The transition from the feudal South to the year 1270 of the Terra Republic was more than a migration; for the Elder Races, it was an ascension into a reality that defied every superstition they had ever held.
As the Dwarves, Gnomes, and Halflings settled into the designated integration sectors, they found a civilization that had achieved everything without a single drop of magic. To a race like the Gnomes, who had spent centuries tinkering with clockwork and steam, the sight of a world powered by pure mathematics and cold fusion was a revelation. They walked through streets paved with self-healing polymers, flanked by buildings that reached for the clouds, held up by engineering rather than enchantments.
"There is no 'Chaos' in these wires," a Gnomish master-tinker remarked, peering into a transparent fiber-optic conduit. "Just light and logic. They have built a world out of glass and copper."
The reality of Terran life was a series of productive shocks. The Republic implemented its Retraining Policy immediately; an elven archer was not left to beg but was offered a course in precision optics; a dwarven miner was taught to pilot a multi-ton industrial borer. The job opportunities were limitless, driven by a nation that was still hungry for expansion. While the military maintained its monopoly on high-end Magnetic Firearms, the newcomers noticed that the Police Forces, private security, and licensed civilians carried Conventional Firearms. To the refugees, even these "simple" ballistic weapons were marvels of reliability and smithing far beyond anything found in the South.
The economic structure was equally alien. The newcomers quickly learned of the Terran Social Contract: taxes were high—far higher than any tithe demanded by a King or Emperor—but they were eclipsed by an income that allowed even a junior technician to live in a climate-controlled home with abundant food. There were no droughts here, and despite the dense urban sprawl, the air remained pristine, filtered by giant industrial scrubbers.
But the true wonders were the Institutions.
"You mean to say," Barclay Els asked a local police officer, "that if a man wrongs me, I do not have to challenge him to a duel? I take him to a... 'Court'?"
"Exactly," the officer replied, his conventional sidearm holstered at his hip as a symbol of de-escalation rather than war. "We have a justice system of lawyers, judges, and impartial juries. My job isn't to serve a Lord; it's to ensure justice is upheld for every resident."
The concept of a government chosen by Election rather than Birthright was the final, most staggering piece of the puzzle. President Jasmine Smith announced the "Path to Integration" act during a nationwide broadcast.
"To our new residents: your temporary status is a beginning. Those who show exceptional merit and move into higher income brackets will be eligible for Permanent Citizenship. This comes with higher taxes to support the state, but it grants the greatest right we possess: the right to stand for office."
The message was clear. In the Terra Republic, there was nothing legally stopping an Elf, Dwarf, Gnome, or Halfling from becoming a Governor or even the President. The prospect of an Elder Race legally ruling a state—not through ancient heritage, but through the shared will of the people—was a dream the South had tried to kill for five hundred years.
As the Elder Races looked at the gleaming hospitals and the police officers who ensured the law applied to everyone equally, they realized they hadn't just found a home. They had found a future where the only thing that could hold them back was the limit of their own ambition.
******
The transition from the sword to the ballot box proved to be the most complex hurdle for the newly integrated citizens of the Terra Republic.
In the shared common rooms of the Integration Hubs, a new kind of tension hung in the air—not the fear of a pogrom, but the weight of a decision. For the first time in five centuries, the Elder Races were being asked not for their taxes or their blood, but for their opinion.
"I've spent three days reading these manifestos," Barclay Els grunted, dropping a thick stack of digital tablets onto a sleek, polymer table. "In the South, a King tells you to dig, and you dig. Here, five different groups are trying to convince me how they'll help me dig. It's exhausting."
The Aen Seidhe and the Gnomes gathered around, their faces reflecting the glow of the screens. Unlike the Terran humans—who had centuries of political lineage and knew exactly which lever to pull—the non-humans were genuinely paralyzed by the choice. All five major political parties were fiercely loyal to the Republic, and all five offered a different vision for the future.
"The Terra National Congress is the safe bet," an elven scholar remarked, highlighting a passage on her screen. "They are the centrists. They focus on the 'Greater Terra'—maintaining the current growth while slowly integrating us. They want stability above all else."
"But look at the Terra Worker's Party," a Gnomish engineer countered. "They speak our language. They want to cap the working hours in the refineries and increase the 'Retraining Grants' for non-humans. They believe the strength of the Republic is the hand that holds the tool, not the mind that signs the decree."
The debate grew more heated as they moved down the list. The Terra Technocracy Union appealed to the Gnomes and the Elven Sages; they believed the nation should be led solely by the most brilliant scientific minds, prioritizing the research into 'Chaos' and the 114 elements above social politics.
On the other side stood the Terra Republican Party, the "Law and Order" faction. They were the ones who championed the Automated Defense grid and the expansion of the military. To many Dwarves, their talk of a "Fortress North" and absolute security felt like the only way to ensure the horrors of the South never crossed the border.
"And then there is the Terra Democratic Party," Filavandrel added, his voice thoughtful. "They are the most radical. They want to accelerate the path to Permanent Citizenship for all refugees, regardless of income bracket. They believe the Republic is an idea, not just a territory."
The confusion among the non-humans was a testament to the Republic's success. In the Northern Kingdoms or Nilfgaard, politics was a matter of assassination and lineage. Here, it was a competition of merits.
"They all look promising," a Halfling farmer sighed, leaning back. "The Congress offers peace. The Workers offer fair wages. The Technocrats offer progress. The Republicans offer safety. And the Democrats offer a voice. How is a simple gardener supposed to choose?"
"That is the point of being a citizen," a passing Terra Police officer remarked, stopping to check the perimeter. "The humans are sure because they've been doing this since the Landing. You're confused because for the first time in your life, your choice actually matters. Don't rush it. The polls don't open until Tuesday."
As the Elder Races argued late into the night, they realized that this confusion was a luxury. They weren't fighting for their lives; they were fighting for the direction of a nation that had already saved them. For the first time in history, an Elf, a Dwarf, and a Gnome were not discussing which woods to hide in, but which vision of Terra they wanted to build.