CHAPTER 22: Wartime life
Having declared war on the Hooligans, Mentra's leadership that is, after the Hooligans 'destroyed' and 'stole' the defence program, the lives of regular Mentranian vikings had taken a drastic turn downwards.
The regime cut back its weekly fish handouts across the island, to keep as much supplies as possible for its defenders. This meant that the Mentranian vikings were even more starved and hungry.
Mentranian fishermen were still continuing with their jobs, but the regime had banned their days off, in order for the fishers to keep up with the supply and demand, on behalf of the defenders, of fish and general food for their war efforts.
Basically, the Mentranian vikings were already under a strict lifestyle where they were being watched from every vicinity (it felt like), but with the war commenced, life for them became strict, timed by a hundred. Prior to the leadership declaring war, some of the Mentranian vikings didn't mind the fact that they had to bow down to the leader and constantly show their respect, nor did they mind the life style under Mentra generally, because they had grown used to it, and they felt like they had something to do every day.
Now? again, they couldn't speak out due to their lives being at risk if they did, but they all secretly couldn't cope any longer. That was down to the food crisis, and the public execution they had all witnessed a week ago; some of the Mentranian vikings couldn't get over that image.
Stemp, the Mentranian mother of two young vikings, was an example. She didn't want to go to that execution a week ago, but she was forced to under the leadership's command, as were her fellow regular Mentranians. She didn't want her children seeing it either.
It caused a mental breakdown in her, just recalling the pure imagery of whoever it was, the blonde female viking, being shot by that crossbow head first, by the second in command. It horrified her, and it was something that was going to stick in her mind for the rest of her life.
Despite this, Stemp still, on her gear, had a mini outline, like a logo, of Hawkon's face on the top left corner of her viking top, as did the other Mentranians across the island. And she also had a large portrait of the old Mentranian leader, Hawkon's father, in her hut, as she was required to, like her fellow regular Mentranians again. The cult of personality was enforced with strictness and power by the regime, even in this time of war with the Hooligans.
"Mum, are you okay?" one of Stemp's children asked, as the regular Mentranian viking looked to heat up a fish for dinner.
Stemp was as pale as a vampire, she couldn't even focus on getting the salmon warmed up.
This was what the regime was now doing to the sanity of its vikings. And to think, this island used to be Old Berk, a place of freedom and joy with the Hooligans, but now, with the regime firmly in place upon it over the past decade, it's now an island of depression and anxiety. Stoick, when he was alive, wouldn't have wanted his generational island to be the host of such things. It's one of the reasons why Hiccup and the Berkians have gone to war with the Mentranians, to take back Old Berk from them and destroy the regime upon it.
"I'm so sorry.." Stemp said, moving away from the fish to walk over towards her two children.
She hugged them both with the tightest hug she's ever given.
Her two children, Emer, a young Mentranian viking girl, and Rald, a young little Mentranian viking boy, were amongst hundreds of other young vikings on the island that were being fed Mentranian propaganda by the regime's schooling sessions that they, by the policies, were required to attend. Their location of schooling was precisely where Astrid was executed, which made Stemp feel all the more anxious.
She feared for her children. A lone, anxious mother viking who hated the regime she was living under, but couldn't speak out against it for the fear of her life.
"We're fine, mum." Rald replied, seemingly casually.
"Are you..crying mummy?" Emer subsequently asked.
"God, children...I just can't take feeling like this any more. We live under a fanatical cult...you children shouldn't have had to seen that the other week.." Stemp said, with subtle tears coming down her cheeks as she remained knelt to her children.
"But mummy...there's nothing to be sad about, right?" Emer said, the young Mentranian girl genuinely confused as to why her mother was sad.
"Yeah. Our respected leader got somebody who wanted to...do bad things to us all, killed mum...isn't that good?" Rald said.
Stemp's heart ached at hearing that. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be true. But it was true; the regime's propaganda has worked with her two children. Now, they genuinely believed it all. It was the schooling sessions. This was exactly the intent of the regime, to brainwash not just its vikings, but the children, so they could become genuine patriots and supporters of the Mentranian leadership.
The fact that the propaganda has made Rald and Emer see public executions, in light of the island-wide one with Astrid a week ago, as an every day, needed thing to defend their island, made Stemp feel like she could be sick. She felt...guilty, for letting her children be taken in this way.
But what could she do? absolutely nothing. Should she dare speak out against Hawkon's cult of personality, it'll be off to the isolation camps, which'll be the same for Emer and Rald. She hadn't the strength nor the confidence to even consider defecting the island with her children. The large wooden, barbed wire borders around Mentra's sides made that impossible for her anyways.
"And if we...uh, if we talk bad about our leader...we might be told off!" Emer innocently said.
Dear god.
Stemp wasn't mad at her children. It's not their fault. It's the fault of Hawkon and the fanatical regime that she's forced to live under, with her two children.
Anxiety and fear was rampant in the regime amongst the regular vikings. As mentioned already, you'd never get anything like this during the time it was Berk, a decade ago, Hiccup as Chieftan, before Grimmel came along. The fact this regime started from a medium sized group of vikings a decade ago, only to expand into what it is now, just shows the pure strength of it, in terms of the cult of personality, and the power it's got over its regular vikings.
One part of that pure strength, in light of the war with the Hooligans, is forcing the regulars to participate, all across the island, in large chants and dancing sessions and rallies, to commemorate the 'dear father' as they call Hawkon, for his 'courage to attempt to end our enemies'.
There was no yes and no, like the schooling sessions for the young Mentranian children. You either took part in these sessions or you'd be punished harshly. Whether it was cold, night, morning, raining, you still took part in them.
The regular Mentranians have never had a choice, they'd always be forced to do something even if they didn't want to, as apart of the regime's policies on various matters. They basically lacked what we'd call human rights. It was horrible, and them having less food to eat was a prime example of them lacking what we'd call human rights.
Dozens and dozens of regular Mentranians were stood in one large circle within the village nearer to the middle of Mentra, where the forest used to be. One portion of the village that they were standing at was engulfed, surrounded by cliff-like surroundings. Huts were on the edges at the top, and the only colour that could be seen was brown.
The reason why this part of the village was engulfed looking was because it used to be where the cove was. The famous, legendary cove when this island was still Berk. When the Mentranians deforested the island a decade ago, they deforested the cove and turned it into a unique looking part of the village.
One Mentranian, who looked to be in his early 30s, held what looked like some sort of drum in his grasp, with a stick to play it with. Besides him was a defender, who was monitoring this rally and dancing parade. The Mentranian men (forcefully) taking part in this rally wore pure brown gear, whilst the women wore colourful dresses that looked as shiny as silk.
Mentra wanted no colour in its villages or huts, but for this occasion, it was to celebrate Hawkon's 'courage' in his attempt to lead the Mentranians to a victory over the Hooligans. The female Mentranian vikings in the vibrant colourful dressed looked extremely modern in comparison to their fellow Mentranians.
Not a single one wanted to do this, but they had to act like they wanted to, and they had to act patriotic and loyal.
"THREE, TWO, ONE!" the drummer Mentranian yelled.
At that, he began banging the stick down upon the drum as the defender Mentranian stood besides him, looking at the dancing regular Mentranians as they turned around on the spot initially, in their choreographed-looking dance.
"SAVE OUR FATHERRR!" they all sang simultaneously, as they turned around and jumped on the spot in the midst of their dance.
They all started moving around in their circle as their dance continued. A couple of other defenders were monitoring the parade.
These guys were hungry, some even starving, and yet they're being forced to doing this rally/parade. Some of them were freezing cold, to the point they couldn't feel their chests, specifically the women Mentranians in the colourful, silky dresses.
They were all dancing in line with the banging of the drum, in the midst of that hunger and starvation hitting them.
Rallies and dancing parades, filled with cries of support of Hawkon and the leadership, weren't the only forms of support the regime was forcing its vikings to show. Within the vicinity where the stairs up to the now demolished Great Hall used to be, was a stone statue. A statue of Hawkon's father.
As mentioned in the first few chapters, the Mentranians demolished anything that had relevancy to the Hooligans when they first arrived here a decade ago, before turning the island into their own and gradually building up a brutal regime. They had obviously demolished the Great Hall first, before demolishing the stairs themselves. The first thing that they demolished before anything else were the various statues of Stoick.
Now, they had their own statue of their late leader, literally right in the position the Great Hall stairs started from; behind the rather old-looking statue was the legendary cliff of Berk, or more appropriately now, Mentra.
In light of the war, regular Mentranians, in huge groups, were all forced to come to the statue and bow down directly in front of it. Some of them had to stand still in front of it for a good five minutes, to pay their respects to the efforts of the leadership and the man who founded the regime of Mentra itself.
Tens and tens of Mentranian defenders stood around the statue to guard it. Anyone who makes a disrespectful gesture around it, points to it, laughs whilst near it, or make any absurd statements/movements, will be instantly sent to the isolation camps. Even if the younger children of Mentra come by it by accident and play games, they too will be punished.
In light of Mentra and New Berk being at war, and with Mentra's intent of winning the war and engulfing the whole archipelago to the point it becomes under the entire rule of Hawkon the Second, this was how life on the island now was. Much more harsher than usual, less rights, and as shown, public executions that, whether the Mentranians like it or not, will be forced to witness.
The regime was truly living up to the name occasionally given to it by its opponents; fanatical, brutal, evil, and a cult. And as things stand, unless Hiccup and the Berkians step up, the regime isn't going to change, and rather, it'll expand.