Tim stared across the icy lake before him. His breath condensed in the air in front of him like fog. The ripples of the lake splashed against his feet, blown by the cold northern wind. It looked nearly calm on the lake, besides the splash of a fish jumping every few minutes. The lake was a deep blue; the light of the pale sun in the south never reached its depths. It was fringed by towering mountains, white with massive glaciers, from which streams trickled down into the lake. The roaring of the great waterfall at the other end of the lake could be heard by Tim, miles away from it. Rumors said it had been created with ancient technology long forgotten. Tim only cared of the peace of the present, though.
Tim was 14 years old, and lived in a village along the shores of the Lagaz Lake. His father was a fisherman, as most of the people in the town were. The houses where made of large timbers, crisscrossing to make an “A” shape, a sideways triangular prism, known for its ability to prevent damage by snow and for its stability. Tim lived in a large one of these with his extended family, who were very fond of Tim and often took him on fishing trips on the lake. All of the houses were painted bright colors of red and orange and yellow, and lime green and sky blue because of the long winter with little sunlight that needed some brightening to life. Tim’s was no exception, painted a very bright red from the rauthaz berries that grew around the town, no good for eating but made a very nice red pigment.
Though Tim loved his town very much, and was becoming quite good at fishing, he always wondered what was outside of the giant mountains that surrounded him, what was below his high plateau, what was at the other end of the lake, what was at the base of the waterfall. Inquiries like these only got him strange looks from his family and from his neighbors. They sought normal lives, not caring for surprises or excitement. Fishing was their life, and they liked it.
Ever since he was at the young age of six, Tim had wished to visit the Stapulaz Brugaz, the capital and heart of the North Kingdom which encompassed all the land from his own lake to the mountains in the far west, and ruled over by the North King. It was the center of commerce of the region and one of the largest cities in the north frontier of the continent. His family was always either too busy or the ground was too snowy to make the trip, even for the short distance it was. The few people in the village that had been remarked that it was a wonderful place, of a very different flavor than the little town-on-the-lake they lived in. Tim had repeatedly tried to convince his parents but failed every time. He decided that 8 years of waiting was enough, and he would have to make the trip himself if he had to.
Starting in spring, Tim caught a surplus of fish that he thought he would need on his journey. He looked at what maps he could find, plotting his route and checking the distance. He gathered his supplies slowly and stored them in secret, in case if his parents did not want him to go he could go without their permission. At last he mustered his courage and asked his parents.
“I don’t know about this trip, Tim,” his mother said worriedly. “It’s a mighty far journey, and dangerous too, I might add.”
“Tim, my lad, we have uses for you here. We had a fishing trip planned, and you were going to go!” his father said.
“I’m sorry, then. But I’ve wanted to go for eight years, and I’m fourteen. I caught enough fish to make the trip and back easily, and enough that I would have only caught that many in my absence as well. Please, may I go?”
“Well, first of all, Tim,” his father asked, “why do you even want to go? It’s a large city with not much to do. There are thieves and hooligans, the sort that we keep you away from.”
“I want to go because it is a big city. I want to see what it is like, what those tax collectors have been doing with the fish they take, where the merchants come from. The stories Robin tell about it…”
“Oh, come now Tim,” his mother exclaimed, “Robin will tell you anything after he’s had a few bottles of beer!”
“You may go Tim, if your mother is fine with it,” his father said, “You are old enough. Just use common sense and return here before two months have passed.”
“Well, mother?” Tim inquired.
Tim’s mother wrung her hands and looked at Tim with a worried look. At last she said, “Oh, alright. Just get back here soon enough! I’ll be dreadfully worried about you.”
“Don’t worry mother, I will,” Tim said, although he was almost positive his mother would worry anyway, no matter what he said, but it was the only thing he really could say. He hoped his mother wasn’t too worried about him; her health was not doing as well as it had been.
He gathered his supplies from his hiding-spot and called, “Good-bye, mother and father! I’ll miss you. I promise you, I’ll be back before two months are up!” He waved at them with a smile, and at last they smiled back at him. The rest of his extended family poured out of the house having either been told by Tim himself or heard from someone else that Tim was leaving, and waved away at him too. He loved his family more than anything, and would miss them during the trip.
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