The cart was filled with young strapping men of the well cared kind.
Most notably, younger than him.
Figures, everyone his age must have been shipped off with suitable partners already.
But for a few stragglers like himself?
Weird though, the One was closer to his age. Were the frozen's courtship habits at a younger age then the other regions? Or was she going to have to deal with a husband 4 years younger than herself?
He shrugged to himself.
He kept going back to this, no wonder, it had been days and some of these younger men annoyed him.
They were complaining about nearly every aspect of the journey.
From having to poop in the bushes, the cart not waiting for you when break time was over to the food. Morten was happy he was getting anything to eat!
The cart stopped for a moment, the sound of a rider outside the cart, horses.
The cart filled with mumbling that immediately ceased as the back door was yanked open and a stern looking man stepped in.
While the cart slowly started moving again.
He wasn't a frozen.
He was wrapped in fabrics instead of furs and his skin had a tan that made him look warm even without furs.
Morten recognized the clothing, leather boots and round features.
He was from the middle region, the lands of Lords.
"Gentleman!" He spoke, in a light voice.
"I am glad to find so many of you here for the courtship, " he said in a well practiced tone, but Morten could see it in his face and hear it in the way his words lost some power as he spoke.
This man too had noticed immediately, the age of most was rather young.
"You are here for a special courtship event. And I am here to enlighten you on the details."
It turned out that most men there had been expected to be of some standing or had been advised to join based on achievements.
Morten could see from the lack of tattoos on all the younger men, none of them exactly ticked the last box... which explained the complaints about rather mundane things.
These were all Chieftain's son's, grandsons and nephew's.
Unlike him, who was the brother of a chief that wasn't born into it, these young men had all been raised protected and well fed.
They were not just here to court the one.
The one had 4 doubles, girls that were found all over the lands that looked a lot like the one.
To be her, to guarantee her safety. They were not simple chambermaids or body doubles, but had an assortment of roles and duties. To alleviate certain tasks and protect the One.
And all these doubles and the One were taking husbands.
All from different regions.
Which worked out nicely, seeing as there were 5 regions besides the land of Lords.
It was a brilliant plan and explained why they saw fit to change the number of doubles from 3 to 4 a couple of years ago.
This by itself had made the regions quite happy, a One for all the regions.
But that's where Morten stumbled upon a snare.
If all the regions had sent their softest high born boy? This was going to be a poor show for all parties involved. And all the One's would be stuck with a potentially useless husband that complained a lot about food and sanitary.
Worse, all 5 would probably be stuck with spoiled husbands that probably wanted to go back to their mothers.
Suddenly his courtship issues seem to be one of the least troublesome here.
One of the men to his left stuck his finger up, wanting to ask a question.
Which made him look so young Morten was momentarily transported back to writing classes with Misses Pearblum, he must have been about 7.
"So only one of us can be picked?" He said as the soldier nodded at him to speak.
The man sighed, "Yes, only one per region."
As he said this, his eyes passed around the cart.
Lingering on Morten and the 3 other older men in the cart.
The soldier stepped out and the cart halted a moment later.
Meanwhile, talk in the cart exploded.
Morten frowned, they were all talking like hormonal little teen boys.
Mimicking stabbing each other and boasting about why they should be the winners. He was going to kiss his brother once he returned, he had not let him try to court anyone at this awful young age.
These boys, who looked like strapping young men, were immature and simply stupid.
They were of age to court girls? Pick who they'd spend the rest of their lives with?
Maybe that was worth a discussion either way once he got home.
The door slammed back open, the soldier was back and the cart didn't move on this time.
Please! Let them have reconsidered! Send us home before we can make absolute fools of ourselves! Morten prayed to no deity in particular.
The Soldier coughed, which made the last few men shut up.
"To get back to my story...Only one of you will make it.
There are tests, trials, dangerous ones!" He looked around the cart, judging.
"And it seems that we forgot a very important detail!"
Morten raised an eyebrow at this.
"The courtship candidates only had to apply to one rule! That they were of courting age." He said, inhaled and frowned around, "the frozen has a different age limit to this."
One of the older men in the far back of the cart snorted.
Morten understood why, that explained a whole damn lot!
The soldier pursed his lips and nodded, as if to motivate himself to continue,
"Anyone under 16, you will be escorted back to your homes. We will move you to another transport at the next opportunity."
The protest that followed had Morten in shock but the snorting guy from earlier in stitches.
One of the young men had gotten up and screamed, "My father is the chief of the biggest clan of the frozen! He will have your head for this!"
And several more of them started throwing out curses of the sort.
The soldier wasn't even trying to reason with them, he just looked plainly unimpressed.
" Silence! " A deep voice called.
Morten looked around, just as many others.
One of the other older men had stood. Morten gave him 25, old for an unmarried frozen.
"You don't understand, do you?" He said loudly.
Now the whole cart was silent, staring.
"Death awaits those that aren't well prepared," He halted for potential dramatic effect,
"and I doubt any of you are, you are young boys that only recently had your first hunts."
One of the younger men wanted to protest, but got slammed down by the booming voice.
" At home! You are something! Son's of people in power! Where we are going? You are nothing. The other regions will come with their best, warriors twice your age. They will crush you, far away from your home! Your mothers and fathers. For what?"
He sniffed loudly, "For a woman that won't want you as you will be a child in her eyes.
For a woman in whose shadow you will always function, as she is the most powerful."
He got quiet for a moment to look around the room.
"Go back home, where you can take pretty wives that will live to serve you. Where you may matter."
You could see realization hit most of them.
Morten had to be honest, that speech sounded pretty good to him! But he wasn't under 16,
he really had no excuses to cut this trip short even if he suddenly grew the wish to marry some random girl, which he did not.
~
There were only 4 of them left and Morten was certainly the least spectacular.
He was taller, but that was about it.
The speech giver refused to give his name, but everything on him was high wolf.
The furs, his tattoos and the details on his gear.
So Morten just defaulted to calling him 'Wolf'.
" Morten, from the middle mountain. " He said as he offered his hand to the man that had been to his far right in the back.
" Chaser, East, Kulmun clan" he said shortly.
Chaser was a wide and short man in both body and face. Around Morten's age and extremely hairy. He was mostly covered in brown grizzle which Morten had assumed was dirt at first.
The other man scooted into the seating across from Morten.
"Roran, West border. Wolf is also from there." He said, catching on on the name Morten and Chaser had been using to address his Clan mate.
Roran was probably the most impressive here.
At least he looked like both a tough man and a higher born.
He had the blond brown hair, dark beard and light eyes they lovingly accredited to Frozen man around the world.
A classic.
"You're a son of- " Morten started,
Wolf interjected.
"He is the chief!"
Morten saw Wolf's annoyed expression now.
Holy shit, Roran was a young chief! And he had decided to participate himself?
Was Wolf here as a guard?
"But.." Morten stuttered, "what if you get chosen? What about your clan?"
Roran nodded quietly, "I have a younger brother, he will do fine with guidance."
This made Wolf grunt in an annoyed way.
"How about you? You don't have enough tattoos to be anything but chief related" said Roran, a judgmental air to his tone.
Morten nodded, "Chieftain's brother... "
He had realized it already, he was now the annoying young man in their middle that remained. Or at least, that's what it looked like.
You see, Morten was not an impulsive man.
He had wanted to save his arms for impressive tattoos.
Like the thunderbird that had ripped his first hunt tattoo to bits, that was on his other, scar free, shoulder.
His chest on the scared side had a big mountain cat on it which was also partly damaged, that they had taken down during a hunt for that specific cat a short time after his first hunt.
It had terrorized nearby cattle. This tattoo had also suffered from the thunderbirds clawing.
Those tattoos, the scars, were covered by clothes right now.
They were judging him on his empty lower arms, neck and face.
But now that he was paying attention he noted that Wolf was possibly the only one among them with truly impressive work.
Roran had an ugly Mozer in his neck and a tattoo of his first hunt and fishing covering his lower arms.
Chaser had his first hunt on his right lower arm and a depiction of a woman on his left.
Morten assumed it was a depiction of his mother, who had possibly passed away.
This was exactly why he had saved his lower arms, the visible spots, he wanted to hunt interesting and revered beasts and put them on the body parts most visible.
But most men wanted to fill those up as soon as possible, not thinking about later and what their tattoo's would tell others for the rest of their lives.
Morten wrinkled his nose slightly, how did a man so impulsive become chief at a young age?
He turned to look at Wolf, he had taken off the furs he had been wearing on his upper body a while back. His sleeveless undershirt was an old soggy and washed out linen that showed he was nearly covered with wolves.
In the poor light they looked black.
He had assumed Wolf was Roran's guard, but maybe he had been mistaken?
Morten shook his head, he wasn't going to ask here.
In a cart, without an easy way out, still having to travel for hours.
~
Stifling hot.
That's what Roran called it, as he had started stripping his furs.
By the end of the day he and Chaser were walking along the cart, wearing only their pants.
Morten was watching them from the cart, frowning.
He had dumped his furs alright but he was still wearing his shirt and pants without too much issue. His shirt had half sleeves though. His tribe had a habit of adding necklines that could be opened with a few buttons, other tribes found this a rather useless feature. Morten was delighted by it right now.
Still, these two men were taking the temperature rise badly.
They couldn't stop talking about it either.
Wolf sighed annoyed from behind him.
Morten turned, "you alright?"
"Yes." Wolf said, he lifted the fabric he had draped over his head to try and catch some sleep.
"I can't sleep with these two continuously complaining about everything... " he mumbled.
Morten laughed quietly.
"I thought I was the weak link here." He smiled, looking back at Wolf.
"Noh," replied Wolf,
"You were the only man that entered this cart that didn't have his first hunt tattooed on his arm or worse, his face!" He put the fabric back over his face and leaned back on his furs which he had draped in between the benches.
Morten smiled, so Wolf had noticed it too.
"Wow!" Came a voice from outside.
Morten turned back and saw Roran and Chaser standing still while the cart pulled away from them. They were looking at something.
Morten stood up and stepped onto the little step at the backside of the cart and swung himself to look around it.
Buildings, constructions in the tree's ahead.
Massive, made of wood, clay and other materials the frozen wouldn't ever dream of using in their climate.
Wolf just grunted, " yes, very nice treehouses! "
Obviously he had been here before.
And he certainly had.