Plight of an Empire

Prologue

The Black Rocks, Rundil

“Gods, damn this cold”, Samwell shouted above the howling wind.  The strong northern wind whipped his already windblown hair around his face.  He pulled his timeworn furs closer to his chest.

A gloved hand grasped Samwell’s shoulder.  “You already sick of being a man, Sam?” another hunter who called himself Axe mocked.  Axe was a robust man who easily stood two heads over Samwell.  In his other hand, he wielded a huge axe.  For any normal man, it would require two hands to grasp it, but Axe could use it with only one.

Samwell stepped to the side, removing Axe’s heavy hand from his shoulder.  “It’s Samwell”, he snapped.  Axe snorted and walked away to the other group of hunters.  Samwell watched the other hunters as they finished packing their pelted tents from their campsite.  They laughed as they told stories and smoked their pipes.  They didn’t even seem to be bothered by the cold, least of all Axe.

The wind picked up again, nearly blowing Samwell on his back.  This was his first hunting expedition and so far, he was not impressed.  He again pulled his furs closer to him, hugging his arms across his chest.  It felt as if the furs did little to stop the biting wind.

“You coming, Sammy?” Axe shouted.  They were already further into the Black Rocks mountain range.

Samwell picked up his knapsack and threw it over his back.  “I’m coming!” he called back.  “And it’s Samwell!”  Axe’s laughter was thundering.  The new hunter hid his scowl and he ran to catch up with his group.  He often wondered why Axe was a hunter, but his ability to carry the meat of their prey proved invaluable.

For the past four days, they had been tracking a group of elk at the base of the range.  Each day, the elk have been pushing deeper into the Black Rocks, much to the dismay of the hunters.  Every step they took was colder than the last, but they pressed on, practically tasting the venison on their tongues.  They were only a few days from the Drop-Off, the end of the empire and the beginning of the Tundra—a land cursed with cold.  No human could survive there.

“I picked up the trail!” Samwell heard a fellow hunter, Cray Haddon, call out.  Samwell rushed over to where Cray was pointing, he could see nothing but the white snow.  He dared not question Cray, one of the oldest and most experienced of the group.  Hailing from Frostfall, he had been born into the cold.  Already having seen nearly thirty-seven winters, he has lost three of his fingers, four toes, and an ear to the frost.  “They are continuing to head north”, he told the group.

“I don’t like this”, Fenwick Laibrook told the group.  “We are mere days away from the Drop-Off, yet we continue to press north?”  He looked to the sky, still darkened with the clouds of the previous week’s blizzard.  “I don’t think the elk are worth the risk of freezing to death.”

The group looked to Cray for a rebuttal. He grimaced.  “If we return home without the elk, our families will not last the winter.  I say we press on for one more day and if we fail to find the elk, we can return home with what we have managed to kill and pray to the gods that the winter is not as bad as last year’s.”

They all nodded in agreement.  Fenwick was not pleased with this result, but he could not go against the decision of the group.  Samwell stood at the back of the group with a grim expression hidden by his growing beard.  He had wanted to turn back with Fenwick.  He wanted to be in his home, sitting in front of a roaring fire, with his new wife on his lap.  Though he had only been in the wilderness for just over four days, he had already forgotten the feeling of warmth.

For the next few hours they trudged further north following the elks’ tracks.  It was difficult to determine the exact passage of time due to the dark skies, but it felt like an eternity to Samwell.  Cray claimed that the tracks were getting fresher, that they were closing in on the herd, but Samwell still could not see what Cray saw.  He wondered whether he was cut out to be a hunter.  Managing a shop seemed much more preferable to the hunter.