, then begins to spin rapidly with a faint light, before flying out of the volcano and into the sky. The magma stirs, roiling bubbles like contempt, the quiet surface like command. 'Yes, it's just a little trinket of Arts within metal. I have seen such things in the hands of Sarkaz who do not wield Originium Arts, who use it to cut the flesh of others, and in turn have their own heads cut off. 'But now, dozens of trinkets like these are produced day after day. In turn, these trinkets are used to make other trinkets, until there are thousands after thousands. 'Trinkets that are no longer used just for killing. 'I want to know if they are part of the future that I'm seeking.' File ID: 000000001 Level: ■■ 'What should I call you, metal boy? Maybe Tin Man? Like the one from the fairy tale?' 'Suit yourself.' 'Well, let's get a bottle opened. And a map.' The pioneer throws a rolled up map and a bottle of spirits across the campfire. Tin Man spreads the map open, and sees markings of various colors indicating the locations of scattered settlements, routes, mines, and potential archaeological sites. 'This map is more of a fairy tale than I am—other than the lay of the land. That's accurate, at least.' 'That's what they all say!' The pioneer laughs, and the campfire quivers to the laughter. 'But this is the future, and the future is no fairy tale. Look, settlements are built by the river. The routes go through areas with low Originium, mines are built on ore veins, and there are great skeletons near the archaeological sites.' 'You've trekked through all these places?' 'Why measure the land with your own legs?' The pioneer takes out a tiny piece from his pocket and tosses it into the air. Tin Man waits for the piece to fly out of sight, but it hovers in the air, before settling down on the pioneer's palm. 'Propeller fitted with a camera and magnifying scope. The images it takes are blurry, but usable. Toss me the map; I'm adding a few strokes.' 'Do you really want a ranch that takes a nomadic city months to cover?' 'Why should it be a ranch for just me, Maylander Selene, and not a brand new country, one not bound to the ghosts of the past? One that lives only for the future?' After a moment of silence, Tin Man hands the map over with one hand, and opens the bottle with the other. 'Cheers. Save a place for me in your pioneer team.'

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