Bright Lights, Big City

A nineteen-years-young Skott of Omaha stood alongside Lamora of clan Kignora at the groundbreaking site of what would be the Coalition of Free Aeirunian’s government building.

They kept asking Skott for his ‘expertise,’ to share knowledge of functional governance from his world. He was just barely out of high school, but he had some memories of old history books he used as a baseline.

A speaker in a fancy traditional dwarven suit stood with a pickaxe in hand. “We gather here today to celebrate the joint struggle of our numerous peoples and the successful liberation of the lowlands from Elvan oppression!”

Mixed crowds of lowland humans, orcs, gob-kin, and dwarves milled about in the lowland sun. It was the dry season, the only reason why they weren’t being swamped by rolling tropical typhoons.

“Long may this Senate building stand as testament to our coalition,” the speaker said, then slammed his pickaxe into the dirt.

A dwarven mining crew quickly got to work on the groundbreaking. Dwarves dug fast, as one would expect of those who live in mountains.

A month-long victory celebration had commenced on this very spot, where they’d slain the local elvan tyrant Auron and claimed his tree mansion for the resistance. The manse still stood to serve as housing for the head of state of the new government. Key stakeholders from various species united in an anti-elvan front, milling about. They would soon become the representatives of a united coalition government.

Lamora and Skott stood nearby, low-key holding hands. That was a gesture that translated well across both worlds. When Lamora blushed, her cheeks turned an olive shade notably off from her usual green complexion.

“May this city long become a shining beacon to free association between man and orc, gob and dwarf,” said the speaker. “For the shackles of elvan taskmasters are forever broken. In this city, whose name shall be put to the vote within a year, we shall henceforth and forever be free.”

A long month of partying had given way to the sober reality of governing in a post-revolutionary world. For a hundred generations, the haughty elvan had ruled over the land of Aeirun—and its people. The newly-liberated orcs, lowland humans, goblins, dwarves, and a dozen smaller ‘niche’ populations had no model of governance beyond feudal fiefs ruled from ornate treehouse mansions.

Skott could help with that. He’d helped write the speech, give it a bit of flair he happened to recall from some proclamation by Abe Lincoln.

There were rumors of portals opening far to the south. Soon they would travel down an old elvan footpath to explore the area. Fighting was long done in the south, though a few skirmishes continued in the more elvan-dense northern woods. While Skott would not be present to see it, he was certainly interested in how this city would turn out. What would they name it? How would life be here a decade or more into the future?

+++

“What do you mean, you named the city ‘New Omaha?!’

An older, wiser Skott stood, flabbergasted, at an overlook amidst a rare rolling hill in the lowland plains. A sign proclaiming the beginnings of the ‘New Omaha’ city limits waited just ahead.

“It was named in honor of the great liberator, of course.” Lucy kept her hands on her hips. “That’s you!”

“I… I know!” Skott chuckled. “I mean, the landscape kind of fits. But Omaha’s just an old railroad and meatpacking town. Good steaks, though. Heck, guess you guys don’t even have railroads.”

“What is this road of rails?” Lucy-Kignora asked.

Skott shrugged. “Eh, I’ll explain while we walk into town. C’mon.”

It was a pleasant day by Aeirun standards. Cloudy enough to keep the sun at bay. Those same clouds kept Aeirun’s oppressive heat clinging close to the ground. Wellspring had been set up every few clicks, another project of the coalition government. Wary travelers could at least stay hydrated.

A handful of wooden buildings marked the furthest-out developments. The city had yet to grow into these far-flung exurbs. This was not surprising, as the city had only existed for sixteen years or so—a bit older than Lucy. There were few defensive structures and no city wall, for the land had seen no large-scale battles since the fall of High King Auron. Their military escort turned at a crossroads to go to some fort that was listed on the map but far out of sight.

The wide-open plains surrounding the capital also aided with security; you’d see any advancing army coming from leagues away! There’s a reason the guerrilla bands that had razed Crossroads Ford to the ground operated out of dense jungle.

Avenues here were wide, meant to accommodate a population that did not yet exist. It was a full hour’s walk before they encountered the first spattering of ‘major’ buildings. Many of these were residential in nature, and many of those residents were orcs.

“Hello there!” Lucy called out to the nearest pedestrian cheerily.

“Good morn,” said a tall and burly older orc. “Is that your father?”

The old orc motioned to Skott. For his part, Skott tried keeping a neutral expression.

“This here’s Skott of Omaha!” Lucy waved her hands about, showing off her hero. “I’m taking him to my mother, the Prime Ministress.”

Their orc conversation partner’s deep-brown eyes widened. “Oh, the Kignora elder? And the hero from the other world?”

Skott gave a respectful nod. He wasn’t necessarily surprised to find that he’d become a household name after his exploits the first time around. Still, the elderly orc looked at Lucy, then Skott, and seemed to guess something.

“Hehe. I’m sure. Go along now.” That was the last they got out of this pedestrian.

The further they got into town, the tighter-knit the structures became. Everything was made of wood, of which there was a sparse supply on the plains. Civilians appeared in all types: humans were most common and mostly present in the city’s center, orcs appeared to make up two of every six citizens, goblins and dwarves had their own fledgling residential quarters on the far side of the governmental quarter. There were even a handful of elvan holding down various bureaucratic careers.

All things considered, the population was quite large for a city that had not existed when Skott was high school-aged.

Near the city’s center, where they’d first broken ground, the buildings were made of stone. These were official government quarters, and most were still under construction.

“We have to import the stone from western quarries,” Lucy-Kignora explained. “The dwarv-kin send them over.”

Skott nodded understandingly.

The Capitol Building was a short, fat, pyramid structure with wide annexes jutting out to the west and east.

“Well, can’t say I was expecting that to be the design,” Skott said with a shrug. “And… what’s that?”

A stately garden jutted down from the pyramid’s south face. Dead center, facing out towards the city at large, was a statue.

“Is that… me?” Skott groaned.

“Indeed, mighty hero. Mother was quite insistent on commissioning the work. Is it to your liking?”

Skott may or may not have described the plot of similar isekai-adjacent stories to Lamora during his time in Aeirun. He may have gone into detail on the poster design of that one Bruce Campbell movie. You know, that one with the chainsaw. So, the statue Lamora made to commemorate the great hero from another world was striking a boisterous prose and shirtless.

“Eh, my jawline was never that well-defined.” Skott chuckled.

“I think it suits you.” Lucy said, fangs bared in a smile.

“So, kid, is La—your mother in there?” Skott asked, pointing towards the Capitol.

“Indeed. They should be in session. But they’ll let me in.” Lucy’s fangs disappeared into her mouth as she adopted a more neutral, nervous expression. “Follow me, oh hero.”