The snow hadn't fallen in days, yet the biting cold kept it frozen in place, clinging stubbornly to the ground. Under the galloping hooves of a horse, the snow crunched and scattered. Liam, a young boy teetering on the edge of manhood, fought to maintain control, his breath fogging the air as he struggled with the reins. The horse surged up the hill with a wild energy, forcing Liam to lift his scarf higher against the cold. He knew one thing: the faster he reached the cabin, the sooner he could find his way home.
The horse circled in front of the cabin, its hooves kicking up puffs of snow as it moved. A jeep, nearly buried beneath a thick layer of snow and a tattered tarp, was barely visible off to the side.
“Yo!” Nikolaj called out from the patio, bundled warmly under a thick blanket. Liam, still astride his horse, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he observed Nikolaj’s comfort in the cold.
“Hey! We need to talk to you guys! Noon today!” Liam shouted back, his voice carrying through the crisp air.
“Noon, alright. What is it about?” Nikolaj answered.
“Hell, if I know. Some weird guys came by the other day. It could be related!” Liam said trying to control his horse.
“Noon, don’t be late.” He repeated before galloping back.
Przemek and Sofia struggled to finish their plates, still full from the hearty breakfast they’d had earlier. Sven had been generous, as usual, though today the meal was served in the quiet intimacy of his private quarters. The atmosphere was heavy, and the grim expression on Sven’s face only deepened the tension. They hadn’t seen much of him lately, but ever since his wife’s passing last autumn, it was painfully clear—even from a distance—how much he was struggling. Today, that struggle was impossible to ignore.
“We lost two pigs,” Sven said, his voice carrying the weight of worry. “We haven’t figured out why yet.”
Sofia, her brow furrowed in concern, asked, “Were they separated from the rest?”
“Yeah, fortunately, they were in a different pen,” Sven replied after a pause. “Hopefully whatever, it was ended with them.”
“About those guys who came here earlier.” Sven said after finishing his plate and whipping his mouth.
“First of all, they were looking for some people. I quickly realized they were referring to you, Przemek , and—” he paused, pulling out a bottle of homemade vodka and three glasses—“a Swede and a Japanese.”
Sofia raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”
Przemek chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t be silly.”
“Second of all,” Sven continued, his voice growing more solemn, “they made it clear they want us to join their little kingdom.” He set the bottle down and poured a generous measure of homemade vodka into each glass, the amber liquid catching the light.
He handed two glasses to Przemek and Sofia. “Skål,” Sven said, lifting his glass in a slow, deliberate toast.
“Skål,” Przemek and Sofia echoed.
Sven seemed unconcerned by the vodka going down his throat.
“They were surveying us, nearly got us killed with their incompetence,” Przemek said, frustration evident in his tone.
Sven nodded; his gaze still fixed on the snow-covered landscape outside as Przemek explained what had happened weeks earlier when he had come across them with Nikolaj. “Yeah, well, they talked like morons. From what we’ve heard, those guys couldn’t manage a parking meter on their own and they’re just lucky they have the numbers and big stockpiles. We have a guy and his sister here, and from what we’ve been told, that place is run on the whims of their so-called king. Tried to marry of his sister off to some officer of his that’s three times her age.” Sven said.
“We found a body some weeks ago, poor girl came from there aswell.” Przemek said, his sight fixed on his plate.
“So, they really have a king?” Sofia asked.
“It’s absurd,” Sven said, his voice tinged with disdain. “The teenager running the place is nothing more than a descendant of some wannabe ruler. I can’t fathom how he’s managed to keep this charade going. Wished I know it would make it easier to get keep things going around here.” Sven said. Taking out a cigarette and offering Sofia one.
“We have until spring to decide,” Sven said, his tone grim. “They made it clear that refusal means they’ll crush us.”
He struck a match and lit Sofia’s cigarette before lighting his own, the flickering flame briefly illuminating his stern expression. As he took a deep drag, he continued, “We both know we won’t bend to them. My people have suffered enough. Now that we’ve finally established some semblance of calm, I refuse to let us fall under the boot of a tyrant.”
“I have something to show you, if you’re finished eating,” Sven said, his tone shifting to a more businesslike manner.
Przemek and Sofia nodded in agreement.
“Thanks for the meal, by the way,” Przemek said, as they rose from the table and moved toward the door.
Sven smiled and clapped Przemek on the shoulder. “Your Swedish has improved,” he remarked with a hint of approval. "You can be proud of him, Sofia," he said, showing one of his first sincere smiles in a long time.
With that, he led the way outside, the snow crunching beneath their feet as they followed him into the cold.
Nikolaj, Jonathan, and Ming under blankets were sprawled comfortably on makeshift sofas made from wooden pallets, surrounded by a group from Kristianstad. The hookah between them bubbled softly.
They were deep into a friendly debate, comparing their living conditions with a light-hearted spirit. The conversation centered on which group had it harder: the residents of Kristianstad or their quirky mercenary neighbors in the cabin on the hill.
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Laughter and good-natured banter filled the air as each person shared their tales of hardship and survival. They playfully exaggerated their challenges, each side eager to outdo the other with stories of their trials. The debate was more about camaraderie and shared experiences than serious competition, with everyone enjoying the chance to connect and commiserate over their respective struggles.
“That boy, the new one. He was in the Swedish military right?” Sven asked as they passed them.
“Yeah, he’s reliable enough.” Sofia said.
“Tell him to come” Sven answered.
Przemek turned around and let out a sharp whistle. As the group around the hookah shifted their attention towards him, Przemek pointed at Nikolaj and gestured for him to come over.
“Anyone touches my pole axe, and you’ll have to explain it to me,” Nikolaj said with a grin, getting up from his pallet. He left his gear behind and made his way over to Przemek , Sofia, and Sven, his steps crunching in the snow as he approached.
They descended a makeshift set of stairs carved into the earth, their footsteps echoing softly in the confined space. The entrance led to a hastily constructed ammunition bunker, a crucial addition by the people of Kronstadt.
A worn paper sign was affixed to the door, its message clear: No flame light allowed past this point. Flashlights or artificial lights only. Sven struggled with a set of keys before unlocking the lock and opening the door.
As they entered, the dim light from their flashlights cast long shadows against the walls, revealing the bunker’s wooden ceiling and floor flanked with dirt walls. The air inside was cool and dry, a stark contrast to the cold, open world outside. The group followed Sven inside. Sven struggled with the lightswitch. The flip switched, a lamp on the wooden ceiling illuminated the room.
“We finally got the solar panels you sent us in autumn up and running,” Sven said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “It’s really boosted morale around here.”
He walked to the end of the room, where a long rectangular box rested against the wall. As he reached it, he suddenly turned to face Nikolaj.
“What’s your name?” Sven asked, his tone brisk.
“Nikolaj,” he replied, meeting Sven’s gaze.
“What did you do in the army?” Sven inquired, his expression turning serious.
“Well, I was an infantryman,” Nikolaj said.
“More precisely,” Sven pressed, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Nikolaj straightened and shot Przemek and Sofia a look. “I was a squad adjunct leader,” he answered. “I handled tactical operations and managed small-unit engagements.”
“You know how to handle explosives. There’s a reason we keep this locked up.” Sven said as he opened the box.
“Where did you find this?” Nikolaj said in amazement. A 120 Krh/40 mortar was a sight to behold.
Despite the seemingly simple design of the metal tube and its rudimentary footing, both he and Przemek understood the lethal potential it held in skilled hands.
“Got a good deal on it,” Sven said.
“So we’re on the warpath, I take it?” Sofia asked, her tone tinged with concern.
Sven leaned on a stack of boxes, his expression hardening. “If you knew what they wanted to do to Nikolaj and his girlfriend, you wouldn’t be so quick to advocate for peace.”
Sofia’s eyes met his, unwavering. “I’m just saying, taking them on is a bell you can’t unring.”
Przemek , crouched next to the mortar box, glanced up. “How many shells do you have for this?”
“Twenty. High explosive,” Sven replied. He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting between Przemek and Sofia. “Listen, you do what you want. You’ve refused to follow some of our suggestions before, and I respect that. We’ve never given you trouble for it. But I hope you understand how existential this threat is.”
“Not to be all kumbaya. But I really hoped who ever was left and organized would try to fight back against those lunatics instead of each.” Nikolaj said as he inspected the mortar shells making sure they were in good condition.
Sven leaned forward, his gaze intense as he spoke, his voice carrying the gravity of his words. “You need to understand,” he said, “what’s driving that king and his enablers. It’s not just a thirst for control—it’s a ravenous hunger for power that consumes everything in its path. This king sees every piece of land, every person, as his. He’s driven by a vision of domnion, where he’s not just the ruler but a god amng men. Something got into his head. He believes he is the ruler and his enablers under him are glad to play along if it means they can keep their power and their lives of relative comfort.”
Przemek shut the box containing the mortar.
“I need to talk to those people who escaped his fiefdom.”
“What’s your name?” Przemek said sitting across of the two teenagers.
"Matvey, she is Sasha," the boy said in broken Swedish, clutching his cigarette as if trying to warm his hands.
"Aah, you two are Russian?" Przemek said in Russian, smiling to the amazement of Sofia, Matvey and Sasha.
The two young persons smiled at him as if surprised.
"Can you tell me about what happened? What led you to that king?" Przemek added.
Sasha grew angry. "We didn’t choose him; he just showed up!" she snapped, followed by a string of Russian curses.
“I know, don’t worry. Just tell me where you were and what happened.” Przemek said, trying to calm down the young girl.
"We were in a humanitarian camp. Our dad had died—pneumonia, the doctor said. It was just tents next to a farm. There were about twenty of us left. Most people had either died or gone. It was just us stragglers and some doctors," the young girl said, before taking a long drag of her cigarette.
Matvey took over. "We were just trying to survive the winter. It was still October, but we had enough supplies to last until spring." He brushed some snow off the bench where he was sitting. "Most people decided to head as far north as possible once the snow had melted."
He glanced over at Sasha, who was rubbing her hands together to keep warm. "We had to stay behind, though. The supplies were meant for us few stragglers who couldn’t keep up."
Sasha nodded, taking another long drag from her cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke. "It was brutal.”
“They arrived one day, just a car with a driver and a bald looking man” Sasha said, trying to remember the details.
“He told us we were part of their territory. To surrender our supplies and to join them in a few days. The doctors told them they were nothing for them to worry about, that everyone would leave come spring and that they’ll gladly leave supplies for them.” Sasha said.
“They came a few days after, we weren’t that far from their village so I suppose we were worth the trip.
"The doctors were dragged in front of us and shot," Sasha recounted, her voice wavering despite her effort to remain composed. "We heard them pleading before they gunned them down. One of the doctors was pulled into a house by a group of men, and we could hear her screaming for a while. Just before they put us on the trucks, we heard one more shot, and they left the house without her."
Matvey added, "I suppose there’s no better way to show us who’s in charge."
Przemek , trying to grasp the gravity of the situation, asked, "How many men were there?"
"About fifty," Sasha replied. "It seemed like overkill. They arrived with an army truck and two buses and a few cars—all that for just twenty of us. They looked more like thugs than soldiers."
Przemek translated their words to Sofia, his expression grim as he relayed the haunting details.
“What’s life like there?” Przemek asked.
"I mean, it was alright for a while," Sasha said, trying to focus on the more mundane aspects of their ordeal. "They kept us on a short leash, but that was their soldiers, the other people didn’t care, they mostly left us alone. We worked in the fields, getting them ready for spring. They fed us fairly well and made sure we had a dry place to sleep."
"One day, I was summoned to the lord’s manor," she said with a sarcastic edge. "I thought I was one of the lucky ones, chosen to work inside the house instead of the fields. But it turned out that one of the lieutenants had his eye on me, and they planned for me to marry him that very night."
She shook her head, her tone darkening. "I was ordered to return to my quarters and gather my things, but Matvey and I decided to escape instead. That evening, we slipped away and left it all behind."
"We were fortunate to run into Sven’s men scavenging just a few kilometers away," she continued. "At first, we were hesitant, but if it hadn’t been for Sven’s daughter being there, we might have stayed out in the cold and frozen to death. She was the one who convinced us to join them."
"Do they treat you well here, ptee-chka?" Przemek asked, prompting a smile from Sasha.
"They do," Sasha replied, her eyes brightening. "We wouldn't leave them for the world."
“Whatever they promise, I can guarantee you not even half of the people here will make it to Eksjo alive. Sven would be shot first along with anyone with a spine. They have enough bullets.“ Sasha added before making her way back inside the greenhouse