Building an empire which the sun never set

The sun was descending parallel to the horizon at the southernmost tip of Velmora when the Southern Expedition Fleet anchored near a sandy bay. The dark smoke rising from the steamships' funnels curled upward into the sky, drifting inland over the vast savannahs and rocky coast. This wild, unknown land, where sea met earth, saw for the first time the standard of a Pendralis fleet fluttering defiantly in the wind. The rhythmic thumping of engines slowly gave way to the muffled sounds of surf and wind.

As camp construction began, white canvas tents were arranged in a symmetrical grid upon the blackened earth. Officers barked orders, directing sailors and marines alike as supply crates were unloaded, field kitchens erected, and survey gear distributed. A tall flagpole bearing the fleet's golden emblem stood proudly at the center, surrounded by rows of officer quarters and storage pavilions. Just beyond the shore, the terrain lay harsh and wild—dense shrubs clung to volcanic stones, while the earth, still coarse and jagged from ancient lava flows, crunched underfoot. The air carried the mineral tang of basalt and salt, mixing with smoke from the mess fires.

At the camp's heart stood Captain Cook's command tent, larger and more fortified than the rest. Inside, it housed a trove of compasses, charts, surveying tools, telegraph equipment, and bound reports. The central table was a working battlefield of strategy and science—inkpots beside protractors, maps strewn alongside weathered journals.

A few days after the base was secured, Captain Cook issued orders to the steamship "Horizon" to begin mapping the coastline in detail. Simultaneously, a scientific party under Dr. Edwin Merrow ventured inland. Their aim: to chart flora, geological formations, and animal species across this unexplored region. With brass instruments and bound logbooks, the team moved at dawn and made camp under the stars, driven by both curiosity and discipline.

During their journey, the party encountered a local tribe. In contrast to the northern peoples previously contacted, these individuals were shorter, more muscular, with deep brown skin and eyes alert with cautious intelligence. Their hair, braided in intricate patterns, was adorned with shells and beads. Their bodies were painted with mineral pigments—red ochre, white ash, deep blue plant dyes—forming sacred patterns believed to protect them from spirits. The people wore skirts made of softened leather, trimmed with bone and feather, and moved with a grounded dignity.

The society was structured around elders who deliberated in open circles, while hunters and gatherers worked in complementary roles. Unlike the nomadic tribes further north, these communities built semi-permanent dwellings of mud and reed, forming clusters around reliable waterholes. Their speech was rhythmic, often accompanied by gesture, and though initial communication was difficult, mutual respect soon blossomed.

The first contact was entirely peaceful. With the help of gestures and drawings, Pendralian scientists and officers exchanged cloth, glass beads, and metal tools for smoked meats, dried roots, and medicinal herbs. The locals admired the shine of steel and the vibrant hues of woven fabrics. In return, they shared local lore about edible plants and dangerous predators, even demonstrating the use of specific herbs for treating wounds and fevers.

After nearly a month of operation, logistical strains began to weigh on the expedition. Water sources were unreliable, food stocks dwindled, and critical tools showed signs of wear. In response, Captain Cook called a strategic council inside his command tent. Present were Dr. Merrow, chief geologist Alex Ward, and naval commander Langley. Merrow confirmed that, surprisingly, no major diseases had affected the team. "The dryness of the climate," he noted, "has spared us the plagues of past missions."

Alex Ward then took the floor, unrolling fresh maps across the table. "We've confirmed the presence of rich coal seams in several valleys, particularly around what we've labeled the Western Spine and Black Hollow. The coal is close to the surface in some areas—so close, in fact, that we have already begun limited surface extraction using picks and field carts. In addition, granite ridges have revealed quartz veins bearing gold traces and occasional diamond indicators."

Cook leaned forward, inspecting the charcoal-black samples and mineral flecks. "This land is rich," he said. "And coal—coal is the spine of Pendralis. But our numbers are thin. I cannot afford to risk many soldiers in an extended inland mission."

After deliberation, it was agreed that Ward would lead a compact expedition deeper into the interior. "Once they return," Cook concluded, "we begin preparations to head home. These lands are not without promise—but neither are they without peril."

Ward's party comprised three scientists and five soldiers, under the command of Lieutenant Charles Deveraux—a calm, pragmatic officer with years of frontier experience. The troops carried standard Lee-Enfield rifles, spare ammunition, and minimal field gear. Within two days, the group departed at dawn, vanishing into the morning mist.

What followed was both beautiful and grueling. Vast golden savannahs gave way to towering trees wrapped in vines, with the cries of unseen beasts echoing through the canopy. Occasionally, massive herds of antelope crossed their path; once, they glimpsed a leopard basking on a rock. Beneath the soil, coal seams lay just meters below the surface, so soft in places that Ward's team could pry samples loose by hand. In one ravine, they dug a trench nearly a meter deep and filled two crates with high-quality bituminous coal—proof of the region's potential.

Further east, granite outcrops bore traces of gold-bearing pyrite. Quartz samples sparkled with hints of crystal formation—some holding tiny, near-colorless diamonds. These discoveries were carefully logged, sealed, and marked for further study.

As the days passed, the party faced mounting hardship. Food rations grew sparse. Tools broke. Water had to be filtered from muddy pools. By the thirtieth day, they knew it was time to return.

That evening, camped near a ridge under a star-drenched sky, Ward and Deveraux sat by the fire, sipping hot water steeped with foraged mint. The night had settled in gently, and for a while, only the soft crackle of the fire and the distant cries of nocturnal birds filled the silence. But their quiet was shattered by a sudden rustle in the nearby brush—sharp, swift, deliberate.

Before either man could react, a guttural growl echoed through the trees. A blur of movement surged from the darkness—a massive Cape lion, low to the ground, its eyes glowing amber in the firelight. The animal lunged into camp, its powerful shoulders rippling as it charged. One of the younger soldiers, Private Halvers, let out a shout and instinctively raised his rifle, but the lion was faster. With a violent sweep of its paw, it knocked Halvers aside, claws tearing across his shoulder.

Chaos erupted. Ward stumbled backward while Deveraux, already on his feet, leveled his Lee-Enfield and fired. The first shot missed, whizzing past the lion's flank. The second caught it in the ribcage. It roared in pain, staggering back. A third shot from another soldier struck true, and the beast collapsed with a final, shuddering breath.

Silence fell again—thick, ringing silence. Halvers groaned, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped through his uniform, dark and sticky. Ward rushed to his side while Deveraux barked orders for a field dressing. Within minutes, they had bound the wound with gauze and cloth. The young man was pale but conscious.

Ward stood up, his expression hard. "That could have ended much worse. We're not just guests here—we're prey."

Deveraux nodded grimly, kicking dirt over the dead lion. "Another reason we go back. We've pushed far enough."

"These lands," Ward said quietly, "will be shaped by our hands one day. There will be rail lines here, and towns, and smoke rising not from camps—but from foundries."

Deveraux stared into the fire. "Maybe so. But not yet. We're stretched thin. Morale is fraying. We get this data back to Pendralis, and we prepare better next time."

Ward nodded solemnly. "Then we go. With maps. With samples. With purpose."

The return took nine days. Torrential rains turned paths into mudslides. Two porters fell ill. Despite it all, they reached camp weary but intact. Cheers met them as they crossed into the perimeter. Officers rushed forward to secure the crates and documents.

The next day, Captain Cook received the final report. Ward detailed their findings: surface-level coal ideal for mining, potential gold veins, and confirmed diamond traces. Deveraux described the toll on manpower, the eroding supplies, and the crew's fatigue.

Cook stood silently after reading the last page. Then he spoke.

"You've done Pendralis proud. But our fuel reserves are low. Boilers are running lean. Freshwater stores are rationed. We've no spares left for the engines. I will not gamble lives for another week of data. We leave."

In three days, the fleet was ready. Tents were folded. Crates secured. Steam hissed as engines roared to life. Dark smoke belched from funnels as the fleet turned northward, leaving the charred soil and golden hills behind.

Velmora's southern coast faded into the mist. Yet none aboard looked away. They had charted a land of fire and shadow, and they would return—not as strangers, but as architects of its future.