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At the dawn of the new year, five men stood waiting on the frozen coast. Last year, they had waited and received nothing. The year before, they also returned without a sign. A decade ago, their fathers held this vigil, as did their grandfathers, and on for centuries, each time returning empty handed. Yet still they waited, knowing that one year, the Gift of the First Few would finally arrive, long after the riven land was saved from eternal darkness.
Frobert was first to see the color in the ice. Jutting up from the coastline, flat white expanse to the southern horizon, the rising sun caught a rosy patch. He called his companions over, and excitedly approached. There, a rime-covered body emerged from the frozen surf. The five men quickly wrapped the figure in furs and excitedly rushed back to the village.
Hildoin took over, insisting that the body be taken to the center of the village. Most of the Kemi Tribe lived in small wooden huts, partially buried in the earth to save warmth. Small hovels for a poor people. Yet they had spent centuries building a larger, grander building. A building bedecked with furs, colored cloth, high rafters, and a giant hearth. The fires were kept lit throughout the winter, and yet, the building remained empty.
Ragambald called ahead, directing the villagers to open the doors, clear the way to the hearth. Berold picked up collections of firewood and tended the flames, warming the cavernous room. Gualter carefully placed the body down by the hearth, picked away the largest wisps of frost, and stood watch as ice melted away.
The villagers gathered around expectantly. What happened? There was a body? Are they dead? It's a girl? A young woman? Red hair? Are you sure she's not dead?
A sudden gasp echoed through the chamber, and the woman suddenly woke and sat up with a start. She pulled the furs around her body, growing increasingly damp as she thawed, and staggered to her bare feet.
Hildoin called forth, "All hail the First Few!"
Everyone responded, "All hail the First Few!"
She stood, confused, shivering, wearing only the furs she clung to, as meltwater dripped from her coppery tresses.
Hildoin continued, "All hail the Chieftess!"
"All hail the Chieftess!"
The Chieftess had a name: Madelgarde. She listened with bewilderment to Hildoin's prophecies, but settled into her high-backed seat and gracefully accepted the fussing of an entire village devoted to her well-being. Mead flowed for days, she dined on suckling pig, and met the gaze of each reveler with wide, friendly eyes.
Days past, and Madelgarde walked through the large hearth-chamber of Kemi, the home built for her. She had outfits, coats, dresses available to wear, but none amused her more than simply wrapping herself loosely in the furs she first awoke to find herself in. The furtive stares of the men were a thrilling jolt, each swallow and moment of distraction a guilty pleasure.
Once the basic understanding of the lay of the land had been discovered, she invited her entourage, the five men who pulled her from the ice, to dine with her. She found an enjoyable, haphazard way to pull her furs around her, some fashion that looked as if they would slip off at any time.
"Good sirs, I am most grateful for your coming this evening. Now that I have rested and recovered, I must insist that we settle the first order of business at hand." She llicked a morsel of pork glistening at the end of a skewer and slowly waved it about, pointing at her rescuers. "I need a man."
As they lay together, Gualter explained who of the First Few emerged throughout the nearby lands.
Madelgarde smirked and stretched like a cat. No, she was sure Yehudah would not give her any trouble.
"I can't stop thinking of our poor neighbors in Rovaniemi," she fretted. "Why should they be so unlucky to have someone who sees others only as tools to her own sense of power?"
"We would not dream to doubt the wisdom of the First Few," he replied.
"Well, that's why you have me, isn't it?" Madelgarde ran a finger across Berold's bicep. "I think we should liberate Rovaniemi from Gisela, and I will take care of both villages' needs."
"I'll raise the warriors and head out."
"No, wait for a bit. The time is not yet right. Let the snow melt longer. No need to fight in the frigid air. Hildoin will want to read the flight path of the birds to tell us more about when to strike."
"As you wish."
Madelgarde's patience proved helpful, as Gualter's travels bore sudden fruit: Vilnius and Vycheda reached out asking for non-aggression pacts, which were welcomed, if too distant to be of practical use. But then, Gualter found success closer to home:
But then, even greater success was had:
Madelgarde left the battle and siege in Gualter's capable hands. She then headed south under cover of darkness and stealthily made her way into Yehudah's grand hall.
She hid herself all night in the hall as Yehudah listened to the concerns of his villagers. She listened to demands for recompense between farmers, of tales of a cow wandering onto another's lands. She waited as he dismissed everyone for the night, hiding in the shadows.
"Always at each other's throats, they are..." he muttered to himself.
"Makes you want a throat of your own to be at, doesn't it?" Madelgarde revealed herself, her slender neck, and a long trail of flesh down her chest.
Yehudah turned with a start, then relaxed. "Madelgarde, how do you always manage to get away? Aren't you needed back home? Don't you have a siege to lead?"
"My husband is taking care of the siege. Brunhild is with him."
"Doesn't he get suspicious? Isn't he your spymaster?"
"Frobert is spymaster now. He has better eyes. And besides, the people have no idea where we come from, do they? Why wouldn't they just not consider when we disappear?"
Yehudah raised a finger. "They... We shouldn't speak of them."
Madelgarde grasped Yehudah's finger and placed it on the top of her sternum. "Then we shouldn't speak."
And within the month, the north was as conquered as the south.
"Care for them? Certainly. I knew what I was doing. Yes, maybe I was strict, maybe I was cruel. But this world's golden age is not going to come through our arrival alone. You're already doing so much more, marrying into the commoners, reaping the benefits of alliance near and far."
"Of course. Everything we do is in service to the First Few and for the people."
"Oh, Madelgarde, my dear Few sister, are you even aware what you are doing? You're doing me a favor."
"What do you mean?"
"Think of before, Mads. Surely you remember Gerbert."
Madelgarde waved her hand in front of her face. "Not in front of everyone."
"Oh, no, it's perfectly safe." Gisela pulled a scroll out from her bodice. "The Golden Boy was pulled from a seam of precious ore... in Kantalahti. So near. So very near."
"I hadn't realized. How is he?"
"Read it."
Madelgarde opened the scroll and read.
To my dear Few sister Gisela,
The auspices of our emergence cannot be denied, and the weakness of your position is unenviable. The stars and paths of the reindeer in these lands make it clear: you were never meant to rule. For this reason I hereby declare upon our right as rulers of these people, that Rovaniemi is mine to rule. You will vacate your position and hand over the role of Chief to me. Your emergence is Stone, but mine is Gold.
I and my multitudes approach. Your days are numbered, witch.
Gerbert of the First Few, Chief of Kantalahti and Rovaniemi
Gisela cackled. "Have fun, Mads."The auspices of our emergence cannot be denied, and the weakness of your position is unenviable. The stars and paths of the reindeer in these lands make it clear: you were never meant to rule. For this reason I hereby declare upon our right as rulers of these people, that Rovaniemi is mine to rule. You will vacate your position and hand over the role of Chief to me. Your emergence is Stone, but mine is Gold.
I and my multitudes approach. Your days are numbered, witch.
Gerbert of the First Few, Chief of Kantalahti and Rovaniemi
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