Elysium: A City Open… to Criticism

By Eleawen Galadriel, Priestess of Erevan Ilesere and Chronicler for the Gazette of Arche Terre

You should know Elysium by now. At least, if you’ve read « A Chronicle of My Visit unto Port Elysium » in issue 15 of your favorite newspaper. Allow me to refresh your memory.

I had the privilege – if we can call it that – of being one of the few outsiders allowed inside this completely closed city. Yes, you heard right: closed. You can admire the walls from afar, enjoy the shabby tavern outside, or milk cows in the nearby fields. As a journalist, I was even escorted by a soldier during my visit. When my host took me to the watchtower to see the offices, I must admit I felt a chill. And what about their prison? Access denied, of course. In Elysium, freedom of the press seems as restricted as their gates.

Worse yet: in Arche Terre, we have access to technology from the Consortium and Radotonga. So I brought a camera – a magical box that captures images to view later. Filming was strictly forbidden. Why? Because the entire city is a restricted military zone. Imagine! My article’s photos might reveal a weakness in their fortifications… as if the mages stationed at every corner or the druids sending spy animals couldn’t already map the city blindfolded. And the icing on the cake? They supposedly have a magic academy. In my opinion, there are gaps in their curriculum… or in their reasoning.

A tourist destination to avoid, then. Unless you dream of spending your holidays milking cows, chopping wood, or sipping warm beer in a soulless tavern. And even if, by some miracle, a soldier lets you in, don’t expect much. No sensible entrepreneur would invest in a city where customers are banned.

My article, as you might guess, did not sit well with them. Elysium presents itself as a merchant city protected by a mighty army, serving trade. Reality? I wasn’t even allowed to photograph the baths… in an inn. An empty inn. Surprised? Hardly. It’s a restricted military zone. Yes, I’m mocking. But how could I resist? In business, there are three rules: location, location, and location. A city closed to the public is a poor location… in any universe.

Before this article was even published, I had tried to secure an interview with Lady Protector Erina. Unsuccessfully. I tried again. Another refusal. Then she outright shut the door on any future requests, dropping this gem: « To the point that I’m considering funding our own newspaper to go international instead of being only printed within the confines of the Protectorate, just to keep facts more adhering to the truth. »

Ironic, isn’t it? Those who complain that facts stray from their truth refuse interviews, collaborations, and even the chance to write their own version of events. Yet, all of this was offered to them. Repeatedly. I even relocated the Gazette’s headquarters in Mur County Center to reassure them. And since they dislike what they see from the outside, they’re considering creating their own newspaper. In perfect impartiality, of course.

I bet 20 queenies that no one is going to come forward to exercise their right of reply – a standard feature in any serious newspaper like the Gazette.

A city that hides behind walls cannot see the pranks the divine jester prepares for it. And when it stumbles over its own shadow, it blames… the sun.