The debate began slowly, Anna's furrowed, and her voice was steady, but laced with doubt.
"What if we find nothing?" she asked, cutting through the quiet like a blade. "What happens if this 'Bristol Capital' doesn't exist?"
Bjorn opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say a word, Elin—Arne's wife—spoke up, her voice tinged with skepticism. "How are you so sure this place even exists? This Bristol Capital, what proof do you have?"
Arvid, one of the older hunters, joined in, his deep voice full of concern. "A journey like that could cost us lives. The mountain, the snow, the cold—it's a death sentence for some of us. Is it really worth it?"
The murmurs of agreement spread through the gathered villagers. The fire crackled in the center, but the warmth from it did little to ease the growing unease in the air. The faces around the fire were a mix of fear, doubt, and weariness. They had survived so long in the cold, harsh environment around Altera—venturing out into the unknown felt like a leap too far.
Suddenly, Arne, who had been silently scratching his head, snapped. His voice cut through the rising noise, raw with frustration. "Would you all just shut up?" he yelled, his face tight with anger. "You didn't see what I saw down there. I saw magic—old man Mikkel was doing things, things I can't even explain! Lights, rooms so big you couldn't imagine. And there was this gigantic map, glowing, showing us the whole world. If you don't believe me and Bjorn, then believe in him. He knows what he saw."
The intensity of Arne's outburst left everyone momentarily stunned. The fire crackled as if in response, the silence returning for a moment.
But Arvid wasn't swayed. "Even if that's true," he said firmly, "it's still too dangerous. We're risking everything on a possibility. Is that really worth the lives of our people?"
Elin and Helene nodded in agreement, their faces set with concern. The thought of leaving the village, their home for so many years, for an unknown future was too much for some of them to bear.
Anna, undeterred by Arne's outburst, turned her sharp gaze back to Bjorn. "You keep talking about Bristol as if it's some paradise," she pressed. "But what exactly is it? What do you mean by 'humans live in harmony'? We've barely survived here, fighting for scraps, hunting every day just to feed our families. How could such a place exist?"
Bjorn's jaw clenched. The weight of the questions bore down on him, and for the first time, he felt truly cornered. Anna's sharp mind had always challenged him, but tonight, she was relentless. She wanted answers—solid, real answers—and Bjorn wasn't sure he had them.
Mikkel, sensing the pressure on Bjorn, stepped in. He turned to Olaf, the village's healer and elder. His voice was calm, though a hint of urgency flickered beneath the surface. "The world isn't just snow and ice, Olaf. There are places—places where the ground is warm, where fire bursts from mountains, where rivers flow and animals roam free. I've read about them in the ship's logs. There's a whole world out there, beyond the snow blanket we live under."
Olaf frowned, his old, weathered face unreadable. "And you believe this world still exists? That it's not just some relic of the past?"
"I do," Mikkel said firmly. "And if Bristol Capital is out there, it's a place where we could live without the constant fear of starvation or freezing to death. It's a chance—maybe our last chance—for survival."
The villagers shifted, whispers spreading like wildfire. The idea of a world beyond the frozen mountains was difficult to grasp. They had lived in isolation for so long, the snow and cold becoming all they knew. The thought that there could be something else—something better—seemed like a distant dream.
Before any more questions could be asked, a sudden change swept through the room. Bjorn, Arne, and Mikkel began to sway slightly where they stood, their faces paling. Their vision blurred, and a wave of nausea hit them all at once. They stumbled, trying to keep their balance.
Olaf, always observant, noticed immediately. "Wait," he called out, raising his hand to quiet the crowd. "Something's not right."
The noise died down, and all eyes turned to the three men. Olaf hurried to their side, his practiced hands moving swiftly as he checked their pulses, their breathing. The room held its collective breath as he examined them, his brow furrowed in concern.
"They're showing signs of exposure," Olaf declared, his voice stern. "Likely from the ship. We need to stop this now. One final question, and then we'll rest."
The villagers fell silent once more, the tension thick in the air. All eyes were on Bjorn, who stood shakily, his mind fighting through the nausea.
Olaf's voice was calm but commanding. "One last question—what do you propose we do with all this information?"
Bjorn took a deep breath, steadying himself. The weight of the entire village rested on his shoulders now, and he knew that his next words would shape their future.
"I propose," he said, his voice clear and resolute, "that we pack in the following week. We gather all the food we can, all the reserves, everything we have, and we leave. We go to Bristol Capital."
His words hung in the air like a hammer striking the final blow.
Stunned silence followed. The faces around him were a mixture of shock, fear, and uncertainty. The idea of leaving everything behind—the village they had built, the lives they had struggled to maintain—was staggering. But Bjorn's voice was firm, unshaken by the doubt surrounding him.
"This is our chance," he continued. "We can't stay here and slowly die. We leave, together, and we find Bristol. We find a way to survive."
As the three men settled down near the fire, their bodies weak from exhaustion and exposure, Olaf knelt beside them.
The rest of the village stood in small groups, whispering among themselves. The fire crackled, but the murmurs carried over it, filled with doubt, fear, and the weight of the decision that had just been made.
Arvid, always the first to voice his concerns, spoke up. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the low hum of conversation like a blade. "Let's say we do this. We get everything, pack up, leave for Bristol... What happens when we run out of food before we get there? What then?"
Helene, who had been standing nearby, nodded in agreement. "He's right. We barely make it through each winter as it is. A journey like this... we might not survive it."
Others murmured in agreement, the worry spreading like wildfire.
Then Astrid, Olaf's wife, spoke up. Her voice was deeper and rougher than most women's, often cracking slightly as if her body couldn't decide whether to give her the voice of a woman or a man. Her presence commanded attention—stronger and bigger than most, she wasn't just respected for her size, but for her unmatched skill in medicine and chemistry. She had an encyclopedic knowledge of the mosses and mushrooms that grew beneath the snow, and her ability to heal was legendary in their small community. When Astrid spoke, people listened.
"I think it's possible for us to make it all the way to Bristol," she said, her voice firm and measured, "but there's a bigger issue. What if the people who live there don't accept us? What if we make it all that way, only to find that we're turned away? That would be a bigger problem than the journey itself."
Her words sent a ripple of concern through the crowd. The thought of getting to Bristol only to be rejected was a terrifying prospect.
But Olaf, her husband, raised his voice from across the room, cutting through the growing unease. "Dear, I don't believe that will be the case," he said confidently. "Don't forget, Mikkel and Lars were born there. They know Bristol. And if anyone can guide us there and vouch for us, it's Mikkel."
At the mention of Mikkel's name, all eyes turned toward him. There was a subtle shift in the way the villagers looked at him now. Mikkel had always been something of an outsider—he was the only one who hadn't been born in their small village, the only one who had seen the world beyond the snow-covered mountains. He had lived in Bristol. He knew what the world out there truly was. And in that moment, he became the one person they could trust when it came to this dangerous, uncertain plan.
Arvid, who had been so full of doubt, was the first to break the silence. "I trust Mikkel," he said, his voice resolute. "If he says we can do this, then we will. I've known him for years, and he's never led us astray."
The village was quiet for a beat, the weight of Arvid's words hanging in the air. Then, one by one, the others began to speak, their voices more confident now. Anna was the next to follow, her sharp mind still working through the risks, but recognizing that this might be their only chance. After her, others followed—Olaf, Helene, even the youngest adults who had grown up hearing stories of a world beyond the mountains. Soon, the whole village had agreed to follow through with what had once seemed like a crazy plan.
The following week was a flurry of preparation. The decision had been made, but now came the hard part—ensuring that they were ready for the journey ahead.
Arvid, who had long since stopped hunting, picked up his old weapons once more. His hands were stiff, his body slower than it used to be, but he knew that he had to be ready. This wasn't just about providing food anymore—it was about protecting everyone. He began training with Arne, pushing his body back into shape, determined to be strong enough to defend his family and friends when the time came.
Astrid, Olaf, and their children began preparing all the food and medicine they could. Astrid's knowledge of the herbs, and plants that grew beneath the snow became invaluable. She worked tirelessly, teaching her children how to properly prepare salves and tinctures, ensuring that they would have enough supplies to treat any injuries or sicknesses that might occur along the way. The food was carefully rationed, dried, and preserved, ready for the long trek.
Bjorn, Anna, Mikkel, and Elin, worked together to plan the route through the mountains. It was dangerous—treacherous even—but they had no choice. They gathered old maps, consulted with Mikkel's knowledge of coordinates and Bjorn's knowledge of mountains, and calculated the best path to take, one that would give them the best chance of surviving the harsh conditions. They also helped with the packing, making sure that every family had enough supplies, and that nothing was forgotten.
The village moved with a sense of purpose and urgency. The days passed quickly, and with each passing hour, the reality of the journey became more tangible. There were still whispers of doubt, quiet conversations late at night about whether they were making the right decision, but for the most part, the village had accepted its fate. They would leave. They would follow Bjorn, Arne, and Mikkel into the unknown, trusting that somewhere, beyond the mountains, there was a better life waiting for them.