1230 AD - Ballad of Scottish DreamsThe threat of rain blew in the air as Laird Munro looked out across the battlements of castle Urquhart, across the ruffled surface of Loch Ness, far below, and out beyond the waters of the Loch which stretched into the distance of the valley. A military pipeband played the now familiar strains of a heartwarming national ballad from the courtyard below. He recalled the first performance when it was played here at Loch Ness nearly ten years ago, triggering a wave of nationalistic pride which swept his far flung nation. Yet he remembered it now like it was only yesterday.
He liked coming here. The dark, brooding waters of Loch Ness had a soothing influence on him, and from the battlements of this remote castle on the edge of the empire, Munro considered his nation's recent and often violent history. How Scotland had changed since those dark and violent days of the thousand years war with Campeche and her allies. Scotland was thriving now, the age-old technologies of mace and trebuchet long forgotten and Scotland now leading the continent in a renassaisance of philosophy, music and the arts.
Still - the arrival of the Founders ship had troubled him. The rumours he had heard passed down through generations of Scottish folklore were now incontrovertibly true. There was indeed another continent - much larger it appears, more advanced and warlike. He was glad the Scottish had never taken to the seas. Kilts and keels do not well mix. Still, this was no time for old superstitions. The Laird knew a new age was coming.
We will have to build a ship, he thought. We will name her the Ballad of Scottish Dreams. She will set forth and carry to the world the knowledge of the beauty of scotland, the pride of her people, and the fiery and mellow complexity of our whisky.
He looked up from his whisky and across the battlements once more, south this time towards Aidern, just out of view across the horizon. Dernish craftsmen were master shipbuilders, known to be amongst the finest in the world. It was they who had first circumnavigated the world, and returned with strange tales of a foreign land, which had so excited his people and troubled their leader. We will start there, he thought. Perhaps the Vali's men will tech my artisans the art of shipmaking, or at least build me a ship. The Scots still had a generous stash of the famous pirate gold captured from Campeche, and he knew the Vali was a sucker for anything shiny.
In any case, it's been a while since we last visited the Dernish King, he thought. I have been meaning to find out more about these latest reports of the 'Cult of the Great Squirrel' which have been emanating from the otherwise quite sensible city of Hoofport. I hope it is not causing him to question his faith. Oligarch Geronimo, leader of the holy world and custodian of Mosquito Valley, would be most displeased. Perhaps it is time for the Vali to make another pilgrimage to the shrine there, he thought. I will suggest it.
With that the Laird drained his whisky and returned to the cold stone quarters of the keep, Scottish bagpipes still playing the rousing notes of 'Ballad of Scottish Dreams' from the depths of the castle courtyard below.
