tl;dr- Minarians are a pure Mechanical empire that expands into a second completely fucked up system that a bunch of wizards fought over just so the wizards can't have it.
- The colonists find a completely fucked up and blighted system and are stuck living in mining colonies. Minarians squeeze them too hard and some of the wizards use this an opportunity to make this colonists join them in agreement that the Minairans needed to get fucked. Though they may have helped the rebellion along with false flag operations.
- Wizard-backed Arehans successfully rebel thanks to being given enough magic to harness the magical properties of their star, but not enough to escape becoming their vassals.
- Arehans stumble across orphaned gods and treat them nicely. Orphaned gods realize the Arehans are getting screwed over by the wizards to keep them as vassals and so teach them animism.
- Pros of animism: The spirits of nuclear reactors and railguns can be "activated" and will be able to act on their own and do magic and form trade unions.
- Cons of animism: The spirits of nuclear reactors and railguns can be "activated" and will be able to act on their own and do magic and form trade unions.
- Arehans become independent, accept all refugees and become a major hub of trade, diplomacy, information brokering, and espionage. Basically somewhere between Switzerland and Golden Age Venice meets Cold War Era Berlin with various factions fighting shadow wars.
The Arehan Frontier Union1Compassion and avarice. Diplomacy and espionage. Words that speak of peace, and instruments that brim with the promse of war. All are in abundance here in the great crossroads of Areha.
Here in Areha, cities terraform blighted moons reclaiming them from the sins of bygone wars, colony ships drift through the black empyrean chasing the bountiful aetherwind, and orphaned gods hold counsel to a people not their own; corporations vie for power with unions of nuclear flame and humming mainframes; here in Areha, every object has a voice, and every man has a price.
A confederacy of united colonies, the AFU is an economic powerhouse with an independence secured as much by a complex spider's web of diplomatic and economic relationships as by clandestine operations and the promise of military force. It is a place of science and magic, and a haven for refugees and for off-world bank accounts.
A far cry from what it once was.
Back in those days, Areha was the very definition of a shithole. That's what the Arehans thought at least. Course back then they weren't called the Arehans, who the fuck would wanna be called that? Place had changed five times in just as many decades and had the scars to show for it too. The kind of scars that turned every planet to a death world and moon to a crater. Even the oceanic ones. Especially the oceanic ones. Petrification magic ain't no joke.
It wouldn't be too bad they said. Nothing a bit of human ingenuity couldn't fix they said.
Bitch, the reactor was
bleeding,
literally bleeding before they even hit orbit. People were slitting their wrists with
cheesegraters because by the time the space madness kicked in security had already requisitioned every utensil sharper than a butterknife to fight the sudden demonic incursion.
It was the materials they said. The vast bounty of natural resources that lay beneath the blighted murder encrusted surface of the planets. Bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit.
They needed the material sure, but they could get it elsewhere. It'd be a bit of a trek sure, but it'd have been an easier extraction too. No, everyone knew why the Minarian Republic
2 wanted Areha - because a bunch of other squabbling dipshits wanted it. Why? Who the fuck knows. Wizard stuff probably. And that was precisely why the Republic wanted it. The Republic did not have wizards, it did not in fact have magic at all, couldn't make heads or tails of that shit, but it had rivals it did, and if Areha really did have something worth all that bloodshed, then they needed to snatch it even if they couldn't use it themselves.
The early days were slow. Slow, tedious, dangerous. Just about every solid object had been nuked, poisoned, cursed, and haunted about five times. Not to mention littered with the ruins of military installations. A good source of loot sure, but usually also the very epicenter for a lot of the general fuckery amd some of them, still active with autonomous defenses more than happy to make mincemeat of any would-be
stalkers3. They stuck to the belts and more barren moons where was was no pesky atmospheres to inhibit their approach. Core facilities were kept off the surface, it was simply too dangerous.
The first colonists had been a motley crew indeed. Convicts promised with freedom, impoverished seeking a new life on the frontier, and soldiers who made enemies of the wrong CO. What they reported would only guarantee that future batches would be the same as the first.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, they begin to understand the rules of the game, begin to figure out how to play. They begin figuring out how to navigate the frontier, how to pacify the ghosts, which artifacts could be scavenged and harness with some degree of safety, which ones would just shoot you, drive you insane, or curse your entire bloodline. Scientists and engineers start to show up. The disgraced, the ambitious, the plain mad.
Progress. But the Arehan Frontier would never be a tech base nor an industrial power. Its modest outputs, while useful were not on the scale one would expect from an occupied system. The fact that they broke more than even was enough, as for the Republic they were first and foremost a military bastion, stationed to make any conniving wizards think twice about trying to reclaim their sloppy seconds.
The Frontier colonies began to develop their own cultures, distinct from the Republic and from each other. Their tech began to diverge, ever so slightly, incorporating more and more magical blackboxes into their machines, replacements for equipment they did not have or simply not up to the task.
Life would remain hard but it was at least not so short and brutish as in those tumultuous early days.
The Republic would go to fight more wars, claim a little more influence here and there. The costs began to grow.
Demand for material increased, they began squeezing the Frontier a little more. Then a little more. Then a little more.
Voices of dissent began to emerge. They were ignored for the most part. What could they do? The Frontier could not sustain themselves. The Republic was their supply line, the only thing keeping them alive. They could complain yes, but in time the pressure on them would ease and they would move on. The voices began to grow.
The Republic did not listen, but its rivals did.
The Areha system had been lost. The Minarians had swooped in in their moment of weakness, fortified the place too fast for them to contest. They didn't even know the value. They mined the dead husks of planets, blasted moons, like fools sifting for gold in nuclear fallout. They had no idea the real value was lay in Areha itself, the Witch Star which saturated its system with aetherwind.
Of course they had no idea. They hadn't mastered even the very basics of magic. Why else would they have eked out an existence they way they had? Exiled in their own exile, drifting through the black empyrean perpetually on the brink of virtual starvation all while the bountiful wind blew past their sightless eyes.
But what if, what if they learned?
Why with the sentiment the way it was, it would've been enough to start a rebellion.
And the Republic's rivals, they would do just that.
They would teach the Arehans the how to harness the aetherwind. They would help arm their rebellion (and provide the spark that would ignite it). They may have lost their chance to harvest Areha's wind for themselves, but they could always trade with their grateful soon-to-be-vassals.
The Arehan War of Independence would be a slow and brutal affair. The Republic's rivals had no intent on letting it end quickly. They would keep it locked in war with its own colonies for long as possible. Turn the war into a festering tumor eating away at its attention and resources. Besides, the longer it lasted, the worse the colonists would think of their old masters, and the more grateful they would be for their liberation by their old enemies. And if they so happened to tragically perish? It would make everything so much simpler.
In the end, it was the Arehan Liberation Front that prevailed, swiftly opening its markets if not its borders to its ever so gracious benefactors, at a more than generous discount no less. The mining installations of old have given way to colossal colony ships tracing the celestial winds and harnessing their power to endow themselves with gravity and greenery, wealth and prosperity.
They were still reliant of course on their benefactors to provide all the equipment and while they had attempted to marry science and magic, progress was naturally quite slow.
It was all going as planned. Or so it seemed, but fortune was a bitch and the fortune of the newly christened Arehans was just about to turn.
Equipped with state of the art magic-enhanced sensors and orbiting Areha with a proximity inches away from "irresponsibly dangerous", the Icarus Research Platform was about to make contact with a Vagrant God
4.
They offered it piety. Piety for nothing in return. Piety so it could at least enjoy this world as for all its bleakness it had beauty still. They offered it company because it was lonely. Because it did not deserve its fate. Because it deserved to have its voice heard.
Treated with such compassion, how could the god not repay this in kind? It learned of the Agehan's own ambitions, their desire to learn magic like their benefactors, it learned of its history, and it realized they were getting screwed.
If they wished to learn magic, it declared, then it would teach them magic, magic to free them of the shackles of the past, magic to free them of the shackles they have yet to see. They were unfamiliar with magic but they had ample understanding of technology, they had displayed great resourcefulness in scavenging from ruins, and a willingness to listen to that which had not been heard. Animism would suit them well then.
It taught them how to make pacts with the spirits of objects. These pacts would allow the spirits to control their form in this world, but they would have control without restriction and would have to be persuaded to serve their masters.
To call it a paradigm shift would be an understatement. All of a sudden nuclear reactors could produce far greater output simply in exchange for agreeing to feed them extra fuel. All of a sudden nuclear reactors could unionize and demand more fuel. All of a sudden nuclear reactors could go on a mass impromptu strikes demanding that they receive they additional fuel and be legally recognized should their employers wish to continue enjoy a steady flow of power into their life support systems.
The Arehans would soon learn the the power of these pacts was not one to be used willy-nilly.
Their own masters would soon have to make their own concessions too, realizing they that as they had stripped the Republic of its leverage, they too had been stripped of their own leverage. The Arehans would continue trading with them, but now as partners and allies than simply vassals in all but name.
As the AFU's influence continued to grow, so too did the diversity of technology and cultures within it. Some by trade, some by accepting refugees. Of course they would accept refugees, they would accepts anyone really. They had all been lost before. Vagrants consigned to eternal solitude. Convicts used as pawns by warring empires. They were kin in spirit if not in blood. How they could the Arehan turn them away?
...And besides, they tended to have good information, information about what's happening elsewhere in the sector, information about their own magic and technology.
And so Arehan to this day continues to be a great melting pot, of culture, and technology. Though on the technology front they don't quite have the same level as
understanding, while they can trade widely for the fruits of both magic and science they don't necessarily understood a ot of the principles on the magic side (and for some of the more exotic tech too) relying on animism and negotiations to get things working.
Each of its colonies enjoys some degree of autonomy, holding their own unique blends of cultures, and sometimes even their own business relations and alliances. Indeed, what political divisions are fall more on ideological lines that colonial lines.
And of the Minarian Republic? What became of them? They never did recover from the war. But they did not fall to ruin either. They remain to this day a power in their own right, harboring deep grudges toward their former colonists.
To the Arehans, the Minarians were oppressors and tyrants who pushed their own people too far. To the Minarian, the Arehans are self-serving traitors who after being given all they had turned around and spat in their face in their hour of need rather than endure the hardship for a little longer.
That being said, neither are particularly raring for a fight either. The Minarians stand to lose too much in a war, whereas the Arehans benefit too much from their status of having only ever fought defensive wars (after all, all those other battles were simply conducted by its many mercenary companies with no actual backing from the AFU).
1Named for their star, Areha; the name is originally from Arabic الريح ariyh "the wind"
2Named for their star, Minari; the name is originally from Arabic المنارة almnara "the lighthouse"
3The
Roadside Picnic variety
4 Refer to spoiler below, it's nothing new if you read the old version
Oft micharacterized as a religion, Resanctification refers to theopolitical policies the relate to formation of mutually altruistic relationships with Vagrant Gods.
Simply put, Vagrant Gods are Gods who are no longer worshipped, doomed to drift through space stripped of all influence and forgotten by the universe at large. Some were simply obsolete, tools their creators requires no longer, scattered to the celestial winds. Some inflicted this fate upon themselves, disgusted by what their people had become. More often than not however, it is simply because their civilization went the way civilizations tend to go - toward oblivion.
They drift between the stars, beings of once-immense power consigned to eternal loneliness.
Many would make their way to Areha. It is was only natural after all, for at there their heart they too were beings of magic and the Witch Star offered them some degree of warmth in a universe that now seemed oh so cold.
It is rare for so many to gather, space is vast and time vaster still, but Areha had gathered them, yet they could not speak. Or rather they could speak but their voices could not be heard their existences so faint, their presence so weak, they could not communicate even with each other. Yet the gathering provided them some solace still, some sense of kinship, bittersweet though it may be to know they were not alone in their plight.
It was by chance that contact was made, onboard the Icarus Research Platform. Scanning the star with bewitched sensors born from the marriage of science and technology (provided ever so graciously by their oh so benevolent benefactors) they could have sworn they saw what looked like the faintest of silhouette. It was the silhouette cause was a Vagrant God.
It would take months for their voice to be heard, years for the institute to modify the sensor into something capable of more than simply detection, but eventually that day came, and at least it could speak.
It told them stories. Stories of the past, stories of its people, stories of people, what few stories it had. It was once a conqueror, a god of war, magnitude was in its very nature. It was something that operated at scale on the scale of wars and nations, not on soldiers and civilians, they were simply too small, too fleeting for it to put faces to the numbers. Oh how it wished it did. The past centuries had been lonely, oh so lonely. It spoke of its downfall, of conquest's folly and the death of an empire. It spoke what came after, of isolation, of the profound emptiness. For the first time in its long life it asked for nothing in return, it spoke simply to be understood.
One researcher asked about its worship. How did was it worshipped? It was so long ago. It replied with what it could remember. A week passes. The researcher comes back with more questions, more specific questions. Was the ritual done this way or that? Did the incantation have to be in its native tongue or would any tongue do? It was unaccustomed to such pedantry, but it humored him all the same, it was nice, having someone take an interest.
Power. For the first time in a long time, it felt power. Power pouring in from the old channels, the flimsiest of dredges of power, but power all the same. The researcher had offered it his piety, offered it power, poured in through the rituals of old. They were not quite what they once were, same parts had been easier to replace than reconstruct, others had been found to be products of political convenience rather than anything strictly functional and unceremoniously scrapped as a result.
Why? Why offer it piety? Why offer it power? They could've simply made a new god, a god tailored to their people not some lingering shadow of the past. It didn't want to fight anymore, it couldn't fight anymore, how could it? It couldn't even save its own people.
Perhaps not replied the researcher, but he didn't need it to fight, he didn't need it to do anything. He just felt that it was an awful shame it couldn't touch the world around it, couldn't feel the breeze against its body, couldn't speak in its own voice. He could not offer it much power, he could not offer it the existence it once held, but the world was beautiful he said, and it would be a shame if it couldn't enjoy it for itself.
Today that researcher's compassion lives on in the policies of Resanctification.
The Arehans offer piety to a diverse pantheon of Vagrant Gods. They use rituals to endow them with power and hold festivals in their honor, giving comfort to these once-wayward wanderers. And many in return serve the people once more, be it out of a sense of duty, a need to make up for past failures, or simply just to feel appreciated again.
The matters relating to Vagrant Gods are managed by the Department of Theurgical Affairs.
It is unsurprising then given the strategic and economic importance of Resanctification that citizen participation is mandatory, with each citizen paying an annual tithe of time and participation in theurgical affairs.
Tithes like regular taxes are overseen by the Internal Revenue Service, and tithe evasion is punishable with fines.
The AFU will not last forever. Resanctification will not last forever. But space is vast and time vaster still, what happens once can happen again, and as eternity stretches out before them, the orphaned gods look toward the future with newfound hope.