- 08 Feb 2016 08:14
#14650182
The Kingdom of the North Star
The small whirling flakes fell like mute stars on the dark ice. In the background a generator whirred, a clear affront to the sacred dance of timeless sky-fall, King Randarr Gerrson tried his best to ignore the sound.
There was something pure about falling snow in the dead of night, something spiritual. These were the moments he craved, those rare times when he felt a powerful and primal kinship to the natural world.
A new sound encroached upon his white eden and his gaze slid towards the bleak horizon. In front of him there was only ice and shadow as far as the eye could see, behind him the industrial marvels of man blazed with un-ironic hubris. Metal mountains crowned in fire surged out of frozen sea in a twisted mockery of real mountain ranges.
As his eyes adjusted he spotted what he sought in desolate distance. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time; his Thane was 15 minutes behind schedule.
Randarr thrust his pocket watch away and sighed. His people were getting sloppy. Their position, so precarious, had prevailed for so long that it had become almost ordinary. The shocking improbability of their survival had been ground away by the surprising mediocrity of survival. It seemed almost tautological, and less philosophically, very concerning.
He’d have to do something, drills or exercises or punishments. The noise peaked as the Ice-Skipper ground to a halt beside Randarr. His Thane in heavy leather jacket with more then a little fur trimming hopped off the sputtering machine and saluted.
“Sir,” the man began,” the raid was a success Thunder Bay wa-“
“You’re late!” Randarr cut him off.
“Only a couple of minutes.” the man said defensively.
“Only a couple minutes?!” Randarr shouted back,” Only a couple of minutes is all that secures our window between the patrols! Only a couple of minutes is the difference between you being caught, between the people here starving! Only a couple minutes is the difference between life and death.”
The man started to speak again, clearly aiming for another excuse, but stopped himself.
Randarr moved until he was less than an inch away from the man’s face the fog of their breath melding together in the frigid air. “You’re one of my best men”, Randarr growled, “ and it is upon that truth that I haven’t busted you down to Thrall already.”
Randarr took a step back and began clenching and unclenching his fist, “things have gotten too slack around here.” Randarr’s temper seemed to subside, “ We never expected to last this long.”
Randarr motioned to the blazing Oil Rigs behind him. “Surrounded by Reds, who we play against the Blues, all while for some obscure reason the Whites consider us an outpost of theirs. But we’re independent, we’re free, and almost all the oil beneath the Great Lakes belongs to us.”
He leveled his eyes as his tardy Thane, “Our reprieve will not last, the situation on the mainland will not remain fluid forever and when someone finally does make a move for us, when they attempt to consolidate us back into their wretched society and force us to swear oaths to their corrupt vision, we have to be ready.”
The Thane shrugged, “Randarr, King, listen I know this, we all know this, it’s cold and late and I understand what you are trying to-“
Once more Randarr cut him off, “If you knew this then you’d show up on time” he almost shouted between his teeth,” And I will remind you every time I think you aren’t taking it seriously. Because, unlike you, I cannot afford to be complacent, too many people depend on me.”
Randarr spit and turned away from the unhappy Thane, “Now go. Take your pillage to the depot and get some rest. I trust we won’t have this conversation again.”
“Aye my liege” The man’s sullen voice was swallowed up as the Ice-Skipper’s engines roared to life.
The Ice-Skipper slid off towards brightly lit buildings and Randarr checked his pocket watch again. Once more Randarr sighed into the black. Two more Ice-Skippers were late. He was really going to have to do more then just make speeches at his men.
He reached out and caught a gliding snowflake on his gloved hand, he knew what he would do, out here on the frozen waves of Lake Superior the cold taught its own lessons. He would merely provide it an opportunity to teach and his men would learn.
For learn they must.
But, if you browse the last 4-5 pages you basically get the gist of everything. There's still an incredible amount of wiggle room and creative freedom available because although we've largely come to a general consensus on much of our world building, the details themselves in every nation/region aren't really defined and up to individual writers.
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- By wat0n
- By Puffer Fish
- By Fasces