A New Reign Begins

[Capsavian Hopewell]

Capsavian had waited for this day, his whole life. 

Indeed, for many lives he had longed for the chance to test his mettle against the best the Dern Dynasty could offer.  To the victor went the prize, most coveted and crafted by the God of metalworking himself, Urcaugur. 

The prize weighed heavily upon the brow of the aging leader of the Dernish people, Vali Timmen Dern.  The torque that represented the blessings of the Five Old Gods was of yellow brass, with ornate symbols emblazoned around its perimeter.  Even from this distance, at the far end of the Umber Hall, Capsavian could make out the symbol of prosperity—pairs of spoked wheels, braced by scythe-wielding farmers on either side.  Although he could not read it from his stance, Cap knew also that the words of the Dern Clan were weaved across the torque in the tongue of the Gods: they read “Strength from the Soil”.

“Strength from the soil,” Cap muttered to himself, as if to rally his own strength for the test to come.

For time immeasurable, Aidern declared its leader from these trials.  They were held whenever the current Vali died or was nearing death, and would determine the family to continue the tribe’s march to greatness.

For time immeasurable, the torque had always rested upon the head of a Dern.  No other family had been able to break that lineage, but Cap was determined to change all that today.

The reverberation of a ram’s horn broke Cap’s meditation and silenced the excited chatter in the mead hall.  Vali Timmen waved off assistance as his trembling legs lifted him to stand on the dais, above the spectators.  The Vali—Lord of the Dernish people—was a mere shadow of the great warrior and diplomat of centuries past, but his voice hinted of the presence he still commanded, even if time itself was betraying him.

“We have gathered today in the Umber Hall for this, our most sacred rite,” began the Vali.  “For today, in the eyes of the Gods and Goddesses, of spirits past and lives present, we discover who among us will reign as the next Vali of Aidern.”

“Let the first test commence!”

…to be continued...

[Capsavian Hopewell]

Dernfeld was a small center of civilization, situated in the midst of the dusty, wind-swept plains of Aidern.  No river found its way to Dernfeld, and its location meant that rain was scarce.  Summers were blistering, winters were frigid. Tundra embraced its northern steppes, while desert encroached from the southlands.

And yet, somehow a people scratched a living in this barren landscape.  The Derns were the first of the Urthmen to found a permanent settlement here, and it was from their name that the nation of Aidern—and its denizens—carried their own identities.

Early in their dynasty, the Derns found it necessary to create a democratic means of selecting leadership in a fair, bloodless manner.  War was an act to be avoided at all costs, and the dry plains of Aidern meant that life was already too fragile.

And so it was that acts of supposed bravery in the form of physical feats were ruled out by the early ruling Derns.  In its stead, came The Trials, a series of competitions of ever-increasing difficulty, in which the victorious was deemed to be chosen by the Gods themselves, to lead the Dernish people forward.

Capsavian knew all this, of course; it was drilled into him through children’s songs and mead hall tales.  However familiar the tales, he nevertheless listened with the others, with intent and respect as Vali Timmen recited the origins of the Derns and the Trials.

The Three Trials each centered around the one plant which grew abundantly across the cold plains of Aidern.  The leafy rhubarb plant was a symbol of sustainability, tastiness, and strength:  all traits which the Dernish people valued.

The First Trial had already begun; it was to test sustainability amongst the candidates for Vali.  The test was simple to understand, but difficult to complete:  quite simply, the candidates were to stay awake for as long as they could muster.  This was to represent sustainability, and the trait that leaders would need should they be tasked with governing the tribe.

When only five remained awake and alert (to represent the five Old Gods), they would proceed to the Second Trial.

Cap had trained his whole life for these Trials, and although it wasn’t easy, he managed to stay alert and awake for four straight days and nights, to remain one of the final five.

The five candidates were permitted five hours of sleep, after which they were rounded back into the Umber Hall for the Second Trial.

[Capsavian Hopewell]

The Second Trial tested candidates for tastiness: using only rhubarb, honey, wheat flour, water, and a few other spices, along with any meats or fruit that could be had within the allotted time—and functioning on just five hours of sleep after almost five days without—the five candidates were tasked with creating a meal for the five judges to taste.

This was one of Cap’s strengths.  Throughout his childhood—even as his father and uncles taught him to hunt and the ways of the warrior—his mother and aunts taught him the equally important skill of baking.  In Aidern, skill in hunting was superceded by skill in diplomacy, which was in turn trumped by skill in commerce. 

Above all of those traits, however, was the skill of a baker.  Skilled bakers were the true holders of power in Aidern; they literally fed the masses.  On the dry plains, food was power unlike anything that could be bought or sold, with coin or spear.

And so it was that Cap fanned the fires of his oven and stirred his wooden bowls (he would instruct the villagers to research pottery first, if he became Vali). 

His meal for the judges was that of rhubarb juice, with the main entrée in the form of grilled pheasant served on a bed of baked potatoes and marinated with rhubarb sauce and rhubarb vinegar.  The side dish included unleavened rhubarb bread, with strawberry-rhubarb jam.  The desert was of course the traditional rhubarb pie.

His competitors did not function as well on the lack of sleep, and two of them were unable to finish their meals in the allotted time, and thus forfeited their candidacies.  Only Cap and two members of the Dern family remained:  Clifferd Dern and his cousin Opeth Dern.

Cap waited anxiously as the five judges in turn tasted each of the three meals prepared for them.  He noted that Opeth had somehow managed to create rhubarb ice cream—how the hell did he manage to do that? 

Cap’s mind was numb and he could not think straight, although the judges scribbled their notes on clay tablets—damn that tinny hammering noise the chisels made as they scribed the lettering onto the tablets!  Writing and paper would have to be a priority if he became Vali.

The judges announced their numbers:  out of a total of 25 points possible, Opeth earned a whopping 24 points (how DID he make that damn ice cream?) Clifferd was awarded 22 points, and Cap earned a paltry 19 points.

His heart sank with the realization that he had effectively slipped into last place.

…but there was one final Trial remaining, and this was one test that Capsavian felt confident he could win:  the Trial of Strength…

[Capsavian Hopewell]

The Trial of Strength was perhaps a misnomer; the candidates were not expected to fight, at least not in the traditional sense.  They were not expected to lift or move heavy objects—the Dernish forefathers were much too sensible for such silliness. 

No, the final trial measured a different sort of strength.

The three tired candidates for Vali were seated along a table in the Umber Hall.  Standing across from them, the hall was packed with onlookers, some cheering on their favorite candidate, some praying to the Gods, others silently watching.  On the table in front of each candidate, sat loaves of rhubarb bread.

The ram’s horn was sounded, and immediately all three candidates lurched forward, grabbing  a loaf from in front of them.  They each proceeded to gnaw and chew on the bread with a vigor of starving men.

Cap knew he had just five minutes to eat as many loaves as he could.  Each candidate was awarded one point for each loaf he consumed before the sand finished dropping in the glass.

Mercifully, the loaves were small; just a hand or so in length.  But in trailing Opeth by five whole points, Cap needed the help of the Gods to win this race.

Cap said a silent prayer as he shoveled loaves into his mouth, in succession almost as machine, were machines yet invented.  He paid no attention to his competitors, nor to the cheering of the masses.  His focus was on the bread.  Only the bread mattered now.

Suddenly, Capsavian realized something was wrong—his hands were empty!  With a panicked glance, he saw that no more loaves remained in front of him.  Did someone steal his bread?  Surely nobody would interfere with the sacred Trials, but where was his bread?

He looked to his left and right, and saw that both candidates had plenty of loaves remaining in front of them.  He thought for a moment of taking loaves from them, but that was not allowed.

Feeling his chance for greatness—his one chance to become Vali of Aidern—slip from his grasp, Cap helplessly looked to the judges.

It was then that Cap saw that the judges were silently staring back at him, with wide eyes and surprised expressions.  One of the judges’ slowly opened and closed his mouth, as if he were trying to say something, but no words left his lips.

Cap looked around the room, and the cheering crowd was also silent, sharing similar looks of disbelief. 
Cap was irritated, and broke the silence, “Can nobody see that I am out of bread?  Someone get me some more loaves!”

Vali Timmen walked forward on shaky legs, and to Capsavian’s amazement, knelt before Cap, removing the torque he wore and placing it over Cap’s head. 

Confused as he could be, Cap looked around, and saw that the sand in the timer’s glass had fallen.  Slowly the realization came to him, just as Timmen announced the conclusion of The Trials.

“All hail, Vali Capsavian Hopewell, Lord of the Free Dernish people and all of Aidern!”

A cheer arose from the crowd.  Opeth and Clifferd both looked physically ill.

Dumbstruck, Capsavian gave Timmen a blank look.

“I don’t understand.”

Timmen chuckled, and pointed to the empty platter before Capsavian. 

“Never since the time of the First Derns has anyone been able to win the Trial of Strength by such a margin as you have, Vali.” Pronounced Timmen, “you ate all 55 loaves before the sand ran out!”

By now, the crowd was roaring with cheers, and some were demanding a speech from their new Vali.  It was all too surreal for Capsavian, the young farmer’s son.

Cap stood, and the crowd silenced, pressing forward to hear the first sage words of their new Vali.  The first Vali of Aidern not to bear the name of Dern.

Vali Capsavian Hopewell, Vali of Aidern, cleared his throat and spoke his first words as leader of the Dernish people.  Words which would be noted by historians for eons to come: 

“Excuse me, but I am going to be sick.”