The Conquering of the Brokenhood
I am Bortor. Read my words and be my friend.In this paper I shall write of the true story of the conquering of my home, the Brokenhood. As painful as the memories are, the truth must be preserved. I fear for my life in the following days, so I entrust the tale to a sheet of paper. I can only hope that it will find its receiver.
In my life I have travelled great distances over the klay universe and I have seen how the Empire devoured everything around it. Only once did I dare to cross its border. I intended to scout the Empire's inside strength and technology, but I was captured. Barely managing to escape, I never set my foot on the Empire's land again. Until the year 868, when there was nowhere left to run.
During the course of a year, the isle of Brokenhood traverses through the universe at great speed. Due to this speed, it's hard to land and disembark with any kind of vessel. If you chase the island from behind, it will fly out of your reach. If you come to meet it head front, you will be smashed to pieces. This kept my homeland safely out of the reach of the Empire until Scout 1 was invented, an aircraft that matched the speed of the Brokenhood and could land without much trouble.
My family wasn't as ignorant of the dire situation of the klay universe as our dearest neighbours Neverhoodians. We were ready to defend our land in time of need. My father Ottoborg and my twin brothers Ottimo and Tuborg had constructed five robots for both defensive and offensive purposes. In defiance to the Guardians who lived on the Neverhood and did naught to protect us, we called these robots Guardians as well. We were prepared for warfare. At least we thought that.
Father and the twins considered our five Guardians unbeatable. The ground shook under their powerful legs and their metal coats shone like gold. But there was one thing that my foolish family didn't take into account. Ever since the time when my father created his first kingdom, he had a habit of placing a Good/Bad switch inside every robot he made. He argued that this option was an alternative to being able to choose between good and bad as an artificial being. My twin brothers added another, far heavier argument: the robots used up three times as much energy when they were set to Good. Therefore, during the time when they weren't needed, it was desirable to have them run in Bad mode, making them broody and lazy. They could always be set back to Good should something happen, my brothers said.
I was never as into robotics as my father and the twins were, so in their eyes I wasn't qualified to protest against this arrangement. My objections that the switch was an obvious weakness were ignored, both by the three mechanics and by the rest of my family. Needless to say, time proved me right. But it was a proof that I would rather have done without.
Having next to no sources of trustworthy information on the Empire, we weren't aware of the construction of the Scout 1 aircraft and we didn't hedge against a sabotage. We thought that the only usable passage to the Brokenhood lead through a teleporter on the Neverhood and that was heavily guarded both by the local Guardians and by Hoborg. What was more, we were confident that the Neverhood had still not been found amidst the large Neverhood nebula, so we considered ourselves completely safe.
On a winter day in 868, we woke up to find all five of our Guardians missing. There had been a blizzard on the previous night, so all tracks were covered in fresh snow and we didn't even know where to start searching. When we discovered a foreign aircraft with imperial insignia, we realised that we had been had. Someone had landed on the Brokenhood during the night and persuaded our “Bad” Guardians to follow him. We were defenceless.
Even so, we had no intention to give up. We made our way back home as fast as we could. The twins were already discussing possible ways to defend the castle without the use of robots. Even though I had never been too fond of the two of them, at that moment I was amazed with their ideas and creativity. They were already better creators than my father. Not because they were more powerful. They were simply sane enough to use everything they had got. I believe that father was too mad to make use of the incredible power he had at his disposal.
Anticipating the worst, father sped us along our way until we nearly ran. Breathless, we arrived at the castle. But we were too late. The enemy had been waiting for us to dispatch in search of the missing robots. While we were away, he had taken my youngest brother Gred along with our Neverhoodian chamberlain Alan.
I was shaken, as everyone was, but I wasn't surprised. I was only mad at myself for not seeing it coming. In retrospect our mistake was painfully evident. We had given the enemy a perfect opportunity to take a hostage. Gred was the obvious choice, since he was the weakest household member. It was strange, however, that Alan had been kidnapped as well. The aircraft we had found in the wilderness was built for one person. I couldn't believe that a strong, healthy Neverhoodian could have been overcome by a single man.
We hid in the castle, trying to figure out what to do. In one blow, we had lost the cook and the chamberlain and we were gradually losing the lord of the house as well. Mother was doing all she could to calm father down, but despite her efforts his mental state was worsening. It was only a matter of time before he did something irrational.
An hour upon our return, we received a message suggesting we negotiate. My mother and sister were strongly against it, arguing that we should wait it out. The perpetrator couldn't last for long. In winter time the wilderness was a harsh place. If he didn't starve to death, he would freeze, they said.
The twins, on the other hand, wanted to reclaim Gred and Alan as soon as possible. Their point of view was that if one aircraft landed, more would come in time. The sooner we tried, the greater chance we would have, they reasoned.
The argument dragged on. I refused to back up either side, since the benefits of leaving the safety of the castle depended solely on the number of enemies. My opinion, therefore, was that we should scout the island first. While at it, we could even stumble upon our Guardians, which would bring us a considerable advantage. It was shirt-sighted to try anything before knowing our situation.
Yet suddenly, father stepped in. He declared that the number of enemies was of no consequence. He would not let his family be taken away a second time. He would fight along with the twins.
We were so happy about father's recovery that we agreed to begin the negotiations at once. The enemy was waiting outside our walled gardens, which were currently covered in snow. We came out to meet him, confident that if the negotiations failed, we could always defeat him by force. But we didn't expect what we saw. And we weren't prepared.
In front of the main gate, there was a person clad entirely in fur, facial features or even race unrecognisable under a leather helmet. Gred was standing to his right. My brother's hands were shackled behind his back and he was shivering in the cold wind. To the pilot's left, Alan was kneeling in the snow, immobilised completely by a knot binding his wrists to his ankles. When I saw his state, I felt sick. His entire body was covered in long reddish bruises. Whip marks, I realised. Made by a whip infused with a potent poison, since they weren't regenerating. The enemy had been prepared to face a Neverhoodian and he had hurt Alan until he could barely lift his head.
Startled as we were by Alan's appearance, the negotiations didn't go well. The twins were too shaken to be of any help, mother was too angry and sister was too horrified. The only one who kept his head reasonably clear was father. Unfortunately he was never exactly a voice of reason. While he and the enemy were arguing, I weighed the situation. Gred seemed unharmed, which was good. Alan was definitely in pain but it didn't stop him from exchanging eye signals with the twins, so he couldn't have been too bad off either. My greatest concern was how close the pilot kept Gred. The chain which was binding Gred's hands most likely ended in the pilot's fist. He was going to use my brother as a shield in case we tried anything.
To my side, the twins entwined their hands. They were ready to take action.
The ground under the pilot's feet reared, knocking him off balance. At the same time a wave of snow rose behind Alan and it carried him toward us. The twins extended their arms toward the pilot and the snow around his ankles melted and crawled up his legs, soaking his clothes and freezing him to the bone. Mother let out an enraged cry and she charged at the enemy, swinging a frying pan.
But the pilot was unfazed. He jerked the chain in his hand backward, making Gred stumble toward him, and he pinned my brother against his chest. Gred cried out in shock but he fell silent when the pilot put a knife against his throat.
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)
Mother came to a sliding halt a few steps before the pilot. The twins swore simultaneously. Father yelled something and broke into a run, but before he could make a step, I grabbed his hand and pulled him back. That wasn't good. That was not good at all.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted my sister rushing to Alan's side. While maintaining a hold on father's wrist, I took a small knife out of my belt pocket and I threw it to her feet. She picked it up and began cutting Alan's ties.
“I was hoping that you would be more cooperative,” the pilot sneered. His teeth were chattering. The twins had stopped creating when the knife made its appearance, but they had managed to freeze the pilot's legs all the way up to his thighs. He couldn't move and, moreover, it wouldn't be long before hypothermia got him. We had him cornered.
And so he did the only thing that he still could.
Bad Ending
Good Ending
“You forced me to do this,” he spat, staring father dead in the eye. And then he slitted Gred's throat.
Mother and sister shrieked. The twins cried out: “No!” I was about to charge forward and avenge Gred with my other, bigger knife. But then I saw father's expression. Face contorted with utter terror, father was gasping for air. My hand twitched involuntarily and the movement sprang him into action. He yanked his wrist out of my grip and he strode forward. I was half convinced that he would kill the pilot on the spot. But the enemy held his ground. When father was just one step away from him, he kicked Gred in the back. Father flinched and he sank to his knees.
“Stop... please,” he croaked. “I'm begging ya...”
“Yeah?” the pilot hissed, grabbing Gred by the curl on his head and pulling him upright. Gred let out a gurgling wail. Father burst out crying.
“Don't take my children,” he begged. “Whatever happens, please don't take my children.”
“Then let's make a trade,” the pilot said. “I will give your son back to you. In exchange, you and your entire family will surrender to the Empire.”
Before he finished the sentence, the twins were shouting: “Don't listen to him!”
“Quiet!” father spat over his shoulder.
“Let me rephrase that,” the pilot growled, placing a hand on Gred's shoulders. “If you do not surrender, I'll tear his head off his shoulders.” With that, he pressed against Gred's torso. My brother's eyes rolled into his head and he screamed as something audibly popped in his neck.
“Stop!” father shrieked. “Ottimo, Tuborg, get over here now!”
The twins exchanged horrified glances.
“Would you rather take responsibility for your brother's death?” the pilot asked coldly.
In that moment I was utterly certain that the twins would not give up. They were always full of hope, always full of ideas how to twist the situation to their advantage. They were trying to devise a plan at that very moment, I knew that for sure.
So at first I couldn't understand why they were stepping forward. As I watched their shrinking backs, I couldn't grasp what they were trying to do. Until seething realisation dawned upon me.
Ottimo and Tuborg were about to give up.
I was so confused that I couldn't find my voice. I looked at my side for help. My sister was gaping at the twins with an expression just as surprised as mine. And Alan... he wasn't looking at the scene at all. He was gritting his teeth but he wasn't doing anything to stop Ottimo and Tuborg.
As the twins knelt in the snow on either side of father, I found my voice.
“Guys, you can't do this!” I yelled, desperately searching for words that would avert them from their decision. “You're the kings!”
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)
“Bortor, shut up!” Ottimo yelled over his shoulder.
“Please give Gred back to us,” Tuborg said. “We... we surrender.”
“No!” I cried out, rushing forward. But before I could reach them, mother caught me by the forearm. Her eyes were filled with tears as she shook her head. I was dumbfounded.
“We can't just give up,” I whispered. “We can't just give up!” I screamed at the three kings.
“Bortor, Gred is dying!” Ottimo shouted at me. “Last time I checked, he was your little brother too!”
I stopped dead in my tracks. That hurt. That hurt a... a damn lot. Tears sprang to my eyes as mother hugged me. “It's alright, dear,” she whispered.
“It's not alright,” I shook my head as I watched the pilot lay Gred in front of father and the twins. “It's not alright,” I repeated as they clasped their hands in a circle and began healing Gred's torn neck. “It's not alright,” I contended when Gred lifted his hands and hugged my father.
“Your crowns,” the pilot said in a steely voice. Father held Gred a little closer and he whispered something in his ear. Then he got up, took his crown off and he offered it to the enemy. By his side, the twins did the same.
I couldn't watch anymore. I hid my face in my mother's embrace, stupefied by just how wrong the situation had turned out.
Me and my siblings were allowed to retreat into the castle to tend to Alan's wounds. Father, who had fallen unconscious shortly after yielding his crown, had been taken hostage and mother had refused to leave his side. We didn't speak one word to each other. We were too stunned.
Today I realise that that was our last chance to save ourselves. Ottimo and Tuborg didn't depend on their crowns for their powers. They could have worked out some trick to defeat the enemy, steal father's crown back and escape to the Neverhood.
But I didn't say this to the twins. I didn't want to speak to them anymore. For they had betrayed us. They had made the decision to give up instead of fighting back like we should have. I was too blinded by anger to realise that I still could talk some sense into them.
I regret my silence to this day.
Later Emperor soldiers came to take us away. I haven't seen my family since. I don't even know if they are still alive. Judging by the word that's going around, father is most likely dead. I know nothing of the others.
This is the true story of the conquering of the Brokenhood, reported by me, Bortor, son of Ottoborg, son of Quater. May it serve as a warning. United, we are strong. Separated, even for the briefest moment, we are weak.
Let my words be remembered for the family I have lost.
