Chapter 2: Bucket

260 AC

Wull Mountains

The cold winds blew heavily through the woods sapping heat from the trees and grass. In between those trees, a winding path edged by two grooves created by carts riding over them for years, had two people pushing a sled over it. Animals rarely crossed these paths in daylight due to the noise of human habitation and people. However, it was a blessing of the Old Gods for the pair of hunters, Rodrik and Brandon.

Their haul from the Wull mountains was easier to transport through the winding path. With their makeshift sled tied to small horizontal poles at the bottom, they could traverse the distance quickly and safely. Speed was of the essence as it can be quite dangerous to move with meat in the mountains especially when there were wolves and shadowcats are on the prowl.

After hauling and guarding the carcasses for two days over the mountains, the clan pathway was a relief to the hunters. Taking turns to push and pull the sled, Brandon and Rodrik kept a wary eye for any scavengers eyeing their prize as the sun kept rising upwards.

Few hours later, as the sun crossed the zenith of the sky, the village came into sight. Their arrival attracted few people who helped them get their haul into the village square. Running from the westward side of the village, the tanner who had earlier sighted them from the high ridge in the village scrambled down the incline and joined them.

"This is a good haul." said Gord, the Clan tanner, who had earlier apprenticed with a tanner in Winterfell. He then poked his fingers at the skin and meat. The pliable way the skin depressed and the lack of rancid smell proved the carcasses were fresh. "Let's go in and get the meat out." The butcher, Hardin joined the hunters and Gord in getting the carcasses inside the abattoir/leather workshop.

After getting it setup for Hardin and Gord, Brandon and Rodrik decided to start their haggling for the meat and skin. After a few continuous back and forth, Brandon was paid his share in preserved meats and leather whereas Rodrik took his share in the form of a large piece of leather and some soft elk fur. Rodrik decided to keep the fur as a homecoming gift to commemorate his son's naming ceremony.

Over the past year, Rodrik had made monthly contributions to the Clan healers and the Clan Head for the care of his wife and child. While tradition generally supported a three-month care at the Clan Homestead, Rodrik decided to go above and beyond by providing for the care of his wife and child till the child's naming ceremony.

With Rodrik's arrival at the Clan village after the recent hunt, the naming ceremony would be planned soon; as everything had been prepared for all clan families to join in the festivities. Rodrik immediately hefted his goods and started the trek towards the Clan homestead shaking off the dirt from his tunic and breeches as he walked with a spring in his step.


The Next Day

The celebration was in full swing with meat and mead flowing freely in the tables set aside for food. Earlier close to sunset, the crowd had gathered at the Heart Tree in the godswood where Bode had held the toddler and named the child in front of the Old Gods, Marc of Clan Wull. A small yet important ceremony which thanked the Old Gods for the gift of living to the child.

Once the ceremony was concluded, the crowd had immediately set off towards the village grounds where the tables were set up with warm mead and hearty stew. Add in the roasted pork and venison under which the tables groaned; it looked fit for any feast in a Southern castle. Clansmen and kinsmen congregated in groups enjoying the occasion, exchanging news and gossip, while others started presenting their gifts to the child.

Carved wooden toys, leather skins and furs were the most common presents offered to the child. As everyone gathered around looking at the presents, Clan Head Bode presented Marc with a wooden bucket identical to what was seen in the Wull flag. Everyone's eyes widened at that gift as a bucket was generally given only to clan heirs by the Clan Head and Bode's present signified he considered Marc as an heir to the leadership of Clan Wull.

This released a new wave of gossips across the various groups with many eyeing Rodrik and his family with respect. Slowly, the cold winds started coming down the valley as the hours progressed and the gathered groups dispersed to their homes. A few stragglers wished Rodrik well by thumping his back as they left and Rodrik muttered his thanks while wincing at their thumps. He slowly turned around to notice that most of the people had staggered off with enough food and mead in their bellies.

Turning around fully, he noticed Bella sitting with Marc sleeping on her shoulder. Taking note of the dark bags under her eyes, he winced imagining the sleepless nights she must have undergone to raise Marc all alone for the past twelve moons. He walked towards her and slowly guided the mother-child pair to the Clan homestead where Gerdy had already setup the sleeping area for them.

Setting the various gifts received for his child to one side, Rodrik settled for the night next to his wife. Tomorrow, they would start off early with a few rations towards their valley and return home. Already Rodrik could imagine expanding his home to set up more space for Marc, utilising the various gifts offered today. He would build a bigger hearth so that he could hang the bucket gifted by the Clan Head over the fire. It would be a wonderful sight, thought Rodrik as he slowly drifted off to sleep in bliss.


265 AC – 5 years later

The swing of the axe created a whooshing sound and then a loud thwack as it cut the wood into two pieces. Six-year-old Marc shook off his weariness and took the next log from the pile behind him and placed it on the tree stump. With a single heave he lifted the axe and let it drop onto the log directly, splitting it for firewood. It was tiring work but Marc knew it had to be done. More firewood stacked and stored meant they may be warm in case of a snowstorm or other unforeseen circumstance.

The six-year-old continued splitting ten more logs, before dropping down to the ground exhausted in a tangle of limbs. However, he was very careful about dropping the axe on the ground. There were enough logs for two days with today's effort. He slowly got up and stretched out his arms slowly. After running them through the movements learned a lifetime ago from book and demonstrations, Marc started collecting the chopped firewood and stacking them in the shed attached to his home.

His home had changed over the last five years. Built with solid wood felled from the lower valleys, the house had bigger rooms compared to what it was earlier. The single large room it was earlier became the second largest room meant for cooking and storage. A larger room was built to its left side which had a connecting door to the kitchen and another one to the beaten earth in front of his home. This larger room/hall had the tools to render the animals which his father hunted and some skins and leathers which acted as sleeping mats for the family.

Marc reached the door brushing off some wood dust from his tunic as he opened the rough-hewn wooden door of his home. His father was off hunting with his mother and would not return for a few days. It was quite surprising for Marc to realise the independence given to children in this world. But then again, the harsh lifestyle required both parents to indulge in back breaking labour and Marc had shown a remarkable amount of intelligence and self-control for a child, that Rodrik and Bella had left him home alone as they went hunting.

While his parents had stocked enough firewood for his daily needs, Marc had taken this independence to learn more about this world. He had early on developed suspicion it was the world of Planetos when he heard the name of Clan Wull and Stark in some conversations. Despite that knowledge, it gave him hardly any understanding of the timeline or any major characters. Add to this the isolation of the Clan and the even more isolation of their home, Marc had no idea about where in the world he was present except he was in the North and the Clan Head's name was Bole. A child of a clan family headed by an unknown Clan head of a northern clan in the mountains up north.

Marc knew whatever foreknowledge he got by watching the series or indulging in a discussion with friends would be useless; as the Seven-Pointed Star in the hands of a clansmen. He had no noble birth or even an advantage of being born in a peasant family in some place or village near a castle. His medical knowledge was far ahead of this world but he had no way of utilising it completely. No mass uplift, no engineering know-how, no gunpowder. Just a clan child with an old soul full of medical knowledge in a world which has not developed beyond the Medieval Era of Earth.

Shaking his head of the maudlin thoughts, Marc walked towards a bucket held up on a wooden pole near the hearth. It was hanging at a height of 2 feet from the ground and it was one of Marc's proudest innovations till date. The bucket which was a gift given by Clan Head Bole on his first birthday or nameday as it was called here. It was a common gift given by the parents to children at their eighth nameday to signify that the children are now ready to start contributing to the clan or family and responsible enough to take care of it. But with his bucket being given by the Clan Head himself at the age of one, his parents had given him full authority over its usage since he got it.

Now any child would have used the bucket as a toy in their games or any other childlike activity. Marc had seen Bole's children Hugo and Theo use their buckets as helmets while sparring or playing around. When Marc was a baby, his parents thought he was using the bucket to fill sand or rocks as children are wont to do.

Marc however had seen a different use for the bucket. In a world where most diseases are water borne and poor sanitation simply aggravates the problem, Marc found the primary usage of his bucket. A simple sand filter, made with alternating layers of charcoal powder, sand and gravel. A ragged piece of his tunic which he washed rigorously in the nearby stream and sun dried to make it clean as possible was used to plug the hole at the bottom of the bucket. He had collected the charcoal powder from the hearth and grinding them over a flat stone and a cylindrical rock he used as a dowel.

The difficulty was in making a hole in the bucket. It was of sturdy make and good craftsmanship. He had to use the glowing hot firewood taken from the hearth to make a hole slowly inside it. He had finally put up the entire arrangement on thick beam jutting out from the wall outside. Then he poured the water he had collected in a clay pot from downstream earlier. He had to stack a few rocks to climb and reach up to pour into the bucket. His mother, Bella had nearly skinned him alive, when they saw the hole in the bucket and the entire arrangement he had made, but Rodrik was able to pacify her and asked him curiously what he was doing.

Taking the opportunity for it was, Marc had shown them the apparatus he built and its functions. The colloidal water which he had earlier collected downstream was poured again and again to get the clean water. Bella and Rodrik were astounded to see the clean water but they did not understand the significance as water was plenty available in the stream which they believed was fit for drinking. But disregarding industrial pollution, many hunters cleaned their kills upstream and used the stream for their daily needs. Marc had noticed offal and bloated animal parts coming through the stream many times and it was enough to give him nightmares about dysentery. In addition, he expected the coliform bacteria to be high in the stream despite the water being clear.

Rodrik, like any parent, was happy that his boy was active and not a dullard like he had seen some children in the Clan homestead be. He had praised him, which despite Marc's mental age sent shivers of happiness rushing through him. Rodrik then helped him set it up inside the long room for better storage. He often assisted Marc with a bemused smile in collecting the sand from the river bed and charcoal powder to replace the filter in the bucket. Rodrik was always ready to indulge in Marc's activities which many others would have ignored, but Marc simply considered as a sign of good parenting.

Marc shook himself off from the reminiscing and collected the pot that contained the water that had filtered down from the bucket. Heaving the pot onto the rudimentary firepit/hearth, he stoked the red-hot coals and waited for the water to boil. Dropping the rough-hewn branch that was used for stoking the coals, next to the hearth, Marc threw himself onto the pile of furs arranged over some disorganised pieces of lumber in the corner of the room.

Fidgeting with the edge of the furs as he laid down, he tried to plan how to utilise what he knew about this world and its future to change it for the better. Rodrik and Bella did ask him occasionally who gave him such knowledge, when he said something which a child should not know or understand. Marc had already planned for it long back when he realised, he was reincarnated and his knowledge could land him in trouble.

It was a plan which was years in the making. In every scenario, Marc had envisioned along with his friends and in other fanon, the solution for the Self Insert has been to be blessed by the Gods. Either way, the noble family accepted it and therefore so did the peasants who served them. The divine right to kingship was ingrained into the social fabric that not many could overcome the directive.

But in Marc's case, the entire idea almost fell through due to the tribal society he was born in. Clan Wull was almost egalitarian inside its social structure, so divine attribution to his talents would not work without a proper plan to convince his parents and later the tribe of his divine providence. A proper plan, that he had conceived and hoped it was feasible. The plan itself was possible only due to his ability to remember since he popped out of his mother and the immense time, he had left to himself.

Till his naming ceremony, Marc had remained in the Clan Homestead. And one important place that he was taken to occasionally was the Godswood. Whenever, he would be taken to the Godswood, Marc managed to make himself a right nuisance till he was placed near the Heart Tree. During his first visit, while initially apprehensive about the Heart Tree, its magic and its relationship with the Old Gods, Marc decided to take the plunge and touch it.

Nothing happened. No wind blowing, animals going silent. The world went on as it was and Marc laughed. The demented laughter of relief, which however came in the form of delighted laughter of a child. From then on, he had taken the opportunity with both of his chubby hands.

He had started off the plan initially by pointing to the direction of the Heart Tree and hugging the tree with all his might whenever he was brought out at his stay in the Clan Homestead. He started throwing tantrums and getting grumpy but would be all smiles, if he was taken to the Godswood. As he grew older, sometimes his parents took him to the Clan homestead to visit Clan Head Bode and the rest of the family, he would always rush to the Godswood. Slowly, the people started associating Marc with the Godswood and the Heart Tree. Add in Marc's developed vocabulary and quite mature for his age behaviour, it did not take more than a single rumour (which he himself started) of being blessed by the Old Gods for it to spread. All this effort, because Marc realised how screwed he was as he learnt about his reincarnation.

When Marc realised, he was reincarnated, all the protocols and plans that they had made hypothetically came rushing in and simultaneously went out the drain. In a land which was temperate at best and arctic tundra at worst, agriculture was a no go. Secondly, it would be almost impossible to start an agricultural revolution in a land where no one practised organised farming. Hunting animals and gathering berries were the major sources of food among the Wull clan. Agriculture was done in the mountains but not along any organised lines. Slash and burn agriculture mainly of some hardy millets, roots, tubers and sometimes some fruit bearing trees.

Leaving agriculture aside, the next area to focus the efforts would be trade infrastructure through road networks and creation of new goods primarily alcohol, iron, and steel, etcetera etc. It would have been a great area to start but the Wull clan hardly had these resources at hand. Moreover, Clan Wull did not subscribe to the coinage practised in the Seven Kingdoms but rather functioned along the barter system.

Therefore, conventional methods of improving oneself and the family was laid to rest due to lack of connections and most importantly lack of wealth. Even in the most arid land or desert, if enough wealth or unique but essential resource (like Ironwood) was available, many ideas could have been implemented. But inside Clan Wull, everything used to uplift a conventional medieval society fell through.

The observations that Marc had made over the past 5 years when he went with his father to the Clan Homestead or visiting other families showed the similarities yet differences between Earth and Planetos. The wealth in the clan was not determined by land or agriculture or profession. Land was a common resource of the tribe and not private property. While his father did get settlement rights in the valley, it was more like permanent tenancy.

There was no "Right to Property" in Clan Wull. The clan giveth the land and the clan can also taketh the land, under certain circumstances. The social prestige and wealth in Clan Wull are based on skill, valour and how well one can provide for his family. His father, Rodrik was quite high in prestige for his ability to provide for the family. He was of middling valour in the clan perspective since he lacked any weapons apart from a crude bow which he used for putting down trapped animals.

But despite that, Rodrik was considered a high functioning member of the clan. He provided well for his family, had a child, and is blessed by the Gods for having no deformities. Rodrik also had accumulated quite the material wealth in terms of pelts, skins, and fur which he used for the family and clan's welfare. Rodrik's excellent trapping skills allowed him to capture animals without much damage to the skin or meat, which in return helped feed Marc and Bella well. But this realisation only made Marc realise the barriers towards his growth and the enormity of not only surviving his childhood and but also living a long life which would not be terminated by the Others.

Based on the way the clan operated, Marc could grow only by bringing in economic reforms to uplift the clan from which the reforms can spread outwards. However, economic reform or any reform was shunned by Westeros due to its harsh seasons and the knowledge available was hardly disseminated beyond theoretical expositions by the Maesters. In essence, Marc's growth required a short-term plan to gain recognition in clan which would pave the way forward for the economic reforms to come through in the long term. The short-term plan he had almost guaranteed with his blessed status among the clansmen.

However, in the areas of economic intervention, the primary sectors of the economy like agriculture, mining and fishing were not suited for Clan Wull. The secondary sectors like manufacturing and production itself was a joke in Westeros compared to Essos let alone Earth. Add in the xenophobic tendencies against other clans and other houses except for Stark, any production would have to go against Clan traditions and would not be sustainable.

In conclusion, Marc understood that the conventional technological uplift or improving trade and agriculture would not work in his situation. The only option left was the tertiary sector or service industry since the other two fell through. Considering his previous life, which still sent a pang of loneliness through him, the service that he could provide capably was just one – Healing.


Two Days Later

Two days of monotony. Marc's father, Rodrik had initially gone for the hunts alone leaving Bella to hold the fort. However due to Marc's maturity and ability to manage things by himself, for the past few moons, Rodrik and Bella had started going for hunts together. Two hunters are better than one, and Bella knew enough about hunting to not be a hindrance and contributed effectively towards trapping animals.

While Marc cherished the freedom that had come with their departure, the days tended to get monotonous inside the hut. While Marc was an adult in a child's body, to his parent's he is a precocious child and nothing more. His father, Rodrik before every hunt only enforced few rules upon Marc. The primary rule was not to leave their home and wander off. Despite the constant human presence in the valley, there were enough wild animals who would not worry about tearing the head off a child.

Considering the logic behind the statement, Marc had agreed wholeheartedly to the rules given. All that Marc had done that amounted to physical labour during the hunts his parents went on, was to stack the firewood after hacking it into small pieces and placing it inside the hut. Mentally, it was different as he tried to remember his medical knowledge and maintain its integrity. How Marc had longed for some paper or some writing implement to make a note of his knowledge. He was one of the worst placed in the continent surrounded by people who wholeheartedly cared for him, but were in general…. dim.

Now Marc had realised that his opinion was biased and what he perceived to be dimness was not actually rational. The people here had no need to think such deep thoughts. They led a hand to mouth existence and knew nothing better. The did not know of living better or harnessing resources better. They still hung to many tribalistic traditions to keep their unity and survive in this harsh world. Most advancements in sciences came through with initial failures and only after months or years of successful tinkering could a feasible invention or development work consistently. In Earth, pioneers were encouraged and patronised by royalty. In this world where a single season went over and beyond years, getting one to pioneer was a foolhardy task when one should rather be stockpiling of winter.

Dropping his frustrations to the side, Marc kept repeating muttering medical knowledge like a chant. He did this exercise often to preserve the medical knowledge he had gained through countless lessons in his previous life. But it was not completely effective. Like water passing through a sieve, many advanced medical points had already left his brain. And there was no book or the internet to learn the information again. He was running on lost time as it was and it was imperative that he get some way of transcribing the information for others.

As he was parsing through the information on muscle groups, he kept muttering the words repeatedly to engrave the knowledge in his mind. As the sun was slowly going down, he heard a whistle piercing through the forest. A single sharp whistle.

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTT!

No chattering at the last syllables. A signal for emergency or help. Marc scrambled to his feet as he ran to the door and peered out. The evening sun was still strong in the sky and he could see no one near to the forest line. While the whistle for emergency was real, Marc's father had clearly informed him or rather warned him, that he should not go into the forest at any cost irrespective of whether help was needed or not.

Marc turned inside and ran towards a crude bow his father had kept at a corner, all oiled up and maintained. Marc took up the string present in the lower limb and pulled it taut and tied it to the notch in the upper limb. He took some spare arrows and crept out keeping his eyes on the forest around him. Another whistle shattered the silence of the evening as he kept his eyes peeled for any movement in the forest.

With each passing moment, the tension was ratcheting higher inside Marc's mind with multiple scenarios playing inside his head. Each one more ludicrous yet damning his family at the same time. Suddenly, there was movement in the eastern side of the forest which went long into the upper reaches of the hills and mountains. He could see two people dragging a third between them limping and struggling to move towards the house past the trees and the grass.

Marc immediately ran over as fast as his legs would allow dropping the bow and arrow at the doorstep and climbing over hedges that acted as a boundary between the forest and the grass. As he came closer, he saw his parents Rodrik and Bella injured and bleeding dragging another fellow between them. He was wounded heavily and bleeding from various parts of his body. Rodrik and Bella were heaving and struggling to pull the unknown person between them to their house. Marc ran over and tried to help but could not get any leverage.

The childlike fear of seeing something bad to your parents crept up and Marc could not stop the tears falling down his eyes. Rodrik however had no patience for Marc's tears and he harshly called for Marc. "Go home quickly and get the shadowcat scat inside the black sealed jar. Go." he said panting with effort as he strained to drag the unconscious hunter behind him with Bella limping behind them.

Marc hastened back to the house and found the black clay pot in the storage area. He grabbed the jar and ran back towards the forest. Rodrik who was heaving in deep breaths, dropped the unknown hunter and grabbed the clay jar from Marc and broke the mud seal on the lid. The scent of faecal matter hit their face like a sledgehammer. But Rodrik kept breathing heavily through his mouth as he liberally threw the scat around in the grasses. After throwing the entire content inside the jar, he threw the jar to the ground and started hauling the hunter who Marc recognised as Brandon. Bella had already moved towards the house and was staggering forwards clutching her arm.

Marc followed the hunter pair and saw his father lay down Brandon on some furs that Bella had already laid down in preparation. Bella herself was trying to staunch the bleeding from her arm but was looking too pale to properly bind it. Rodrik laid down beside Bella and beckoned Marc towards him looking to lift Bella from the slump but he too collapsed right next to her boneless.

All this happened in a matter of minutes. The stench of blood, the rotten smell, the wounded bodies, and the hovels where the wounded were placed. Marc shivered as his old memories working in the conflict areas of Afghanistan as part of Doctors Without Borders resurfaced. Blood. Sweat. Tears. The helplessness he felt back then initially, which he had overcome as he used his hard-earned skills in surgery and orthopaedics to save those with torn legs and shredded arms. But his vaunted education and experience could not be put into use effectively in a country, a planet which hardly understood germ theory. A helplessness which transformed into embers of anger and pain at his inability to do nothing to save them.

Marc shook himself off his stupor and ran to his parents. He turned Rodrik over onto his back and arranged Bella next to him at an armlength. He dragged Brandon next to them, and stoked the hearth to make sure they were not cold. Taking his old tunic and a clay bowl, he ran to the water barrel where he collected the filtered water from his bucket. Seeing the remnants of some food inside the bowl, Marc used the ash and some water to wash it off and wiped it clean on his tunic.

Taking some clean water from the barrel, Marc set to work. Removing the clothes, washing the wounds, cleaning off the dirt. It was work which he was familiar with. With a clinical detachment, he made note of the deep gash in Bella's arm, the long cut on Rodrik's forehead and the broken right femur on Brandon. Add to that the assortment of injuries and bruises on the arms and legs and what he suspected were broken ribs for Rodrik which explained his wheezing earlier, Marc knew things had taken a turn for the worse.

Primary operations sprung to his mind. Stitch the wounds shut after cleaning them. Intravenous fluids and blood transfusion if necessary. These injuries were not life threatening in the 21st century, but here they will lead to death if left untreated. Marc did not falter, as he ran to the corner where Bella's things were kept. Inside the fold of a few leathers, Bella had kept her precious needles made from garfish bones. To the side, half sewn were the filaments of seal tendons to bind the two leather skins together.

Marc simply snatched it up and put the needle and the filaments into the clay bowl which he had used earlier. Scooping some water into the bowl, he set it on the hearth for it to boil for some primitive sterilisation. Then he turned to Rodrik and started loosening his tunic so that he could breathe freely and not injure himself further. He also tried to set Brandon's femur into position but his six-year-old self could hardly move the burly hunter let alone set a broken bone. Seeing to Bella's comfort as much as he could, Marc removed the needles and the tendon filaments onto a clean cloth and washed his hands in the scalding water.

Taking the tendon filament and running it through the eye of the needle, Marc started working on Bella's gash. Focusing on making the sutures as close as possible with the needle, he stitched Bella's wound. Repeating the same process on the various wounds which needed stitches on Rodrik and Brandon, Marc did not notice the sun setting. But noticing the cold wind coming through the door, he jerked up from his position over Brandon where he was trying his best to loosen the hunter's tunic. Rushing to the door, Marc stepped out and let out a long whistle to signify emergency before sundown, as much as he could using the crude whistle Rodrik had made with whittled sea lion bone.

After whistling a few more times over intermittent intervals, Marc came inside and barred the door shut and stoked the hearth to banish the chill. In the flickering flames, Bella's pale visage seemed as though carved from marble. The dead silence, even though so many were inside the home, created a morgue like feeling. Stoking the fire absently and throwing logs inside when it seemed low on wood, Marc kept a strict vigil hoping for a miracle looking at his parents increasingly pale faces.


A.N:

Here's the second chapter.

Got my admission in medical college. I did not get my first choice, but I did get into another college with a good program. Therefore for the next 6 years, I will be here studying medicine and writing fanfiction. I am grateful to all who enquired and wished for my success. Here's to you.

Cheers

Riddi Ra

P.S : I would love your support for my education and writing. You will also get early access. You can find me at Riddi Ra at (P)(A)(t)(R)(e)(0)(n).