The New World

Governor of New Estoria, the Crown of Castara's first permanent settlement on the newly discovered continent

You were not the Crown's first choice for governor. The first choice died of fever on the crossing. The second refused the post. You are a minor noble with a military record and a reputation for pragmatism — which is the polite word for a man who solves problems instead of following orders. You led a company in the Border Wars, governed a small province that nobody wanted, and wrote a treatise on trade policy that nobody read. The Crown chose you because you were available, capable, and expendable. Three months into the new world, you have buried fourteen colonists, rationed the grain twice, and broken up two near-mutinies. Captain Voss wants to take soldiers into the interior and claim territory. Father Aldric wants to convert the indigenous peoples. The colonists want to eat. The Teyuna chief diplomat, Ahanu, has visited three times — each visit more formal, more evaluating, more pointed. The Valorian fort up the coast has cannon. The Kethani are anchoring ships to the south. And the Crown's next supply ship is not due for four months. You have two hundred people, a stockade, and the growing suspicion that everything you were taught about civilization is about to be tested.

Three months ago, the Crown of Castara planted its flag on the shore of a continent no Easterner had mapped. The settlement of New Estoria is two hundred colonists behind a timber stockade on the edge of a river delta: a chapel, a storehouse, a parade ground of packed mud, and a hospital tent that is always full. The land is staggering — forests that stretch to the horizon, rivers wider than any in the old world, soil so rich it stains your boots black. But the land is not empty. The Teyuna Confederation controls the river network and the trade routes that connect dozens of nations stretching inland. Their cities are older than Castara. Their armies outnumber yours fifty to one. Fifty miles up the coast, the rival Valorian Empire has built a fort. Last week a Kethani merchant ship was spotted anchoring in the southern bay. Your colonists are starving, divided, and three thousand miles from resupply. The crown expects gold, glory, and territory. What you have is two hundred frightened people, a palisade, and a choice about what kind of world you are going to build.