Chapter 1: New Horizon
04:00 PM, October 15, 2022
London
Mark Taylor was heading for the evening shift at Cox Memorial Hospital, London. The traffic was meandering along, when he plugged in his cell phone and started going through his messages. First message that came through was an audio message from senior surgeon, Dr. Fleetwood requesting his presence for a peer review of some medical files.
The hum of various radio stations from other vehicles filtered in as white noise when the next message came from Dr. Gurjeet Singh who was chortling about the fascinating shape of a tumour which resembled his ex-girlfriend's posterior.
"Get over your ex, Jeet", thought Mark as he took a left turn from the highway towards the hospital. Taking up the closest available spot to the exit gate, Mark climbed out and locked his car. In the drab weather of London suburbia, parked amongst dark coloured cars, his Citroen C3, with its red roof and detailing looked swanky in the cracked concrete.
Humming a nameless ditty, Dr. Mark Taylor, Orthopaedic Surgeon at Cox Memorial entered the lobby of the hospital.
"G'morning doctor", said Mrs. Smelton while giving a small wave. Mark waved as he sauntered past the thronging crowds towards the reception desk.
"Hey, Marie. Did Dr. Fleetwood come in yet?", he asked Mark standing in front of the chrome plated reception area. "Not yet, Doctor", she said while looking at the attendance logs. Acknowledging the reply with a nod and smile, Mark power walked onwards turning towards the right wing of the Outpatient Block past the overcrowded lobby.
A crowd of sniffling patients and runny noses thronged the corridors as he walked in. The hum of the air conditioning only added to the number of sniffles in his opinion With the recent turn of the weather, a prolonged flu spell had afflicted most of the people in London suburbs and all the waiting areas were full.
Moving past the nurse station, he slid into his consultation room after signalling the nurse to send the patients by order. The sterile white washed room greeted him as he crossed the seat meant for the patients and placed his bag inside the bleached looking doctor's desk. As he took a seat, the nurse chimed in the first patient as he looked towards a very normal, fulfilling day at the hospital.
08:00 PM, October 15, 2022
Mark was glancing through the patient files of the Orthopaedic ward. The stiff white paper crinkled as he turned over the pages, looking at various treatments prescribed over the past two days. Noticing the daily updates, the nurses had made periodically about the status of the patients in the report, Mark made modifications to various dosages and wrote his impressions after visiting them.
Completing his rounds at the Orthopaedics for the day, Mark moved towards his last duty of the night, the Palliative care unit. It was quite a contrast to see the beige walls with soft lights of palliative compared to the sterility of the rest of the hospital. In fact, only the paediatric ward could be considered relatively similar, the riot of colours that it was. Shaking his head to dispel the memory of the garish blinding monstrosity aka, Paediatrics, Mark swiped in his credentials and he stepped forward into the corridor. He slowly walked as the air conditioner noises kept beat with his footsteps.
After ten steps, crossing the first nurse station, Mark opened the door on his left and stepped into the ward. In the middle of the path between various beds pressed against the wall, stood long term survivor of Palliative, Neville Mason. Or more specifically, a ribbon festooned Mr. Mason who gave a long-suffering sigh outwardly, but his eyes shined with happiness.
"Hello Mr. Mason, you are looking quite charming today." He said staring at Neville Mason whose dress was covered in small bits of colourful plastic.
"Don't patronise me, Doc" muttered Mr. Mason. "The new kids were working with ribbons and I was the one who fell victim to their dastardly deeds." he snarked. He then threw a comically angry face at them while threatening them with a shaky fist.
The children squealed in laughter at his antics while they were ushered towards their beds by their parents. Mark watched Mr. Mason hobbling towards the washroom to pick out the plastic ribbons with a gutsy sigh.
He kept looking at Mason's retreating form, then turned his head towards the ward after the door to the washroom swung shut with a creak.
With a pleasant smile fixed on his face, Mark walked amongst the various patients lying down in their beds. Inquiring about their health, making observation in their files, he moved from one patient to another. There was Mrs. Gritta, Mr. Goodman, Mr. Stritch etcetera etc. There were also children like Antony Alder (Call me Tooony!), little Ms. Sara Lindon and others. Mark met with them, talked with them, and made note of any changes they felt or noticed.
It was a regular yet a tiring routine. It was extremely important to get any changes in their health which could help others facing similar diagnosis. At last, after 15 patients, Mark started finishing up his round with a last-minute glance throughout the ward. Seeing nothing out of place, he went to the Overseer/Doctor's cabin where he is supposed to be present till the end of the shift.
Closing the door, and slowly sinking into the styrofoam cushioned chair, Mark skimmed through the observations he had made in palliative ward today. The difficulty of interacting with people especially children who oft enough did not know what palliative care meant often left Mark in a difficult position. There had been enough instances that he had to purposefully bite his tongue or tactfully change the topic to prevent himself from disclosing the macabre scenario to the patients.
Making his regular entry into the files for the shift, he placed them in the cabinet and settled in for a night of reviewing patient files when there was knock on the door. "Hey doctor, all settled up?" asked Mr. Mason, who looked plastic free. "Yes, Mr. Mason," Mark said affectionately as he stood up from his chair and helped Mr. Mason to a seat.
Neville Mason smiled after he settled himself comfortable into the seat. "So, doctor, where did we stop the last time?" he asked with a smile.
00:00 AM, October 10, 2022
Mark stretched out his hands into the air as he closed his laptop for the day. Poking his head out, he noticed that except the nurse station, all lights were out. He pulled his head back in and started packing his bags for the drive home. After checking that he did not forget anything, Mark walked out into the dimly lit corridor. He wished the night duty nurse a soft farewell, as he passed by the nurse station and walked towards the stairs.
It was a schedule which Mark maintained every time he finished his duty at the hospital. He would walk down the stairs rather than using the elevator. It gave his body a light exercise and considering his shift was the last one, he generally did not have any pressing issues to attend in the hospital.
It was a routine much like Mr. Mason regaling him with tales whenever he was feeling better. It was a lonely existence for the widower who had no immediate family left. So, Mark would spend a few hours letting Mr. Mason talk about the past.
Retired WW II soldier that Mr. Mason was, he rarely talked about the war. He would rather reminisce about his childhood memories in the farm, his friends and how he was bemused by the rather fast changing technology.
He was also an intensely curious man who observed everything keenly. When Neville Mason was brought to Palliative from Urology, Mark had read through his file. Renal failure. Yet Mr. Mason maintained an austere dignity facing his death after his body stopped responding to dialysis following 2 years of therapy and treatment.
Mr. Mason also was the longest surviving patient in Palliative. 4 months and running. Perhaps it was his innate strength or some quirk of biology, Mr. Mason's kidneys started functioning intermittently after the dialysis was stopped. So, he had good days and bad days and sometimes worse days.
"Despite all that he pulled through till date" muttered Mark as he crossed over from the stairs into the lobby. After flashing his ID card at the security point, he strolled through the parked spots moving towards his car. The smog from the urban landscape covered what was visible of the stars that the clouds could not. After jumping over the bumps demarcating different parking lanes, Mark reached his car near to the exit gates. After unlocking the doors and placing his bag in the back of the car, he moved into the driver's seat readying himself for the drive home.
00:45 AM, October 16, 2022
Mark unlocked his door and walked into his apartment. He dropped his bag on the side table and emptied his pocket contents - car keys, wallet, notepad onto the table. He took the car keys and placed it on the wooden key stand towards the right of the door, above the table. Stretching his arms up, Mark loosened his shirt buttons and walked towards the bathroom, his slippers squeaking over the tile as he yearned for a warm shower before settling for bed.
Turning off the shower knob, Mark towel-dried his hair and hung the towel in the drying rack. He moved towards the kitchen, crossing the living room while jiggling the main door knob to ensure the front door was locked. Picking a small glass of water, he placed it on the shelf after gulping it down before moving towards his bedroom.
Before nodding off, he checked his usual forums and groups where he would hang out online. Apart from the usual family and friends' group, there was the group which discussed fanfiction and alternate universes. For the past month, the major discussion point was self inserts into many fictional worlds like Pokemon, Harry Potter, etcetera etc. Mark himself had argued in the case of ASOIAF that the many possible self inserts that occurred, it always placed that self-insert into a noble family or somehow had ties to one.
The uplifts, agricultural growth, and canon changes that many self inserts manifested, could occur only when there was a noble family's backing along with knowledge of these uplift technologies. But considering that normal people only have knowledge of their own career or sector, it seems highly improbable that a single person can do so many in such a short span of time.
Perhaps some scattered information they gathered through their experiences, education and exposure would also be present to aid them in their endeavour. Mark's own background in Doctor's Without Border's opened his eyes to the reality of modern weaponry in conflict areas and warzone. But that is all that was. Just some extra information borne out of experience and the places he travelled in his childhood. However, expecting an accountant to perform agricultural uplift or a doctor to fight a war and be victorious would be the heights of idiocy and tomfoolery especially in medieval universes.
The other debaters in the forum did have their own points to counter him. They discussed about the impact of modern education and how it has made people not only technically educated but also educated everyone on different political systems, social issues, their solutions, and economic welfare.
Mark did accept that it was true that the modern education system and its benefits could not be denied, especially when you realise how much people have overcome superstitious beliefs and practices over the years. But expecting a single person who possesses modern education to uplift a society bound by feudal laws is improbable. It would take multiple lifetimes by multiple people simultaneously acting in sync to bring many concepts we take for granted today.
Finally, the raging debate concluded with the acceptance that there must be a set of specific circumstances to get inserted into a fictional world along with its equivalent set of memories to accomplish modernisation as needed. In addition, only if you can get inserted in the right family at the right time can you bring this revolutionary change. Otherwise, it would be a nigh impossible task. With that the debate was closed, prompting many emojis and reactions to flood the group with cheers and laughs.
Mark himself was quite smug about making his points stick and laughed at the end of the debate. He snickered at the possibility of acquiring such astronomical odds of self-insertion, that it would be easier to get abducted by aliens than for an ASB/ self-insertion moment to occur. "But that is what fanfiction is, wasn't it?" thought Mark. The ability to put oneself in another's position and think what we can do in such a fictional world. While many considered fanfiction itself as a power trip, it also showcased the empathy of the human mind to understand others and how we can better them if only we had the opportunity to do so.
"Perhaps, its not just a power trip. Its also the ability to do good in a seemingly bleak world that attracts people to put self inserts in many grim dark worlds." He mused silently as his body relaxed into the bed. His last thoughts before sleeping were how Mr. Mason was exclaiming over new medical developments while talking about the folk medicine he had to rely on during his childhood days. With an indolent sigh, Mark slept off.
259 AC
Wull Mountains, The North
In a room which was resounding with the wails of a pregnant woman, two midwives patiently waited for the baby to come out. Amidst the agonised wails of the mother a new wailing sound was heard. "The baby has clear lungs" thought the older midwife, Darla as she with a practiced hand removed the umbilical cord while simultaneously soothing the mother. After handing off the new-born to the other midwife, Darla prepared herself for the placenta in the post-delivery process. The other midwife, Branda was pacifying the baby with coos, words and prayers, as she placed him next to the recovering mother.
Branda then got up and moved to the door after ensuring the baby was comfortable with the new mother. Turning back and looking at the baby's scrunched-up face and black hair, Branda gave a fond smile and opened the door. She noticed a bunch of women waiting to hear the news. Without delay, she informed the curious women outside. "It's a boy," she said to the soft exclamations of the waiting crowd.
Many smiles formed instantly in the faces of the ladies present. One lady immediately called one of the boys running around and told him, "Inform Clan Head Bode, that Bella has given birth to a boy." The boy nodded and hurried outside into the snowy night.
The hamlet was silent as the boy ran towards the Head's house. Reaching the long wood house, he rapidly banged his fist on the sturdy door. An older woman opened the door and in a breathless voice he said, "It's a boy." The woman smiled and nodded as the he ran off after passing the message. The lady walked into the house after closing the door to prevent the cold from settling inside. She walked to the table where her husband, Clan Head Bode was drinking his hot stew and waiting impatiently for the news.
Bode noticed his wife's happy face and on seeing his inquisitive look, she said, "Bella has given birth to a boy. Clan Wull has a new member tonight." Bode's face broke into a large smile and he exclaimed "We shall call for a feast in three days."
He finished his stew rapidly and walked off outside looking towards the direction of the Heart Tree in the forest around their small village. Bode whispered his prayers, facing the godswood head bowed and with an open palm resting on his chest, thanking the Old Gods for a safe birth and a healthy boy as his brother's legacy.
Finished with his prayers, he dropped his arm and turned to look towards the mountain valleys that surrounded the Clan homestead. Bode made a mental note to inform the hunters tomorrow, to find Rodrik, his good-nephew, and inform him that his wife Bella had given birth to a baby boy. He turned around on hearing the door open again to see his wife, Gerdy had joined him outside. She however was looking at the stars above them.
"The Weirwood glows bright tonight," she said with a soft voice noticing the Weirwood constellation to the left of the Hunter. "A good sign for the Clan." Bode responded with pride. With that said, Clan Head Bode and his wife Gerdy turned back to their home and closed the door, the whooshing sounds of the night winds dying out. Bode moved towards his straw bed and settled for sleep, unknowing, that another birth on the same day had taken place down South.
Down south, in the remains of a hellish landscape tainted by Fire and Blood, Rhaegar Targaryen was born amidst the ruins of Summerhall.
Next Day
Rodrik of Clan Wull was traipsing through one of the numerous valleys of Wull Mountains. He was on the trail of a large buck for the past two days. He knew that such a large buck would provide for at least a week of fresh meat and stew. In addition to that the skin and antlers have valuable takers in the Clan homestead. It would be a great addition to his small family's wealth.
Today at the break of dawn, Rodrik had set forward to check the snare trap he had set near the trail yesterday at dusk. As he moved slowly to not spook any trapped animal if any were caught in the trap, he heard the distinctive call.
FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETETETETETET!
It was a singular long whistle with a chattering noise at the end. It meant a call for nearby hunters to assemble, for some announcement or news. If it was simply a long whistle, it meant only one thing – emergency or help needed. Usually, it was done when someone was injured or they were caught in some dire circumstances.
Rodrik turned his ears towards the east from where the sound had come. It was in the direction of the Clan homestead. "Could it be?" he wondered. The breeze blowing amidst the trees did not carry any other information or signals. He picked up his pace and went towards his snare trap deciding to answer the call after checking his trap.
Huffing noises coupled with scraping noises against the hard ground reached Rodrik's ear as he neared the trap. Past the massive tree blocking his way, he laid his eyes on the quarry he was tracking for the past two days. A large buck whose back foot was ensnared in a rope held taut against a tree and a boulder.
It kept goring its antlers against the ground and the tree, thrashing about for freedom. Rodrik calmly stepped forward, two lengths away from it. The breeze calmed slightly and he took an arrow from his leather quiver. A shot to the chest let the animal slump down to its death.
Rodrik immediately started setting up a small sled/cart with which he could get the quarry secured. After tying the animal to the cart and securing it with cordage, he sprinkled the ground around it with dried shadowcat scat. It was meant to ward off any scavenger due to the shadowcat scent. Finally, after ensuring everything was properly tied off, Rodrik started hiking eastwards up the valley in the direction of the ridge, where the call had originated, hoping for some good news.
Two Days Later
The feast at the Clan Homestead was small. There were hardly ten families inside the longhall premises. The dishes were homemade affairs of venison and ale rather than any opulent dish or exotic food. It was not out of austerity but rather out of practicality that the feast was small.
When birth, death and good fortune are decided by the Gods, one does not celebrate a birth unless the babe is blessed with a year of life.
Rodrik had come as soon as he had received the message from his fellow hunter. Within two days, he had worked himself to the bone to get the buck carcass to his small home up in the valley, before pushing himself to his last legs to join the feast held in his child's honour. With the death of his good father and mother during last winter, Bella was raised in the Clan Homestead with her uncle's family, Clan Head Bole.
However, after marriage, it was his duty as husband to provide for her and so with the permission of Clan Head Bole, he had set out to establish a new homestead for his family.
With the aid of fellow hunters, he had scouted out potential areas to settle in the Wull mountains and he had finally found one. Beyond the immediate hills, on the leeward side very close to the Bay of Ice, he had found his home.
A lightly forested valley with glades of hardy grass scattered inside. He had offered his mightiest bounty yet, the pelt of an adult wolf to the Clan for the grant to settle in the valley and there he built a small home with his Bella.
Now, he had come with another bounty. Sharp deer antlers and deer skin. The former was for the Clan Head and healers; as is the norm when pregnant women are placed in the care of the healers. The skin was a gift to his wife and their child.
He had already offered the gifts as soon as he had arrived and seen the babe. The festivities had begun with the arrival of the neighbours and food was shared by all. Rodrik however had eyes only for Bella and the babe in swaddling.
"Sarda says, he has your eyes." Bella said softly as she rocked the babe in her arms. Rodrik turned his face away from the baby and asked her equally softly, "What do you say then?" The crackling hearth sent a few sparks when Rodrik guffawed to Bella snapping, "Sarda has not seen anyone properly after she became snow blind. She can hardly recognise others, let alone a baby."
His guffaw was enough to wake the new-born who turned his head towards Rodrik. Within a moment, he started wailing his little lungs out, causing Bella to fuss over him and the other ladies to come over.
Immediately, Gerdy came sweeping in ushering out the new-born and the mother towards their home. With a long glace at Bella's retreating form, Rodrik turned towards the table where Head Bole and others were sitting. He moved to find a seat over there. Few people clapped his back while others offered their congratulatory greetings.
Clan Head Bole turned a beaming smile over to Rodrik and gave his hand a hearty shake. "You are blessed, my boy" he said offering a seat near to him. The others made space and Rodrik settled into the chair with a happy sigh.
Do you plan to name the babe soon, Rodrik? Asked the butcher, Hardin as others leaned in to listen to his answer. "We plan to name him Marcus on his first nameday.," replied Rodrik. Hardin nodded his head acknowledging the name, as others murmured how it was good that the naming is when the babe turns a year old.
"I would offer something better, Rodrik," Bole said after a long drag of his ale. Rodrik and others looked at the Clan Head askance. It was generally the place of parents to name the child, however this was Clan Head Bole, a man of few words and much wisdom.
"Name him, Marc." Bole said simply. His words sent a susurration through the people at the table. The Wull Clan Head and his male children are the only ones who have a four-letter name, according to Clan traditions. Clan Head Bole's offer not only recognised his grand nephew as family but also as a possible heir.
Rodrik looked stunned but quickly placed his right arm on his chest and said, "It would be an honour, Clan Head." Bole simply waved off his words and gestured for all to eat. The meal began slowly with many discussions while surreptitiously throwing appreciative glances at Rodrik for his good fortune.
As the meal wound down and Rodrik moved to the Clan Homestead where a bed was made available for him, he could only remark on his good fortune that had come with the birth of his son.
!#?%
Mark Taylor or the soon to be Marc of Clan Wull cried himself to sleep finding himself in an unfamiliar place in an unfamiliar world.
Over and above, below and under, side and over, in the interstitial spaces between fractals and dimensions, an Alien Space Bat swept its wings sending whorls of energy crackling into infinity.
AN:
Commemorating my mom's birthday, this is the first chapter of Under the Virgo. This fic originates in those places which has generally not been elaborated in the book or series – The Northern Clans. This would give me more space to add lore and bring changes to the canon as and when needed. It begins at the timeline of the tragedy at Summerhall.
Upliftment will be mostly originating with medical advancements rather than gunpowder, canals or mega-infrastructure projects. This will be a mix of book and TV show.
I will do my best to publish more chapters as soon as I write but as I am presently prepping for a professional medical degree while simultaneously working, so it is a bit taxing. Depending on my work schedule and my breaks, I will put up the chapters as soon as possible.
(P)A{T}[r] eon (same name as above- Riddi Ra) for those who love to support my efforts. Your support puts food on the table and gives my work more flexibility as I do not have to maintain long hours. I will keep writing and publishing to the best of my ability.
Cheers… Riddi Ra.
