Boots crushed crisp and crunchy chunks of powdered ice. Dawn had barely eaten at the snow that had settled on the frozen tundra. Winter had set its tyrannical grasp on the landscape, and Grielda Tiellus was late from her break. Hot breath burst from her freezing lips like geysers, as the hills outside the city of Ivkaskar Ovlask fell behind her. The cold chill bit deep into the skin, and for all of her affinity for the ice and snow, she could feel its determined sting gnawing at her bones. Grielda grimaced as she finally approached the children, playing mock battles outside the reach of the city, and yet firmly within hers.
The instructor took a deep breath, a weak and fruitless attempt at warming herself. Grielda suppressed the urge to mumble about Remitters and instead turned her attention to the boys and girls vaulting and sliding through the snow. Arcs of fire, ice, lightning, and compressed air split the horizon. Walls of snow and ice erupted from the banks of wind-driven drifts. Bolts of lightning and fire, lances of frost and air were all artfully deflected and redirected by the older helpers. Those that weren’t were often shattered or fizzled out before any real damage was dealt. As dangerous as it looked, they were safe. At least for now. Faster than any eye could track – a lance of lightning headed for her, a loud crack sizzling the air around it. Just as instantly, she had erected a solid, almost paper-thin wall of ice. The bolt melted into the instructor’s shield, a lightning rod against the careless practice of a student.
“Ronjah, hands to your sides,” she yelled out. “Jenniah!” Sunburst-orange irises met her islands of lime neon afloat a sea of midnight black. The young girl’s intense stare far louder than the boisterous ambience before her. The question unheard was as obvious as the luminous rays piercing through the morning clouds. It begged: Can I play with her? Grielda nodded. Jenniah burst forth, chuckling as she ran past the older D’varoan boy.
Ronjah’s expression was surprisingly hard, hinting at a seriousness that was beyond his age. Ronjah's face was instantly covered by a ball of snow, enthusiastically offered by the Glacian minor who was off to summon the class pet. Before the adult could call her back, Jenniah had already reached beyond her dark-skinned friend and had joined with the others. With extra concentration, Grielda picked up Jenniah’s voice from the din.
“Everybody watch out! Waiyn’s coming!”
Among humans, the announcement would have gone unheeded. The cacophonous thunder of lightning and fire would have been too loud. The thick walls of ice, snow and fields of hardened air would have soaked her words. However, these children whose ears were attuned to the frostworm's name, reacted instantly. Snow exploded as they ran towards the town. Towards Ms. Tiellus. Up near Jenniah rose a violent pillar of snow. As the shower of frost settled and the clouds of pulverized snow cleared, a brown, fuzzy pillar stood. High above the ground, this boa-like creature roared. Its guttural challenge echoed across the land, silencing all within its range. Grielda waved to the crowd of 32 “Get in a line, we're heading back inside.”
Groans rose from the gathering as the ground shuddered. Waiyn was approaching. Aboard her massive hide rode the Glacian girl. Grielda stood. Confident despite the urge to run towards warmth. Out of the cold. “Thanks Jenniah,” she said, resisting the impulse to chatter her teeth.
The girl slid off the massive worm. “I think we should stay outside,” she said as her boots hit the ground. Grielda's heart sank as cheers spread through the mass of children. More time outside meant a likely case of frostbite. Or worse: a cold. And colds didn't qualify for paid time off. At worst, she could expect working with a sore body and slow mind for the next two weeks while she spread antigens of any plague she and her ancestors had contracted. Grielda bit her lip.
“We can extend free time now or before we go home,” Grielda offered the class. A few shouts, small arguments and shoves left the kids decided. Lessons would continue, but an extended lunch and final break would be granted. And both Ms. Tiellus and the children agreed: lunch was better had sooner than later.
Lunch was something familiar to any human: a roasted flank of some beast, pulled and covered in a sweet and sour sauce sourced from a mead. This was served with a side known as Kertas – a pancake-like sandwich. Its “pancake” was a blend of beets and potatoes mashed together and fried into cakes slathered in the same sauce as the meat. For the filling: a blend of greens, nuts, berries drenched in beet juice and vegetable flours. It was Sh’lepsha, a thick, earthy paste.
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The snack was boiled bone jellies with a toasty center. It was boiled gelatin cooled around a fried biscuit slathered with fruit jams and rolled into seeds. The gelatin was then rolled in rice powder to keep it from sticking to anything before it was rolled into a flattened frond leaf and wrapped like a patty. The children couldn’t get enough of them. Between the hour and a half allotted to them between eating and playing, Grielda normally was in charge of checking the stock of supplies and emergency gear that had been used up until this point. However, she had called a favor. The poor Glacian iluun hardly had any other options. Not that she’d ever betray her cousin Greta. Grielda put her lunch away and walked out from the class room they had gathered in to eat. The other adults from the neighboring classes and the halls would watch after them; this was technically her break - at least 15 minutes was. Fortunately, that favor stretched it to 50. And she’d need all of them if she was going to get what she had promised to Ronjah before the end of the day. Legs felt like rubber as Grielda left the cafeteria. What she was looking for would be at the end of the hallway, where the server rooms and water reclamation access was. Seakaian datafarms were integrated into the sewage systems of the towns they were installed in. Fresh water was for organic life while the machines helped filter and purify the water using the waste heat of their computing. Grielda often found it quite amazing how efficient and innovative her fellow llcyran engineers were when it came to integrating their innovations into the daily life of their neighbors. There were no doors keeping anyone from the terminal room – the only place an individual could access the Global Data Assisted Weave. There was no need, as sensors within the threshold beams would alert security about anyone without clearance trying to enter. This instructor was obviously cleared to access the area, but she wasn’t sure if she could grab what was in the terminal. The terminal room looked more like a cafe lobby than a computer lab as there was a food and coffee kiosk surrounded by tables and chairs. No one was around; the cafe was open on the first third of the week. Walking past the kiosk, Grielda booted up the terminal nestled in the corner nook. It was a standing terminal – no chair for comfort, just a screen and peripherals for navigating the user interfaces and networks. “Let’s see if I can get away with this,” she muttered to herself. Swiping across the touchscreen with gestures, she navigated deep within the city’s own databases. It had to be here. Records dating back to the charter of the city would be connected to the Arem Crisis that had expanded tensions between the powers of this world. Swiping, swiping, swiping, Grielda searched fervently until with a soft -beep- she had found it: the Glacian ambassador files. Slotting her data stub into a port, Grielda moved the cursor on the screen into the directory. It was like a phone book, you could scroll to whatever digital node you wanted on the web. She selected Civic Infrastructure. The water regulation systems hummed as she scrolled through the sub directories. “Water Systems and Regulations, Ambassador,” she mumbled to herself as she selected the profile of an Adrhan Dhaedhrus. Grielda tapped the data stub. The screen distorted before the image and biography of the former ambassador to Yghastia was replaced with scrolling lines of text. She highlighted a few lines and typed a few extra columns before pasting it to the drive. Grielda backspaced the highlighted text before typing in a replacement column. She tapped the stub and the screen was back to normal. The stub resembled an sd card, one made out of crystal and engraved in what looked like ivory. She logged off of her account, making sure to let the terminal restart before manually removing the stub. Her skin pricked, her anxiety stabbing through the chill permeating from her limbs.
‘Even in death, you controlling bitch. No one's ever free from your manipulations, Almia.’ She huffed her contempt for the late ruler of D’varoh. The only thing surprising about the assassination was their identity. R’vost, one of the Royal Shadows, had found the revelation excruciating and humiliating. They'd be meeting in a week. 9 days.
She was back in the cafeteria by minute 14. Grabbing her knapsack, she unpacked her portion of the day's lunch. The Sh’lepsha - stuffed Kertases were her favorite part of the meal. Especially when you stuffed them full of the imported razor beak flesh. The warm, savory umam of the flesh mixed well with the sweet earthiness of the beet juice and berries that soaked through the pancake- like loaf that enveloped it. The blend of flavors was enough to push what she had stolen from the back of her mind.
Pickup from class tended to be noneventful. It basically involved lining the children up in front of the outside helipads where the jump shuttles would arrive to drop off and extract the students from and to their homes. It was holiday week, The Romance of Ardün and Palka, also known as Nüardalkap [Noo -AR - Dahl - Kahp]. It was a time of family dinners, romance, naughtiness and jubilee. They wouldn't return until the start of Pluviose, after the rest sector of the first week. Grielda kept this in mind as she ruminated on her plans for her break. A small tug brought her back to the moment. It was Ronjah, the child picked up last.
“Greta's here.” It was said matter of fact, without a trace of emotion. Grielda turned and met the face of her cousin.
“You're here early,” she said, greeting the brunette.
“I wanted the extra time to finish Ronjah's gift,” Greta replied. Her blazing green irises never left the boy.
Grielda took a step forward and leaned into her cousin's ear. Her whisper tickled the many hairs on Greta's ear, “Season’s Nüardalkap.”
The cousin’s eyes widened as Grielda clasped a hand.
“Make sure that VISE is finished. Future proof it, they're near impossible to make let alone own.”
Greta looked back at Ronjah.
“Oh, R’vost and I intend for it to be a bridge for him.”
