Planetos El Norte
Olaf von Bismarck POV (3 months after first contact)
The light of dawn filters through the rustic roof of the log cabin, marking the start of a new day in the north. As always, it feels like we're emerging from the worst winter in decades, only to be horrified again by the truth: this planet is going through one of its longest summers. By the ancient gods, seasons that last years instead of months... It's hard to believe. There's something deeply wrong with this concept. It can't be functional for life or the formation of civilizations: plants and their cycles would die before they could restart in the spring. In the case of opposite seasons, flowers would wither and fruits would rot under the summer sun. Most likely, the seasonal cycle has been altered by external factors, and those same factors are what keep this planet alive. To my dismay, I imagine this is just the tip of the iceberg.
This isn't the time or place for this, at least not until we have the necessary equipment for proper experiments and testing. At least that's what the professors I assigned to analyze this phenomenon reported. I can't go to Jon with assumptions and a gut feeling; I need solid evidence.
I get up and stoke the fire in the iron brazier in the center of the cabin. After all, there are no butlers or helpers here, not even maids, unlike the Keep in the Valley, which is carved right into the mountain itself. From the room, halls and chambers open for the lord and his people. For the rest, cabins that aren't too bad, compared to the cold outside in the open air. Up to the central clearing, where we dug the well—that's what kills you every morning.
I open the door, and the cold northern wind hits my face. But first, off to the latrine to empty my nighttime bucket. Once that's done, I grab my empty water buckets and head to the well. Once there, I hook them up for their descent, and one by one they go down to return full. It's not enough for a bath, but enough to maintain personal hygiene. With the buckets filled, I return to my humble quarters.
Back in the cabin, I take them to my vanity. If that rustic thing can even be called that. I see my reflection in the mirror I brought from the ruins of Prussia. It's hard to believe that the only thing here that was made for this purpose was polished metal. Once all the facilities are ready, it will be the first thing we export to the continent. But this will be the first of many; we're going to make these lands the heart of industry, and it will be a hungry one. The forests to the south and the mountains to the north will feed it for generations.
For now, I need to heat the water, and I have just the tool for that. I approach the chest at the foot of my bed. It's unlocked; I must have forgotten to close it last night. I retrieve the zaknitel. The device looks like a plumed serpent in attack position. I press a button on its side, and it comes to life, moving into its firing position. If a Jaffa saw me using one of their sacred weapons to heat water... A smile forms on my face as I fire an energy blast into each bucket. It doesn't boil the water automatically, but it heats it enough for me to clean myself.
I take my towel and soap bar, and proceed. Once cleaned and dressed, I grab my coat from the rack next to the door and head out to the Keep, where Jon Snow presides over his council. I vividly recall the conversation with his father in Miggark, in the ruins of what remains of the Prussian nation.
Flashback
Lord Husil introduces me to the man who may be our salvation or just another raven feeding off the scraps of what's left of my people.
The man, no older than me—maybe a decade or five years older—approaches and extends his hand, which I take up to his forearm.
"Lord Eddark Stark, of the Kingdom of the North," he says.
A sincere voice for a face that's hard but open. You can see in the lines of his face, not hidden by his beard, that this man knows what it is to live a life full of obstacles and overcoming them. His eyes reflect perseverance and confidence. At least, a good first impression.
"My lord, the honor is mine," I reply.
"Please, Eddark is fine. After all, here I'm just a man, no different from you. No need for so much courtesy and pomp," he responds calmly.
Well, it seems Lord Stark doesn't let his power and position give him a fragile ego, quick to perceive insult where there is none.
"As you wish, Lord Eddark. You may call me Olaf," I say.
The man nods, and I proceed to point to a marble bench by the fountain. We sit as Husil, his guards, and Lord Eddark's companion step away, forming a small circle around us.
"Well, Olaf, Husil tells me you can help us prevent this." Eddark gestures around with his hands, making the message clear.
I can see the sympathy in his mostly stoic face as he gestures to the deplorable state of my world.
"Let me start at the beginning," I say, with a slow and formal accent.
"We were a prosperous and proud nation. We thought we were at the peak of civilization: music, art, mathematics, physics, and the natural sciences. We were on the cusp of mastering the power of steam to move our machines. Locomotives that shortened distances on land, and warships that did the same at sea. With systems like the metric system, we had standardized our measurements, weights, and distances, aiding the mass production of food, medicine, clothing, and goods of all kinds. One might think this is where everything went wrong, but they'd be mistaken."
I pause for a moment to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.
"An expedition, made possible only by a state-of-the-art steam-powered warship fueled by coal, reached a continent so distant that sails and wind were impractical. But our new transportation power made it there, to that place. In the middle of this continent, we found the Stargate."
The concentration is palpable on Eddark's stoic face. I can see how he takes each word in, though I notice some confusion regarding certain concepts. I suppose the technological level of his kingdom is not equivalent to what we once had.
"For a couple of years, everything was wonderful... But we were nothing more than fools," I say bitterly. A strong hand gently rests on my shoulder. Lord Eddark, apparently noticing my expression, silently offers his support.
"The door opened up a new world for us. A whole galaxy of opportunities and knowledge so foreign to our perception that we were like newborns seeing the world for the first time. It was overwhelming. Like infants, we clumsily crawled through the galaxy. We brought our symbols forward proudly, for all to see."
I can see on his face the understanding of why carrying easy-to-memorize and traceable symbols to their source would be a problem. His perception is higher than it seems. Well, it's not an attitude that isn't appreciated in a lord.
"And that was precisely the beginning of the end. While we marveled at the technology we found on our journeys and the cultures behind it, we crossed paths with the Jaffa. Sacred warriors, they claimed, in service to gods. But the reality was different: they were nothing more than slaves to a race of parasites who called themselves gods."
Even now, I can still see my father's face when I informed the Kaiser of the situation. It's etched in my memory.
"From there, everything went downhill. First, incursions through the gate once a week, then every two days, for a year. Then, it all stopped abruptly for a month. We thought we'd won, but it was a fool's consolation. We didn't know that thirty days was how long it took a Ha'tak to cross from the edge of our system to the third planet in it. That day, the sky opened up, and a triangle of gold and metal rained fire from the heavens."
"And I believe you've already seen what happened after that, on your way here," I say.
Eddark nods. I can see the horror reflected in his eyes, tempered by a will of steel.
"Yes, I saw it," he responds.
"After that, all that's left for me is my duty to what remains of my nation and its people."
"You say you have a duty to your kingdom and its people, but here I see only ghosts and ashes of what was and will never be again," he says bluntly.
"Yes, there is nothing here for me or what remains of my people. But tell me, Lord Eddark, what is duty if not a burden we must all bear? For better or worse, I must ensure that what's left of my nation still has a future."
"And what are you looking for?" he asks.
"A place where the water is drinkable, without worry; fresh food that will make our children grow, instead of stunting their development."
I take a deep breath and let out a long sigh.
"But most importantly, Eddark, a roof over our heads."
"Very well. What do you offer me in return for my benevolence? What will be worth something to me and my house?" he asks, interested.
"Let me show you," I reply.
And that's what I did. I led the group while showing them the ruins of our chemical plants, factories, and industrial forges. The industrial pavement covering our streets and the concrete that supports what's left of our buildings, all the way to the recycling plant, which is still functioning thanks to the crews under my command. They recycle everything that can be reused: for infrastructure, houses, schools, hospitals, and, most importantly, ways to fight the winter caused by the attack.
"Can you guarantee that your people can provide all this knowledge and that it can be taught and preserved for the future?" Lord Eddark asks, visibly interested.
I can see the attention on both him and his companions.
"My lord Eddark, that and much more."
A smile spreads across the faces of what I assume are his personal guards and a direct vassal, but Eddark has a very different reaction from what I expected: his arms are crossed over his chest, frowning.
"Why?" he asks.
At first, I don't understand what he means, but after a moment, I realize he's asking: Why am I offering so much for so little?
"I don't have a strong bargaining position. There's no water, no food, no shelter for all ten million of us from the three hundred million we were at our peak. Only ten are left. Half of this population is too old or sick to work or do anything but rest in their beds. Of the other half, half are too young: children and infants. Our position is one of desperation and a long, agonizing death on this dying planet, or finding a way to get us welcomed in yours."
"We still need to discuss the more specific details, but my friend, we have a deal," he concludes, shaking my hand.
End of flashback
And three months have passed, time flies. The first thing we tried to teach were the concepts of hours, days, weeks, and months. We're still calculating the exact numbers, but they've told me that they'll have them any day now, though they've been saying that for over a month. I crossed the yard and could see the crews working at the sites where the furnaces for pig iron will be built, followed by the ones that will produce steel and forge the tools needed to create the tools that will be necessary. It's not easy, after all, blacksmiths and craftsmen mixed with scientists and engineers. If Metallarbeiter doesn't lose his mind by the projected end of the first stage of the project, in three years, it will be a miracle from the old gods.
"My lord,"
The pair of guards at the improvised gate of the future keep open one of the doors that will soon be replaced. Inside, builders work tirelessly, reinforcing walls with stone and mortar instead of steel and concrete, something we'll have to remedy in the future, carving new hallways, halls, and rooms, all propped up with huge oak wood pillars brought directly from the wolf forest to create a fortress within the mountain, like the legends of the dwarves from Miggark's past. Not unlike the ice elves from beyond the ice wall, but that's another enigma I'm not sure whether fascination or terror is the appropriate reaction to.
I walk down the hallway, and each door has a guard, most from the mountain clans, but I can also spot some from the Umber, Glover, Karstark, and, above all, Stark houses. You can recognize them by their colors and the house crests on their clothing. From what I heard from Jon, Winterfell received an unusual number of wards, second sons for heir Robb and a whole flock of ladies-in-waiting for young lady Sansa. The council room is large enough for a simple rectangular table and seven equally simple chairs. One at the head, the others on either side. I can see Jon sitting at it, always the first to arrive and the last to leave, the painfully young lord for the position he has to fill; at least he's full of life despite the weight on his shoulders that he mostly bears alone. I can't help but think about him; it was supposed to be him and me, the Kaiser and the counselor, but that will never be. At least here I have a second chance to do what I was trained for my whole life.