Running Up That HillPART 11 (40) -
Dreams It was late in the morning when Asher Lundrigan and Eileen de Ramaut were walking along the Platform 1 of the Lac-Drouin's Gare Centrale. It was a loud sight, as the crowds waved Sicoutian flags at the guests and some party elites heading north to Valladares, but for the most part the crowds were well-controlled enough to not harass them. It was a Monday morning, meaning that the Sicoutian folk were going back to another week of work and school, so the crowd had looked even more impressive with this in mind.
This is it, Eileen thought to herself, as she looked at the people of her homeland with hope, but also worries. As if herself is a child she waved, as if a tired voyager she walked.
One more week and we're flying back home.God I’m tired of everything, but for now we head to Valladares. self-reminded Asher, trying not to think too much, as they looked once more into the crowd, waved twice at them, and then hopped into their train carriage.
Then, like that, the travelling delegation left Lac-Drouin. From this point on they were heading north to complete the remaining half of the first of three trains marking the 100th anniversary of the Allied forces' victory in the Southern Rushmori War. The passage of the Sicoutian countryside was much smoother this time, as the high cargo volumes between Valladares and Sicoutimont had meant that the railroads between the two countries were well secured. This, combined with the status of train travel among the Sicoutian folk, had meant that the travels would be fairly straightforward as they headed north for next eight hours, all the way to Edmonton, Westlands, Valladares.
Asher and Eileen boarded to their assigned carriage, and quietly went back to their normal habits, knowing that the daytime journey would mean viewing the paysage of the Northwestern Sicoutimont, as well as the change of the landscape in the shades of green, from the darker Sicoutian vert to lighter Valladar vert. Of course, they knew even further not to say much, as they were more than aware that the Sicoutian military presence were heavier on some sections of the car until they reached Orleans and the Border once again, and that they did not want to risk such troubles. She had already come close once, and he twice, so better safe than sorry I guess.
Along the way, Asher and Eileen stopped for fresh air outside their carriages, as the train made a couple of stops in a couple of provincial towns. The rugged nature of northwestern Sicoutimont, as well as the peculiar nature of crossing the borders, had meant that the train would travel on a slower speed until they crossed the border. In the faces of the locals who greeted the few hundred guests from home and abroad, they were able to witness the glimpse of local Sicoutian way of life. Some children came to them in their baseball or hockey jerseys (and of course brought their local factory-made helmets, bats or hockey sticks) and the factory-workers chatted with dignitaries, while the elderly sold fresh produces and handmade food.
Oh, thunder, only happens when it's raining, Eileen thought as she bought a lunchbox from an elderly woman outside the station, before heading back to her carriage. The times spent in Sicoutimont, however challenging they were to them, were wisely spent. Of course the narratives back in Montreal, by the de Ramaut cousins and grandparents, would be different, but she decided that everybody had their ways of viewing things and not to make further out of it for the time being.
Jumping back into the train, Asher went back to reading 'Mo pesoldriplués fam Aldofe Tiog' (The construction of the Tiog State) from where he had left off earlier.
“Well, Asher, so you just came back from dreary drabs of Sicoutimont and look as if you had survived decades there! I can tell that it must have been something, to come out of there alive, with that m****** of the opposition leader and a bunch of bureaucrats the whole way! Alas, welcome back as we had long expected from you.”
Three days have passed since then, and the distinguished guest for unmarried men in Edmonton was legendary Viscount McGovern. Emile Hoyresving-McGovern, the second grandson of Queen Gemma of Frusennia and late Alexandre, Prince Consort and the first Duke of Kawartha. Happy to see a longtime colleague of his, Viscount McGovern greeted Asher, who made sure to set a separate block of time off just to see his old Ridler Club mate in Valladar Westlands of all places.
Emile had a particularly hard time traveling all the way to Edmonton, first on an 8-hour long flight to Metropolis, and then a domestic flight that seemed even longer to Edmonton. It is said that very Viscount McGovern, even after the boyhood years of travelling back and forth between Elvabyen, Frusennia; and Quebec City, still struggled with motion sickness- this was no secret that Emile had particular trouble with his service in the Royal Quebecois Navy earlier in the 2040s.
Still, he couldn’t help but to find the occasion pleasurable on his own accord. Having served as the president of the Ridler Club when Asher was a freshman, and being married to Maria Rosario de la Vera Cruz, Countess of Puracé, he was obliged to visit the country regularly. The news of a military parade, that marked the hundredth anniversary of the Allied forces victory in the Southern Rushmori War, happened to be a bonus, to quote his lines from the phone call:
“Heard that some of our fellow boys, including you, will be back for the celebrations. So if the prospects charm you after a long trip, then such prospects may be charming for you to drop by the Iron Swan club to watch the parade.”
“It did have me think a lot for sure,” replied Asher, gently nodding to Emile in Korean. “A lot of it comes out of pageantry and the rest on how the time floated in the air over there.” He had entered the terrace later than expected, wearing his court uniform but not one of the badges symbolising his family. He spoke in the standardised Korean that he had learned to fix from the provincial Kingstonian accent of his teenage years, and only the breathiness of his voice affected that. He listened, approached and quickly shook Emile’s hand, and looked around the boulevard, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eileen, on another building with her manager, Janet Mullen-Baker, and a couple of local colleagues.
“But more importantly, tell me how are things for you, yourself, my friend dear lord,” said he, smiling a couple of times to indicate the boyish excitement Emile carried with himself.
“Being well is one thing, but having to fly anywhere is a torture. Why can’t we just transport ourselves into a door-like portal, and just save every bit of inconvenience?” said Emile. “But the parade is good and so far the band is playing the old marching tunes well. How long are you staying in the Westlands?”
“The train leaves the day after tomorrow, and we will be taking the next anniversary train all the way to Nyhavn, with a couple of stops before flying back home.” responded Asher, highlighting the
back home part. “I am afraid going all the way to Petrograd or Metropolis, at this point in time, isn’t feasible anymore.”
“And the Ball at the Metropolis court? You know the royal ball is in June, like every year. I am expected to be there, if anything,” said the Viscount. “I have even heard that Marco Hertel is trying his best to enter as an escort there.”
“And the son of a Dallas is even going to be let in? He’s our friend and lives there now, but there is no way either of your Majesties would allow him to enter the court! That would be absolute travesty!”
“Probably, but let him try it I guess. If he does make it work, then Queen Dazzarina would be brought back as a zombie, so to put forth,” said Emile who did not have the best way of describing situations he was too excited to participate in. “Anyhow, the weight of history appears to be upon us, in the air, so to speak.”
“Don’t tease! You know I am expected to write about the trip later in the month, and the readers will be reading it on The Taegukgi.” Asher shot back, before noticing that a couple of colourfully-dressed protestors jumped into the rows with a bunch of placards and weapons. “Besides, what’s with the fuss over there?”
“Those must be coming from those not happy with our way of life, our way of doing things, and of course believing in unicorns, so to speak.” Viscount chuckled as the protestors were beaten up and taken away, with no regard for other members of the club who looked at him for a second, before going back at them. “Those are the very people who believes that the blood-brothers of Quebec and Valladares (my apologies to grandma, Her Majesty), ‘desperately needs a socialist reconstruction and vocational education training centres to deradicalise supremacists and integrate them in a positive way into social production in multinational internationalist countries’.”
"Idiots. There is certainly time and space for everything and doing so right now is unacceptable," was all the Commoner said. Unlike Asher, who still came from commoner origins, Viscount McGovern was clearly aware of his background and spoke like a man of pomp and circumstance. Asher, on the contrary, had known well to control his power with the words. To be a journalist, with a partner much more known in public than him, came with implied meanings, and sometimes Asher became too timid in presence of old colleagues whom he had enjoyed free-flowing conversations just two or three years prior. The grey in his eyes quietly reflected the row of Naval ships that cris-crossed the axis of history between 1941 and 2045, as he tried his best not to show his approval.
"And they go, and go." responded Asher a minute later. "Like the leaves they blew with some wind, but swept away like the Nazis hundred year ago. Of course the Commonwealth stayed alive, and we are forever grateful for our victories."
"After many millions of lives lost, perhaps that's the best way to put forth what we must remember and we must blow aside as mere occasions."
“This reminds me about what I also felt about my time in Sicoutimont.” smiled Asher as he watched life going back to normal and the people clap at the soldiers marching over the streets. “If there’s anything specific I have to say, to be clear, is that perhaps the times spent with those we love, doing what we love, is the most important things we can carry with our lives. And the sense of duty that too comes with it.”
“Certainly, and you may be the luckiest one in coming off the luckiest, from the worst possible situation.“ he winked, his behaviour back to being bearable again. “Will you and your wife be watching the fireworks at the Pier tonight? Heard that they will be playing the Victory Overture, to mark the presence of both the Valladar Prime Minister and Our Majesty.”
“Right at the front row. It was her idea to do so anyway and we all gotta play give and take at some point,” he smiled once more, “It won’t be long though, and there will be a couple of balls the gentlemen could attend with individual pleasure. Are you coming to see the Naval base tomorrow then?”
“Probably, we’re all expected to be there right?”
“Certainly.”
Posted: Sat Jan 09, 2021 12:09 am
