Sorry for the long delay. I got into a car accident and I only came home yesterday. Fractured five ribs, my humerus and a tibia. Still hurts like hell when I move. Stay safe, kids.
-
The sky was completely black. Far from the slightly cloudy winter day Gunnison witnessed that same morning, the firmament that now lingered over Intraea was devoid of any color. Or light, for that matter. Thankfully, the City Ruler found it appropriate to install some street lights in New Intraea, the relatively peripheral area of the city where Sven and Gunnison's condo was located. Thus, the pair managed to see without problems once they left the building. However, neither of them owned any means of transport nor could they see a bus or a taxi approaching. To put it bluntly, the streets were deserted, and Gunnison would have to walk all the way to the Square on his own feet. The boy winced at the thought. The city-state was definitely small, even compared to other such countries, but the prospect of physical activity was terrifying to him.
"We should probably start running..." It was Sven who broke the silence first, unexpectedly.
"Huh?! Why?!" Gunnison almost shouted in response. If there was something he hated, it was physical exercise. And if there was something he hated even more than that, it was prolonged physical exercise. Running to the Square would take about twenty-five minutes, way longer than Gunnison's limit.
"Uh, the Calling was half an hour ago, and it would take another hour to get there, if we walk normally. And if we are we will, huh, miss the Calling and if we do that then, uh, um... "
"I get it, I get it. I'll run, fine!" Gunnison fiercely interrupted Sven, before he started making more sense. The tall man looked genuinely intimidated. 'Just when was the last time this guy had a conversation with someone?', Gunnison pondered. He wanted to ask, but Sven started running before he could get the chance to. Cursing inwardly, Gunnison reluctantly followed.
*
The duo finally arrived at the Square twenty five minutes later.
"All of a sudden I'm not so interested in the Calling anymore..." Gunnison panted.
"Hmm? Did you say something?" Sven looked around the Square without paying much attention to Gunnison. They didn't meet anyone on the way there, and now it was clear why: every single citizen of Intraea had gathered in the gigantic plaza. About thirty thousand people occupied the entirety of the wide open space. And dominating the square with its massive front, was the great Palace of Intraea. The Palace, a gothic building more than eight centuries old, seemed to remind each citizen of their position with its massive size: in fact, the citizens must keep in mind that they are subjects of the City Ruler, and nothing more. It had been so since the City's foundation, an everchanging principle deeply rooted in the very base of the country.
"Huh... nothing..." The migraine from before still tortured him, so Gunnison wasn't in the mood to speak with the giant. The day had been far too eventful for his tastes. He just wanted to listen to what the Ruler had to say, understand what was the deal with that black sky and go home as fast as possible.
However, Gunnison's expectations were brutally betrayed as an acute, agonising pain hit him in the very next moment and he fell on the ground screaming. The boy clutched his chest in agony, the tears falling from his golden eyes wetting the ground. He felt as if his heart was going to rip out of his chest, as if each of his bones were being broken simultaneously, as if someone was sticking dull and rusted needles in his eyes. Every nerve in his body was screaming that he was going to die.
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"FUCKING JESUS! AAAAAAAAARGH!" Gunnison's inarticulate yells turned into a curse. He strained his tearing muscles to slowly rise from the ground, and the following moment of clarity showed him thousands of bodies wriggling on the ground like worms, trying to escape from the god-sent punishment that seemed to consume their very souls. Unfortunately, those puny efforts showed no result. Their pitiful struggling strongly reminded Gunnison of that of an insect's. It was clearly futile, yet those insects couldn't help but persevere in their effort.
'How pathetic', Gunnison thought.
*
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
Waking up, Gunnison was once again greeted by a rough bearded face. Gunnison raised his upper body in a panic, succesfully headbutting Sven in the process and sending him flying from the force.
"Ah, good evening." Greeting Sven, Gunnison got off the unfamiliar bunk bed he was laying on and stretched his body. The headache he received from hitting his head was now gone, but he now suffered from severe muscle pains for some strange reason; it was true that he ran for the first time in a while, but the pain was evenly spread out in his whole body, not limiting itself to the legs. Gunnison wondered about the intense agony the citizens (and himself) seemed to be experiencing earlier. Perhaps, that was the reason his muscles hurt so much.
"Sven, my dear friend."
The giant, still lying on the floor holding his head, answered the boy's calling with a pained groan. 'What a pushover.'
"Mind telling me where we are right now?"
Another groan. Gunnison frowned at his companion's low pain resistance and sat on the floor. The room they were in was furnished with two simple bunk beds, a metallic table, and chairs.
'Ah.' Gunnison remembered. He saw a room like this before, when he went on a school trip three years earlier.
It was a trip to the 'Intraean Barracks'. Right, this room was a place where soldiers rested. In short, it was a 'Dormitory'. But why was he here? What happened while he was unconscious? The barracks were in the City's outskirts, so someone probably moved him there.
"Aah... it hurts, it hurts, it hurts,..." Sven kept mumbling in pain, but slowly went silent as the pain subsided. Then he spoke, his voice no louder than a mutter.
"Two days..."
Eloquence wasn't among Sven talents.
"Again, what?"
"Y-you slept for two whole days... After the speech..."
Had there been a speech?
"W-wait, what? Two whole days? What happened after I passed out? Why am I here? What speech are you talking about?" Gunnison inquired somewhat fiercely.
Sven was overwhelmed. He had never spoken more than six words in a single day before. Fourteen were simply too many for his level of speechcraft. But Gunnison didn't know this and kept pressing on, eager to know about whatever information his neighbour could provide about the last few days' happenings. But just as the giant began meditating over how to explain everything in six words or less, the door was violently kicked open, and four plastic bags, held by two young men, entered the room.