The third short story about Tycos is a diary entry by Wator Airbus, the abitrator of Tycos. In it, he attempts to take an outsider’s perspective, reflecting on aspects of his homeland and linking them to his own goals.

If there is one thing I have learned from my travels and studies, it is that my homeland—the former Hegemony—is the place I understand the least in retrospect. Yet at the same time, I can comprehend the motivations of its people and institutions. Having grown up in the dark alleys of the metropolis, I am familiar with the needs, necessities, and perspectives of the Tycans.

Many of them are sleepwalkers, trapped within a system whose perception is confined by the Iron Wall. They live out a legacy of boundless brutality, wrapping it in fine words and lofty ideals. But the wars of the Hegemony were never about values. They were about influence, power, markets, and resources. The driving force of this people is opportunism; their hopes and desires are the compass of their minds. Even the elites of the Hegemony will never find peace, for they live under the relentless pressure of self-preservation.

Many of them revel in this game, thriving in constant competition, pushing the Hegemony forward. But even more are broken by it, condemned to a life of misery—a horror deliberately maintained as the bare minimum incentive to keep the sleepwalking masses in motion.

Thus, it is not only the pursuit of progress and prosperity that defines my homeland. It is also an order upheld only through fear and violence—both physical and economic. Beyond these values, there is nothing, except an unwavering focus on results. And it is precisely these values that enable detachment from all else, that turn one’s gaze away from the path to fixate solely on the goal, and that justify a ruthless pragmatism—a pragmatism that we Tycans perceive as right in our relentless pursuit of greatness.

We are the heirs of the arrogance of the old gods—gods we once cast from their thrones and drove into exile for their tyranny. It is no coincidence that the southern colonies collapsed into war and chaos. It is no coincidence that the West seized the moment of our weakness, declared its independence, and laid the foundation for the Western Empire—for Rhiel, the homeland of a good friend I met only late in life.

I wanted to bring about change. But where to begin, in which direction to move—these were questions that eluded me until the invitation of the Fourth Judiciary Triumvirate. It was a gathering of the Asuren from all factions, born from a crisis that would become the defining event of my final chapter. There, I met a young mind from Rhiel, whose ideas inspired me—ideas of a council that would resolve factional disputes through majority consensus. This vision emerged from the ambitions of Soric Flasyra.

These were ideas that at first seemed absurd and insane, but over the years, they took shape. Like many others, I initially dismissed Soric as a madman and paid him little attention. But in resolving the crisis, he demonstrated both courage and intelligence, winning us all over with his conviction, so that his words always found willing ears.

Thus, I decided to give his method a chance, working on a foundation that would allow it to prove itself. But the Asurenalone could not make such a decision. We engaged with institutions and governments—those whose interests we represented—and met resistance. We were not surprised, only puzzled that it was, of all places, in Tycos that a philanthropist and oligarch took an interest in our ideas. This magnate, whose enterprises thrived on innovation, was a firm believer in competition and preferred to see the idea fail in practice rather than be stifled by conservative structures.

His lobbying secured me a majority in the Shadow Council, and just a few years later, it even elevated me to the position of Arbitrator.

A position I was able to consolidate quickly, thanks to the rapid success of the continental parliament, the so-called High Council. But as is customary in Tycos, opposition to these developments soon emerged. The executives of corporations that had voted against me in the Council mobilized their Scum, undermining my ambitions wherever they could. At first, I was puzzled by their vehement resistance, but I soon realized that this dirty power struggle was inherent to the ruling structures of Tycos.

Their actions appeared to be solely directed against the High Council—against a new institution they had yet to influence or, ideally, control. They were always open to innovation, but only so long as it did not threaten their position or their near-unlimited power. A hypocrisy so deeply ingrained that it went unnoticed, dismissed as the natural order of things.

This is just one of many examples of the sleepwalking state of Tycos.

To my friend Soric, who had grown up in entirely different structures, I once said that he must learn to be mistrustful. He seemed naive and immature to me—completely unfit for his position. But that was only because we Tycans simply do not know what trust is.

Now, however, my own countrymen seem foreign to me—trapped, as if they live in an entirely different world. In contrast, I have learned the art of compromise, blending the best of both worlds—East and West, and later even the North. I became a mediator, and in doing so, a vanguard of the young Asuren’s vision.

The success of this global approach will determine the outcome of my final chapter and how history will judge my reign.

I only hope that I have enough time to solidify the reforms within the Hegemony—that they will pacify the factions, drive them forward, secure peace, and create prosperity.

Not just for the Hegemony.