10: Uneasy progress

We didn’t say another word and ran to the hillock, our hearts hammering. Were raiders upon us already? We reached the top, panting, only to find the enemy was hunger. Some young teenage boys were roasting tubers in a fire.

“These are our boys, right?” I asked my bodyguards.

“Yes. Lucas and Ben’s,” one of the men pointed out.

“What do you have there?” I asked the nervous boys.

“Tubers, milord,” a thin one replied in a shaky voice.

“No need to be scared,” I reassured him. “The fire just gave us a scare. It’s used for signals in war, you know. We thought we were under attack.” I gingerly picked a roasted tuber off the embers, and cracked it open. I inhaled the hot earthy smell and felt saliva coat my mouth.

“You get scared?” a young one asked, his high pitched voice cracking.

“Everyone who isn’t broken here gets scared,” I pointed to my head with one half of the tuber. “You just have to learn how to handle the fear.”

“How?” another one asked hungrily.

“Through training and experience,” I said between blows. “Hmm. Not bad,” I remarked, after tasting a bit of the cooled tuber. “Still, take it to the Elders or a granny to make sure it is safe to eat first. How many did you find?”

“There are plenty of them growing around the pond over there,” one of them chimed up.

“Good work, boys. Just tell someone if you’re going to set fires like this,” I told them.

This harmless event only reinforced my belief that we needed to get strong, fast. We received the Elders' congratulations on the new weapons and went back to work. There was more land to explore and more weapons to be built.

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That evening, Erickson sat on the ground in front of his tent, illuminated by the yellow light of the sun, with his writing implements out.

“Kovar, twenty eight years old, blacksmith.” He mouthed as his quill scratched the names of the craftsmen on one of the few precious pieces of parchment he had left. The two paper makers, as Jack had dubbed them, were working day and night to produce a replacement, but their current product looked like something a cow would vomit.

His mirth at the memory was moderated by the remembrance of Kovar’s father. Klein had been a burly fellow, a competent smith, an angry drunk, and a good friend. Erickson was still far from the age when one began losing his friends, but it had already come to pass.

Pushing his grief aside, he resumed his work. Even as a successful merchant, he had never liked administrative work, but he couldn’t dispute its necessity.

Minna arrived and placed a bowl and spoon in front of him. “Here. Pine noodles.”

He looked at her with questioning eyes.

“Try it.” She insisted with her eyes.

He was still skeptical, but he would trust his wife with his life, so he gave it a try. It didn’t have much flavor, but it was food.

“I didn’t know you could make noodles from wood,” he said, smacking his lips.

“Neither did I. It was the Supreme Leader who made the first batch. He’s an odd young man.”

“That he is,” he said, looking at his wife. Laugh lines surrounded her eyes, and a few strands of gray had begun appearing in her dark hair, but it was the sunken cheeks that made him wince.

Her apprehensive gaze told him what she wouldn’t say out loud.

“Have some hope, dear,” he said, patting her hand. “By this time we would have been facing food shortage and maybe even starvation, but the nuts, and now this,” he lifted the bowl, “are helping. I think we will make it.”

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I checked on the palisade's construction, which was coming along nicely, but not fast enough for me, and asked the ropemakers to make a very long net. I had gotten used to getting skeptical looks for unusual demands, but I was quickly building a reputation as an oddball, so resistance had weakened just enough to not grate on my nerves.

We resumed our survey after a good night’s rest, this time of the interior of the valley. A little over a kilometer away, we came across a tributary of Wendau cascading down from the mountains as a glorious waterfall.

“That's a big one. So much power.” I exclaimed, craning my neck to find the overhang.

“Power?” Theo asked.

“Do you know what a water wheel is?”

“Aye. They power grindstones. There was a big one at the mill near my old home.”

“They can power a lot more than just grindstones.”

“Like what?”

“Machines that we will build here soon.”

I could always install a simple stream wheel on the river next to Cradle, but a well made backshot wheel would be four times as efficient, harnessing almost 90% of the water's energy; not that I was going to get anywhere close to that without ball bearings.

I made a rough estimate on the damp earth: flow rate x density x height x gravity, which gave me around a hundred kilowatts of power, filling me with awe. If I could harvest even half that, it would be worth more than a hundred unskilled people working for us, all day, every day.

I pointed at the waterfall. “I name it, Powerfall!”

My giddiness at finding this treasure was interrupted by a deep growl, loud enough to be heard even over the crashing water. A large brown bear ambled its way forward from the foliage, eyeing us all as if we were nuisances intruding upon its abode, which I suppose we were. My six guards wasted no time in wielding their new Legolas bows and turned the poor beast into a pincushion. Even its thick pelt couldn't save it from the barrage of thirty heavy arrows puncturing it within seconds. Heck, even the untrained me managed to land a shot.

Some might think me a coward for traveling with six guards, but I refused to die for mere pride. I smiled at the hunters’ blank expressions, gazing at their own weapons. They were silent in the aftermath, finally realizing the power they held in their hands.

“The power of technology,” I commented.

We arranged for the carcass to be processed, but not before I had them cut off a large slab of meat for ourselves. Cutting it into strips, I turned it into bacon, while others foraged for edible plants. I soon joined them, examining the area surrounding the waterfall.

It was a scenic location. Too bad I was going to ruin it’s beauty by turning it into an industrial district.

All my ideas left my mind once a bowl of bear stew was presented to me. That rich, gamy flavor became my world.

“Good lord, you eat like a bear yourself,” Lothar commented, as I had my third bowl.

“A growing boy needs all the food he can get,” I said with a mouth full of meat.

Fully sated, we continued our journey and trudged along the foothills. The rest of the journey was quite uneventful, except for a few brushes with the local wildlife, which ended in more feasts. We also found a large seam of iron, but no coal.

“Drat, no coal anywhere!” I spat in frustration, as we left the dense forest, climbing up the mountains.

“The black stone used in blacksmithing?” Lothar asked. “Don't we have plenty of wood?”

“We do, but its energy density is very low. The moisture and other non-combustible stuff in it makes it burn too cool to produce high quality iron.”

“We can always make charcoal.”

“Charcoal barely works. We’ll have to burn wood to make it, and we'll need a lot of it. So much extra work,” I complained.

“What about the biogas you keep harping about?”

“I don't harp about it,” I said, offended. “I sing its praises, which it deserves. Free fuel from poop! I would love to use it, but the biogas plant project can only begin after we have finished the palisade. Until then, our waste will just... go to waste.” I lamented.

“That's not as funny as you think,” he replied flatly.

“You take that back!” I roared in indignation. “What am I even paying you for?”

“You don't pay me anything, Sire.”

“And why do you think that's the case? It's because of backtalk like that.”

Suddenly, I paused mid step. The rest of men followed.

“What happened?” Lothar asked.

“Look down,” I whispered, pointing to the fog in the valley below us.

“I see nothing,” he replied.

I took a few more steps and gestured for him to step where I had been standing.

He looked down and his jaw fell down. I didn’t have to ask him whether he could see it or not.

“What is that?” he asked.

“It’s called the glory,” I replied, looking at my massive shadow, projected on the fog, surrounded by an iridescent halo.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

Every man had the same response.

Our contemplative mood lasted long afterwards, as we didn’t have much to do but be vigilant and walk. We entertained ourselves with banter on our way back to Cradle, as it took us another day to get back while hugging the edge of the valley.

By my estimate, it extended seven kilometers deeper from Cradle, making it twelve kilometers in length. It formed a rough U shape, so it was a little over 30 square kilometers (11.6 sq. miles) in size. There were countries on Earth with smaller land area and a population of more than ten thousand, so if we just managed to survive til the harvest, starvation would no longer be in our future.

I’d strip the cambium off every single tree in the valley to protect my people until then. In a moment of clarity, I wondered when I had begun thinking of these people as mine. Over the past few weeks I had gotten closer with some of them; the resolute Elder Erickson, who would not let tragedy break him, the reliable Lothar, who was quite mischievous once he opened up, and the enthusiastic and creative Aramid. Then there were those girls who conveniently happened to work around my tent and laughed at every one of my terrible jokes.

“What are you thinking of?” Lothar asked, mirroring my sly smile.

“Nothing important.”

“It’s those girls, isn’t it? Always hovering around you. Did you manage to get close to any of them?” he asked in a low tone.

“No.”

“Why not?” he sounded almost offended.

“Do you people have effective contraceptives?”

“What’s a contraceptive?”

“Protects you from accidents, which those girls will ensure happen. I don’t think any of them is interested in being just a friend.”

“You don’t have to go all the way.”

“No, but I don’t put much trust in my self control and I don’t have a lot of free time to mess around,” I lamented. I had put a patch on our food shortage problem, not fixed it entirely. And we still needed to ensure the safety of our people. Easy to say, hard to achieve.

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We came back to the settlement to find an argument echoing in the new weapons workshop.

“...will not hand over the plans!” Aramid was shouting loudly, his voice shaking with nervousness but still resolute. Two older men stood next to him. I recognized them as carpenters.

A younger man, around thirty, bearing a large frame and distinctive bushy eyebrows stood behind Aramid, poised to help him.

“What is happening?” I asked loudly.

The men turned around. “Milord,” the man who was confronting Aramid bowed slightly. “He is too young to be taking on such responsibilities by himself.”

“Is Aramid not a journeyman?”

“He is, but—”

“That means he can take whatever job is offered to him on his own.”

“It should have been us!” the other carpenter interjected. “We have far more experience!”

“You do, and you already have an important responsibility. Would you trust him with the palisade?”

He snorted in response.

I bowed deeper than someone in my position was expected to, startling them. “I apologize for not considering you for the position of my personal carpenter, but I hope you will understand that I was in a hurry and knew only one of you by name. Maybe we can collaborate in the future, after the palisade is finished?”

That seemed to mollify them. They eventually left the building, and we took a sigh of relief.

“Who is that?” I pointed to the burly man behind Aramid.

“That is Kovar, milord. The blacksmith I told you about.”

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Adlersthron, Capital of Nahnon

Bells tolled throughout Adlersthron, as criers announced the confirmation of Princess Laira Nahnon as the heir to the throne. The general response throughout the city was that of confusion more than celebration.

“The crown prince is in good health. Why would the king name the princess his heir? We’ve never had a reigning Queen.” A trader mused to his friend.

“It ain’t right for a woman to rule, I say.” A stall owner with half his teeth missing complained to his wife.

“The princess has a good heart!” she retorted. “She opened two orphanages for the unfortunate last year!”

“That’s mighty nice of her, but a ruler must have a strong heart. The heart of a lion, not that of a maiden!”

The sentiment through the noble circles was much more contentious, but the barbs were hidden behind smiles and polite words. The exceptions were Dukes Grauberg and Stormhaven, two of the most powerful men in the kingdom. They didn’t hesitate in calling the appointment “a perversion of tradition and everything that has made Nahnon great.”

Reshma found Laira sitting at her favorite spot, the enclosed balcony overlooking the sea. Even the fresh salt wind couldn’t wipe away the stench of politics.

“Hiding from the well wishers, Crown Princess?” she teased.

Beautiful hazel eyes turned to look at her, narrowed dangerously in response, saying, “This is not a time for levity.”

“Peace, Your Highness. I come bearing a tribute,” she said, as she set down a tall elaborate glass on the table. The scent of chilled fruit and spices rose as she removed the cover off it.

Laira lunged at it and gulped down half of the glass, like a drunkard desperate for his vice.

“Feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Also, don’t let the fools’ whispers get to you.”

“I would not, if they were just some peasants, but those ‘fools’ wield significant power. I cannot simply ignore them. Speaking of fools, you came bearing more than just treats, didn’t you?”

Reshma hesitated before answering. “Just another whisper. They’re saying your father has gone senile.”

Laira scoffed. “They need some plausible reason to oppose his decision without opposing him directly. Can’t have someone who uncovered their grafts and corruption sitting on the throne.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

Laira felt a wave of affection for Reshma and grabbed her hand.

“Nothing overt, or they will use my anger against me, calling it unwomanly.”

“You sure? The verbal thrashing you gave to Count Rotenhall was more entertaining than any play I’ve seen.” Reshma’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“He was a special case. Lecturing me about money when he can barely read.”

“He’s not the only one. I bet half the nobles can’t even count without their fingers, or beyond their fingers.”

“It’s not funny, Reshma,” Laira chided, “it’s quite tragic. Everyone suffers because these fools think being a good ruler is the same as being a good warrior.” Her heart clenched with worry for the future. The threat of Vozoran was still a bit distant, but she had far closer enemies now.

Her brother was understandably absent from the ceremony, but she could still see the hate and fury in his eyes, like a talisman of ill intention. The other nobles might not be as bold in declaring theirs, but she could safely assume at least half of them shared his opinion. The sunset caught the faintest glint of steel in her eyes, as she prepared herself for a multi front war.