Down that Way to Kiojaleit [COMPLETE]

Prydania · Jun 22, 2020

November 2020

"We are beginning our descent to Býkonsviði" a pleasant feminine voice said over the PA.
"Please raise your tray tables and return your seats to an upright position."

Markthór Öxndal pulled his side bag out from under the chair in front of him and stuffed the two customs forms- one for himself and his wife Nicole and one for his sister Addý- into the same pocket as his passport.

"You two have your passports ready?" he asked his wife and sister.

"Yes honey please, relax" Nicole laughed.
"You've been checking your bag every hour since we got to the airport back in Saintes. This is a vacation, remember. Try and take it easy."

"Better safe than sorry" Markthór replied, chuckling at his own OCD tendencies. Though they had been more pronounced since this trip began. He was excited to see his cousin Rúrik and their old farm again, but there was a certain nervousness that came with returning to Prydania after so long.

"What about you Addý?" he asked.

"Huh?" Addý replied. She'd been looking out the window- Markthór had insisted on the aisle seat, and that was fine with her. It meant she got the window seat- and a nice view of Prydania as they descended. It was the first time she'd seen the country in person since she and her family had fled to Saintes back in 2006. She shared some of her brother's nervousness but was far more smitten with the notion of returning "home." If even for a brief stay.

"I was asking if you had your passport, Addý?"

"Yes Mark" she smiled, "all set."

"Ok good, hopefully we can get through customs quickly" Markthór said as he gripped his side bag to his chest.

"You really need to calm down mon amour" Nicole said as she kissed her husband on the cheek. She was Santonian, and unlike her husband and sister-in-law? She had never been to Prydania. Her own nerves came from lingering fears that Prydania maybe wasn't entirely stable?
It had been nearly a year since the Messianist League uprising had been put down with relatively little violence. And the stabbing of Thorbjörn Höjsleth had finally begun to fade from the news as his recovery continued. There hadn't been a whisper of unrest in Prydania since but still...
She remained positive though. This was a new experience. A chance to see the edge of the world.

"Monsieur, your bag needs to be under the seat until we land and the captain turns off the fasten seatbelt sign" a flight attendant remarked.

"Oh" Markthór replied.
"Sorry." He pat the picked on the bag once more to feel his passport and the customs forms before sliding the bag under the seat in front of him.

Addý looked down, the airport and the green fields getting closer, with the city of Býkonsviði itself near by.
It was all rather mundane looking, but this was her home. Violently ripped from her so many years ago. She smiled seeing it so peaceful, and at the chance to make some new, happier, memories.

The plane landed, coming to a slow crawl, and eventually a soft stop.

"Welcome to Býkonsviði, Prydania. We hope you enjoy your stay, and thank you for choosing to travel with Air Saintonge!"

Rúrik Öxndal hummed the tune to Íshokkíkvöld á RÚV as he and Víf waited for Markthór, Addý, and Nicole to arrive.

"I just checked the board, they should be landing soon" Víf said with a nod.
"This is exciting isn't it?" she asked.

"Já" Rúrik replied.
"It's been so long. I never even got to say goodbye the first time. They had to leave so suddenly..."

Víf similes and held her husband's arm. Everyone had stories from the Syndicalist years and the Civil War, but Rúrik's was among the worst. His father had been shipped off to mine for coal, died in a cave-in, and he'd been forced to live as essentially a prisoner from the age of ten onwards on the collectivized farm compound the Syndicalists had set up. He'd been beaten, starved, and worked hard for eleven years before their compound was liberated.
He'd been recovering rather well- being able to rebuild the family farm helped a great deal- but he still found himself sullen at times. Reconnecting with his cousins had lifted his spirits though. It was true he'd never gotten a proper chance to part with them as children. Víf hoped this visit would help.

"I hope they're not held up too long at customs" she remarked.
"I don't want Júlíetta to be put out with Týr for too long" she said, regarding her and Rúrik's four month old baby boy.

"Oh you mustn't worry" Rúrik replied happily.
"Mother doesn't mind at all. It gives her a positive to focus on. So she doesn't think about father so much."

"Oh aren't you a treat" Víf teased her husband.
"I'm sure your mother in her later years wants to look after babies again."

"Trust me" Rúrik replied.
"The less idle she is the better."

"Bonjour and welcome to Prydania" a border control agent remarked in accented but otherwise fluent Santonian.
"Oh" he said with a bit of a smile.
"Welcome back to two of you."

"Thank you" Addý replied softly. They'd gotten their bags and they just had to clear customs. The line had been...average? Not crazy busy but not empty either. It had moved at a reasonable pace.

"How long will you be in Prydania?" the agent asked.

"One week" Markthór replied.

"And the purpose of your trip?"

"Visiting family."

"You should have seen this place last month" the agent remarked as he checked off some boxes on their forms.
"Oktoberfest. This place was a zoo."

"Yeah we couldn't get that off, but at least now we can have a quieter visit I think."

"And where will you be staying?"

"My cousin's. It's a farm, just outside of Kiojaleit. Here's the address..."

The agent nodded.
"Any gifts or food items to declare?"

Markthór smiled. They had half a suitcase full of Santonian candy. And it wasn't that this was a problem per se but depending on the agent? It could be a whole thing to go over the receipts and paperwork to declare them. Markthór was not taking that chance. He hated airports and air travel in general and he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.
"Just some gifts for our cousin's newborn son. Baby clothes mostly."

"Eh that's fine" the agent remarked, stamping all three Santonian passports with a design that mixed a barbed cross and oak leaves.
"Enjoy your visit."

"Thank you" Nicole smiled as they walked past the agent down a hallway that would lead them to the pickup area.
"Now listen you two" she said in a mock serious tone.
"It's bad enough that you talk about me in Prydanian. You won't pull Rúrik and Víf into your games!" she chuckled.

"Oh that's cute sis she thinks we talk about her in Prydansk" Markthór said to Addý in Prydanian with a teasing grin.

"Such an ego on this one" Addý replied in Prydanian, winking to her sister-in-law, earning a look of mock angry look from Nicole.

"But it's ok. Víf and Rúrik both speak Mercanti."

Rúrik checked his watch and held his wife as she leaned against him as he looked around. The new Býkonsviði airport was quite nice. Very modern and sleek.

"There they are!" Víf said, noticing their three guests emerging from a small crowd of people. Rúrik looked up and smiled wide.

"Look who it is!" he said in Prydanian. Víf was right. Seeing them in person seemed to raise her husband's spirits.

"It's been too long cousins" he said in Mercanti he hugged Markthór and then Addý before hugging Nicole too.
"And you must be the poor soul this one tricked into marriage!"

"Yes, but I make it work" Nicole replied as more hugs were exchanged. "So happy to meet you both."

"Look at you!" Addý remarked.
"Uncle Tjörvi would be so proud. I know Pabbi is."

"Yes he is" Markthór replied.
"He and mother want all of the pictures we can possibly get so be prepared."

"Ha" Rúrik chuckled.
"Well let's get going. Before I forget where I parked in that damn maze of a parking garage."

He took both Nicole and Addý's bag, laughing as Markthór tried to hand him his.
"No Markþór, you can handle your own bags."

"Ha!" Markthór replied.
"Fair enough. I admit I'm not as pretty as these two or Víf."

"No but you make up for it by being oh so strong" Nicole teased.
"So Rúrik is right. Carry your own bag."
Nicole happened to glance down as Rúrik grabbed her bag. He was wearing a light jacket for the November air, and the sleeve pulled up ever so slightly. She saw a scar on his wrist, and sighed softly.
It was a reminder from the stiff and thick plastic ID bracelets the workers on the Syndicalist collective farms had to wear. Rúrik would have had to wear one from the age of 10 to 22. Between the thick and sharp plastic and metal bolts to keep them tight? Well of course there would be scaring.
She smiled softly, offering Rúrik a soft "thank you" and making an effort not to look at his wrist.

"Congratulations on Týr" Addý said as they made their way to the car.
"The pictures on Twitcher look so adorable!"

"He knows it too" Rúrik laughed.
"I'm sure of it. The little bugger uses his cuteness to get his way."

"Yes imagine when he's old enough to talk" Víf replied.
"This one" she said pointing to her husband, "won't be able to avoid spoiling him rotten."

"What can I say? He's got me around his finger. Want to do right by him and all."

Rúrik and Markthór loaded the bags into the back of the Midland SUV.

"It's still a bit of a drive from Býkonsviði, but the new highway speeds it up" Rúrik said after they'd finished loading the bags.

"Yes but we were thinking we could stop in Erkiengill and grab some lunch" Víf added.

"Oh I don't think that's a problem" Addý replied.
"I didn't eat anything on the plane."

"I didn't either" Nicole said. "And Markthór, don't even get him started."

"All airplane food is poison" he chuckled.

"Well it's a plan. Let's head out!"

Vor í Vaglaskógi by KALEO, 4:38

Prydania · Jun 23, 2020

between Býkonsviði and Erkiengill

Addý had spent the drive from Býkonsviði to Erkiengill watching the countryside pass around her. It was truly something to behold. The rolling hills, some mountains in the distance...but it was more than scenery. She recognized things. They had, back when they were little, travelled to Beaconsviði on occasion. And any trip to the capital was special when you were from a small farming town. She'd marvelled at the countryside back then too, picking out landmarks that only had meaning to her, that she used to mark the way. She hadn't thought about those since she left for Saintonge as a nine year old girl. Now though...these landmarks came and old memories were triggered.

"There you are, mountain that's a bit flatter compared to the others" she thought as she looked off into the distance.
"I've missed you."

The trip was, other than that, rather pleasant. Markthór was clearly happy to be out of the airport and was catching up with Rúrik.

"Yeah, the Kanadians built a new arena in Býkonsviði" Rúrik mentioned.

"So Konunglegur Býkonsviði has a new, fancy place to lose?" Markthór replied.

"Ha! No" Rúrik replied.
"They won it all last year! Last year in the old building. They started the season a month ago in the new place with a banner raising. They aired the whole ceremony."

"Not bad" Markthór conceded.

"What about Saintonge?" Víf asked, turning to Nicole and Addý.
"Is hockey big there?"

"Not as big as football or chess" Nicole replied.
"But it's taken off. Our team is mostly people of Prydanian or Hessunlander extraction" she chuckled.
"But it's quite good as a result!"

"It's big in the immigrant communities" Markthór replied, "but it's getting some mainstream success here and there."

"Markþór here was very good as a little kid" Rúrik said, turning briefly to address Nicole.
"Before he became a basketball star."

"Star, right" Markthór laughed.
"You're too kind."

"Those tall Prydanian genes. He dominated in high school" Nicole added.

"Yes, and I won some poor Santonian girl's heart" he replied, looking back at his wife with a smile.

"See what I have to put up with?" Addý said to both Rúrik and Víf. It's these two making love eyes at each other. It's sweet enough to give you diabetes!"

Víf chuckled.
"Oh I guess Rúrik gets his romantic streak naturally."

"Romantic eh?" Markthór said as he looked at his cousin.

"I have my moments" he replied with a wink.

Erkiengill, Prydania

"So you're from Erkiengill?" Markthór asked.

"Yes" Víf replied.
"I can bring you all back here once we get settled."

The group had sat down at a family-run restaurant to grab lunch. Erkiengill was a large town. It wasn't a huge city like Býkonsviði was, but it was certainly the main locale around these parts.

"It looks completely different from what I remember" Addý commented.

"The war necessitated a lot of rebuilding" Víf said with a shrug.
"The cathedral had to be completely redone after the Syndicalist vandalism. Sadly one of the parts of the city that managed to survive all of that was that fáviti* Stefan Toft's childhood home."

"How did the Syndicalists not tear that down?" Nicole asked.

"They turned it into part of a propaganda centre" Víf replied.
"Then the liberation came, near the end of the war. The previous owner's kid got it back, but he sold it to the city. It's currently a welcome centre where you can set up tours, but the fascists have their little 'pilgrimages.' They can't get right out in front so they have their meetings across the street."

"Wait. Social Commonwealthism is illegal here, right?" Markthór said.

"Yes, the party is banned, and the flag is banned" Rúrik commented.
"But you know. Free speech and all. They're allowed to gather."

"How big are the crowds?" Nicole asked nervously, but Víf just laughed.

"Oh you don't need to worry. It's the same three to five losers. They were just sort of ignored for a while, but then Peace not Blood came up, and their counter-protests out numbered them like five to one. The fashies rarely even bother showing up anymore, but the city's still going to turn it into a small green space just to make sure."

"This is actually where Víf and I had our first date" Rúrik commented.

"Really?" Addý remarked.
"That's cute."

"I had to pick it" Víf replied.
"Rúrik here asked me out without even knowing what a date really was!"

"I grew up in a prison camp woman" he chuckled, "what did I know?"
Víf smiled, kissing her husband on the cheek.

Addý, Markthór, and Nicole shared a look. They had no idea what had happened to Rúrik after they fled. And had only found out the full story after they had all reconnected. How much could they talk about? Addý in particular felt the need to ask him about it, and make sure he was ok. Still...how did one broach the subject. It was better left alone for now though.

"Víf was my rehabilitation officer actually" Rúrik said as he took a drink of Toki's.

"What?" Markthór asked as the phrase Oclusian Tortellini shot through his mind.

"That sounds so wrong when you say it like that?" Víf said, playfully scolding her husband.
"I was a grad student in Býkonsviði when the war ended, you see" she said, explaining the story. "I was going into family social work. Or at least what the Syndicalists thought that was. The war ended and the new government wanted people who could help with rehabilitation. They offered me a post here, to help the people effected the worst by Syndicalism readjust to society."

"I was given the farm, when I was freed from the compound" Rúrik continued.
"But I had been essentially a prisoner for most of my life. So I didn't know what to do. I mean I knew farming but like...how would I even begin to rebuild a farm? With what money? Where do I even get supplies? So I got hooked up with a program here in Erkiengill. To help me understand what I was supposed to do. How to apply for loans from the government, aid packages and the like. How to financially budget. Stuff I had no real experience with. I went in thinking I'd find some stuffy accountant but I found a beautiful girl my age."

"He was very brave I must say" Víf replied with a smile.
"And afterwards, after he got all his accounts and money sorted, he asked me out! So I asked where we were going and he had the most adorable blank look on his face."

Rúrik chuckled.
"Well I couldn't just say 'down by the chemical shed when the guards aren't looking' now could I? I just thought...people in the outside world, they ask each other out!"

"So I suggested here, and now..." Víf smiled.

Addý laughed.
"You four with your romantic stories."

"Addý's date didn't go so well" Markthór chuckled.

"I'm so sorry about that, again, I didn't know Gaston would say something like that!" Nicole said.

"The tractor thing?" Rúrik asked.

"Yep" Markthór replied.
"He does know you're married to a Prydanian right?" he asked his wife about her friend she'd set Addý up with.

"Oh he's just an idiot who thought he was being funny. It's not malice just stupidity" Nicole sighed.

"He's lucky I didn't stab him with the steak knife" Addý replied holding up her butter knife, making an exaggerated angry face as she made a stabbing motion.

"Yes, way to fight the stereotype" Rúrik smiled. Addý just chuckled and smiled with a shrug.

"But Rúrik" Markthór began.
"We um...we didn't know..."

Addý looked over at her brother. She'd wanted to raise this point later, gently, but Mark was just going to go for it...she hoped he didn't fuck it up...

"...we didn't know what happened to you when we left and...well...it was good to hear that you were ok. If you ever want to talk about it..."

Rúrik bit the inside of his lip. How could he talk about it? What he'd been through? He looked over at Víf, who just gently stroked his hand.
"Thanks" he said to his cousin.
"But um...that you're all here...it means the world to me. It's all I need."

*fáviti= asshole

Prydania · Jun 24, 2020

June 2020

"Rúrik and I got in touch over Twitcher! He seems to be doing well. You have no idea how relieved I am" Addý texted her brother.

"He's doing well? Good! I can't believe he popped up in a RÚV article of all things" Markthór replied.
"I mean...I was scared. I had been preparing for the worst since the War ended. That he'd show up on some list."

"He's married too" Addý replied.
"And they're expecting!"

"Wonderful. I'm so happy for him. What he went through..."

"Yeah the war couldn't be easy."

"No Addý. The collectivized farming compounds."

"I don't really know much about that..."

"Didn't you keep up with the trial of Jannik Lieftur?"

"No

It's too depressing. I don't like thinking about that stuff."

"Addý, hit up Chercher."

"Goddamnit Mark, I said I don't like thinking about what happened back then."

"Rúrik went through some bad stuff sis. You think we had it bad? We got out. He didn't. I'm glad he's ok, but we owe it to him to be understanding. Please, just Chercher it."

"Ok."

Addý set her phone down. Memories from when she had to leave in the middle of the night, leaving her home. Most of her things. Getting into that diplomatic van, clinging to her older brother as her mother and father tried to converse in broken Santonian. She didn't like thinking about it at all, and it kept her from truly appreciating the good memories she had of her childhood back in Prydania. Her heart fluttered and she snatched her phone.

"Thanks

" was the last message Markthór had sent. She closed the messenger and opened the browser, pulling up the search engine Chercher.

Syndicalist Prydania collectivized farms

A number of news stories popped up, but the thing that caught her attention were the pictures. She truly didn't want to hit the "Image" tab but she did.
"Oh my God..."

The images of worn bodies dressed in ill-fitting shirts and overalls...many looking malnourished. Black eyes and crooked, broken noses. They all seemed to have thick looking bracelets on their left wrists. Another picture made it clear that these were bolted on, and contained an ID number. She continued through the pictures despite the churning she felt in her stomach. More pictures, of children, again in ill-fitting uniforms, with the same bracelets. Ragged, dirty hair and faces. Most looking too skinny, with calloused and bloody hands.

"Rúrik, was this you?" she asked. She was on the verge of tears, knowing this had happened to her older cousin, who she always used to play with. Who protected her from bullies....

She wiped the tears from her eyes and went back to the Chercher search bar.

Syndicalist collectivized farms Jannik Lieftur

A Viedéo result was the first hit. It was from the Sáttargrunnur*'s account. She went to it, but hit back when she realized it was the full trial that they had uploaded as part of their mission to archive as much as they could. She scrolled down and found some RÚV and STV links. One seemed to be both. It was a sub-section of the main RÚV site.
"STV/RÚV Partnership" it read.

Jannik Lieftur: A Profile

She nodded. This seemed far more easy to consume. She read through it. How Lieftur was charged with the Syndicalist Peoples' Militia and the prison camps. And how he later took control of the Syndicalist agricultural ministry.

The Syndicalist government held the rural farmer in contempt. This was based partially on an orthodox reading of revolutionary left wing ideology that held that the farmer was petty bourgeois who owned their own means of production. It was also based on practical political history. The rural swaths of Prydania traditionally supported either the Agrarian, Free Democratic, or Social Commonwealth Parties. As such the Syndicalists held the rural farmer as a political and class enemy who needed to, at best, be reeducated and at worst degraded and broken so that the rural sector of the Prydanian economy could be rebuilt in accordance with radical Synidcalist economic principals. To this end experienced farmers were re-assigned to mines and factories, hoping to "remould" them into proper Syndicalist workers, while others were left under the unforgiving Syndicalist administration in the countryside. These collectivized farming compounds were entrusted to Party loyalists who, having come from industrial trade unions, had no practical experience in the field of agricultural management. The result was a beaten, starved workforce unable to meet production goals.

Children were not to be spared either, as it was felt that working them hard in conjuncture with a heavily politicized upbringing would result in the "new Syndicalist farmer" touted by state propaganda.

There were more pictures of hungry and dirty looking children that Addý sped past. These weren't pictures of Rúrik but they might as well have been.

All of this is to say that the lot of those assigned to the collectivized farming compounds was never good per se, but things took a turn for the worst in 2008. Falling agricultural output led to a power struggle in the Syndicalist Presidium between ministers who wanted to stop collectivization, if not reverse it entirely, and hardliners who viewed such sentiments as a betrayal of the revolutionary principals. The latter, led by Lieftur, won out with the support of Thomas Nielsen. Lieftur already oversaw the prison camps and his newly-won management of the collectivized farms saw them growing closer to the prison camps in all but name. Rations for workers on the collectivized farms went down, punishments increased in harshness. Regimentation was increased.

Lieftur's trial following the end of the Civil War revealed that much of this Syndicalist ideological drive to reshape the agricultural life of the nation was in fact codified government policy. He admitted to lowering rations to starve the work force and increasing an emphasis on corporal punishment but steadfastly refused any accusation of wrongdoing...

Addý couldn't keep reading. The images. She knew...she knew Rúrik had to have had a hard time...but the pictures, they were all too much. She picked up her phone again and opened up the Twittcher app. She tagged Rúrik and began writing.

"Rúrik oh my God I had no idea please....if you need anything I'm here for you. I love you so much cousin, please tell me if you're not ok."
She almost hit send but didn't. She breathed deep.

"No" she said to herself.
"He seems fine. He seems fine" she repeated.
"If he needs anything he'll say so..."

She erased the message and typed a new one.

"Hey! Just wanted to say hi. Was cool to reconnect. Hope all is well."

"Hi Addý. Things are good. Long day, tired as all hell. How are you?"

"Good. I'm good. I'm glad you are too."

*Sáttargrunnur= Reconciliation Foundation, a body set up by the newly restored Kingdom of Prydania following the end of the Civil War. It was tasked with helping the Prydanian government and populace deal with the after-effects of Syndicalist rule.

Varúð by Sigur Rós, 6:37

Prydania · Jun 27, 2020

November 2020
Öxndal Farm
just outside of Kiojaleit, Prydania

The highway gave way to local roads as the SUV passed through Kiojaleit and into the countryside. The farm's mailbox came into view and Addý and Markthór each tensed up and grabbed their seats, much to Nicole's confusion.
"What are you two doing?"

"You'll see" Markthór warned, only for Víf to look even more confused than Nicole. Rúrik just smiled, ever so slightly...the car rolled smoothly. Markthór opened an eye and tentatively looked back at his sister, who gave him a confused look right back.

"I had the road repaved" Rúrik laughed.
"The 'bump' doesn't exist anymore."

"Is that what you two were worried about?" Víf asked.
"That was fixed a year ago!"

"You don't understand" Markthór insisted. "I lost my first babytooth because of that bump! It's been twenty years, I can still feel it!"

"And Aunt Odda gave you, what? A few Krossar for that tooth?" Rúrik asked.

"Yeah" Markthór replied.

"Well good! Part of the aid I got from the government came from Santonian aide packages. So congratulations. Your taxes helped fix the bump! And your krossar made it all the way back!"
Markthór couldn't help but laugh at that, along with everyone else.

"I guess that's fair" he replied as the SUV pulled in front of a farmhouse.
"Holy hell..." Markthór said with a smile. It was like seeing an old relatively it was...it was their house! Addý leaned forward from the back seat of the car and was speechless, save for uttering one phrase.
"It looks the same..."

"I tried" Rúrik replied as he got out of the car.

Nicole looked around. It was...well it was a farm. About what she expected, but it was nice. Everything seemed well-maintained. But then she saw her husband and her sister-in-law almost in awe.

"Oh my God...Addý... Markþór..." it was an older woman, with greying hair and a worn face that made her seem order than she was.

"Aunt Júlíetta" Markthór managed to say...he'd been excited to come back to Prydania for a visit, but he wasn't prepared to be hit this hard. Seeing the old farm house and his Aunt Júlíetta...Addý couldn't even say that, holding her hand over her mouth, both out of shock and sheer happiness. They had both known they'd see her. But seeing her in person after all this time...
Júlíetta walked up to her niece and nephew...they weren't related by blood but it didn't matter. Not at all. She hugged them both tight.
"I've missed you both so much."

Markthór teared up but managed to keep himself from breaking down, but Addý cried softly as her aunt she hadn't seen in so long...who must have been through so much...held her.

"Look at both of you" Júlíetta said as she finally let go.
"All grown up...come on, come on. Týr is down for a nap. We'll get you all settled."

"Like I said" Rúrik said as he and Markthór unloaded the bags from the SUV.
"Thank you for coming..."

Markthór smiled and then, in a fit of emotion, hugged his cousin tightly before letting go.
"Love you, bro" he said softly, before taking some of the bags in. Rúrik smiled himself, nearly chocking up as he nodded, carrying the rest of the bags in.

This Is Gallifrey: Our Childhood. Our Home by Murray Gold, 3:17

Prydania · Jul 11, 2020

Markthór and Rúrik carried the bags into the house as Júlíetta showed the guests around.

"It's so..." Markthór said in Prydanian, half to himself.

"Weird, huh?" Rúrik added.

"I mean...I can't explain it" Markthór added looking around.

"I can" Rúrik shrugged. "And it doesn't make it feel any less weird. The house was in pretty bad shape when I got it so everything had to be gutted but I still followed the old floor plan. I told myself it would be easier that way. And I guess it was but..."

"You wanted it to look like it did?"

"Yeah."

"It looks great" Markthór said with a nod. "It may all be new, but I swear I can see us playing, right around there" he said pointing to a little cove off to the side, adjacent to the family room.

"Yeah" Rúrik said again, smiling.
"That's that weird feeling. It's all new but also familiar. I wanted to keep as much as I could so I could remember but I didn't know how hard it would hit until we were finished."

"What are you two talking about?" Nicole asked in Mercanti with a smile, walking up to her husband and his cousin. She'd been with Markthór since high school, but had only managed to learn a few Prydanian words.

"Oh just handiwork stuff" Rúrik replied with a smile.

"Man talk honey" Markthór replied, "you'd find it terribly boring."

"Oh really?" Nicole replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Maybe you can tell me the next time you need me to take care of a crooked nail" she joked.
"Come on, we're all in the kitchen."

Markthór watched his wife leave the room, catching Rúrik giving him a smirk.

"Hey! My hands are my livelihood! I can't be messing around with hammers!"

Rúrik smiled, but nodded.
"I understand. Come on Mr. Basketball Star, let's get these bags settled."

"We have some Vin Mariane if you would like that" Júlíetta remarked, going through the fridge.

"Ma, settle please" I can get it Rúrik insisted, only for Víf to do it instead.

"Both of you settle" she said with a smile, passing out cold cans of Vin Mariane and Toki's. Júlíetta smiled, settling down. Still, she seemed just a bit anxious but Rúrik just smiled and took her hand. Addý wanted to speak up. Maybe she could help her aunt? She seemed settled now though.

"So" Markthór began as he popped his can of Vin Mariane, "did you rebuild the shooting range?"

"Yes!" Rúrik replied excitedly.
"I even bought a 308 rifle like father and Uncle Kvasir used to have!"

"Oh fun! I can't wait!" Addý replied, eliciting a look that could best be describes as fear and panic from her brother and cousin.

"No!" they each insisted.

"You two are just jealous that I could hit the x1 piece before either of you two!"

"Really?" Víf asked.

"Yep! Uncle Tjörvi and father would take us out when we were little and teach us to shoot. And at the far fence there would be a wire holding a x1 piece. Mark and Rúri here couldn't hit it, but I could! Just eight years old too!" she beamed proudly.

"She was quite a shot" Júlíetta replied with a smile, "even as a little girl." Addý smiled softly at her aunt before Markthór spoke up.

"Yeah, and then then trained her how to use a sniper rifle. Can you believe that?"

"What? No!" Rúrik laughed, amazed.
"This is this national conscription thing in Saintonge? They made you a sniper?"

"National Service, yea. We both served in the Saintes Militia" Markthór replied.
"Straight into it when we turned eighteen and got citizenship. Addý's skills with a rifle caught someone's attention. She could have had a career if she wanted it."

"I don't want to be a soldier" she shook her head.
"I'm enjoying the world of editing far too much. No obstacle courses" she laughed.

"I can't believe they gave you a sniper rifle" Rúrik remarked before turning to Markthór.
"Do they understand the terror they've created?"

"Be nice to your cousin" Víf said, playfully slapping her husband's arm.

"I'm serious" Rúrik replied. "I'd say they should give her a rilfe and put her on the beach and that pirate situation in Oclusia would be over like that."

"Quel tas de conneries" Nicole replied rolling her eyes before switching to Mercanti.
"Sorry...but it's really a mess. Pirates just raid towns at will. Our navy keeps them away from our shore, but it's still unsettling having all of that so close. But yes, my girl here could take out all of them!"

"So if Addý kills all the pirates...and the pirates killed the Oclusian Congress...does that make Addý queen of Oclusia?" Rúrik asked with a smile.

"I'll just stick with editing" Addý replied with a laugh.

"So Markþór" Júlíetta said, smiling proudly.
"We saw you on tv! You're quite the star!"

"No, no" Markthór replied with a sheepish smile.
"Baketball isn't football. THOSE guys and girls are the stars. I'm mildly famous. In some parts of the country" he chuckled.

"ARS Saintes*, right?" Rúrik asked.

"Yes, second round draft pick!" Markthór replied.
"Right out of university."

"Basketball is getting more popular here" Júlíetta added, "but we don't get very many of the Santonian games. We mostly see you on the RÚV highlights."

"Good ones I hope!"

"Yes" Júlíetta replied.
"I'm so happy to see my nephew."

"She brags about you all the time when she goes into town for bingo" Víf added.

"Yes I do" Júlíetta replied with a confident nod.

"Well I'm touched Aunt Júlíetta, thank you" Markthór replied.

"I used Viedéo," Rúrik said, "when I found out you were a basketball player. I wanted to see you right away."

"He was up all night watching every highlight he could find of yours, back to high school" Víf said with a smile.

"Aww" Addý remarked happily.

"Yeah! And um..." Rúrik continued.
"I saw the armband."

"Oh" Markthór said, blushing.
"It's the least I could have done."

"I was surprised to see it" Rúrik said with a slight nod.
"But I broke up over old highlights I admit."

"I was nineteen. I was just starting uni" Markthór explained. "That was after the FNU kicked the Syndies out of Austurland, you know, and me being an opinionated nineteen year old, I wanted to show my support. So I stitched a barbed cross Prydanian flag onto a sweat band."

"And he wouldn't stop wearing it" Nicole said with a smile.

"People tried to make you?" Rúrik asked.

"Saintonge has a very integrated approach to immigration. There is a desire for people to assimilate. To become Santonian. Even the parts of Saintes that are the 'Prydanian neighbourhoods' are mostly Santonian. So when I started playing uni ball...I..." he smiled a bit, holding back tears.

"I didn't know if you, Aunt Júlíetta, or Uncle Tjörvi were still alive. Everyone heard things from back home, right, but very few people knew anything about friends or family. I wanted to say 'this isn't ok, this is what I believe in.' To some people it was like I was refusing to assimilate, but others were very supportive. Most of my team was behind me. Including my coach."

Nicole grinned, kissing him on the cheek.
"I was very proud that most native Santonians who said anything were supportive, but as with anything the haters can be the loudest. I told Mark not to let them get to him."

"I had a secret weapon actually" Markthór laughed.

"Oh?" Rúrik asked.

"Two actually. The first was anonymity. I was just a nineteen year old walk-on at first. No one cared. I wasn't even a starter. I'd get a few minutes each game. Then my second weapon was I really good" he smiled.
"Come year two I was a starter and so good that the people who gave me a hard time either mostly shut up" he smirked.
"It's not even a big deal anymore. I stopped wearing it when I was drafted. Uni ball is one thing, it's all amateur. ARS Saintes though, they have sponsors and the like. They wanted to be politically neutral. The war was almost over by then anyway and I thought...I'd made my point."

"Thank you" Rúrik replied.
"You have no idea how good it felt to see you wearing that. Had I known my big cousin was doing that back then I would have..." he shook his head. He didn't want to dwell too much on his years in the camp.
"Thank you though."

"Like I said it's the least I could do" Markthór replied.

"He even got a spot on the Santonian national team!" Nicole added, happy to brag about her husband.

"Yeah!" Rúrik interjected, his brief encounter with painful memories pushed away for a moment.
"I saw that. You guys almost qualified for the Odinspyl, but there was some buillshit call!"

"Oh that nonsense" Markthór rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, we were playing Polihy in a play-in game. Winner qualified. I hit my point guard Daniel-Henri for a layup with only a few seconds left and this Polihy player just crashes into him! Knocks him on his ass! The ref didn't call it. Called it "incidental." Daniel lost his grip on the ball, it rolled out of bounds, and Polihy got the ball back and killed the clock."

"That ref should be ashamed" Júlíetta remarked.
"He was probably bribed."

"Where was he from again?" Rúrik asked.
"Syrixia, right?"

"Yeah...well technically Durban. Trust me we dug up all the dirt we could on the guy, but the result stood despite our protest."

"Well you didn't get a chance to win a gold medal but you can still try to beat me with the rifle if you're up for it" Rúrik offered.

"Sure thing" Markthór replied with a smirk.

"Oh can I have a go?" Addý asked.

Markthór and Rúrik both looked at each other and then back to her.
"Fine" they both conceded as Addý smiled happily.

*ARS Saintes= Association Royale Sportive de Saintes

big thanks to @Kyle for helping me with some background info related to Santonian basketball and the National Service

Prydania · Aug 6, 2020

"I'm going to go check on Týr" Júlíetta said, leaning into Víf.

"Alright" Víf replied with a smile as her mother-in-law got up.

"The little one should be waking up from his nap soon" Júlíetta explained to the group.

"Good idea mom, we don't want him waking up thanks to the firing range" Rúrik said with a nod.

"Oh I can't wait to see him" Nicole remarked.
"He looks so cute in all of the pics."

"Yeah" Rúrik replied with a soft smiled across his face.
"He is." Víf noticed her husband getting that look and just took his hand lightly. The touch was enough to pull Rúrik out of his contemplative state. It wasn't noticeable if you didn't know to look for it. Víf sincerely hoped her husband's cousins didn't see it. Rúrik had become well-adjusted after his liberation from the collectivized farm compound, but growing up there had left its mark. One such effect was a tendency to occasionally lapse into a contemplative state where he could seem catatonic. It happened when certain emotions become overwhelming. For Rúrik his son seemed so previous, such a thing to protect and cherish, that his own harsh childhood and what he was denied when his father was taken away and his mother was separated from him could seem like a bad storm baring down on him. Víf both hoped that her husband could find peace and that he wouldn't be embarrassed in front of his family he was so eager to reconnect with.
Rúrik seemed to snap out of it, squeezing his wife's hand just a bit as his mother vanished up the stairs to tend to his son. Markthór, Addý, and Nicole didn't seem to notice.

"Come on, let's get going. A perfect Prydanian Novemeber day. Nice and overcast. Perfect for shooting" Rúrik said happily.

Nicole followed her husband and his family outside. She had to admit this was a new experience for her. She, like most Santonians, had done her stint in the National Service. She was trained to fire a weapon, and had done so. Firearms as a hobby though? She had no experience with that. Her husband and sister-in-law didn't either, but they did have memories like that from their childhood here.

"I'll grab the rifle" Rúrik said, going into the closest to retrieve the firearm, ammo, and targets.
"Víf, show 'em out, will you?"

"Certainly" Víf replied.
"Just follow me!" she said as she led them outside. It was, in fact, a perfect Prydanian November day. Overcast, cool but not chilling, and just a bit of wind.

"Oh mon Dieu" Nicole exclaimed upon leaving the house. The "backyard" was actually a bit narrow but beyond the fence...just fields.
"This all yours?" she exclaimed.

"Yes" Víf said.
"I'm sorry the fields aren't much to look at, but we already harvested most of them last month."

"And it's just the three of you?"Nicole asked.

"Most days yes" Víf replied.
"We have help twice a week. Two local boys. Askur and Stefnir. Stefnir's parents died in the War, but Askur's family took him in. They're practically as close as brothers anyway. Askur's grandfather knew Tjörvi and Kvasir, and Rúrik reconnected. Askur's parents want the boys to get some honest work in. So we pay them to help with the heavy stuff."

Nicole nodded. It was a bit strange. In many ways Prydania seemed very peaceful. The airport was so...ordinary. Býkonsviði- what she could see of it- seemed like a normal place. Erkiengill seemed like a nice provincial town. Kiojaleit seemed nice in the way small towns often do. And this farm. The roads were freshly paved- she knew they must have been repaired from the war. Just like the farm itself. That's what stuck in head. Repaired from the war. She wasn't sure what she expected from Prydania. Not a warzone to be sure, but she was taken aback by how normal and pleasant people seemed to be, to have endured such a tragedy.
Rúrik was an example. Markthór had been very interested in the events of the War. Mostly to know if his family was ok. He'd never talked about it, but some of it disturbed him. She had resisted prying. And Addý, Addý tried very hard to avoid talking about any of it.
Then one day she found her husband smoking a ciagr. He only ever smoked cigars when his team won something special.

"Jannik Lieftur was killed today. Firing squad" he said. He was smiling. Nicole knew the name, knew he was someone of importance in the Syndicalist government. She even knew he was tied to a number of questionable things, but seeing her husband celebrating a man's death like he'd just won a championship bothered her enough to ask questions for the first time. And Markthór had answers. Specifically he had pictures and testimonies from the trial.
Nicole had to keep from crying as her husband showed her these things. She'd heard of the War. She knew it was very dire. She knew that better than most Santonians, having married into a Prydanian refugee family. She didn't know this though- child labour camps, starved people, mass graves- she didn't know it was this bad.

"Jannik Lieftur did this to my aunt and uncle, and my cousin" Markthór had told his wife.
"If Rúrik, Uncle Tjörvi, and Aunt Júlíetta are dead then it was Jannik Lieftur who killed them. I don't like celebrating a man's death, mon amour, but this is the exception."

Rúrik ended up being alive. So was Júlíetta. She remembered how solemn Markthór, Addý, Odda, and Kvasir were to hear that Tjörvi was dead though.
And maybe....maybe it was because she had a better idea of what Rúrik survived that she'd paid attention to him since meeting him at the air port. The scar on his wrist. How he'd becomes overcome at times. It had just happened in the kitchen, as a matter of fact.
And yet despite that....despite that he had a son. A wife. He worked a farm. Sometimes with the help of two boys who were likewise effected by the war. Who none the less showed up to do an honest day's work.

Nicole didn't know what to expect from Prydania. And what she found was that phrase again; repaired from the war. These people had endured so much. And yet they did their best to move forward. Even with the scars.

"Hey Nicole" Addý called out.
"You were zoning out a bit."

"Sorry" she smiled.
"I just...you don't see this much uninterrupted land in Saintes. Honey, Addý, did you two ever work the farm?"

"Nah" Markthór shook his head.
"We were too young. I was getting to the age I was going to start, but we had to flee."

"I used to come out when pabbi and Uncle Tjörvi were ready to come in. I always had flowers for them" Addý smiled.
"They loved this place. And worked hard."

"Kvasir and Odda are welcome anytime" Víf said with a smile.

"They can handle pictures" Markthór replied. "I think pabbi could probably manage it, but mom...she'd lose it. And pabbi isn't coming back to visit if she can't."

"She feels awful though" Addý continued.
"I set up video calling for her, so she could talk to Thorbjörn in the hospital and since then she's been over the moon talking to you, Rúrik, and Júlíetta. Coming back in person though would be too painful."

Víf nodded, understandingly. Though the mention of Thorbjörn Höjsleth caught her ear. She knew that the Höjsleth siblings and her husband's family in Saintonge had become close. She didn't say anything though. It was rude to ask about people like that, out of the blue. Besides, last she heard he was recovering well.

"Sorry about that!" Rúrik called out.
"Had to find the targets. They were with the fishing gear for some reason."
He had a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, was carrying a black plastic box in one hand, and had a number of wire stands and paper cutouts in the other.
"No idea how they got there."

"You moved the gun stuff to the fishing closet when you were replacing the floor boards in the main closet, remember?" Víf said with a smile.

"Right" Rúrik replied.
"Anyway we're all set."

"What? No x1 piece?" Addý asked, sounding a bit disappointment.

"Nah, picked these up. Real targets. See? We can compare scores!"

"You only bought those so you and Markthór could hit something" Addý teased.

"Well" Markthór retorted as Rúrik set up the targets, "looks like bullseye is just a bit smaller than a x1 piece. So we'll see if you can back up that big talk."

"I'm younger" Addý smirked.
"My National Service training is fresher then yours."

"And you both haven't shot a gun since getting out of it" Rúrik chuckled.
"So let's see how expensive government training stacks up against regular practice."

Addý and Markthór both watched carefully as Rúrik showed them how to load the gun. The last weapons they had fired had been Santonian military rifles. A hunting rifle wasn't as dangerous, but it was a different type of gun. And it paid to pay attention to how to load a new type of weapon if you were going to use it safely.

Rúrik aimed the rile down the long distance to the far fence, to one of the ten targets he'd put up. He felt calm, he felt like his stance was good, and he pulled the trigger. The centre piece of the first target was blown away.

"Holy crap!" Markthór exclaimed.
"Bro...how'd you get that good?"

Rúrik smiled.
"Like I said, practice. You remember pabbi and Uncle Kvasir always having to shoot the wolves, bears, and foxes away right? Same thing today."

That was true. He had plenty of practice shooting wildlife that encroached on the farm. That wasn't all though. His father and uncle had taught him and his cousins how to shoot, before they had to flee and collectivization happened. No matter what the Syndicalists did to him. No matter how hard they made him work, no matter how raw his hands got, no matter how hungry he got...they could never take away his time with his family. Including learning how to fire a hunting rifle. All those years as a prisoner on the collectivized farm. From a small child to a teenager, to a young adult...he imagined himself shooting the man who took his father away. Each day, week, month, year- they all put distance between his lessons on how to shoot and his present, but he always recounted the lessons to keep them fresh. How you loaded. How you stood. How you aimed, and calmed yourself, and fired. He did this over and over. While he was forced to work until he was nearly ready to collapse, while he falling asleep, while he was forced to endure mind numbing lectures on Syndicalist economic theory.
He never got the chance to shoot the man who took his father away, but that exercise...that fantasy...trained his muscle memory. He remembered the first time he'd picked up a rifle after he'd been liberated. He hadn't held one at that point since he was a little kid. And his muscle memory and aim came naturally.
He wouldn't tell his cousins though. He didn't want to burden them with his stuff. Instead he just aimed the gun at the ground for safety reasons.
"Who's next?"

"Give it" Markthór answered. He was at least going to get a chance in before Addý showed him up.
"Look, I may not get daily target practice, but I do aim things for a living" he said with a goofy smile.

"Oh my God, you're just digging your grave deeper" Nicole said, teasing her husband.
"Your cousin just blew the centre of that target out and the Army tried to recruit your sister as a sharpshooter. You're already screwed in this competition."

"First rule of trash talk" Markthór replied.
"Get it all in when you can."
He aimed the weapon and fired. The second target fluttered, indicating it had been hit. Rúrik put his hand over his eyes and stared down.

"Third inner most ring it looks like" Rúrik replied.
"Not bad bro, gotta say."

"See, that's how I am" Markthór said as he handed the rifle to Addý.
"This is all just warm-up. A few more practice shots and I'll be hitting bullseyes all day" he chuckled, pantomiming a basketball jump shot.

Addý chuckled at her older brother's goofiness as she took the rifle and aimed. She closed her eyes and smelt the air. It hadn't changed. All this time, and it smelt the same. She swore she could hear her father and her Uncle Tjörvi giving her advice. That one was alive in Saintonge and the other was sadly no longer among the living didn't matter to her in that moment. She could hear them both. Feel them both as they'd help her grip the rifle as a little girl. She aimed not for the third target, but for the first one. The one Rúrik had gotten a bullseye on. She pulled the trigger and it took a moment for everyone else to figure out what happened.

"I didn't see anything" Víf replied, looking down at the targets.

"You will, you just need to get closer" Addý said with a smile that managed to be both innocent and proud at the same time.

"Man down range" Markthór called out as he made his way from where they were all standing to the far end. Addý kept the rifle aimed at the ground as Markthór examined the third target.

"I don't see anything sis!" he called back. Could she have missed? No! She was a natural shot! Still, the third target was pristine.

"Look at the first target!" Addý called out.

The first target? Markthór was a bit confused but checked it out anyway. At first he didn't see it. Just Rúrik's bullseye. But then he saw it...
"Oh Goddamnit!" he exclaimed. The evidence was there. Rúrik's shot had left a hole at the centre, but there was another shot. Just along the north ridge of the hole Rúrik had made, there was another indention in the paper. It could only mean one thing- Addý had fit the bullet through Rúrik's bullseye almost perfectly!
"Bro, she bullseyed your bullseye."

"Way to go Addý!" Víf called out.

"That's my girl!" Nicole said, following suit.

Rúrik exchanged a smile with Addý before he began to chuckle.
"You're a damn Valkýr!"

"I had good teachers" Addý said softly. She waved her brother back. She was keen to let Víf and Nicole have a go.

Valkyrjur by Gealdýr, 4:16

Prydania · Aug 7, 2020

"Outer rim" Víf called out, smiling even as she sighed in disappointment.

"I thought everyone here could shoot" Nicole remarked.

"I'm from Erkiengill" Víf laughed.
"We didn't even have a gun in the house growing up. Certainly not after the Syndies took over. You could probably shoot better then me, Nicole" she said with a smile.

"I haven't touched a gun since my National Service" Nicole replied as she took the rifle. She aimed, squinted, and fired.

"Not bad" Rúrik remarked.
"I think you did better than Markþór!"

"No way!" Nicole laughed, looking down.
"No, you're right! Wow honey, what do you have to say about that?"

"That I'm just getting warmed up. You'll all see" Markthór chuckled.

"You you grew up in Erkiengill itself?" Nicole asked after handing her husband the gun so he could try to make good on his boast.

"Yeah" Víf replied. "My father is a general practitioner. My mother stayed at home to take care of my brothers and I."

"Oh you have siblings?"

"Yes. Erik manages warehouses in Keris, and Edvard moved out east, working in hospitality."

Nicole nodded with a smile. She was about to say she was glad both of Víf's brothers survived the war but she stopped herself. It seemed in bad taste, even if she meant well.

"You mentioned you were a grad student in Beaconsviði when the war ended."

"Yes, that's right. Social services. It seemed like a career where I could do some good."

"Moving to the farm must have been a huge adjustment then..."

Víf smiled.
"It was. I won't lie. Still..."
She looked over at Rúrik as he laughed with his cousins.
"You go where your heart takes you."

"That's very true" Nicole replied, looking over at Markthór.

"Well" Víf began, "how did you end up with a poor refugee kid?" she asked with a smile.

"High school sweethearts" Nicole said with a blush and chuckle.
"We fell in love, and never looked back. My parents were never against me dating Mark, but they were a bit unsure at first. Then they met him, and he was just so polite! They've liked him ever since."

"That's so sweet" Víf said just as Addý came on over.

"Whatcha talking about?" she asked, beaming with pride.

"Well you look happy" Víf remarked.

"I'm still the best shot of the three of us" she remarked, making guns with both hands to aim up at the sky for a moment.
"But seriously, what are you two talking about? It's all hockey and basketball over there and I need a break."

"We're talking about boys" Nicole said teasingly.

"Sharing stories about how we met each of them" Víf added, pointing to Markthór and Rúrik who were deep in a conversation about the still early hockey season.

"Ugh...more romance..." Addý remarked.

"You're never going to let me live down that Gaston date will you?" Nicole asked.

"I just have the worst luck with romance. You could set me up with the nicest guy in the world and he'd turn into a jerk."

"The problem" Nicole replied, "is that you keep your cards too close to your chest. I don't even know what type of guy you like."

Addý sighed. She always felt like she had to be guarded about this stuff. For any reason. Either the friendly teasings from other people about her crushes got to her more than it should, or she felt she just missed her chances, being too shy for her own good. There was one guy. One guy who she still held out hope for in a way. Part of her thought she missed her chance with him. Another part thought she should just let it go and focus on other guys. Maybe she'd have better luck with men if she wasn't partially holding out for one in particular.
"I like nice guys" Addý replied to her sister-in-law's statements.
"But that's enough of that. We're not going to turn this into chatting about my love life" she chuckled.

"So fishing gear, huh?" Markthór asked.

"Yeah, it's good to get out to Erkiengill Lake" Rúrik remarked.
"You should come, before you head home."

"I tried fishing once" Markthór replied.
"I sat there for three hours! Didn't get a single bite."

"Well that's your problem" Rúrik remarked.

"What is?"

"You were trying to catch fish."

"Well yeah" Markthór replied.
"Isn't that the point?"

"Strangely no" Rúrik said shaking his head.
"It's about having a good time, a nice relaxing time. With a beer and your friends. Or family" he smiled.
"It's just a bonus if you happen to catch one."

"I think I could do that" Markthór replied. He liked the sound of that. He could spend some real one on one time with Rúrik. Catching up both involved acknolwedging what Rúrik had been through and ignoring it like it didn't happen. Markthór wanted to give him space. He'd open up if he wanted to, but maybe a nice secluded fishing trip was the excuse he was looking for to do it? Or maybe he'd just have a nice fishing trip with his cousin. Both seemed nice.

"Yeah I think you could too" Rúrik said with a smile.
"The only thing my big cousin can't do is make oatmeal properly. Fishing isn't oatmeal so you should be fine" he chuckled.

Markthór smiled.
"Minn*" he said to his cousin.

"Minn" Rúrik replied back, grinning as his heart fluttered. Having Markthór and Addý back, even for a week....it was like a dream. Even stupid oatmeal arguments seemed special.
"Oh look who it is!" he added. He saw his mother holding his son on the back pourch.

"Come meet your second cousin bro" Rúrik smiled, gently punching Markthór on the shoulder.

"Put the gun away" Júlíetta said to Rúrik as Týr was passed from his grandmother to mother.

"Yes móðir" Rúrik said with a smile as he cleared the gun of amo and set it down on its side, the barrel facing outward into the empty fields.
He then came up to his wife, and smiling looking at his son. His son...he stuck his finger out at the baby, who grabbed his father's finger. Rúrik couldn't help but laugh.
"Hey my guy. I have some people for you to meet. This is your cousin Markþór, your cousin Addý and your cousin Nicole. They came all the way from Saintonge to say hi."
The baby looked up with wide blue eyes at the new faces and giggled softly.

"Oh Rúrik, Víf, he's adorable" Nicole said happily, her own eyes lighting up.

Addý likewise fawned over the little one.
"Hey Týr, how's it going little guy?"

Markthór smiled at the baby, and looked over at his cousin and his wife. Whatever issues Rúrik did or didn't want to share, he had a wife. A child. He was proud of him. He couldn't imagine what it was like to claw back a life after what he was put through, but he did. And it made Markthór the happiest guy on the planet to see.

*Minn= mine

Prydania · Nov 14, 2020

The trip to Toftir Lake was mostly quiet. Rúrik had endeavoured to let his cousins sleep in- however sleeping in for a farmer still seemed early to city sorts.

"Hey you ready?" he'd knocked on Marthór's door.

"Um...yeah..." Makthór had replied. It was still dark out but the clock read 7:30 am. What was most shocking was Rúrik's voice. He sounded quite chipper!

"He'll be right there!" Nicole replied giving her husband a smirk.

"You're an athlete" Rúrik chuckled as the Midland SUV rolled down the rural roads.
"You're supposed to be used to waking up early!"

"Lies and slander" Markthór chuckled, rubbing his eyes a bit as the sun began to peak over the horizon.
"Games here, they come on at seven or eight at night yeah?"

"Yeah" Rúrik shrugged.

"Well it's the same in Saintonge. Games are on in prime time. Gotta get that massive tv audience. So my workday ends around 11, maybe midnight. Then we hang out as a team. And crash around four or five in the morning. Then we wake up around afternoon and it's onto our next game. Rinse and repeat."

"Wow pro athletes promoting such an unhealthy lifestyle! Shame on you" Rúrik teased, causing Marthór to punch his shoulder playfully as he drove. It felt so good to be with his cousin again...

"Yeah well Mark may be sleepy but I'm chipper and ready to go" Addý announced happily as she poked her head between her brother and cousin. Markthór uttered an exaggerated grown and then stuck his tongue out at his sister.

Addý, though, truly was chipper. And excited. So much so that the travel lag from Saints and excitement had worked in a weird way, allowing her a nice sleep in her old childhood room while also ensuring she was up nice and early.

"I've never seen anyone so excited to go fishing" Rúrik laughed.

"Hey" Marthór replied.
"Weren't you the one extolling the virtues of fishing?"

"Yeah as a relaxing time to chill out, but Addý here seems like she's really excited!"

"What? It's been a while since I fished! Or are you two just worried I'll beat you like I did with the rifle?"

"You don't beat anyone in fishing" Markthór laughed.

"That's what losers say" Addý replied teasingly.
In truth she was a late addition to the outing. It was between Nicole, Víf, and Aunt Júlíetta, or Markthór and Rúrik. She liked her sister in law. She liked her cousin's wife. She dearly missed her Aunt. And yet the prospect of a "girls day" where her dating troubles were dredged up was not her idea of a good time. She would rather go with her her brother and reconnect with her cousin.

"Why so early though?" Markthór asked.
"It's fishing not hunting."

"You don't necessarily need to be there early for fishing but it's the weekend" Rúrik explained. "You're going to get a lot of people on the water. Figured we could have the lake to ourselves for a bit."

The car rolled up to the south shore of Toftir Lake, with the freshly risen sun now over the horizon. The crisp morning fall air was invigorating for both Markthór and Addý. An old childhood smell locked in the depths of their minds suddenly released.

"Let's see" Rúrik said as he went through the equipment in the trunk.
"Three rods, bait, and the most important thing...the beer!"

The three found a dock with a sign that indicated it was public property.
"Don't worry" Rúrik replied.
"We're good here."

Markthór set up three chairs as Rúrik removed his jacket and opened the tackle box. Sitting on top of the lures and hooks was a pile of nicotine patches.

"Oops" Rúrik remarked, blushing a bit and pocketing them.
"Thought I'd taken care of those."

"You smoke?" Markthór asked.

"Not since we learned that Víf was pregnant" Rúrik replied with a timid smile, both proud of his achievement of going a year without a cigarette and embarrassed at the habit in the first place.

"I noticed the anti-smoking posters at the airport" Addý remarked.

"Government's trying to cut down on smoking" Rúrik shrugged.
"Probably for the best you know. It's a nasty habit. I didn't realize how bad it made me feel until I stopped putting that stuff into my lungs" he added as he sat down in one of the chairs and cast his line into the serene water.

"Why'd you start?" Markthór asked, and Addý immediately shot him a look. The fucking idiot. He couldn't be that dense. She looked over at Rúrik, worried. Indeed, he seemed to stare out at the lake for a moment before he collected himself.

"In the camp" he said softly.
"Some guys in the know could get them smuggled in. And..." he paused for a moment and seemed lost as he stared out at the lake. He seemed lost but serene, but the truth was he trying his hardest not to cry. He wasn't going to put his cousins through that. So he managed to burry the urge to break down and said "...it was a way to relieve stress. Trust me, you're not picky in a situation like that."

Markthór just nodded for a moment. He should have known better but the question just came out. He didn't know what to say other than "ah...well I'm happy you quit, bro."
Rúrik gave him a soft smile and a nod.

"Thanks."

Markthór took his seat and sighed slightly. He hadn't meant harm, and he was sure his cousin knew that but still...he decided to just focus on preparing his own fishing line.

Addý stood there for a moment longer though. She'd wanted to hug Rúrik ever since she saw what had happened to people in the camps he was kept at. She had stopped herself from becoming too forward though. Rúrik would speak about it on his own time. And yet seeing her cousin react to her brother's comment like that...she wanted to hug him all over again.

Rúrik seemed pleasant though, as he looked up over his shoulder at his younger cousin.
"Come on, sit down. I'll help you if you need help with your line" he said with a smile.

She beamed at that and sat. Rúrik occasionally teased her about becoming a "city girl" but when it mattered? He was still her cousin who would do anything for her. After all of these years, after the trauma of her and her family having to flee, after all Rúrik had been through- that was still true.

Addý took her seat as Rúrik helped her with a hook and bait.
"There you go" he smiled as she cast her line.

The three sat in silence for a few moments. How awkward it was depended. Markthór tried to think of something- anything- to say to push his question further away than it was. Yet despite his mind racing- or perhaps because of it- he couldn't.

Addý wasn't sure what to say either, but she also wondered if Rúrik wanted to talk?

It was Rúrik himself who broke the silence though.
"Anyone up for a beer?"

"Sure!" Markthór said happily, earning a bit of a surprised look from Addý.
"Like I said in the car, I have a weird sleep schedule. Beer at eight in the morning isn't a big deal."

"It still seems early" Addý replied.

"Normally yes" Rúrik grinned.
"But fishing's always the exception!"

"But we're driving back..."

"Trust me there's not that much beer. We'll be plenty sober by the time we call it a day."
Rúrik cracked a can of Gull beer open as Markthór began to drink his.
"The key" Rúrik added, "is not to go too fast. So you don't get too drunk to reel in a line!"

Addý chuckled and took a can herself, cracking it open before she sipped slowly.

"So how's the town?" Markthór asked after a brief moment.

"It's nice" Rúrik replied.
"I didn't see it for eleven years but I've seen it getting better since the war ended. The school is gone though..."

"Oh no" Addý replied, a bit quiet. She had been looking forward to the old school they'd all attended before they'd all been torn apart.

"Yeah..." Rúrik replied.
"The Kanadians helped build a new one that just opened. It's nice. Týr will like it in a few years I think" he smiled.
"Still, I remembered being so sad, seeing the old square in such bad shape. And things are better now. A lot of repairs, but it's different. I donno. It's a good thing but I miss some of what I remember."

"Are...are you doing ok Rúrik?" Addý asked. It was the closet she'd come to asking him about his experiences during the Syndicalist takeover.

"I..." he began, "I don't know" he smiled with an assuring chuckle.
"Like I said it's good. Things are fixed or getting fixed. I just..." he paused, unsure if he should continue. He likely wouldn't have normally. He loved Líf and his mother and he never told them this. Yet being with his cousins again had enough of an impact that he just said it...

"I spent eleven years in that camp. Wishing every day that things could just go back. To having pabbi back. To having Uncle Kvasir and Aunt Odda back. To having you two back. Being able to go to town, and school. Real school. Like we used to. I just wanted to go back..." he said with a voice that seemed like it was trying very hard to be calm.
"...and now that I'm out and that nightmare is over things are changing."

He broke the awkward silence with a chuckle.
"But you know...I just need to get over that. Things are getting better. I just need to learn to move with it."

"I mean maybe you don't need to go so fast" Addý remarked softly.

"Addý..." Markthór tried to interject. He'd taken his own approach to what their cousin had lived through. It was to not say anything and let him come out with it when he wanted to. Sure he made a bone-headed remark with the smoking but he didn't want to force Rúrik to talk.

Addý, however, continued. Rúrik opening up had given her the idea that maybe she could broach the subject.

"Markthór and I love you. We always have. I remember in Saintes, I would cry because I missed you, Uncle Tjörvi, and Aunt Júlíetta so much. Mark won't admit it but he did too" she smiled.

"Nah I'll admit it..." Markthór replied looking down at his beer can. "I cried. I also..." he paused.
"I...I would run searches for you three all the time. No one knew...all I could hope was that you'd be saved somewhere and were on some refugee list. Or...if the worst happened...that maybe your names would be reported and we'd at least have closure. I searched you guys every day..."

"You did?" Rúrik asked softly.

"Yeah...you did?" Addý asked. She never knew Markthór had done that.

"I...I've never told anyone I did that" Markthór said quietly.

"Well..." Rúrik said back, looking at his cousin as his cousin continued to stare at his beer can, "what I told you both I'd never told anyone else before myself."

Addý took his hand.
"I just want you to know that if you need to slow down, if the world seems to be going too fast and you need to talk about things, your cousins are here for you. We love you."

Rúrik smiled and stood as he looked down at his cousins.
"Come on, up" he said.

"You're not serious bro..." Markthór said with a smile of his own but Addý stood up.

"Don't miss the group hug!"

Markthór laughed and stood up, embracing his sister and his cousin as they hugged each other. It was hard for him not to cry, at least a bit. Rúrik was practically a brother to them, and then one night...they had to leave. Everything was gone. Everything was different. And how it must have been for Rúrik...

"I love you guys" Rúrik choked up.
"Thank you...for not forgetting me. And for coming back, even for just a little bit..."

"Never going to forget you" Markthór whispered.

"Yeah, you're our cousin" Addý added.
"We always loved you..."

Rúrik choked up and hugged back. He never knew they'd escaped to Saintonge. They were just...gone.
And then he'd heard all about what their lives had become. While he'd been kept a prisoner. And yet despite having escaped the war and the hardship- they never forgot him. He cried softly.

None of them knew how long they embraced each other on the dock...but eventually, be it because of emotional needs being met or just getting tired, they released. Smiling at each other with tear soaked eyes and hearts that were at least a bit unburdened.

"Heh" Markthór said, "let's sit down before our sobbing scares the fish away.

"So" Rúrik remarked.
"You were searching the internet for me? Is that how you found the RÚV article I was in?"

"No actually" Markthór answered.
"I was in an all day team meeting welcoming rookies. I couldn't do my searches. Addý texted me the article. She found it."

"Oh?" Rúrik asked.

"Yeah" Addý replied, blushing a bit. "I stumbled across it looking for something else, and I saw your name" her mood changed from slightly embarrassed at the mention of her finding the article to excitement.
"They interviewed you and said Aunt Júlíetta were alive! I couldn't believe it!"

"Heh" Rúrik chuckled as he noticed Markthór jerking as he caught a fish.

"Come on, reel it in Mark" Rúrik urged as he and Addý pulled dropped their rods to urge Markthór on.
He managed it too, triumphantly exclaiming "no fishing in fourteen years and I catch one!" as his cousin and sister laughed.

Rúrik found it interesting though. The article the RÚV had interviewed him for was regarding the vigil being held in town for Thorbjörn Höjsleth. He wasn't just from Kiojaleit, he was someone Rúrik knew from his childhood. Markthór and Addý knew him too. It would make sense that Addý might want to keep up on news of his condition, but why would she have stumbled on a RÚV article? Surely there would have been plenty of Santonian news outlets to get information from...
He wasn't complaining of course. That article was how he and his cousins had reconnected. And now Markthór was still bragging about the fish, but Rúrik wondered what Addý was doing with a deep dive on Thorbjörn Höjsleth.

He shrugged. It was just a fleeting thought.

Prydania · Nov 21, 2020

The cool November air's chill was lessened somewhat as the sun fully emerged. Markthór's catch had been joined by one from Rúrik, and the lake itself began to attract some traffic. The occasional fishing boat was seen here or there.

"You ever head out onto the water? Maybe think about getting a boat?" Markthór asked.

"I've thought about it, but I'd need a hitch for the suv, plus the cost of the thing" Rúrik shrugged.

"The farm is doing well though, right?" Addý asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah" Rúrik replied.
"The co-operative really helped in that too. We're doing well."

"So treat yourself" Addý insisted.
"You deserve something cool."

"I have a kid at home" Rúrik replied.
"I won't have time for something cool for a long while" he chuckled.
"God, this is the first time I've been finishing since Týr was born" added.
"So maybe I'll get a boat in a few years, when the lad's old enough to help with it. It can be a bonding thing."

Markthór smiled, but blushed. His cousin's son was a cute one, but he knew the look Nichole gave the kid. She'd be wanting to have the talk about kids of their own even more now. He sighed and shrugged to himself. If Rúrik could handle being a dad with not just what he had been through, but also running a farm then surely he could make it work as a pro athlete.

"Bon Dieu,*" Addý cursed in Santonian, cutting off Markthór's train of thought. Both her brother and her cousin looked at her. Markthór was a bit more amused, and Rúrik was just confused.

"It's a Santonian swear," Markthór explained to Rúrik with a laugh, before addressing his sister.
"What's wrong?"

"I felt one nibbling on my line, but it swam away before I could really reel it in!" Addý replied, sounding a bit frustrated. It was Rúrik who helped calm her.

"Hey, like I said. Fishing's about a good time with people" Rúrik replied.
"We could go a whole day without catching a thing and it's still a time well spent."

Addý grinned, feeling a bit better, but she still teased her brother and cousin.
"Easy to say to poor old me when you each caught a fish!"

"Nah it's fine. We'll just tell Aunt Jú..." Markthór began before abruptly stopping himself. He was going to tease his sister and say that they'd just have to tell Aunt Júlíetta, Víf, and Nichole that they didn't get fish because of Addý's poor fishing showing, but he realized implying his Aunt- who starved in a work camp for eleven years- might not get food might be in poor taste. So he stopped what he was saying, and just coughed a bit awkwardly.

"Huh?" Rúrik asked.

"Oh...nothing," Markthór replied.
"Lost what I was going to say. Something about good cooking."

"You've taken one too many basketballs to the head," Rúrik teased. Markthór laughed, and thought of a way to change the discussion. He looked around a bit and smiled.

"I never told you Rúrik, I almost met the King of Prydania!" he exclaimed.

Addý laughed.
"Oh yes, this..." she smiled.

"You almost met the King?" Rúrik asked, in shock. He remembered when King Tobias- back before he was the King- visited the collectivized farming compound after it was liberated. It was the last days of the war then, and he remembered being scared. He had no idea what would become of him. If he would even get his farm back, where he would live, what he would do...but he heard the Prince talk to everyone that day. He didn't say much, but he promised they'd do right by each of them. That things would be ok.
It didn't alleviate his worry but then they returned the farm to him. And when the war was over they announced that there would be programs to help people like him- freed from camps after decades of imprisonment- to learn how to apply for aid and how to do basic things like manage accounts. He felt scared then too, but he remembered Prince Tobias' words- everything would be ok. So he trusted that. And he not only got the knowledge and money he needed to rebuild his family's farm, he met Víf. The love of his life. He was terrified of the future, but the King had given him the confidence to be brave. And he'd landed on his feet....

"How'd you almost manage that?" he asked his cousin, hearing he almost met the King.

"Well," Markthór began, "the King and his wife, the Empress of Norsia, they honeymooned in Saintonge yeah? Well we're in the middle of a road trip through the south and I get a call from someone in the government. The King of Prydania was coming on his honeymoon, and he was meeting prominent members of the Prydanian immigrant community for a nice dinner. They wanted to know if I could come!"

"Wow," Rúrik replied, smiling at the thought that his cousin was important enough to get such an honour.
"What happened though?" he added, remembering that Markthór had mentioned he almost met the King of Prydania.
"Did you get lost on the way to the airport or something?"

"No!" Markthór chuckled in a faux-defensive tone.
"Two days before the dinner I came down with the flu. And the worst part is..."

Addý began to chuckle.

"...the worst part is" Markthór began to chuckle himself, "is that league rules state that all injuries or illnesses that affect lineup changes need to be announced. So not even five minutes after I'm diagnosed my picture with "OUT WITH FLU" is plastered on every Santonian sports website and talkshow!" he shook his head laughing.

"And then not even a minute after that the government guy calls. Tells me they're not going to let the King of Prydania get sick on his honeymoon. So there you have it. My almost-brush with royalty," he continued to laugh. Addý was also giggling.

"He was so sweet though," she added.
"Mom, Nichole, and I tended to him. He acted like he was dying, but we pulled him through!"

"Worst-timed illness of my life," Markthór smirked.

"Yeah bro, but any of them actually well timed?" Rúrik replied.
"Still, I'm sorry you didn't get to go meet the King. That sucks."

Markthór nodded and shrugged.
"Hey stuff happens right? What can ya do? Besides. I ended up passing it to Addý and she had to cancel a date. So that was a well timed illness."

"Asshole," Addý replied, tossing a spare lure at him across the dock.

"Hey sis, I'm just kidding, jeeze," Markthór replied. Rúrik didn't say anything, but he took note. Addý was a pretty girl. He was shocked to find out she didn't have someone already, or to find out her dating record was apparently a butt of some jokes.

Still, the mood got better quickly as the three caught up some more. Rúrik explained the Góðajörð co-operative to them and what it meant for his business. This turned to Addý and Markthór telling Rúrik all about Saintes, and how their mother and father- Rúrik's Uncle Kvasir and Aunt Odda- were doing. The conversation was only interrupted by Addý eventually catching a fish, and adding it to the icebox.

"I miss Uncle Kvasir and Aunt Odda," Rúrik mused as his cousins told him stories about them since their relocation to Saintes.
"I understand why it's too painful to come back," he added.
"But I didn't want to hang up after we facetimed," he admitted. "I'd love to see them in person again some day."

"Well," Addý began, "you can come to Saintes any time you like. I know it's busy for you, especially with Týr, but we'd all love to have you, him, and Víf if you can find the time."

"Heh," Rúrik replied.
"I'd like that."

"Yeah," Markthór replied.
"I'll show you around. We'll have a blast." He then shifted a bit in his chair.
"We got any food? I'm starting to get hungry."

"Huh it's noon," Rúrik replied, looking at his watch.
"Nah, just the beer. And the Santonian candy," he replied, taking a Vanceunebrock out of a backpack at his feet and starting to much on it.
"Thanks, by the way. This stuff is delicious!"

"Think nothing of it," Markthór replied.
"But I need something more substantial. Is there a place nearby?"

"Yeah actually," Rúrik pointed over his shoulder, up the road.
"You take that road to the left. It's like a five minute walk but there's a stand. They do burgers, sausages, and pop. But it's noon, it's probably crowded."

Indeed, the docks on either side of them were full. They no longer had the lake to themselves.

"It'll be good to stretch my legs," Markthór insisted as he stood up.

"You need help?" Addý asked.

"Nah I'll manage all the food. I'll get a burger. You two?"

"Burger," Addý replied.

"Sausage," Rúrik added.

"Ok, and drinks?"

"Bro, they're just gonna have Toki's," Rúrik chuckled.

"Ok. Three Spicy Cherry Toki's it is" Markthór laughed as he walked off.

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Addý called after him. Her brother knew damn well she didn't like cherry.

"You need any money?" Rúrik called out.

"Nah...I brought my krossar!" Markthór replied. Three lunches and three drinks might be a bit much for him, but he was excited. It had dawned on him as more people began arriving in the lake, that he was truly back in Prydania. Not the airport, not with his family. He was out and about, in the country of his birth. He hadn't truly been that in....fourteen years. He was excited to just do something as simple as order some food. Had his Prydansk picked up a Santonian accent? Would people be able to tell? Or would he fit right in? It was an exciting thing he wanted to find out. So he strolled, only feeling a bit tipsy from the beer he'd been drinking for a few hours, making his way off to find lunch.

"I hope he doesn't get lost," Rúrik said, as he watched his cousin walk off.

"Don't worry. He has his phone," Addý replied.
"Worst case we find him confused at the lake's park visitor centre like a lost kid," she chuckled.

"Heh" Rúrik laughed, before trailing off. He wanted to ask Addý about her relationship issues. Not to tease her, but...well she had helped him. Not just earlier, but when they first reconnected. They'd messaged each other back and forth, and she'd taken to defending people like him on social media. He and Markthór had defended her from bullies when she was a shy kid way back when, but now she was protective of him. It touched him. Surely if she helped him, he could help her? He wasn't sure how to bring it up though.

"I'm sorry about your last date, that sucks," he said. It was all he could think of to say.

Addý shrugged.
"Nichole is right. She doesn't know who to set me up with. So it's not her fault it was a dud."
That also seemed shocking to Rúrik. Addý seemed close with her sister-in-law.

"Well..." Rúrik began, "I don't know how else to say this. My relationship track record isn't really, I guess, normal by your standards. So maybe I don't know what I'm talking about by why not tell Nichole what sort of guy you like?"

Addý sighed and grit her teeth for a moment.
"Come on cous," she muttered.
"I got away from the hen house because I didn't want to talk about this."

That made Rúrik chuckle.
"It's true, the chickens do cluck less than mom and Víf," he smiled.
"But I don't want to pry. Sorry. I just wanted to see if I could help. We don't need to talk about it though. Forget I brought it up."

"It's whatever," Addý mumbled. She looked over at her cousin. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He wasn't making fun of her.
"The problem isn't the type of guy. The problem is that there's only one guy, and I can't get over him," she said, her heart fluttering. She hadn't told her brother that. Or her sister-in-law. Or any of her friends. She just sat there and stared ahead into the water a bit...

"Oh," Rúrik replied.
"I um, I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It's..." Addý began. She had no idea why her brain was making her say it. She could see it all happening, like an out of body experience.
"Thorbjörn." Her mouth clamped shut as soon as she said the name, and blushed.

Rúrik had to take a moment.
"Wait... Thorbjörn Höjsleth?"

"Don't say it so loud!" Addý protested.

"I said it in a normal voice," Rúrik said, meekly defending himself.

"Look...um..." Addý looked over her shoulder. No sign of Markthór.
"What do you know about him?"

"We all went to school with him, back when we were little," Rúrik began. "He stayed at our place a few times, we stayed at his place. Whenever our parents needed someone else to look after everyone. You know how it was back then."

"Yeah," Addý nodded.

"Then, well...everything changed when you all left," Rúrik continued. "After the war, and after liberation, I saw his name in a RÚV article. A Prydanian refugee became a Santonian NA deputy. I recognized him. It was cool. I thought he was dead actually. So it was nice to see he was doing ok for himself. The next thing I heard about was the Ducrijeka stuff and the stabbing and all that..."

"Ok well..." Addý began, "dad was the one who made the decision for us to seek asylum in Saintonge, when collectivization began. I know it seemed like we all vanished, but dad arranged for us to be picked up by a Santonian diplomatic van."
Addý was very careful to not get into the details. She knew that her father and Rúrik's- her Uncle Tjörvi- had disagreed on what to do. She had no idea how Rúrik had processed that, and she wasn't going to dig up what Uncle Tjörvi could have done differently. He had passed, and she was going to let him rest in peace.

"And on our way to the consulate we...came across the Höjsleths. They were being targeted by the People's Militia and his older brother died. But the Santonians, they saved them. We spent some time at the diplomatic compound together. The Höjsleths were orphans, so they got sent to Saintonge first. We were sent to the same place as them though- Saintes. And we reconnected. Mom and dad helped Gudrún with Thorbjörn and Kristin when they could. So we knew each other as kids. More so in Saintonge than when we were going to the same school in Prydania."

"Did you two...date?" Rúrik asked. Maybe his cousin had dated Thorbjörn as kids, and she never got over him?

"No," Addý shook her head.
"But...when I got old enough, I started to feel things for him. I don't know...I just liked him. He was smart, sweet, nice. The older we got, the more I liked him. That's the thing though, school pulled everyone in different directions. We all did our own thing I guess. I fell in with the artsy literary crowd. And that wasn't really Thorbjörn's scene. But anytime I imagined myself with someone it was him..." she sighed.
"I had boyfriends here and there, but nothing serious. I got sort of a reputation in university as a girl who you couldn't make happy," she chuckled.

"Look," Rúrik began, trying to process the story his cousin had told him, "Addý, maybe I'm blessed with ignorance. I just asked a girl I liked on a date. Maybe years of forced labour made me too dumb to be nervous, but I asked her without a second thought. She said yes, and we have a family now. If you cared about Thorbjörn so much, why didn't you tell him how you felt?"

"Fear of rejection," she muttered.
"And that's the part I hate myself for. I had a chance. Not just as teenagers. We grew apart like I said, but our families stayed in touch. We'd see each other occasionally but then Thorbjörn got elevated to the National Assembly. It was huge news! A refugee like us, got to sit in the National Assembly! There was a party for him in the neighbourhood, to celebrate. And we reconnected. We talked a bit, caught up. Shared stories of our lives and..." she sighed.

"Looking back I was so dumb. We had a nice time catching up, but that ended with him going off to the National Assembly. I'd likely never get a chance to talk to him for a long while. It was my chance, and I blew it. All because I was too stupid, and thought I had to tell him how I felt. I didn't though! All I had to do was ask him out! 'Oh hey Thorbjörn, we should get coffee.' It's so easy, but I was too dumb," she shook her head before looking at her cousin with flushed cheeks.
"Sorry," she said softly.
"I didn't mean to just...spill all of that."

Rúrik smiled.
"Uncle Kvasir and Aunt Odda...Markthór and Nichole, they don't know."

"Nope."

"I didn't think so. Seemed like you were letting something out you'd let get bottled up."

"I just..." she sighed.
"I should let go of it. Maybe I won't find fault with every guy I date, if I stop holding off for a guy who won't happen."

"Why do you think it won't happen?" Rúrik asked.

"He's in the National Assembly!"

"So politicians can't date in Saintonge?" Rúrik asked with a smirk.

"Shut up. You know what I mean," Addý chuckled.

"Maybe," Rúrik shrugged.
"When did you talk last?"

"I sent him my well-wishes when he was healthy enough to take calls after the stabbing."

"That was nice," Rúrik smiled.
"But I mean it. So what if he's in the National Assembly. If he's single, and you're single, ask him out!"

"You make it seem so easy."

"Look, worst case you know he doesn't feel the same way about you that you do of him. And then you know you can move on, right? But if it's the best case scenario..."

"Rúrik?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you, you've always helped me," she smiled.

"You're my little cousin!" Rúrik said with a grin.
"It'll take more than a Syndicalist labour camp to break me," he smirked.
"And as your big cousin, I just want you to be happy."

"What if...he doesn't feel the same way about me though?" Addý asked.

"Well, I haven't known Thorbjörn since we were both ten, but you say he's smart and sweet. I say he's an idiot, if he doesn't think you're the best" Rúrik chuckled.

"Thanks cous," Addý smiled meekly.
"Hey...don't tell Markthór will you?"

"Lips are sealed," Rúrik replied, before looking over his shoulder.
"Where is he anyway?"

*Bon Dieu= Goddammit

OOC Note: Written with the approval of @Kyle

Prydania · Nov 26, 2020

Markthór crossed his hands behind his head as he waited in line. Things seemed pleasant enough as the line moved.
The air was crisp and the sun was out, all in all a lovely day out. He felt a bit nervous. This was the first time in...fourteen years...he was among Prydanians in Prydania outside of his family.

He tried to gauge the people around him. Did they look happy? He'd followed the atrocities of the Syndicalist Republic and the war from Saintes and now that he was here...he was curious how the people were. It was just him...him and strangers here, and he was curious.

"Herra*?"

Markthór was jolted from his absent-minded observations by a pleasant feminine voice. It was a girl in her 20s at the stand, wearing a polo shirt with the logo of the Lake Park on the breast.

"Herra, your order?" she asked.

Markthór looked up at the menu in Prydanian and then at the girl.

"Um..." he began...

"So tell me about your job. You're an editor?" Rúrik asked.
"What do you edit?"

"I work for Choquet-Pretre Publishing, so I mostly work on educational books. Illustrated informational guides you know?" Addý answered.

Rúrik chuckled.
"I really don't, sorry."

"Oh" Addý said with a bit of a blush. Rúrik obviously wouldn't have seen those books that were prevalent across Saintonge.
"Well" she smiled, determined to not feel bad if her cousin didn't, "they're mostly made for kids, but adults like them too. We make them
for any number of topics. Dinosaurs, planes, cars, space, heraldry, anything really! And they have pictures that illustrate whatever the subject is, with inserts that tell you all about them. They're pretty informative actually."

"Oh!" Rúrik replied.
"Those sound interesting. Do they make Prydanian versions?" he asked.
"I didn't get much of an education" he chuckled.
"So maybe these could be a fun way for me to learn a thing or two."

"We do actually!" Addý replied.
"I can send you some!"

"You don't need to..."

"Shush don't fight it. I'm sending you some."

"Ha, fine" Rúrik laughed.
"So you edit them?"

"I'm a copy editor. I go over the text, before the layouts have been finalized. And I make sure everything is fine. And I make changes where I deem necessary."

"Where you deem necessary?"

"Yes, I have the power" Addý chuckled.
"Anyway the layouts are made after I make my edits and then I edit the final product, to make sure everything works in the layout."

She looked out over the lake as she held her fishing rod.

"We also do something called the Idiot's Guide series. Books that go over topics in easy to understand terms."

"Send me those too" Rúrik laughed.
"If anyone's an idiot it's me."

"Shut up no you're not" Addý laughed.
"I did editing work on one we did about learning Prydanian though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. There was a demand for people to learn Prydanian with the influx of refugees. So we made a book to help Santonians learn it easily. I edited it but I also helped with a few bits here and there" she beamed.

"So you're an author? My cousin's an author!" Rúrik exclaimed.

"Ghost writer's the preferred term" she winked before her phone began to buzz.

"What's that?" Rúrik asked.

"Twitcher notification" she replied.

"Um...two burgers and a sausage" Markthór said. He was curious if his Prydanian had picked up a Santonian accent. He also looked to see if the sausage was Kyle's Sausage, but it didn't appear to be.

The girl didn't seem to think so, or if she did she didn't say anything.

"Anything to drink?" she asked.

"Three Toki's, regular?"

"Ok, sir. That'll be x72.75."

"Right" he said as he handed over a green x100 note. He collected his change and the food, making his way back, but he was still curious.

"Hey, pardon me" he said to a passer-by.
"My cousin is waiting for me at dock six. Is that left or right?"

"Down that way to the right."

"Thanks" Markthór replied with a smile. His Prydanian really must not have picked up an accent.

"You've got a lot of followers on Twitcher" Rúrik mused.

"No, I don't" Addý laughed.
"It's just a lot compared to you. What do you have? Two followers?"

"Three! Nichole followers me too, I'll have you know!"

Addý chuckled, but her mood quickly turned sour.
"Oh that son of a bitch..."

"Who?" Rúrik asked, somewhat absent mindedly, thinking this was just social media drama.

"François-Louis Villault" Addý scowled.

"Who's that?" Rúrik asked.

"There was a mayor named Rodéric du Tertre of the Radical Party" Addý said, grimly.
"He had a Prydanian immigrant who was homeless, named Kjell Sörby, killed. Because he was 'dirtying' the city."

Rúrik just stared ahead for a moment. He didn't really know what to say. He knew his cousins and his aunt and uncle had found refuge in Saintonge, and had built new lives for themselves. He'd assumed that Saintonge was a welcoming place for Prydanians. What he'd just been told made him think it was more complicated than that.
Finally he spoke.
"What does this have to do with this François-Louis Villault?"

"François-Louis Villault is a Radical Deputy in the National Assembly. And a du Tertre protege" Addý said in a dower voice.
"And he's on Twitcher going on about how Prydanians in Saintonge are criminals..."

Rúrik was quiet again for a moment.
"You're not a criminal" he said softly, before asking a follow-up that made him nervous just to ask.
"Are people agreeing with him?"

Addý didn't answer for what seemed longer than a moment. It prompted Rúrik to pull out his phone.

"You don't need to read it..." she began but Rúrik went right to Twitcher. She went quiet as he read.

"Barbarians..." he said.
"Piss poor homeland..." he added.

Addý didn't say anything. She wasn't sure what he would say. Rúrik was quiet too. He'd emerged from the war with nothing but a dilapidated and ruined farm to his name. He'd turned that into a profitable enterprise. He grit his teeth a bit at the implication that what he was doing amounted to barbarism in a piss-poor country. That all he'd done...
Yet something came to mind in the midst of his anger.

"Addý" he began.
"Are you alright?"

"Huh?" she asked.

"Are you...are you and Markthór and Uncle Kvasir and Aunt Odda...are you ok?"

"What do you mean?" Addý asked.

"The terms are different" Rúrik continued, "but the words between them are the same. I spent eleven years listening to Syndicalist propaganda about why I deserved to be interned in a labour camp and worked half to death. François-Louis Villault sounds a lot like that."

"I think he'd have a stroke if you compared him to a Syndicalist" Addý chuckled.

"I mean it though" Rúrik replied, seriously.
"He's talking like them. It's the same bullshit. Group whatever is bad, I'll show 'em and fix things. I just want to make sure you're all ok."

"We're...I mean yes. We're fine. He's a fringe politician. Most Santonians don't take him seriously. Just a few assholes."

"Fringe politicians can be not so fringe very easily..." Rúrik replied quietly.

"Rúrik, please..." Addý said, "they're just some idiots."

"I suffered because of 'fringe idiots' who got themselves into a position of power. I don't want you all to go through what I did" Rúrik explained, shaking a bit.
"I don't want you to suddenly have to find yourself at the mercy of people like this. I did, and it..." he went quiet.

"I know" Addý replied.
"Thank you" she smiled.
"For your worry."

Rúrik smiled back.
"I just want to know you're safe. You spent all of these years wondering about me. I'm allowed to worry for you."

Addý cracked a small smile.
"I'm so happy I have a cousin I can trust like that" she laughed softly.
"But we are fine. He's a clown. Nothing more."

Markthór kept an eye out on the docks to his right as he made his way down the dirt trail, though he eyed the forests to the left. He, Addý, and Rúrik would play in those woods when they were younger and their parents would bring them to the lake.
Would he have time to come back and explore? Perhaps.

Regardless, he became taken in by the natural beauty of the scene as he walked. The way the trees, already shedding their leaves in splendid fall colours, stood out against the blue sky. How the lake's waters shone like crystal under the sun, looking both warm and cold at once.
He loved Saintes. It was very much his "home town." And yet there was something beautiful about all of this, something deep inside of him that was unlocked by visiting. Saintes was a bustling city. This place though...it was serene. And though it had been a while since he had been here? It was where he was from, ultimately. He smiled as he took it all in...until he noticed the last dock on the right.

It was very much the last dock, and the sign didn't indicate a number. Rather it said "Park Authority."
An older man, wearing the same sort of polo the girl selling food was wearing, was loading supplies into a speed boat. Markthór looked around, a bit confused.

"Excuse me herra!" he called out.

The man looked up, waving.
"Hello? How can I help you?"

"Um sorry...I'm a bit lost. I'm looking for my sister and cousin. They're at dock six?"

The man just laughed.
"Boy, you walked right past it. Six is down this road, back the way you came about ten minutes."

"Tíkarsonur" Markthór muttered under his breath.
"Thank you!" he called out, before walking back.

"God forbid I'm allowed to enjoy nature without missing our dock" he muttered.

"That tíkarsonur!" Addý grumbled as she continued to read through the Twitches.

"Huh?" Rúrik remarked.
"He saying Prydanians eat babies now?"

"He's mocking Thorbjörn for getting stabbed!"

"What a lovely fellow" Rúrik grumbled as he cast his line out again.

"Thornjörn comes out to defend us and he says this..." she muttered.
It wasn't so long ago that she'd spilled her love for him to Rúrik and now this...
Maybe it was that conversation though? She felt bold...she began to type.

"What are you writing?" Rúrik asked.
"Will you even get his attention."

"Don't know don't care" she answered.
"But if enough people see it...and...there! Posted!"

Rúrik began to scroll through his own feed and saw what Addý had posted.
"A snake without human decency? Nice. Seems about right for the guy." He paused for a moment.
"What if Thorbjörn sees it?" he added.

"Mine is just one of many replies. I doubt he will" Addý answered.
"Look...I love him a great deal, but I didn't do that so he'd see me. Villault deserves to have as many people tell him he's full of shit as possible. I'm happy to add to the pile."

"Hey! Who's hungry?"

Addý and Rúrik both looked over their shoulder. It was Markthór and he was back with lunch.

"Where have you been?" Rúrik asked.

"I...um...walked too far. Had to turn around" he blushed.

"You got lost...walking in the direction you were supposed to be walking in?" Addý smiled at her brother, on the verge of laughter. Rúrik was not so restrained, chuckling.

"Shut up" Markthór protested as he handed out food and drinks to everyone as he sat down.

"What did I miss?"

Rúrik and Addý just looked at each other.

"Just Twitcher drama" Addý shrugged.

*Herra= Mister
*Tíkarsonur= Son of a bitch

Prydania · Feb 1, 2021

"Twitcher drama, eh?" Markthór asked as he handed out Toki's and food to everyone.

"Yeah," Addý remarked, smiling to cover up any hint that she'd betray what she'd just discussed to Rúrik.
"You'd find it all terribly boring." Getting Markthór away from the topic of Twitcher. She wanted to keep her brother from finding out how she felt about Thorbjörn- she wasn't ready for that quite yet- and also? Well...Markthór wasn't really a political kind of guy.
He voted Liberal because it was the Liberal government that recognized the FRE at the end of the Prydanian Civil War and he liked his taxes low given his career as a pro athlete. He didn't really comment much on politics otherwise. Even during election years. He tended to keep his preferences to himself and quietly waited out any political talk until he could steer things back towards movies or the like. François-Louis Villault, though, tended to get to him. So it was best to leave that alone and not ruin the nice outing.

"You spend too much time on that thing, sis," Markthór said as he retook his seat.

"Hehe, yeah, probably," Addý remarked, hoping to subtly end talk of all things Twitcher.

"You two catch anything while I was gone?" Markthór asked.

"Nah," Rúrik replied.
"Addý was just telling me about work."

"I wish I knew," Markthór replied. "I would have brought you an extra pop to help keep you awake" he chuckled, teasing his sister.

"Not everyone has an aversion to reading like you do, Mark," Addý shot back.

"Hey! I read!" Markthór protested.

"Books, Mark. Books," Addý teased.

"I've missed this, a lot," Rúrik chuckled.

"What?" Markthór asked, seeming confused.

"You two arguing. I've missed it a lot," Rúrik answered with a smile, turning from Markthór to Addý.

"You and Víf should have another kid," Addý replied. "Then you can deal with the 'pleasant' sounds of sibling arguing all day!"

"Oh God," Rúrik chuckled. He shook his head.
"I really don't know about that. I'm still in shock that I have a kid at all...I mean look at me? A family man! It seems surreal at times. So we may hold off on another kid until I get used to the idea."

"You don't need to rush it," Markthór smiled.
"Please don't give Nichole an excuse to have the kid conversation again," he said in a playful begging voice.

"Well I'll try," Rúrik smiled.
"But you know...sometimes it's just hard to turn off the charm" he chuckled, eliciting an exaggerated eye roll from his cousin.

"This burger is pretty good..." Markthór remarked when he suddenly jolted forward to catch his rod that he still hadn't picked up.
"Holy crap, I got one!" he called out.

"No fair!" Addý grumbled even as she got up to cheer her brother on.
"You leave for like half an hour an you get a fish as soon as you sit back down!"

"That's fishing for ya," Rúrik chuckled, putting a hand on Markthór's back.
"Pull it back, reel it in!"

Markthór's first catch earlier was a rocky ordeal, having to relearn the muscle memory involved in fishing. Now though, the second time around, he managed it well enough, pulling the fish out of the water as he reeled it in.
"Look at that! Leave it to me, guys. I'll have everyone fed tonight, easy!" he laughed.

"Yeah, you will. So maybe Addý and I should just sit back and let you do all the work," Rúrik smirked as he pat his cousin on the back.

"See, you think that's an insult," Markthór chuckled, "but it's really not!"

"Yeah, don't encourage him," Addý laughed, but Rúrik just shook his head with a smile.

"I knew it," he beamed.

"Knew what?" Markthór asked.

"You may be a basketball star, but you're still a farmer at heart. How else do you explain being willing to do all the work to feed everyone?" Rúrik asked with a smirk.

"Heh," Markthór replied.
"I've been meaning to ask about that. I know that the harvest is done for the year, I remember that there was always work that needed doing. Do you need any help?"

"Oh come on," Rúrik replied, taking the fish from Markthór's line and placing it in the ice box.
"I'm not making you work on your vacation."

"No, I mean it," Markthór replied. "Just ask if you need any help."

Rúrik sat back down and shrugged.
"Truth is I've got a pretty good routine going, keeping everything running, but I won't say no to your company," he offered.
"What about you Addý? You want to prove me wrong about being able to wake up early?"

"I'll join you all when I'm done getting my beauty sleep," she replied, before yelping before clutching her rod. She'd caught a fish!

The day went on, and a late fall breeze eventually blew across the lake. Rúrik looked up at the sky, as grey clouds began to roll as he checked his watch.
"We may have to call it," he muttered.
"We're getting snow tomorrow, if not later today. Let's get rolling."

Rúrik and Addý helped their cousin back up their supplies, as Rúrik peaked in the ice box.
"Six fish, not bad. That's one for everyone tonight."

"How're you preparing it?" Markthór asked as they carried their supplies and catch back to Rúrik's SUV.

"Six at once? Grilling definitely. It'll be fun. All of us outside, under the stars."

"Oh my God," Addý beamed.
"The country night sky!" It was true. She'd forgotten how much she missed the clarity of the night sky out in the country since she'd come to Saintes.

"Yep, stars, sky, a raging fire, and family. Plenty to make up for the cold if it does decide to snow tonight," Rúrik nodded as he closed the trunk of his SUV.
"We'll stop in town before heading back though. Gotta get some stuff for dinner tonight."

"Kiojaleit?" Markthór asked excitedly.

"Yep," Rúrik replied.
"A lot has changed, but a lot has stayed the same. I'll show you around!"

"Sweet!" Markthór exclaimed, getting into the front passenger seat. Changes or no, he was excited to see the town he'd grown up in again. Addý was as well, but she was cut off from saying anything by a beep from her phone. Her eyes went wide seeing the notification.

"Come on sis," Markthór called from the front seat.
"You had that thing put away all day. You were doing so well," he teased.

"Shush," Addý replied as she got into the back seat with a smile.
"It's just a thing, no big deal," she lied to her brother as Rúrik started the car up.

It was a big deal though, to her anyway. She'd sent the Twitch she made with no real expectation that anyone would see it, that it would get lost in the ongoing argument. Someone did see it though, and not just anyone. Thorbjörn had replied.

Prydania · Mar 14, 2021

Öxndal Farm
just outside of Kiojaleit, Prydania

Þrátt fyrir þreytu fylgjum við veginum
"Despite our weariness we follow the road."
It was said that it was uttered by Hróarr Loðbrók upon the migration to what was now Prydania. That despite being being driven from their homes by Osvald's hordes in Andrenne they would settle in a new land and build a new nation. Addý's ancestors, over one thousand years ago, made that journey. And then- just fourteen years ago- she and her family had to make a similar journey. The old adage, half forgotten after so many generations, suddenly rang true again.

Maybe it was the fact that she was on her family's farm, watching her brother cracking jokes with her cousin as he grilled up the fish they'd caught...the fire from the grill dancing against the twilight skies, against the skies of the land of her birth, that this saying that had taken on new meaning among the refugee community in Saintonge came to mind again. It also called to mind an old Prydanian folk song. One whose meaning was very similar to the adage. She began to hum it softly as she sat. Smiling at her brother and cousin.

Heimilið er á bak við heiminn framundan

Her Aunt Júlíetta tended to Týr, the baby laughing with his grandmother. Like her, her brother, and her mother and father, her Aunt Júlíetta and cousin Rúrik had been on their own journey, faced their own troubles.

Og það eru margar leiðir að feta

Rúrik's journey hadn't ended with his salvation from that camp though. He'd met Víf. And started a family. It was truly a remarkable thing. One that she could forget was remarkable with the revelry of their reunion.
They had spent so much time wondering if Rúrik was even alive. And they found him, not just alive, not just free of the camp he'd been worked to the bone in for over a decade, but with a family. With their old home being rebuilt. Reclaimed. The soil resewn. Týr was the first of a new generation of their family, born here. Like the three of them were. And his journey into life began with his father's own unexpected path.

Í gegnum skugga til jaðar nætur

Evil existed in this world. She knew that better than most people. Even in Saintonge, her new home. Her port in a storm of madness. Even there, there were people who, whether they realized it or not, spoke like the people who had forced her out of her bed and into a chaotic world at the age of nine.

Þar til stjörnurnar eru allar kveiktar

Thorbjörn though...she sighed. Perhaps she should use Twitcher less, but she didn't feel guilty for this. She laughed at herself, actually. Acting like a school girl when he replied to her. Still... it meant a lot. To know he still remembered her. And that maybe Rúrik was right about opening up to him.
Maybe she could be someone to help stand up to the evils that still lurked in the world.

...

"Hey, what are you humming?" Nicole asked as she sat down next to her.

"It's just an old song. One that I'd forgotten about, until I came back here. And then it just...came back to me. Crazy, right?"

"No, not at all," Nicole replied.
"I remember the most specific things I haven't thought of in decades whenever I go back to visit my parents, in the house I grew up in."

Addý smiled at her sister-in-law, happy that she understood. Her next question though...

"Is it a happy song?"

"Well..." Addý replied, thinking.
"It's kind of solemn but like...in a good way? It's about finding home in the world, through darkness, until you find the good. The light."

"I mean...I don't mean to prod, but is it from the Prydanian community? It seems like the sort of thing that would resonate."

Addý chuckled a bit.
"No, it's far older. When our ancestors came here, from Andrenne. Then it gained new meaning after the Syndicalist coup and the Civil War."

"That's really interesting," Nicole remarked.
"I don't know much about that...the Andrenne bit."

"There's the National Museum in Býkonsviði. And a smaller one in Erkiengill. We're here for a week. We could go to one. Or both, if you wanted."

"Choose Erkiengill," Víf said, interjecting.
"It's closer, it's got documents that actually reference both my family and Rúrik's from the 1100s, and you get the best tour guide in the city to show you around," she said, winking.

"Yep. The best person to ever come from Erkiengill," Rúrik said, referring to his wife. And taking a shot at that rassgat* Stefan Toft.
"You got it?" he then asked, turning to Markthór.

"Yep!" Markthór said, producing a packet.
"Fish seasoning from Griffonné! The best in Saintonge, in my opinion."

Rúrik looked at the pack a bit curiously, but eagerly opened it to take a smell.
"It smells good," he said with a grin. He then used a prod to open up the tin foil that was wrapping the fish they'd caught earlier and began to add a bit of lemon before he took a few pinches of the Griffonné seasoning and added it to the fish.

"Where did you learn to grill?" Markthór asked. He didn't mean to be rude, but he doubted a labour camp was the best place to learn how to cook.

"You try eating labour camp rations for eleven years," Rúrik replied with a grin.
"You're going to want to learn how to cook food from all over after that."

"It's true," Víf said.
"He's become quite good. And daring."

"Experimental one might say," Rúrik chuckled, giving his wife a wink. Markthór couldn't help but chuckle, as both his sister and his wife gave him a look that said "grow up." Júlíetta just cleared her throat.

"Rúrik, come on now. Is that language appropriate for company?"

"Sorry Mamma," Rúrik answered with a chuckle, mirroring his big cousin's.

Everyone moved inside, for even with a firepit going the November Prydanian evening was too chilly to eat outside. With a baby especially. Everyone took a seat as Rúrik smiled softly.
"Tonight is very special," he said.
"Not only did three Öxndals get us dinner, which has to be a first in a long time, it's the first proper dinner we've had...Mamma, Markþór, Addý, and I under one roof in a very long time. And to have my wife, Víf, and Nicole joining our family, thank you too."

Everyone let Rúrik talk. Markthór and Addý especially knew how important this was....

"Týr, my son...the future of my family. I wish that Pabbi was here. He'd have loved this."
He raised his beer.
"I love you Pabbi. Here's to you. Your grandson, and everyone being together again. I know you're smiling in heaven."

"To Uncle Tjörvi," Markthór and Addý replied solemnly.

"I love you, ástin*," Júlíetta whispered to her husband, wherever he might be.
She took her son's hand in one hand, and her nephew's in the other. Markthór smiled as he held her hand. He'd felt a sinking feeling in his chest when he'd heard his uncle had died...but oh God. What had his aunt felt?
Júlíetta gripped both and lowered her head. She knew her son would say grace soon, but she wanted a moment with her husband before that.
"I still remember your smile..." she said softly.
"And I can imagine how big it must be, to see everyone like this, and to see your son like this. I know the one thing you'd want is to be here, ástin. But you are. You're always with me."

Rúrik began to say grace, in the Laurentist tradition.
"The eyes of all wait upon Thee, O Lord, and Thou givest them their meat in due season; Thou openest Thine hand and satisfied the desire of every living thing. Our Father... Lord God, Heavenly Father, bless us and these Thy gifts which we receive from Thy bountiful goodness, through Jesús Kristur, our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," everyone replied, before digging in. Addý grinned though. She felt compelled to finish the song she'd been huming earlier, if only to herself.

Mistur og skugga
Ský og skugga
Allt skal fölna
Allt skal fölna*

*rassgat- asshole
*ástin- my love

*Home is behind the world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow to the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow
Cloud and shade
All shall fade
All shall fade

Prydania · Mar 26, 2021

WARNING- The following post contains themes of sexual assault and related subjects. Please do not read if you are bothered by these themes.

Rúrik had slipped outside as dinner had finished up. He wanted to get the grill cleaned and put away tonight. It was looking more and more like it was going to snow, and he didn't want the thing rusting on him. So he was scraping the gunk from the grill under a light, now that evening had arrived.

"Need help?" Rúrik turned around to see Markthór.

"Eh, I'm just cleaning the grill. I wouldn't mind your company though."

Markthór smiled and leaned against the tool shed the grill was up against. A brief howl of wind blew through and he shivered, even while wearing his coat.

"You're too used to Saintes," Rúrik chuckled.
"It's thinned your blood."

"Shut up," Markthór said laughing as his cousin chuckled.

"Hey, I'm not saying it's a bad thing," Rúrik replied.
"I'm not the biggest fan of winter, really."

"Yeah, but that's when things are light," Markthór said, sounding a bit confused. He remembered, back before he and his family fled. Winter was the time to relax on the farm. The harvest was finished, and crops couldn't be planted until spring. He remembered his father and uncle just having to do some basic maintenance. Other than that they spent time with the family. He was curious why Rúrik didn't like it. He'd worked very hard, to be where he was. Surely he'd treasure the break the winter brought.

"Syndicalist Homesteads didn't really care much about comfort. They didn't want ya to freeze of course," Rúrik said, sensing his cousin's confusion.
"But that's like saying they didn't want you to starve. Not wanting you to starve doesn't mean they fed you well, and not wanting you to freeze doesn't mean they made sure you were toasty. So for me winter's always been a lot of hard work doing backbreaking labour while the wind chills me to the bone. I don't exactly care for the weather once the snow starts falling."

"Rúrik," Markthór said softly.
"I'm really sorry..."

Rúrik sighed but smiled and shrugged his shoulders as he looked at his cousin.
"You don't have to be sorry because it's not your fault."

"You know what I mean," Markthór replied.
"When I found out what happened to you I..." but he stopped when Rúrik put a hand up.

"You've spent enough of your life worrying about me," he smiled.
"And I spent enough of my life worrying about you..." he said with a solemn nod.
"Not knowing what happened to you...it was hard. But you're safe. I survived. We're together now. That's what we should be celebrating. It makes the old pain hurt less, and gives it meaning, I think. We have each other again. Even with you all the way in Saintes, you'll have me."

"And you'll be all the way in Kiojaleit, but you'll have me," Markthór replied with a smile. Rúrik grinned back as he got the last bit of gunk from the grill.
"But I visited Kiojaleit. You could come and visit Saintes too. Maybe next winter. Hell, maybe in a month or two, if it's you know, doable... I don't wanna pressure you. I just think...well...I think you'll love it," he smiled.

Rúrik motioned with his hand.
"Here, help me get the cover on this grill, and we'll get it into the shed."
Markthór nodded, helping his cousin put the grill away.

"Saintes sounds nice, warmer than here in the winter that's for sure," Rúrik replied.
"But...I've got a kid. Víf, Mamma, it's four people. I don't want to impose on you."

"Shut up," Markthór shook his head even as he smiled.
"You're never imposing on me. I found out my cousin and best friend is still alive, you think I'd ever call him imposing on me? Between Nicole and I and Mamma and Pabbi we could totally manage it. Aunt Júlíetta would likely love to catch up with Mamma and Pabbi in person."

"Hmm," Rúrik thought, the prospect seeming doable. If not this winter than certainly next year's, with enough time to plan.

"I'd love to show you around, I really would," Markthór said, beaming as he contemplated the places to take his cousin.

"Well..." Rúrik mused.
"It's tempting. I'd need to bring it up with the Council in there," he chuckled.

"The 'Council,'?" Markthór asked, sounding confused.

"Mamma and Víf," he smirked, getting a chuckle from Markthór.

"Hey," Markthór asked.
"I don't mean to prod but it's just the two of us out here. I wanted, um...I guess...I wanted to see Uncle Tjörvi's grave marker. I never, well...I never got to say goodbye to him. Or say hello, when we got here." He was feeling tears well up in his eyes, and Rúrik nodded.

"I was going to show it to you all in a few days. You know, don't want things to be too heavy but since you asked, it's this way."

"Did they ever find him? His body?"

Rúrik shook his head.
"No...he died in a mining cave-in. Chances are his body's still in that collapsed pit or the Syndicalists burnt it..." he sighed.
"But it doesn't matter. Pabbi's spirit would have wanted to come back here anyway."

They walked a bit past the house, but still on the other side of the fencing separating themselves from the fields. There was an alcove, against the house and a wall made of stones. And in it, a cross in the ground. It read "Tjörvi Öxndal" across it.

"Hey Pabbi," Rúrik said softly.
"Markthór is here...I guess you knew that already but...he wanted to say hello."

"Hey Uncle Tjörvi," Markthór said, smiling as he held back tears.
"It's been a long time...but like...I hope you got my prayers and heard me talking to you, for all of those years. I still remember when you taught me how to shoot and skate..." he sniffled.
"I know you and Pabbi said I would be an amazing hockey player, but...heh. Basketball's not bad, right?"

"I think he was a closeted Lambert Fugl fan," Rúrik replied. Markthór chuckled.

"Rúrik was right though, I don't wanna focus on the sad things in the past. I just wanted to say I missed you, a lot. So did Mamma and Pabbi. And Addý. We missed you so much, and now that we are all together, with Aunt Júlíetta, Rúrik, Víf, and Týr I just wanted to say hello. And tell you I love you and I'll never forget you."
He bowed his head and said a prayer silently. Rúrik pat him on the back.

"Pabbi loved you too. I know it," he sighed. Markthór nodded, and looked up a bit, and something caught his eye. There were rocks placed under his uncle's cross.

"Rocks on gravemarkers, that's a Shaddaist thing," Markthór said, confused. Rúrik didn't answer right away. It was a very personal matter, and he was partially hoping Markthór wouldn't have noticed...still... he couldn't keep quiet for long.

"The Shaddaist Cohen from Erkiengill give us an idea... but... it's complicated, Mark."

"What is?" Markthór asked.

Rúrik squatted down, taking his phone from his pocket to use the light to illuminate things a bit more. He took one of the rocks in his hand. He didn't know how to say what had to be said subtly, so he just said it.
"Mamma survived the camp with me, but my brothers and sisters didn't." He said it calmly, though his voice sounded like it was on the verge of calm and anger, shaking subtly.

Markthór needed time to process it. Rúrik didn't have siblings. It was just his mother and father, his Uncle and Aunt, his sister, and his cousin. The Syndicalists came for Uncle Tjörvi, Aunt Júlíetta, and Rúrik soon after they fled. There was no time for Rúrik to have...and then it dawned on him. The "Homestead." That euphemistic word the Syndicalists had for their collectivized farming labour camps. His Aunt Júlíetta, at the mercy of the guards and...Markthór's face went white figuring out what Rúrik meant. Any woman in those camps was helpless before the guards. And any complications from that...well...there were easy solutions to those problems.

"Mamma wanted to remember them," Rúrik said as he placed the rock down under his father's cross.
"She said it wasn't their fault, how they were made..." he lowered his head. Markthór knelt next to his cousin to pat his back.

"I know what you're going to say," he began, "but I don't care. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Rúrik."

"Please don't tell Mamma you know. It's a...it's personal. And she would want to tell you herself. On her own terms."

"Don't worry," Markthór said with a nod. He just knelt next to Rúrik for a bit, and wrapped an arm around him."
"But why the Shaddaist rocks?"

Rúrik nodded.
"Mamma and I went to counselling in Erkiengill, to deal with all the crap that we had to put up with in that camp. It was an interfaith thing. Mamma talked about what happened and, crying, said she wanted a way to member her children who were taken. Cohen Navat told her that Shaddaists put stones on the graves of their loved ones, as ever-lasting symbols of remembering them. Mamma liked the idea because we could remember those taken from us, and remember Pabbi too."

Markthór nodded, and counted the stones. There were five. He stood and offered Rúrik a hand, helping his cousin to his feet, and hugging him. Rúrik smiled and hugged back.
"I meant what I said though, and what you told Pabbi. We're all together. That's what matters. Even the little ones. They were taken, but we remember them with us. With the rest of us, as we celebrate having each other again."

Markthór nodded.
"That's another reason I want you and everyone else to come to Saintes. I have six more days here, and I miss you already. I want to see you again."

"Aww," Rúrik replied with a smile. He was truly touched.
"Well we'll have video calling, I'm sure."

"Yes, definitely," Markthór nodded. The wind blew in again, howling.
"Right now though, let's get back in with everyone else."

"Yeah, good idea," Rúrik said, smiling at his father's cross, and the stones for his lost siblings.
Markthór took another look too, lowering his eyes for a moment before wrapping an arm around his cousin, just happy to be with him again after all of these years.

Prydania · May 21, 2021

Erkiengill, Prydania

Nicole moved about the local museum with Víf. She couldn't read Prydanian, and so she needed Víf to translate. Markthór and Addý would usually help, but they were with their cousin. And she wasn't going to pull them away, after all this time. Besides, it gave her a chance to get to know Víf.
The two found themselves before an old marble statue of an angel. It was badly damaged, with the head and upper left torso missing, and riddled with bullet holes.

"The plaque says '1150,'" Nicole said.
"Does it have to do with the Crusades?"

"Yes," Víf replied.
"This statue was commissioned in honour of the city's namesake. 'Erkiengill' is Prydanian for 'Archangel.' So the city, at the behest of the Archbishop, ordered the statue built to honour the Archangel Michael and hopefully provide divine protection for our Crusaders."

"I take it...the Syndicalists did this to it?"

"Eight-hundred and fifty-two years..." Víf replied softly.
"A statue that had existed for eight-hundred and fifty-two years, a testament to this city's history, destroyed over the course of one day," she sighed.
"They decapitated it," she added. "And riddled it with bullet holes. The FRE pulled it out of some storage house outside of town when they liberated the city."

"Well it's good that it's here, so the city can't forget its history," Nicole said.

"The city raised enough krossar to commission a new one, for the Cathedral. While the original one is here..." she sighed.
"I've seen what the Syndicalists did first hand. I've seen it in my husband and mother-in-law, and nothing is as terrible as what they did to people. But this is still sad..." she stroked the edges of the plaque.
"This was our cultural heritage, and they filled it with bullets. Most pieces weren't that lucky."

"I know Saintonge saved some pieces. So some of them survive still..." Nicole replied with a grin.

Víf only replied with a faint smile though, and offered a quiet "yeah," as she looked at the statue sadly before seemingly snapping out of the momentary funk.
"Come on," she said cheerfully.
"Let's find the others. They're by documents section."

Víf led Nicole away, though her gaze couldn't help but jump from the damaged state of St. Michael to the stained glass windows on display. Many broken.
She wondered if she'd upset Víf in some way? It didn't seem so. She decided to just ask.
"Is everything ok Víf?"

Víf smiled and slowed down as they made their way through the museum.
"I'm sorry Nicole. It's just...I'm an artsy type at heart. It's hard to see so many works of art damaged like this. I've been here a few times since it reopened. I guess I thought I was over it affecting me. I suppose I was wrong," she chuckled with a blush.

"It's ok," Nicole replied.

"My moodiness didn't ruin your trip?" Víf asked.

"Are you kidding? You know the city and you care about this stuff. You're the best person to be on this trip with," Nicole replied with a smile.

Víf chuckled, smiling at how Nicole managed to put her at ease.
"Come on, let's find the others."

"Here's Víf's ancestor," Rúrik said, pointing to a displayed piece of parchment.
"Gellir of Skarði, Knight of the Crownlands, granted land along the lake in 1141 by King Anders I."

"Huh, look at that," Addý said.
"That's sweet. They've been here all this time. It's like you and here were meant to be," she said, smiling at her cousin. Rúrik smiled back and couldn't help but blush.

"We did some research. Gellir's father was a knight in the service to the King. Apparently they rose to prominence during the Crusades. Gellir was a second son, and was granted his own land here, in honour of his distinguished service in Court."

"Oh wow, you married up," Markthór joked, causing Rúrik to chuckle.

"Yeah that's me, the social climber," Rúrik smirked.
"But if you go here..." he lead his cousins to a few display cases to the left of where they were.
"There," Rúrik said with a smile.

Addý and Markthór each looked. It was an old document. Even older than the one that Víf's ancestor had appeared on. The writing was faded, and archaic, but you could still make out what it said.

"By order of His Majesty the King, Vortgyn, first of his name of the House of Loðbrók, by the Grace of God, King of Prydania and Heorot, Lord Protector of Austurland, Marshal of Býkonsviði, Lord Uniter, grants..." Rúrik went on, skipping over some stuff until he got to the good part.

"Stækar Öxndal, Freeman of the Thane of Eiderwig, is granted 60 acres south of Kiojaleit, halfway beyond the lake's eastern bay."

"So...that's our land?" Addý asked.

"Já," Rúrik replied.
"It's been in our family since 1030."

"I thought the farm was 190 acres," Markthór mused.

"One of our ancestors bought out some other land in the 1700s. There's stuff on that too. We can check it out."

"This is so cool," Addý remarked as she walked by all the dead. And then one caught her eye.
It was very much like the deed Rúrik had shown them. It was only from a year later actually. The name read "Hiorvard Höjsleth." She smiled and took her phone out, taking a picture. Thorbjörn would like that, she was sure of it.

"What are ya taking pictures of?" Markthór asked.

"Oh just stuff," Addý remarked. She blushed just a bit, not wanting to tell Markthór about this quite yet.
"You know I love research and old documents and stuff. I'd love to go through this archive sometime."

"You have a literary degree, já?" Rúrik asked.

"Já, I had to spend a lot of time in school buried in old documents like this."

"See if that were me," Markthór replied, I wouldn't want to see an archive again as long as I lived."

"I gotta side with Addý," Rúrik said with a smile.
"They worked me on an 'agricultural homestead,'" he said with air quote fingers, "until I nearly dropped dead. And so I became a farmer."

"Yeah, but unlike them you're good at it," Markthór said.

"Thank you, you flatter me," Rúrik said.
"A lot of it is Víf. I know how to farm, she knows how to do everything else."

"Well pabbi is very proud of you," Addý said.
"When he found out you were turning a profit on the farm he nearly burst with excitement. It lifted his spirits after he heard about...well, you know. Uncle Tjörvi."

Rúrik nodded.
"Uncle Kvasir and I talk quite a bit. He's very insistent on sharing advice. Even when I tell him there are better ways to do things now," he chuckled.

"Of course he is," Markthór said, rolling his eyes.
"Jesus could come down and Pabbi would tell Him every problem he has with the church."

Rúrik and Addý both chuckled before they heard a voice.
"There you all are," it was Víf with Nicole.

"I was just showing Addý and Mark the old deeds," Rúrik said with a grin.

"Ah nice, so you saw my knightly ancestry," Víf chuckled.

"Oh fancy!" Nicole said, prompting a chuckle and wink from Víf.

"Yes very," Víf remarked before pointing to the wall opposite the glass display cases showing off the old documents.
"This tapestry tells the entire history of Erkiengill."

They all looked up, and Nicole studied it intently. It was made in an old Norse style, but everything seemed so crisp.
"This isn't old, is it?"

"No," Víf replied.
"It was done in an old style, to celebrate the museum's reopening after the War. Tapestries are very common in Prydanian art, so it was decided this would be appropriate. If you head down to the end it even shows the FRE liberation of the city in the old style."

"Ooo that's very cool," Nicole said, as she walked along studying.
"Markthór, love, do you see this?"

"Yeah..." he said, without the sarcastic quip he'd usually toss about seeing the same thing she was looking at. He seemed genuinely interested in it.

"They even have the collectivization depicted," Rúrik said as he looked at the tapestry, his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Does...I mean...you're not bothered by it are you?" Addý asked, sounding concerned. Rúrik smiled. His little cousin's concern for him made him smile.

"No, it's alright. In a hundred years I'll be dead and no one will have to worry about offending me. But if, in a hundred years, it helps people know what happened so it doesn't happen again, then it's a good thing."
Rúrik began walking down the hallway, eyes up on the tapestry. Everyone else followed.

"They really did a good job capturing old Nordic style tapestry work," Nicole remarked.

"That would be the neðanjarðarlist," Víf replied, blushing a bit as she noticed Nicole's confusion.
"Sorry. I means 'underground art.' See the Syndicalists liked their Syndicalist realism..."

"Yeah," Rúrik remarked.
"Syndicalist realism art. Where everything's realistic except for the bit about well-fed people in a syndicalist country."

Markthór had to stifle a chuckle at that. One, he thought it was funny. Two, he wasn't sure just yet if him laughing at this stuff would bother Rúrik.

"Well..." Víf continued, "it pushed a lot of artists underground. And the Syndicalist Republic's suppression of more traditional styles of art led to a lot of that stuff seeing a rebirth in the underground art scene. These people were more than happy to do work like this after the War ended."

"Hey hun?" Rúrik asked.

"Yeah love?" Víf answered.
"Why don't we grab some lunch. And we can look around the town."

"Oh that would be really cool!" Addý replied happily.
"I remember coming to Erkiengill as a little girl all the time. I'd love to see what's still around."

"Sure thing!" Víf replied.
"We could end it with the Cathedral if you'd all like? They're finishing renovations. It's really quite stunning."

"Yeah I'd love to check it out, revisit some old memories," Markthór added.
"I'll show you where I used to get in trouble," he said to Nicole with a grin.

"Oh you? Trouble? I don't believe it," Nicole replied sweetly, kissing her husband's lips gently.

The five of them made their way out of the museum, with Rúrik stopping for a moment. There was a stained glass window on display near the entrance. It showed the FRE's liberation of the city. And in the main piece's upper decorative border there was a stag. On its hind legs, head framed by the sun, with a shattered hammer and cog by its feet. Rúrik's eyes moved down from that to the main piece, FRE soldiers holding the barbed cross flag as they overwhelmed Syndicalists.

He smiled softly and then caught up with his family.

Prydania · Jun 12, 2021

Addý sent the picture she'd took to Thorbjörn and forced herself to put the phone away, lest she obsess about replies. She looked around as they left the museum, but didn't seem any less interested in what she was looking at. Erkiengill held a special place in her heart. It was "the city" as a little girl, and she'd always get excited when she could accompany her parents or aunt and uncle into town.

Much had changed since she was here last. The streets and the shapes were familiar, but new storefronts had popped up all over. It was understandable, and in many ways a good thing. She was nine when they had to flee. 2006 was not an ideal time for this part of the country. The wonder of the city as a child masked the anxiety and uncertainty that had permeated this place, and now it seemed more alive. It seemed far less weighed down. In many ways it matched the feeling she had about it back then.

Víf led them through the city towards the Cathedral, and Addý hung back just a bit. She wanted to take in this place. Older styles of architecture existed alongside contemporary styling from newer buildings. They walked down a sidewalk that hugged a park that had been rechristened with its original name, Alexandria Park, and she noticed a pedestal that was empty.

"That's where they tore down Nielsen's statue," Rúrik said, having slowed down to walk alongside her with his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Oh, I didn't see you," Addý remarked.
"Yeah...I remember that thing. They tore it down, eh?"

"Yeah," Rúrik nodded.
"A new one will be installed by January."

"Oh," Addý replied.
"What's it going to be of? William Aubyn? The King?"

"FRE soldiers," Rúrik answered.
"I don't think the government is too eager to put up any statues of individuals after the Syndies slapped Nielsen up anywhere they could. I hear the King doesn't like the idea of statues for himself either."

"Well, it's good to honour the liberators," Addý said.
"So..." she added, "I hope you're ok."

"You worry too much about me," Rúrik chuckled.

"I just noticed you back in the museum. You seemed...I donno. You seemed maybe a bit agitated."

Rúrik sighed.
"You go through enough brush and you're going to get at least a few thistles stuck to you."

"Please don't repeat witticisms like pabbi and uncle," Addý said with a smile.

"Sorry," Rúrik said with a grin.
"It helps me, I think. To think about pabbi, and how he was. I guess I ended up picking up his habits."

"It's fine," Addý replied.
"I know I worry about you a lot, and you're probably tired of it, but something terrible happened to someone I love. And I want to help him, if I can."

Rúrik smiled.
"I mean...I learnt something. Thanks to support groups and the like that I went to. I'm never going to not be someone who was in those camps. If I try to be that, I will never really get over it, you know? If I accept that, that I will have days where my bitterness maybe comes out a bit, then I can tell myself that it's natural, and I can better deal with it. I'm sorry if any of that worried you though. I don't want you to be worried. It's your vacation."

"Awww," Addý chuckled.
"I will always help my big cousin. I'm glad you've found ways to make it better though. Please, forget I brought the topic up."

"It's ok," Rúrik chuckled back.
"We have a lot of catching up. It was always going to come up. So tell me something. You're an editor. You got into writing and the like, in school, já?" Rúrik asked, shifting the conversation.

"Já," Addý nodded.

"Ok, so like..." Rúrik said with a smile, "I'm imagining teenage Addý getting into writing and I have to believe that you wrote a lot. Poems, stories, stuff like that."

"Oh God," Addý said with a nod. "So much."

"Can I see them? Like, someday?" Rúrik asked.

"Oh I can't...I mean..." Addý said, stuttering a bit.
"Sorry, it's so cringe. I'd be too embarrassed."

"That's sort of why I want to read it," Rúrik said with a smile.

"What do you mean?" Addý asked, confused.

"Well," Rúrik replied with a blush, "I was thinking...if you never had to leave, Mark and I would have probably found your journals and read it anyway. And...heh..." he said with a sigh.
"I donno. There's a lot to catch up on, and I want to see all the stuff I missed."

"That's so sweet," Addý replied, wrapping her arms around her cousin as they walked.
"Damnit, you got me. You're going to make me share teenage Addý's cringe writing..."

"I promise I won't tell anyone," Rúrik said, chuckling.

Addý nodded as she let her cousin go from her hug as they both walked.
"So do you all go to services here often?"

"No," Rúrik answered.
"We usually go to church in Kiojaleit, the same one we all went to as kids."

"I was worried the Syndicalists would have destroyed it," Addý replied.

"It was in rough shape, but it's better now...it's been blessed all over again, and it smells the same."

"That's good," Addý chuckled softly.

"Já," Rúrik said with a nod.
"It's not as grand as this cathedral but it's ours. It's nice. I hope you'll like the cathedral though."

"Why wouldn't I?" Addý asked, curiously.

"I read up on Saintonge, when I found out that's where you all were," Rúrik said.
"I know how many cathedrals you have there," he chuckled. "I'm not sure ours can compare."

"Oh there's so many," Addý laughed.
"But this place is special."

Alexandria Park gave way to Erkiengill's St. Michael's Cathedral. It was once the most important Courantist church in Prydania, until the Laurentist Reformation. It had been the centre of the Laurentist Church of Prydania since then...and not even Syndicalist dictates could dampen that sentiment among the faithful.
The family came upon the entrance, where there stood a bronze statue of St. Michael defeating Lucifer.

"That's the new statue I told you about," Víf said to Nicole.

"Hmmm," Markthór pondered to himself as he tilted his head, looking at the new statue.
"That's a pretty humanoid depiction of the devil. Isn't it traditional for Erkiengill iconography to depict the devil as a dragon?"

Víf nodded, impressed that Markthór picked up on that.
"It was the subject of discussion, actually. It was decided that the statue would depict a human-esque devil, as a reminder of what happened here. That the devil came in a more human appearance."

Addý looked over at Rúrik, a bit worried because...well...she was worried all of these reminders of the War might be getting to him. Rúrik, instead, just looked at her and smiled a bit.
"It was a whole thing. I said something at church back home, because they were canvassing for opinions," he chuckled.
"Come on."

Rúrik entered the cathedral, looking up. It was true, he never came here for services. He had, however, been here before. Recently and....not so recently. He was glad to see it looking as good as it was.

"The Syndicalists used the building for storage," Víf said, still acting as a tour guide.
"And they weren't too careful about making sure the old masonry or the like wasn't damaged. Thankfully we got some talented stone cutters to volunteer their time, and it's mostly been restored."

Addý, Markthór, and Nicole looked around. The church's interior was very warm, and comforting given the incoming winter winds that November was starting to bring. The stone had a yellowish tone to it, that seemed to glow softly in the golden-reddish lights that simulated lit candles. The alter made heavy use of red-stained wood, which complimented the warm feeling, and matched the red brickwork on parts of the building's exterior. It was topped with Jesus on a crucifix, beneath a golden sun.

Rúrik took a seat in one of the dark wooden pews of the nave, removing his tweed cap. He smiled softly, looking at the alter. He truly didn't want to make a big deal of it, but he was here. This was important. He waited until it seems like his cousins were paying attention to Víf and he quickly lowered his head, and said a prayer for his father to himself.
He'd said plenty of prayers for his father. And he wasn't one to think prayer counted for anything more just because a place was said to be special, but...this place did make him feel calmer. It seemed appropriate. He got up and made his way over to the rest of his family, having begun to disperse a bit to look at this or that on their own.

"Did you ever come here, before you had to leave?" Nicole asked her husband.

"I have very foggy memories," Markthór replied.
"I was only eight when the Syndicalists took over though. More of my concrete memories from my childhood came after that."

"It looks nice," Nicole replied.
"The wood is a unique touch."

"A lot of Prydanian churches use wood," Markthór said with a nod.
"This one less than some others. It's actually a nice mixture of styles, southern and northern."

"First you noticed the thing with the statue, now this. Since when did you become an expert on church architecture and iconography?" Nicole asked, teasingly.

"Hey, I know things," Markthór replied with a grin.
"I'm not just a pretty face," he added, with a faux put-upon look.

Víf caught up with her husband, as he approached the alter slowly.
"You know, we don't need to do it every week. I'd like to go to a service here once though. I bet it's beautiful."

"Já," Rúrik said softly.
"Do you want to spend forty minutes in the car with Týr each way though?" he said with a smile.

"Oh come on, I saw you back there," Víf said.
"Don't tell me you don't think it would be worthwhile."

Rúrik continued to smile, and nodded.
"It would, yeah," he said softly, looking up at the crucifix above the alter.

Addý had walked around a bit before she echoed her cousin and sat down in one of the pews. Still, she looked up and around, eyes studying the detailed stone work, the moulding...

"What are you doing, sitting alone?" Víf asked as she and Rúrik took a seat next to her.

"Well you know," Addý said, motioning over to her brother and her sister-in-law.
"Sometimes you need to leave the lovebirds be."

Rúrik thought back to what Addý had told her at the lake the other day. He really hoped that she took his advice.

"Heh, they're very sweet together," Víf replied, before teasingly patting Rúrik's shoulder.
"You could stand to learn a few things from your cousin."

"Oh, please no," Addý chuckled.
"The world is just fine with one Markthór."

"Besides," Rúrik said, "I think Týr will land Mark in hot water. That's how you all win, you know," he smirked.
"I'm not as romantic as Mark, but I'm the pabbi. See? Neither of us can win. You women have us all turned around."

Addý made a face and punched Rúrik's arm.

"Owe!" he yelped.
"How is it you still know how to hit the bone?"

"That's for sexism. In a house of God," Addý said, her angry face changing to that of a pleasant smile.

"Your pride can take it," Víf said to her husband with a grin.

"What pride? I just have you," Rúrik said sweetly, prompting Víf to smile and blush.

"Oh no, you are like Mark," Addý lamented.

Rúrik chuckled, and sighed. He wanted to tell her that she'd find someone, but he didn't want to spill what she had told him in private. Thankfully Markthór and Nicole arrived.

"It's quite nice," Nicole remarked.
"It's very warm and inviting."

"Well a Santonian said our cathedral is nice. That's a vote of confidence," Víf replied.
"Come on though, we can grab lunch and then we'll head back. I need to relieve Júlíetta of Týr."

They made their way out of the Cathedral, when a young man with shaggy long blond hair and glasses approached them.
"Hello! I'm sorry," he said, holding a clipboard and wearing a pink, blue, and teal button with a peace hand sign on his jacket lapel.
"I don't mean to bother you all, but Peace not Blood is organizing a member drive. Would any of you be interested in joining our mailing list?"

They all looked around at each other a bit awkwardly, seeing as three fifths of them weren't even living in Prydania. Rúrik, though, nodded.
"Já, sure," he said, taking the clipboard from the young man, and writing down his email address.
"I'm sorry in advance for my handwriting."

"No, no...that's ok," the young man replied.
"Here, for signing up..." he took the clipboard back, but handed Rúrik a button like his.
"Thank you," he said.

"No, my pleasure," Rúrik replied, pinning the button on his own jacket, as Víf added her own name to the list, and got her own button.

"We're trying to build a local presence here," the young man said.

"We're from Kiojaleit," Rúrik said, pointing to Víf.
"You're doing pretty well for yourselves there."

"Já," the young man replied with a nod, "but we hope we can build up enough support in Erkiengill. Get Toft out of office and prove to everyone that not everyone in this city supports that family."

"I wish you the best," Víf replied.
"I'm from here originally. You'll be making a lot of us proud if you can pull it off."

"Thank you," the young man said proudly.
"I won't take up more of your time. Um, thanks. For your support."

"Take care," Rúrik said, calling after the young man as he went on his way.

"What was that about?" Nicole asked in Mercanti, being unable to follow the Prydanian conversation that had just taken place in front of her.

"We're joining Peace not Blood, it seems," Rúrik replied.
"He's trying to get support for the party in the city to challenge for Maríanna Toft's seat."

"The fascist's daughter?" Nicole replied.
"Ugh, yeah. Good riddance to her. I thought you two already joined Peace not Blood though?"

"We were planning on it," Rúrik said.
"Just never got around to it until now." It was true. He'd been planning on that since he first attended the vigil for Thorbjörn Höjsleth.
"Anyway," he added, "let's get some lunch."

"Cool pin," Addý remarked, with a smile, seeing the Peace not Blood pin on Rúrik's jacket.

"Thanks," he replied with a wink. He really hoped she took the advice he gave her on the lake.

Prydania · Nov 25, 2021

Kiojaleit, Prydania

Addý felt her heart racing seeing that church. It wasn't as grand as the cathedrals that dotted Saintes, or even the cathedral in Erkiengill, but this was her childhood church. In her childhood hometown.
Kiojaleit wasn't big enough to make it onto most maps, and Markthór fell into the habit of telling people who asked where he was from that they were from Erkiengill, but Addý always said Kiojaleit if asked.

It's where she went to school, where she went to church...it was where she was from. And after all of those years, after being unable to say goodbye to this small town square properly as a child, she was back.

The church she was looking at sat atop a small hill, just a bit of a rise, on cobblestone streets. It was a red brick building, with red tiled roofing and a wooden clock tower rising from its centre. It looked exactly like she remembered it.

Addý didn't realize it as she twiddled her thumbs, mostly from excitement. She looked over to her left. Víf, Markthór, and Rúrik were still picking up supplies in a similarly red-tiled building. She would normally have waited but she just...looked at the church again and walked towards it. And before long she was inside.

"Guð minn góður*," she muttered. The smell...it had been buried in the back of her mind for a while but memories came flooding back, of coming here with her family...

The interior of the church was simple to have had that profound an effect. The pews were wooden, with a mix of ones that looked old and ones that were clearly new. The walls were all white, with a row of simple windows along each wall. A simple wooden cross hung on the far wall to the left of the altar, in front of a stained glass window of a dove. It was...exactly as she remembered it.

Addý slowly made her way through the church, running here hand along the wooden pews.

"Excuse me, Fröken?"

"Huh? Oh!" Addý replied, a bit startled as she'd been trapped in her own head.
"Hello Pastor!" She had to stop herself from saying "father." She had been a member of the Santonian Catholique for a while. She had to remember this was the Laurenist Church of Prydania's heartland.
That made her smile though, that it was once again the Church's heartland after years of Syndicalist oppression.

The Pastor was younger than she expected. She remembered the pastor here back when she was a little, a Pastor Viderö. An older looking man. The man who greeted her now didn't have a grey hair on him.

"Hello Fröken," the Pastor replied with a smile as he adjusted his glasses.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Addý replied with a blushing smile.
"I didn't mean to just walk in...I guess my curiosity got the better of me."

"Don't think anything of it," the Pastor said with a chuckle.
"I don't begrudge anyone who comes into a house of God. They usually have a good reason. I just try to be helpful. But, if you don't mind me asking, what has your curiosity?"

"This...um...was my childhood church," Addý said with a smile.
"I just wanted to see it again."

The Pastor nodded.
"I'm Pastor Erik Ostenfeld," he said extending his hand with a grin.

"Addý Öxndal," Addý replied, shaking his hand.

"Öxndal?" Erik asked.
"That makes sense. You must be related to Rúrik!"

Addý nodded. Everyone knew everyone here.
"Já!" she said excitedly.
"He's my cousin. I'm here visiting."

"Visiting? From where?" Erik asked curiously.

"Saintonge," Addý replied. Pastor Ostenfeld nodded.

"Well welcome home...I mean back. I'm sorry. It's always a bit strange with expats."

"No it's ok," Addý said smiling.
"Saintes is home, but so is Kiojaleit."

Erik nodded.
"You have a brother? Rúrik had mentioned that. A basketball star?"

Addý laughed.
"Já but please don't tell him that if you see him. It'll go to Mark's head."

Erik nodded with a soft smile.
"Well I'm so glad you could come by. It's always nice to meet someone else from Kiojaleit. And I'm glad you could see this place restored."

"Restored...I heard about what the Syndicalists did to churches," Addý said softly.

"Já," Erik said with a nod.

"I don't suppose Pastor Viderö..."

Erik frowned and shook his head.
"Best anyone can tell he vanished in the first wave of Syndicalist purges."

"Best anyone can tell?" Addý asked.

"It's not a pleasant story but he's likely met the Lord," Erik said with a sigh.
"But there was never a body found."

"That's so sad..." Addý felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Pastor Viderö was an intrinsic part of her memories of this place.
"He...he was always so nice." She looked down as she felt a swell of emotion in her throat.

"Everyone here spoke very highly of him," Erik said, his jaw tensing up.

"You didn't know him?" Addý asked.

Erik shook his head.
"I'm from Springbok," he replied.

Addý had to think for a moment before the map of Prydania became clear in her head.
"You're from Jórvík?" she asked

"Já," Erik nodded.

"You're not Bayardi though."

"I'm half. My mother's Bayardi," Erik replied.

"How'd you end up out here then?" Addý asked.

"I joined the FRE as a chaplain," Erik explained. "I was part of the force that liberated Kiojaleit. I saw what the Syndicalists did to this place and I...wanted to help. I've been here ever since, making sure the church has been taken care of."

Addý gulped and, without really thinking, hugged him.

"Oh hey, hehe...thanks," Erik replied with a chuckle as Addý blushed and released the pastor.

"Sorry it's just...you liberated my home town. And probably my cousin and aunt...and..."

Erik nodded and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Thank you," he said softly. Addý blinked her eyes to clear the tears forming and cleared her throat.
"But your cousin Rúrik...he's been a good guy as long as I've known him. Finding out his cousin and his aunt and uncle were still alive though... you really don't know how happy it's made him. It renewed his faith."

Addý was shocked to hear that but before she could say anything...

"Addý?"

She turned around to see Nicole enter the small church.

"Addý, there you are!" Nicole said in Mercanti.

"Nicole," she said, turning to Erik.
"Pastor Ostenfeld, my sister in law Nicole. Nicole, this is the new pastor of my childhood church."

"Oh," Nicole said with a smile.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Erik chuckled and turned to Addý.
"I'm afraid I only only speak two languages. Neither are Santonian or Mercanti. But it's very nice to meet you," he said to Nicole.

"So translation problem but that's ok," Addý replied.
"Nicole, he says he's happy to meet you."

"And Nicole says she's happy to meet you, Pastor."

"I'm very honoured," Erik said with a smile.

"Rúrik, Víf, and Mark are finished. I swear Mark wants to prove he could have been a farmer," she chuckled.
"We're going to go grab lunch."

Addý turned to Erik and looked down for a moment.
"Thank you for speaking to me. And for everything else."

"It's been my pleasure to meet you, Fröken Öxndal," Erik replied pleasantly before Addý and Nicole parted ways.

"You'll have to show me around after lunch," Nicole said as they left the church.
"It seems like a nice little town."

"It was...and is," Addý replied. She was excited at that prospect of showing her sister in law around. Yet her mind was focused on what Pastor Ostenfeld had said. That reconnecting with Rúrik helped him find his faith again.

She smiled, seeing her cousin and brother finish loading supplies into the back of Rúrik's SUV, before choosing an opportune moment to jump up and snatch Rúrik's cap from his head.

"Hey!" he said as Markthór chuckled. It wasn't unlike the games they'd play as kids. In this very town square. And they all felt it, laughing for a moment as Rúrik chased Addý down, before they all went off to lunch...

*Guð minn góður- Oh my God

Prydania · May 6, 2022

November 2020
Öxndal Farm
just outside of Kiojaleit, Prydania

Markthór finished taping up the hockey stick he'd bought in town just before they came back. He sat down in the garage, and looked around. It was his family's farmhouse. It was where he grew up for the first twelve years of his life.
But it was so rebuilt, refurbished...that the surroundings didn't fully click with him. Though that was itself a good sign. It wouldn't just fall to rot...someone...his own cousin... had saved it all. And made it knew again. With any luck Týr would grow up having fond memories of this space.

Markthór looked down at the stick he was holding. The Arrow Athletics logo had changed, but it was still the Arrow Athletics logo. And that was something he did remember. Sitting in this garage, a long time ago, on a day like today tapping up an Arrow Athletics hockey stick. It was cloudy, but enough sun poked through the window to illuminate that Arrow Athletics logo. He smiled and rubbed his thumb over it before he gripped the tape along the blade and squeezed gently to make sure it was properly wrapped. Convinced he was ready he stood and opened the garage door before he pulled a hockey net from the garage and a bag of pucks. If he'd come just a month later then the rink in Kiojaleit would be up and running, but presently? Just a bit too warm for ice. But that was ok. Street hockey was fun.

He set the net up and grabbed a puck from the bag and dropped it on the asphalt of the driveway. It was still fresh. Still new. He smiled as he gripped the stick properly and pressed it against the puck, forcing it to stand up on its side. He wondered if he could still do this...

He scooped the puck onto his blade and lifted it off the ground. Markthór smiled as he bobbed the puck on his stick a few times and then tossed it up just a bit to catch it on his blade.
It wasn't the "normal" way you handled the puck in hockey. When he was a kid, back before he left for Saintonge, he'd do this much to the annoyance of his friends on the other teams who couldn't do it, and who never saw it coming.

Markthór bounced the puck again on his stick and sprinted towards the net, imagining a goaltender and spinning to toss the puck in the net.
"Like riding a bike," he chuckled to himself.

"Maybe, but it didn't count."

Markthór looked up. His Aunt Júlíetta was standing by the front door to the house, watching him. He blushed but kept smiling.
"What do you mean?"

"You raised your stick over the crossbar. That's high sticking. No goal," Júlíetta replied with a smile.

Markthór chuckled and nodded.
"You're right, I forgot about that."

"It's ok," Júlíetta said with a soft smile as she walked down to where he was.
"You're a basketball star now!"

Markthór chuckled nervously. He didn't think of himself as a star. Basketball wasn't as popular in Saintonge as some other sports. A lot of people didn't even recognize him out and about in public. But his Aunt was clearly proud of him, and he wasn't going to stop her from being proud.
"I never thought that would happen when I was playing hockey here," he said, leaning a bit on his stick under his chin.

"Your Uncle Tjörvi thought you'd be a professional hockey player," his Aunt said with a smile.
"I don't think he minds that he got the sport wrong."

Markthór nodded and thought for a moment. Should he tell his Aunt what Rúrik had shown him? The memorial for his father and Markthór's uncle? And what he learnt about what was done to Aunt Júlíetta? He remembered Rúrik telling him to keep it a secret, and so...he did that. He didn't say what he knew, even if it broke his heart to know what had happened to his Aunt. But he had to say something when Júlíetta mentioned his Uncle Tjörvi...

"I miss him," Markthór said, looking down.
"I had the same thought you did. He always told me I'd be a pro a hockey player some day. When I was drafted as a pro basketball player I thought of him. And I thanked him. I didn't know what happened yet but..."

"You didn't know he was gone, but he was there with you. And he was so proud," Júlíetta said. Markthór looked up. He could feel himself getting teary eyed. But his Aunt looked...sanguine. She sat on the steps that led up to the front door and waved her nephew over. Markthór did, dragging his stick over to his Aunt who was calling for him. He chuckled. It was like he was ten again.

"I know you miss your uncle, and I know your mother and father do too..." Júlíetta said softly. She'd spoken to them both, many times, over the past few months. She wrapped her arm around her nephew's shoulders.
"You're too big. I used to be able to do this, no problem," she said with a sigh. Markthór chuckled softly and looked down.

"You seem so at peace," he said softly. He knew more about what she'd been through in those Syndicalist camps then what she knew he knew. It amazed him, really. To be violated like that over and over... and to still be here. To still keep going. How could his Aunt be at peace?

"Týr helps," his Aunt replied.
"I have a grandson, Markþór," she said with a smile.
"A grandson. I don't think you understand. I thought for so long my Rúrik and I were going to die...but instead my son has a family. And I have a grandson. It's..." she smiled and looked up at the sky.
"I think it's a sign from God."

"I think so too," Markthór said as he looked at the stick he was holding.
"Týr will be able to play with this some day. Who knows? Maybe he'll be the hockey player Uncle Tjörvi thought I would be?"

"The tike's not even a year old," Júlíetta chuckled.
"Let's not push too much onto him right now."

Markthór nodded and looked at his Aunt. She had always been easy to talk to even as a kid.

"I should wallop Rúrik," he said with a chuckle.
"He had a cute kid. And now Nicole will be bugging me about kids."

"What's the problem?" Júlíetta asked earnestly.

"It's hard as an athlete," Markthór replied.
"During the season I'm travelling a lot. I don't want to have kids and then not be there for them."

"Your father and uncle worked this farm very hard, when the three of you were children," Júlíetta said.
"You think they didn't have times where they wanted to be with you all but couldn't? But it didn't matter because they made the time they had count. If you do that, then it'll all work out."

Markthór nodded. He remembered his own father, after they had to flee to Saintes. How even then, no longer farmers, he worked long hours so his family could start new lives in a foreign land. How he rarely saw his father as child but... his Aunt was right. Just like when they lived on this farm, even in Saintonge, his father made the time he had count.

"The other thing is...it's scary," Markthór admitted.
"A kid is..."

"Very scary," Júlíetta said with a nod.
"Rúrik and Víf didn't plan on it. I think that made it easier. They likely would have terrified each other over the prospect if they'd planned it. But they didn't, and now they have a family."

Markthór just sat there, thinking for a moment. He wasn't sure what to say. His Aunt made good points, but still...children. It was a big prospect for him.

"Týr is also why your cousin is doing so well," Júlíetta added with a smile.
"Well... one of a few reasons, but a very big one," she said, pulling her nephew in close.
"Children are good for you. They give you perspective. And I think you will make for a great father. And Nicole a great mother."

Markthór nodded.
"Thank you, Aunt Júlí..."

Júlíetta patted his shoulder and stood up.
"I won't keep you from your hockey," she said before hugging him and heading in. Markthór looked around. It was just him, fields all around that had been harvested, grey skies, and a net. He grabbed his stick again and tried that move with the puck again, this time keeping the stick under the crossbar, but he missed.

He grumbled and tried again, finally getting it and keeping his stick low after three tries before he just began to regularly shoot pucks at the net. A few harder shots, some softer wrist shots, trying to see if he could get the puck into the upper corners of the net. He didn't really keep track of time though...instead he was lost in his thoughts.

His Aunt, Rúrik... he was truly grateful to have them. Remembering his Uncle made that clear. He wished he could see him. And thank him for all the skating lessons, shooting lessons, and encouragement. He could never do that though...not anymore...not to his face. But it didn't seem so bleak, because he knew his Uncle was there.
And he knew that his cousin and Aunt, well...they were here. And that was a miracle.

Finally the sun began to set. And besides, Addý was texting him. Dinner was nearly ready. So he dragged the bag of pucks and the net back into the garage. And was about to enter the house when he had an idea.

He was going back to Saintonge in a few days. And while he'd have plenty more chances to see his family, he likely would never use this hockey stick again. He meant it when he said Týr could use it when he got older.

Markthór flipped on the lights to the garage and found what he was looking for. A permanent marker in a drawer. He scribbled something in Prydanian along the stick blade's tape, and set the stick in the corner. Where its future owner would find it. One day.

Týr
Ég vona að þú getir einhvern tíma notað þetta til að lýsa upp svellið á staðnum eins og ég gerði fyrir löngu, löngu síðan.
Elska þig mikið,
Frændi þinn,
Markþór*

*Týr
I hope that someday you can use this to light up the local rink like I did a long, long time ago.
Love you lots,
Your uncle,
Markthór

Prydania · May 21, 2022

"So," Rúrik said the next morning as he made coffee, "how're you going to bare your heart to Thorbjörn when you get some?"

"Shhh!" Addý insisted, but Rúrik just chuckled.

"Everyone's still asleep," he said as he looked out the window. It was still dark.
"Mark's not gonna hear a thing."

"He better not," Addý insisted as she poured herself a glass of apple juice.

"What are you doin' up anyway?" Rúrik asked as he poured his cup of coffee.
"You're not the one who has to crawl out of bed before the crack of dawn."

"I don't know," Addý said with a shrug.
"Just couldn't sleep and I heard you getting up. Whatcha up to today anyway?"

"Don't change the topic," Rúrik chuckled.
"Spill. How're ya going to admit you're feelings to Thorbjörn?"

Addý blushed and shrugged.
"You seem very interested in my love life!"

"I want to see my little cousin happy," he replied with a grin.
"Because she's my little cousin, and because she stands up for me on the internet."

"I just don't like thinking of what you went through. I don't like people making light of it," she said softly.
"And...I don't like that we left you and Auntie and Uncle Tjörvi."

Rúrik stopped what he was doing, putting a half-finished mug of coffee down. Addý just stood there.

She didn't know why she said it now. Maybe because she'd be going back to Saintonge tomorrow?
It had been...been this thing. She felt it. Her brother felt it. Her parents felt it.

She was sure Rúrik and Aunt Júlíetta felt it in some way...
And she had decided...told herself...she'd say something. She was tired of it being unsaid.
Rúrik picked up his mug and sipped some more coffee and sat down.
"Sit down," he said with a smile.

"I'm..." Addý said as she sat down but Rúrik shook his head. She stopped but he said nothing. Still, Addý felt good that her cousin didn't seem upset.

Rúrik pulled shed his jacket and rolled his sleeve up, showing the scarring around his wrist.
"That's thanks to ten years of wearing a rough, tight hunk of plastic with a number stamped in it."

Addý was nervous, and seeing that on her cousin made her stomach turn but she didn't notice any anger in Rúrik's voice.

"I have a son," he said with a smile.
"I have a son, and a wife...and I don't know why God has smiled on me but he has...but no matter what, I'll always have a scar here, and I'll remember those ten years in that camp."

He sighed.
"I've said it before, Addý, but I mean it. Seeing you all again and mamma were the two things that kept me going. I never once felt you abandoned us."

"We just left," Addý said.
"I never had a chance to even say goodbye..."

"I don't know why Pabbi decided we should stay," Rúrik said softly.
"Maybe you'd say it's easy to say he was wrong, looking back. But I don't think so."

"But you..." Addý said.

"Come on," Rúrik said with a grin. He rolled his sleeve back done and tossed his jacket on.
"Put your jacket on, it's getting chilly out there."

"You want me to come out with you?" Addý asked.

"Já," Rúrik said with a faux indignant attitude. "You get up this early on this farm, you get your work in! You're still an Öxndal after all."

Addý smiled and followed her cousin out into the chilly morning as the sun just began to peak out.

"I just don't want to get in your way..."
"Eh, the harvest's done. I just need to get a few odd jobs done before the winter. I could use the company."

"About what I said inside..."

Rúrik went to a storage shed and opened it, grabbing a tool box from it.

"I hope you don't mind, but do you believe in God?" he asked his cousin.

"I mean...I had to join the Church of Saintonge when I became a Santonian citizen."

Rúrik nodded and led his cousin to the grain elevator.
"I need to work on some of the wiring. Could you hold the flashlight? At least until the sun comes up?"

"Sure," Addý said said as she held the flashlight up as Rúrik slipped on gloves and began to strip some wires.

"Wiring's always been a bit sketchy," he said. "I'd like to get it done before it starts snowing..."

Then he continued his previous train of thought.

"Ok so you joined a church. I belong to a church, but it doesn't mean much. That's just a box to check off. Do you believe in God though?"

"I...I do," Addý said softly.

"I do too, because I think..." Rúrik said, grunting a bit as he dealt with some stubborn wires, "... I think Pabbi's mistake to stay was God's plan for me."

"How...how do you mean?"

"Think about it," Rúrik said as he re-worked some wires.
"If I'd left...I wouldn't be here. But I am. I'm here and..." he looked up at his cousin.
"I don't want to brag but I think I put together a pretty good farm."

Addý chuckled and nodded.
"Já you did."

"Well I think it's important that I'm here because our farm is still around. I believe in God and I believe that's his plan for me. To keep our farm alive, like it used to be."

"Oh is that how you're going to do it?" Addý said with a smile.
"I'm glad you saved the farm... this place is wonderful. But...I wish you didn't have to suffer. I was Uncle Tjörvi was still alive..."

"God works even during the darkest of times," Rúrik said with a smile as he worked.
"You left. And if you wouldn't have done that, not only would you all have suffered with Mamma and me but Thorbjörn and his sisters would have died at the hands of those People's Militia."

Addý stood there, holding the flashlight in place as Rúrik worked. She just stood there as her cousin's words washed over her mind. That was...that was something she never thought of.

"I believe," Rúrik continued, "that evil happens because man is capable of evil. I know that better than most people I think," he said with another grunt as he set the new writing.
"But the Lord works in those dark times. And in the end His paths for us led us back together. Our farm, and our old neighbours, safe in the end."

"You've thought a lot about this," Addý said as Rúrik closed the plastic casing over the wiring and flipped a switch. The soft humming of the machinery echoed in the chilly early morning.

"That's what I like to hear," he said, switching it off as he gathered his tools.

"I've thought about it a lot because I've had a lot of time to think about it," he added.
"Come on," he grabbed his tool box and led his cousin to the barn.

"But that does remind me," he added, "what about Thorbjörn? You never told me how you'd tell him how you feel!"

"You're still on that?" Addý said with a grin.

"Já I am, and I should warn you, I'm tenacious," Rúrik replied with a smirk.

"Well..." Addý replied.
"I'm going to invite him to New Year's with us. He's going to be the first foot."

"Oh," Rúrik said as he stopped, sounding like he was musing.

"What do you mean 'oh'?" Addý replied sounding just a bit defensive.

"He'll know what's up," Rúrik said with a nod.

"How?!"

"First foot's gotta be fair haired. He's not. And he's from here so he'll know. He'll figure out you have ulterior motives," he said as he led his cousin into the barn and flipped on the lights.

"Oh wow..." Addý said softly, looking at the tractor and combine.... "they're pretty impressive machines..."

"Já..." Rúrik replied with a nod.

"But maybe..." Addý continues, "maybe I want him to know something's up? Maybe I want him to figure it out? Because then there's not so much pressure. That he'll..."

"You deserve happiness," Rúrik said with a smile.
"You do. You're a kind, wonderful person and you deserve happiness. It's his loss if he can't see that. And someone else's gain."

"You flatter me," Addý said with a smile.

"Maybe you deserve flattery?" Rúrik said with a smirk.

"Now! Before you figure that out, you're going to learn how to service a tractor."

"What?"

"Gotta do it again before winter. Might as well be now. And like I said, you wake up early on this farm, you work!"

Addý smiled and nodded at her cousin.
"Alright, bro, show me how."

"That's the spirit. If we make good time we'll be done everything that needs doing by two. A short day. Let's get at it!"

Addý grinned and nodded. And let her cousin explain how you performed routine macitence on a tractor.

Prydania · May 23, 2022

"I can talk to Mamma," Markthór said as he looked over the mantle. He couldn't help but notice the pictures were all post-War. And that made sense. He didn't expect anything that was left would have survived Syndicalist purges.

"She took a photo album when we left. We can send you scans of family pictures from before."

"I'd like that," Rúrik replied.
"But I've got a few on here," he said as he waved his phone. It contained pictures of everyone from the past week's trip.

Markthór nodded and continued to look at what his cousin had displayed on the mantle.
"What's this?" he asked as he grabbed something framed, from next to a picture of Rúrik and Víf from their wedding day. It was in a picture frame but it wasn't a picture. It was a patch of some kind. A lightning bolt against half a wreath of oak leaves, crossed with a rifle.

"Eighth Stormurholmr Rifiles," Rúrik replied.
"They were the FRE force that liberated our camp."

Markthór pat his right pocket a bit, nodding.

"If they're still around then I should write a letter. For saving my cousin and Aunt and liberating my home."

"You're going home," Rúrik corrected him. He didn't mean anything bad by it. But he was going to miss his cousins. Sure they'd reconnected over the internet but... he'd just gotten to see them again.

"Saintes is home," Markthór said with a nod.
"And so is here. I can have two homes."

Rúrik smiled.
"I'm going to miss you," he said softly.

"Come to Saintes next winter."

Rúrik looked over at his smiling cousin. He couldn't help but grin.

"If we can make it work," he said very authoritatively.
"I don't care what you or anyone else says I'm not imposing us on you all."

Markthór just waved it off as he continued to look at the pictures on the mantle.
"Mamma and Pabbi would love to see everyone. Týr especially."

"Aunt Odda and Uncle Kvasir will give the kid a big head," Rúrik chuckled.

"I think his pabbi already has," Markthór winked.

Rúrik just laughed and grabbed Markthór's suitcase.
"Come on I'll help you get loaded in the car."

"Um...wait."

"Huh?" Rúrik set the suitcase down almost as quickly as he'd picked it up.

"I have something for you."

"You've given us enough chocolate and cookies to last a lifetime," Rúrik insisted, but Markthór shook his head.

"I want to give you this."
He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a black sweat band. It had a Prydanian flag sewn onto it.

Markthór started to tear up and looked down at it as he held it.
"I made this when I made the University of Saintes basketball team. I wanted to...make a statement. And I wanted you to know I didn't forg..."

Markthór stopped as Rúrik took the band from his cousin. He gripped it a bit.
Rúrik looked up at his cousin and hugged him, patting him on the back. He just held him for a moment before he spoke.
"You didn't need to give me this."

Markthór nodded as his cousin finally released his embrace.
"Já I do because...you're not the only one whose going to be sad to say goodbye."

"I never blamed you all for leavi..."

"It's not about that," Markthór insisted shaking his head.
"When I made that armband I was frustrated. I didn't even know if you were alive...I was just screaming into the world hoping you'd heard me."

Rúrik looked down at the arm band and placed it on the mantle so the flag was facing out, next to the framed patch of the Stormurholmr Eighth Rifles.
"Thank you," he said, chocked up. Markthór went to comfort him when Addý jumped on his back and hugged.

"One more hug before airport hugs!"

Rúrik laughed and spun around to hug her tight.

"Your big bro and I were just trying to out sob each other," Rúrik said with a grin.

"Well don't worry about the both of you. This isn't goodbye. We'll see each other again soon. I'm sure."

"And I'll move Aunt Odda and Uncle Kvasir to come here, even if I have to move heaven and eras to do it," Rúrik said with a grin.

"They should. It would be good," Addý said with a nod.

"Especially Pabbi," Markthór said softly. The three just stood in silence for a brief moment when Víf, who had been getting the car ready with Nicole, called back.

"Rúrik, honey, we should get going so we beat the weekend traffic into the city."

"Já, love, coming," he called out before Markthór forced them into one more three way hug.

Rúrik held his cousins...perhaps just a bit longer than they held him. He took a deep breath, his heart racing but feeling...happy.

Júlíetta brought Týr and said their own heartfelt goodbyes before Rúrik led his cousins out of his house and to the car. He'd have the whole drive to Býkonsviði International Airport and some time there yet...

... but he was saying goodbye properly this time.

Markthór and Nicole hugged, helping Addý realize what she would need to do once she was home.
And the three of them said goodbye to Kiojaleit.

Though this time, the sounds of war were a distant memory.

endirinn

Prydania · May 23, 2022

OOC Note:

And so ends Down that Way to Kiojaleit

This is kind of crazy.
See @Kyle and I had an idea that became the RP If You Love These People that dealt with a number of stories. One of those was Thorbjörn Höjsleth, the Prydanian refugee turned Santonian National Assembly deputy who was critical of Prydania joining in with Andrenne's war in Ducrijeka, and the attack on his life.

Kyle really left it up to me to decide where Thorbjörn came from, within a few basic background parameters Kyle had established. So I made up Kiojaleit, a small country town.

Part of that RP involved a vigil that Kiojaleit would be having, to show support for Thorbjörn and pray for his recovery.
I wrote a news post about that and I needed a name. Someone from Kiojaleit who could have known Thorbjörn back before he and his family had to flee. Someone who could voice support for him and the vigil.
So I came up with Rúrik Öxndal.

Rúrik was just a name. The article I introduced him in gave some basic backstory elements but not much else.

When Twitcher became a thing Kyle suggested to me that it might be fun to have a bit where two Prydanians- cousins- reconnect over it. One in Prydania and one in Saintonge.

I don't know why I recycled Rúrik but I did. And so his cousin Addý was created. Over the course of that Twitcher exchange I mentioned Addý had a brother, Markthór, on a whim.

As I went through that, I started to have ideas. About them reconnecting. About how Rúrik and his mother survived in a Syndicalist camp, and how Addý and Markthór adjusted in Saintonge. Some of this made it into For the King, to Valhalla. But I didn't know what to do with the reconnecting plot. I only had one post in mind- the initial arrival at the airport.

Kyle told me "just start the thread. If you can't think of anything else that's ok."

So I did. And while I didn't get the longest story out of it, I got what I think is a nice story about recovery, dealing with trauma, and family reconnecting.

Through it I expanded on the whole family. New characters I'm now quite fond of writing were dreamed up. And all in all...it lifted my spirits to keep coming back to.

I remember when I mentioned what this RP would be about some idiot on Discord (I can't remember their name) asked me "what does Prydania hope to gain out of it?"

I was confused since it was a RP about normal people. Apparently this smoothbrain couldn't comprehend NS RP that wasn't about big important government people.

So this also served as something for me to experiment on. Normal people. How do people who aren't Kings, Queens, government ministers, or soldiers, recovery from trauma? How does someone who's just a guy- just one farmer in a nation of farmers- deal with what happened to him and react to seeing his family again?

When Rúrik was put up for a candidate for the Forum RP Character of the Year for the Lennarts @bootsie asked me "who is Rúrik for Prydania?"

He's just a farmer. And that's the point. We write national RPs. And it's been great to explore who makes up nations- regular people.

I'd like to thank Kyle for inspiring me to create Rúrik, for his permission to use Saintonge in his family's story, and then make this thread. To @Yalkan for his endless enthusiasm for Rúrik, and for everyone else who read and enjoyed this thread! Thank you!

Down that Way to Kiojaleit [COMPLETE]

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði