[NONCANON] Crossover

AWAKENED

Udrys Ivaska woke up in a hospital bed with a terrible headache. He propped himself up and looked around, shaking off his bleariness and surveying his surroundings. The medical equipment was very standard for any hospital in the Directorate, which didn’t help him, and there were no windows with which to gauge the time of day or location. He looked down and was surprised to see that he was not handcuffed to the bed. Why was that surprising? He did not recall. Did he do something wrong?

The door opened suddenly, and Udrys felt an awful dread, as if expecting someone to enter. He saw in his mind a pinstripe suit and curly hair. Who was he envisioning? Who was he expecting? Why couldn’t he remember? That was strange. The man who entered was not who he feared. In fact, it was a doctor, and one Udrys had never seen before. He relaxed slightly, and studied the man, who didn’t appear very threatening.

“Hello. I am Doctor Janketic. I have been in charge of your care since you arrived here at Mirjana Bacic Memorial Hospital. You suffered from a gunshot wound in your shoulder and severe trauma to your head and back. As a side effect of your injuries, you may be experiencing some memory loss, but brain scans show that there was no permanent damage.” It was strange that the doctor spoke Valish instead of Slaviskas - he still looked Zemedievan. Did he think Udrys was a foreigner?

“What day is it?” Ivaska asked. “Where am I? Am I still in . . .” He couldn’t recall the name of the city he was in before. Sarmin? Saria? Samras? Sarmiestas? Yes that was it. Sarmiestas. “Are we still in Sarmiestas?” The doctor’s name wasn’t Kamyachyn in origin, though. They could be in Milisteni, but that was too far from Sarmiestas. Maybe it was just an immigrant. What was he doing in Sarmiestas? He remembered a cold wind and a dark night. Was he on business? He couldn’t recall. That frustrated him.

“We’re in Saragrad, if that’s what you mean. It is the 30th of March. You were brought in a few days ago, but your recovery so far has been extraordinary. You’re really quite lucky.”

Recovery? From what? Then he finally processed what the doctor said earlier. “I was shot?” He regretted it immediately, because then, he remembered. He remembered the face of Chief Director Metternich, the loud gunshot as he killed Lieutenant General Andrejauskas, the ringing in his ears before he realised that he had been shot as well, Metternich’s massive form shoving him through the open window. The fall . . . He didn’t even realise he was hyperventilating until the doctor snapped him out of it.

“Please calm down, sir. You’re perfectly alright. Whoever shot you hasn’t come back, and we’ve talked to the Saragrad Police Department about investigating the event. Can you tell me your name?”

“What?”

“Your name. Can you tell me?”

“Uh, yes. Yes. My name is Udrys Ivaska. I’m a, uh . . .” What did he do for a living? Was he a Professor? No, that was someone else. “Architect! I’m an architect. I own my own firm, Ivaska Building Design. I’m from Kurmariai, but I was visiting Sarmiestas to see some friends from university.”

The doctor looked extremely confused. “Sarmiestas?”

“Are we not in Sarmiestas? What was that name you said before? Saragrad?”

“Yes, we’re in downtown Saragrad. Where’s Sarmiestas?”

“It’s kinda in the northern part of Kamyachyn, a, uh, territory of the Directorate,” he added, catching the doctor’s blank stare. “Where are we? Where’s Saragrad? Is it in the Congregation?

“I don’t know where any of those are, I’m sorry. We’re in Aivintis.”

“Zemedievai? Yeah, that’s the Directorate. I don’t know any cities named Saragrad in— Wait what did you say? Ai— What was that word you said?”

“I said Aivintis.”

“Aivintis— that’s . . . No. That . . . why do I know that word? The man in the stars said it, too, and I knew it, then, as well. I remember now. I saw him when the world was ripped away.”

“Stay with me, Udrys. I understand you’re confused. You can’t remember much from before your accident and that’s okay. Your dreams from the coma are bleeding into your waking thoughts. It’s perfectly normal, but you have to stay with me.”

His eyes had glazed over and his voice seemed to echo and distort as he spoke. “He was made of stars and he made the stars and he was a god and a king and a god of kings and king of gods he told me of the paths ahead and the road to walk and I saw the ending and it was far too soon, far too close. I begged him to send me along a different road, because I saw the end of my own and it was haunted by a ghost with a broken body and a bleeding chest. I chose the path to night and chaos and he sent me here.”

“Udrys, breathe. Stay with me. Stay grounded. Look around you. What can you see?”

“I see a worm beyond time, beyond space and in the space between, writhing and burrowing, writhing unseen. I see a mirror reflecting the sun and I see it crack along a billion fault lines and I see the worlds within and they are infinite and they are beautiful. I see a baby bird hatch from a blue egg and fly into the yawning mouth of the void. I see a cloud of dragons, larger than any fury I’ve ever seen, approaching a distant land on black wings. I see the stars extinguish and a man cloaked in shadows. I see him extend his hand and I see—” Udrys collapsed as the sedative Doctor Janketic had administered went through his bloodstream.

STRANGER

Udrys Ivaska awoke again in the same hospital bed, with Doctor Janketic watching over him with curious eyes. He hated that. Being watched reminded him of . . . the thought escapes him. He tries to remember where he is, but before he can, the doctor speaks.

“Welcome back, Mr Ivaska. I apologise for sedating you. I didn’t realise delirium would be a side effect. I added it to your chart. Do you remember anything from yesterday?”

“Yes, I, uh, I do. I’m in Something Memorial Hospital. I was shot, I think, and then I fell a long way.”

“Very good. Do you remember my name?”

“Doctor Jan something.”

“Janketic.”

“Yes, that.”

“I’m very impressed, Mr Ivaska,” Doctor Janketic replied. “As I said yesterday, you display remarkable recovery from the lingering effects of amnesia. Your memories should be coming back to you by now. Do you feel like you’re ready to answer some questions? Detective Preda and Officer Boroi with the Saragrad Police have been requesting to speak with you.”

“I won’t speak to anyone from the DSF or the Science Directory.”

“Uh, I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“Wait. We’re not in the Directorate?”

“No, Mr Ivaska,” the doctor said, neglecting to mention that none of his internet searches revealed that any such country had ever existed.

“Uh. Okay. Send them in.”

Detective Preda entered first. He was dressed semi-formally, with a holster on his chest for his glock pistol. Officer Boroi, on the other hand, wore a black uniform with a bulletproof vest, which reminded Ivaska faintly of the uniforms worn by DSF border guards back before Metternich’s separation of military and police, arguably one of the few good things the Chief Director had done for his country, but still a half-measure. He wasn’t carrying a weapon, but looked dangerous enough. Detective Preda introduced them in a polite voice and asked Udrys for his name.

“Udrys Ivaska.”

“You didn’t have any identification on you when you were found, Mr Ivaska. Could you explain why?”

“I don’t know, I may have been mugged or something.”

“Hm, it’s unlikely, given you were found so quickly upon receiving your injuries. We searched your name in the Aivintian e-visa database, and it wasn’t found. Doctor Janketic told us you were a foreigner?”

“I, uh, I’m sorry, Detective, I’m suffering from some memory loss. I’m a citizen of The Directorate of Zemedievai.”

“Yes, let’s get to that. You told the doctor you were from the Directorate. No such country exists, or ever has.”

“What? Of course it exists.”

The Detective didn’t seem convinced. “Mr Ivaska, have you ever taken illegal drugs?”

“Obviously not. I’m an architect. I graduated summa cum laude from Kurmariai College. I am a good man, I assure you. I don’t do drugs. I don’t even drink alcohol.”

“Kurmariai doesn’t exist, Mr Ivaska, nor does your supposed company, Ivaska Building Design. In fact, none of the places you’ve mentioned do. Sarmiestas is not a real city. There is no country in Urth called the Congregation. We took the liberty of checking your name with the Aivintian identification database, as well, and you’re certainly not a citizen. Which means you illegally crossed the border. According to Doctor Janketic, you seemed to be delirious, and you were shot in the shoulder. Do you know what this looks like to us?”

“I know, I know. But I’m not a criminal, and I’m not an addict. And I promise you, the Directorate exists.” Udrys was trying to hold back tears. It would not end like this. He would not be arrested for something he didn’t even do, not when he had so much to actually do. Not when Metternich still ruled. Not in this strange country. Not when he was being, what, gaslit, into thinking nothing he knew was real. He was more disoriented and afraid than he’d ever been.

“I want to believe you, Mr Ivaska, but there’s not much I can do for you as long as you continue to lie to me. I just don’t understand why you would make this all up. If you’re in danger from the mafia, the police can protect you, as long as you report them properly.” Detective Preda’s tone was stern. Udrys didn’t know what to do. He’d be arrested, or locked up in a psych ward, which was arguably worse. Should he just play along? What if he made the wrong move?

The door suddenly opened. Preda shot up in anger, turning to yell at the person who had just entered, when he saw their face and immediately shut up and sat down. They wore a black suit with a maroon shirt, unadorned with any sort of tie. It looked very expensive. Their hair was slicked back, and they wore a plain black ring. Officer Boroi, who had since then been silent, turned and looked in confusion. “Excuse me, this is official police business and—”

“Shut up, Boroi,” Detective Preda ordered.

“Detective, I’m sorry, but this is highly irregular.”

“You will accept it, and you will not speak a word of it to anyone.”

Boroi’s eyes widened as he realised what was happening. He said nothing, though. The new arrival looked very pleased. They set an envelope down next to Detective Preda, as they did, revealing a pistol hidden in the inside of their jacket. They patted the Detective on the back, and nodded to Udrys. Preda picked up the envelope and the two policemen hurried out of the hospital room.

“I am Dionisie,” they said. “Come with me. There will be no criminal charges brought against you, Mr Ivaska. You have been cleared for release by the Detective and the good Doctor. You’re quite lucky we found you in time. I do hope no one has convinced you you’re crazy yet.”

“Are you going to kill me, Dionisie?” He asked simply.

They laughed. “No. No, I’m not. I need you to know that I do not need to take you to a secondary location for that. I would not baulk at the prospect of killing you so publicly, I promise you that. Certainly considering you’re not strictly real. No, I’m taking you to see a friend of mine. He has the answers to all those nagging questions you surely have. I’d talk more about it, but the walls have ears, so come along.”

Ivaska complied. As the two got into a black SUV and began to drive away from the airport, Dionisie handed him a newspaper - retro, but he wasn’t one to complain. Then he saw the date. 31st March 2022. “What the hell is this?”

“Today’s newspaper! Have you seen the date?”

“This is ten years old,” he said flatly.

“I don’t know how to ease you into this, so I’ll just say it. That newspaper is from today. I bought it this morning on my way to see you. The date is current. The year is 2022.”

“Bullshit.”

“Did you not find it strange that everyone thinks The Directorate doesn’t exist? That you’re in a country you’ve never heard of? Let alone if someone had said the word Urth yet.”

“What kind of tactic is this? Bad cop, worse cop? Crazy cop, crazier cop?”

Dionisie let out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t explain it well. Dr Danesti is better suited for it.”

“So you’re taking me to a psych ward?”

“No, Udrys, I’m not taking you to a psych ward.” They rolled their eyes. “Dr Danesti has a PhD in Classical History. And in Mythology and Theology. And a Master’s in Education. My point is, he’s not a psychologist of any kind. And you’re not crazy.”

“Are you sure you’re not?” He asked drily.

They laughed. “Fairly sure. Anyway, Dr Danesti runs the Danesti Foundation. I think you have an equivalent in Zemedievai, the Aurelius Something Institute.”

“Aurelius Antgamtiskas?”

“That’s the one,” they replied.

“The ghost researchers?”

“Yeah! Ghosts, nightmares, whatever you want to call them, but not just that. I think they work closely with Obrad Baran, a name I’m sure you know.”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled. “I hope you’re aware I’m not the biggest fan of the Directorate.”

“I am now,” they pointed out. “But that shouldn’t matter. It’s not like we’re inviting you to Baran’s birthday party.”

“H—”

“Shhh, we’re here.” They had stopped in Saragrad International Airport, and Dionisie had rolled down their window to greet the security guard.

“Hello, Gavril.”

“Mx Caragiale.”

“Buzz us in, please.” The gate opened. Dionisie waved goodbye and rolled up their window as the car continued into the private jet hangar. “Charming lad,” they said, turning to Udrys. “I come here often for business. I’m the big financial person for the Danesti Foundation, which means a lot of charity events and the like. Saragrad University is a frequent partner. Not as well known as Grand Asluagh or Castenor, but a charming campus nonetheless, and a lot of options for STEM fields. That’s rare nowadays.”

“It’s the opposite in the Directorate. Kafka’s got Metternich’s ear on everything, it seems, as did Dvorsky before him. Science has the greatest say in government than any other directory - even the military doesn’t have that much influence.”

Dionisie nodded. “I imagine that has something to do with your country’s leadership. Metternich, and what was the name of your King, again?”

“The Triglav.”

“Right.” Their phone beeped, and they looked to check it. “Pilot says we’re ready to go.” Udrys hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped. “Are you?”

Ivaska shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I want answers.”

Dionisie nodded solemnly, and opened the car door. Udrys got out and waited for them to finish texting to continue onwards. The two greeted the pilot as they got aboard, and then got settled. They were the only two people there, apart from the waiter that brought them each a glass of champagne. The pilot’s voice came across a speaker in the cabin, detailing the length and details of their flight to Greater Asluagh, and then the plane began to take off.

DISPLACEMENT

Sarmiestas was the second biggest city in the Directorate, but it paled in comparison to the beauty and splendour of Greater Asluagh. There were more skyscrapers in this one city than in all of the Directorate combined. The city sprawled over a large bay, and hundreds of ships were visible from the air, from small sailing craft to grey navy cruisers. Coming through the Danesti Foundation’s private hangar, Udrys and Dionisie cut past a huge line in airport security, which was more methodical and careful than in the Directorate by far. Dionisie still had their gun on them, but it was hidden well, and they weren’t accosted. Udrys had changed into a black t-shirt and jeans on the flight, so the pair didn’t draw any unnecessary attention.

Dionisie called in a limousine this time, which travelled the busy streets of Asluagh to take them out of the central city and onto a slightly less busy highway headed north. Udrys realised he still had the newspaper on him, and decided to give it a read. The top headline was “CURFEW ESTABLISHED IN REDMONDBURG, TERRORISTS STILL AT LARGE.” He pointed it out to Dionisie, who shrugged.

“There’s a bit of a revolutionary fever going about. The People’s Movement for Justice has been terrorising the nation. Blowing up bridges, oil rigs. They want democracy, and think this is the way to do it.”

“You disagree?” Udrys decided not to mention his own, similar efforts in the Directorate Anarchist League, which he now fully remembered.

“I do. The corruption runs deep. Hell, you saw how easily I got you off? You know how much quicker it is for the Alpha to do it? All he’s gotta do is snap his fingers. Police for miles around hear it and drop a case before he has the time to snap again. It’s not just the mafia. The Kritarchy’s got a chokehold on the empire. They’re not backing down without a fight, and when it comes to a fight, my money’s on the Imperial Army, not a ragtag group of activists, no matter how much C4 they have. If you want to change things, you gotta get on the inside. Like Justice Groza. God, if Stoker died and Groza took charge, we might have the Senate back within my lifetime. Unless the PMJ gets themselves an army, they’re dead in the water. They could survive if they’re good enough at it, but they can’t win. The Imperial Army, though, they have a chance to take power, if anyone in the command actually wants what the PMJ want, which they don’t.”

“You seem to have thought this through.”

“I suppose. I got my master’s in Defence and Strategic Studies from Lerasi College. I’ve been consulted on various issues of national security and revolution. I was even called to a meeting of the Imperial Defence Council rather recently. I like to keep up with politics, and I think my expertise informs my opinions rather well.”

Udrys considered their words very carefully. His plan for the DAL was rather simple. It basically involved whipping the people into a frenzy, arming them, and leading them into battle. Maybe that wouldn’t work on its own. Maybe he would need some army support. He wondered if there were any sympathisers in the military leadership. Probably not, but it was worth a shot. If he could even get a single regiment of soldiers, he could probably topple the puppet government in Kamyachyn. All it would take would be some key bombings, assassinations, and riots, which the DAL could supply.

The rest of the drive to Lerasi College was uninteresting for both parties. This was bad for Udrys, because it meant he started to consider the implications of everything he’d gone through. The Directorate wasn’t real, apparently. Which didn’t make sense, of course it was real. Unless he was some guinea pig of the sort of experiments Baran probably ran, it was impossible. Not to mention, Dionisie appeared to know some things about the Directorate. So was Dionisie crazy, too? Or was it just the doctor and the police officers?

That didn’t make sense, either. It also didn’t explain his weird coma dreams, or the fact that he was now in what seemed to be a fairly sizable and influential nation that he had never heard of. Wait. His weird dreams. Could he be dreaming? That seemed even less likely than him just being insane. He remembered his reaction when the doctor named Aivintis. Why did he respond so weirdly? Why did he think Aivintis was the same thing as Zemedievai? They’re completely different words. The countries were completely different as well, from what he could see.

He ruminated on the nature of his potential insanity until the car parked at the foot of a mountain which stretched up a fair distance. Looking at the stone steps along the side, he guessed it might take an hour or two to walk to the top. Wait. “Don’t tell me we have to climb that thing.”

“We don’t,” Dionisie replied. “That’s the old library up there. Used to be you had to walk to reach the top, but we recently installed aerial trams. Much faster. The university, however, is all on ground level, including Dr Danesti’s office.”

They began to lead the way, nodding to various groundskeepers and security guards along the way. There were probably a few dozen people milling about at the entrance to the university, and even more once they entered. It was a fairly big college. Dionisie explained that it was the top private university in Aivintis, and its graduates included such esteemed individuals as Emperor Thaddeus Radu, billionaire Arthur Frost, and feminist Anastasia Varmo. Udrys recognised none of these names.

When the two finally reached the “Administrator’s Office,” as it was called, Dionisie waved to the security guards on duty and walked in like they owned the place, choosing a seat in front of the big desk marked with the nameplate “Dr Valerian Danesti” and putting their feet up on said desk. The Dr Danesti in question, did not look up from his computer at their entry. He wore a dark brown suit and round glasses which were gold in colour, looking very bookish, almost as if he was just playing the part of an academic. His shirt was white and he wore no tie.

“Hello, Dionisie. Hello, Udrys. I trust your travel wasn’t too traumatic. I’m just finishing up an email to my staff putting Dr Cosovei in charge for the foreseeable future, please give me a moment. Mx Caragiale, we have guests, could you please try to make a good first impression.”

They laughed. “I’m afraid I’ve already made my first impression. Yours is up to you.”

“Quite.” Finally looking up, he began, “Mr Ivaska, I do apologise for the lack of clarity on my part in this whole affair. I understand displacement can be quite a nasty event, and I hope that by taking the required discretion and care, neither me nor Mx Caragiale have exacerbated the symptoms. I imagine you have questions.”

“Many.”

“I commend you for holding them this long, but please ask. Dionisie and I are here to answer.” He had a stoic quality about him, but laugh lines on his face indicated that he wasn’t always as serious as he was now.

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Alright. Hm. Let’s go with where we are, then. As you have been made aware by the Detective in Saragrad, the Directorate doesn’t exist here. You do not exist here. The world as you know it does not exist here. This is what I believe I can only call an alternate universe.”

“You’re joking.”

“I assure you, I am not. It is a difficult thing to process.” Pausing to put his fingers together under his chin, he continued, “I know I said I am here to answer your questions, but I have one of my own. When you were in-between, did you see anything?”

The memory surged in his mind, rising like the tide and spilling forth from his mouth. “He is the stars and the stars are him and he is one with the stars and he is made of stars and he made the stars he ignited the flame of the universe to drive out the sacred darkness and kill the King of Before. He guided me through the void where the worm between all dwelt and the worm smiled at me. He raised his sword and knighted me Strider. I saw a million worlds born and die. I saw vast beings opening vast eyes to look into my being. He was a god of kings and a king of gods. Star god, star being, star thing, star beast. He is other and he is strange and he showed me the road to come. He is the stars and he is here. He is buried beneath the world, within winding caves, behind creaking doors.” Udrys took a breath to speak again, but Dr Danesti snapped his fingers abruptly and Udrys came to. “What was that?” he said, once he had recovered from his delirium with a deep breath.

“An answer to my question,” the academic said ominously.

“Valerian,” Dionisie chastised.

“Yes, sorry. It was one of the symptoms of displacement, which is perhaps the next thing I shall explain. Travelling between universes leads to some side effects. Heightened healing and physical abilities last temporarily, which is how you didn’t die from your injuries in Sarmiestas. There’s also dreams of other worlds, and visions of the in-between, the membrane which separates our universes. The being you met is one we call Arkyr the Grey, Father of Lerasi.”

“Lerasi as in Lerasi College?”

Dr Danesti nodded. “The very same. Lerasi was a semi-mythological figure from ancient Aivintian history. He was supposedly the son of Arkyr, the god of stars and the Aivintii people. The old religion eventually faded, but its legacy remains, and so we call that being Arkyr.”

“I’m not high, and probably not crazy, so I’m going to go with dreaming.”

“Oh, cut it out,” Dionisie chimed in. “You know it makes sense.”

Ivaska let out a nervous laugh. “I wish it didn’t.”

“That’s perfectly understandable. Get a meal and some rest. Dionisie will go with you to ensure you are not accosted. When you awaken, I’ll give you the choice of staying with us, returning to your universe, or leaving both behind for this new world. I’ll prepare identification for you in the meantime. Oh, Dionisie, make sure I’m notified of Arthur’s arrival. I don’t want him barging in and harassing my students with his nonsense sense of humour.”

“Will do. Come on, Udrys.”

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