A bit more editing/writing and still working on it and ideas. Raw as Newgate’s Knocker
Chapter I – Dwarvia
The roof of the Dwarvian Political House pictured a lot of things – usually the latest conquests although they’re were more battles in the house than were ever fought outside but the Political parties fought so much for their conquests to be seen that Dwarvia seemed to be nothing more than a transit camp for a picture show across the roof with split-second updates and the commentators were now becoming more famous than the battles.
The Droga’s. Matira’s and Jamesson’s essentially ruled and all were blue eyed dwarfs grown to about 5 foot 4 – the maximum height for the Space Corp and they spent most of their lives staring at the ceiling and complaining when a conquest was missed.
The Political House, its ceiling, and the planet, to a degree, were governed by five Political Parties: Droga; Matira; Jamesson; De Bowed and Du Storme who hated each other but what was unusual was they worked together, until they realised they couldn’t trust anyone included themselves. It was a case of Dwarf eat Dwarf and they didn’t worry about whether there was any relish to go with the dwarf.
The De Bowed and Du Storme were junior in most quarters and treated as other Political Party’s were; although minor in the Dwarvian World they had taken prisoners and were talking about the two hundred thousand prisoners now scattered around Dwarvia and the ruling party’s were not having a ball as they rioted – primarily because smaller Dwarvian Politicial Groups did not have the dwarf-power to control them.
Blasting them, which was the standard Dwarvian way had now killed over four hundred thousand Dwarfs and levelled major areas of the cities, but now the Political Houses were demanding a solution with the War-loving Admirals leading it and everyone held the De Bowed and Du Storme’s to blame for the carnage!
Mi Kee met his wife, when at a dinner, she sat beside him after he intruded on a marriage ceremony, thinking he could sit at an end table to pay for the seat and donate to the marriage and be left alone to think. His time to think was short as Maa Laal sat down and looked at her father who shook his head and pointed to a vacant seat, and Maa Laal shook her head and then argued and fought as female relatives gathered around her until the Priest stepped in and stopped them as it brought dishonour to the ceremony.
Finally Maa Laal gripped Mi Tee’s arm and forced him to walk to her father where both knelt and a knife was placed in her father’s hand and he place the knife across Mi Tee’s throat, pushing it in until blood ran.
Mi Kee looked at his possible father-in-law and took the knife from him, cutting himself from his chest to his abdomen, letting the blood run. Then he gave the knife to his potential father-in-law, who handed it to his wife.
She took the knife and sawed the stump of hair from her daughter.
Then she put the knife on the throat of her daughter and looked into her eyes.
“You take this man, against all we believe in. Cut your throat after you cut his and you will live together in peace. You will never live in this family again.”
Maa Laal would never be called beautiful in a thousand years, but it would take a few more years for Mi Kee to earn his button and the button more than beauty mattered. Her mother had never found anyone for her and she knew her father had decided on Mi Kee but he was allowing her mother to try and destroy him – the blood still running down him and to then in a act of the worst spite at a marriage ceremony to bar from the family if he accepted Mi Kee … her father had encouraged his wife to attack her and now she would be outcast to a Class One Magistrate with nothing and no family; she stood upright, bowed to her mother and then to her father in a deliberate breaking of all bounds – taking Mi Kee’s hand she turned to him, “I don’t know what games are being played but I will lay with you!”
“Let me speak to your father; I bowed before him; he must allow us to be together. He had the knife to stop everything?”
“It is not the knife, but my mother. She hated that you gave my father the knife; she lost power as you gave him the power … she will never forgive that?”
It hadn’t easy facing her father, who was marrying his other daughter off, and facing his face that moved dramatically and often organically as he ate and looked at Mi Kee and at no point apart from spitted meat did he address Mi Kee.
Mi Kee was, as usual, late in leaving his office and headed as usual for his eating hole to find a wedding in full spat. The table in the centre was usually awash with food and gutters ran out from the table but they were cleaned and often.
The slang for the moot was the hubbub or Dwarf-up as they piled into each other. The Dwarfs, between attacks did also stop for meetings at times although usually to plan an attack on someone else.
Yes, you can draft the minutes; the problem was the seconds and having someone left at the end of the meeting.
another planet, often, you suppose, out of boredom and four Admirals stood up representing Political Groups but not for long as the blades went in.
The slaughter in Dwarvia’s Commune had so become bad, automatic washing was stopped for a moment in respect of yet another body, before they carried it out, as everyone breathed out – shame about the diets.
The roof of the circle; some times it showed ideas, other times it show stars – often Politicians who thought they were stars.
It would take to long to destroy the Venal Politicians