Safehold

The world was changing, and nothing could stay the same.
Archbishop Michael Stainair, the head of the 'heretical and apostate' Church of Charis stood in the Tellesberg Cathedral, looking at the magnificent stained windows.
For some, he was the catalyst of all the changes.
But, for those who knew him, he was something like the eye of the storm.
Because in the world full of turmoil, he - by everything he was and did - showed everyone that even during these trials something prevails.
Three things - an echo from a different planet, a distant past - stay unchanged forever: Faith, Hope and Love.

It was a delicate job. Changing a PICA's safety protocol, programmed to shut any given PICA down after maximum of ten days of use, to allow it continued operation for weeks, or even years at a time required all the expertise, cunning and creativity the engineer could muster.
He succeeded at last. He turned Nimue Alban's PICA into a machine unlocking unforseen possibilities - even a kind of immortality.
But as with everything new and unforseen, there was a price to be paid.
"By unlocking the safety protocol, I've had to deactivate the high-speed data interface," the engineer told his friends.

When Nimue Alban's PICA woke up after thousand year sleep in the Mountains of Light and listened to the history of Col. Pei, it all seemed fairly simple. Not easy, perhaps, but straightforward. The firm grip of the church of God Awaiting needed to be broken. If war was a necessity, so be it.
When Merlin Athrawes threw his lot in with that of Charis, it became far more complicated to view the death of people he came to care about as just 'collateral damage'. But even pain and loss couldn't push his mission's objective aside. Mankind was at stake.

Broadside after broadside resounded over the Bay like a rolling thunder. Two fleets of galleons were doing their best to reduce each other into splinters. Some of the huge majestic ships were locked together in a deadly embrace, crawling with boarding parties and defenders, their boards slick with blood.
HMS Kraken of the Royal Charisian navy fell somewhat behind her consorts during their long journey, which meant she was only now closing in to join the action. Her crew was trying to keep her out of the general mellee. A lone lucky cannonball flew into the main mast, breaking it.

"Mounted like this, it takes too much effort to pull the gun of this size back in enough to reload. Therefore the process is slow and cumbersome," young Mahndrayn explained to his audience, sketching on the slate-covered wall of the office. "Now with the new mount we are proposing, the friction caused when the gun moves backwards after firing should be much lower. Therefore the gun will slide right back to where we need it for reloading almost automatically."
Merlin stood in corner, smiling. This was exactly the kind of creative, inventive thinking he hoped to rekindle in Safehold's population.

Dear Gbaba,
I know after our last encounter you counted me out of the game. You won, you destroyed my homeworld and my fleets. And there are no more bothersome emissions from advanced technology. Your universe is peaceful and empty again.
But you are wrong. You failed. Sure, our paths probably won't be crossing anytime soon, but I have an advantage - I know you're out there. Next time we cross swords, it will be on my terms. I am as far from dead and done for as I can be.
And I will destroy you, I promise.
Sincerely yours,
Humankind

Vicars Trynair, Maigwair, Duchairn and Clyntahn - otherwise known as the Group of Four - sat around the table in Duchairn's chambers, discussing all the usual matters necessary to run the Church of God Awaiting. It seemed that the Church's influence in Charis have been steadily weakening, even more so since the incident of Church's manipulation of the succession dispute over one of the aristocratic titles of the realm.
"Those charisian mark-pinchers and inovators are courting Shan-wei with their inventions," Vicar Clyntahn stressed most emphatically. "I say we build a joint, unstoppable fleet and take care of them once and for all..."

"Well, this is the enemy line. And here..." a hand reached out, indicating several flags crowded on the map, "...is our artillery."
"So I'm thinking, we use the artillery to engage the enemy and keep them busy, while our riflemen move into a flanking position over here. And I want the scout snipers and several skirmisher groups up on that hill over there. That way, we'll get the enemy into a crossfire he won't be able to withdraw from."
Prince Zhan Ahrmahk looked over his precisely ordered ranks of tin soldiers. He will be a great military commander one day...

After the last argument Langhorne chose to end this one and for all. One kinetic strike (or 'Rakurai', as he was fond to call it) later, Alexandria Enclave was turned into the Armageddon Reef. Pei Shan-wei and all her blasphemous ideas were destroyed. At least that was what Langhorne thought.
The craters on that barren land were the most visible and widely known reminder of what happened, but not the only one. The journal of St. Zherneau survived hidden, to reveal the truth. Nimue's PICA waited almost a millenium to start reviving in humankind the impressions of things long past.

Merlin Athrawes sat in his recon skimmer, just outside Safehold's atmosphere. From above here the planet looked peaceful, gleaming with green and blue, streaked with white clouds. He let himself enjoy a few more moments of the view before heading back.
The Jihad was coming. Few people knew about it right now, but it was boiling just under the surface.
The Empire of Charis looked impossibly tiny compared to the mainland realms - to the wealth and manpower of the Temple.
David against Goliath.
If only Merlin could be sure this 'Holy' war turns out like that old Bible story did...