March 9th, year 2046.
The first page of a novel was affixed to a storied outline.
Ergo, it would be quite a horrendous waste, and error to mankind, to not elaborate on specific details.
Uriah the fox sat in his dormitory. The Righ had been cogitating about the standings of his crafted guild. Alas, when he looked outside to the wooden walls he had allowed to be built, he was neither filled with joy, nor did he feel complete. He had found peace with the neighboring kingdoms, but not with himself. The smiles of naive civilians couldn’t quell his irrational fears that he hadn’t done enough. Even when Viselli arrived, even when Viselli had left, the Righ was disoriented in waves of foreign concepts.
Subsequently, Viselli duplicated his earlier entrance. Opposingly, this time he did not remain silent.
“My lord, I have sour news,” he began,”something strange has been seen outside our walls.”
The Righ took his time. Slowly his mind escaped the vapid suppositions and focused on what was in front of him.
The Righ looked Viselli in the eyes, only then noticing the pure terror in his eyes.
“What could release such an emotion within you?”
Viselli turned his gaze towards the ground. His voice was soft and shaken. “W-we don’t know, my lord.”
A man dressed in power armor slowly pressed open the door to the outside. Air burned his nostrils. Yet the man suspired more. Gradually he inhaled slowly and exhaled rapidly. He looked around, noticing this wasn’t what California looked like prior to the great war. Either the photographs were off, or they were in the wrong area.
“Fiji, what are our coordinates?” “Sir, they are 51.0577 N 1.3081 W.”
“We’re in England?”
“I would assume so, sir.”
“I thought I said to bring us to California.”
“I believe it was a computational error, sir.”
“Can you fix it?”
“It seems as though the machine has disabled itself. We should be able to fix it within a few hours.”
“Duly noted. I shall leave with Sri and Ricey northward. If we have not returned by dusk, allow yourself and Val to follow our trail.”
“Will do, sir!”
And with that, the leader of the Enclave trudged northward.
With the Righ
“Three things approach from our southward entrance,” a young man called out, his eyes unbelieving of the sight before him. The men were dressed up in metal. Not like chainmail or conventional metals, but with something that he had never seen before.
“Tell Viselli to head out. He shall try to convert those things to the Winged Spear,” the Righ barked out.
And thus, Viselli, with fear gripping with his heart and his mind racing, approached the things that were neither man, nor metal. Viselli was not the first man to speak. “Hello there, my fine gentleman, my name is Citrus K Track, the president of The Enclave. May I request your name?”
Viselli quickly pondered as to what a president could be, but the historical accuracy of the diction used was already incorrect, so he decided to go with it. “M-my name is Viselli,” his voice cracked and shook.
“As you may be able to tell, me and my men are in a bit of a fix. None of us know where we are, and none of us are particularly aware of where we are.”
Viselli was confused by the thing in front of him. Covered so that only his head showed, he was well spoken, but completely oblivious to the current version of English being used in this period of time.
“Sir Viselli, I would like to offer you, and whatever you represent, the services of myself and the rest of the Enclave.”
“Are there any caveats to your offer?”
“Only one. We shall be called “Gentlemen’s Gaming and Fisticuffs Union,” the President responded.
“What does that-”
“Oh, you’ll find out. You’ll find out alright.”
The Enclave is absorbed into Riocht Sasana (with some government positions handed out). The Gentlemen’s Gaming and Fisticuffs Union continues where Riocht Sasana’s foreign affairs left off (all of the current treaties, NAPS, and paperless ties will be held onto).