The Battle of Neuschwanstein

By Ludvig Solvang

Bazan lives both in Real World and in cyberspace. There are strange things both places, among them; girls.

He builds the magnificent castle Neuschwanstein for the annual Spring Games. Bazan and his tribe have to fight for their kingdom. During the game, he gets to know the mysterious Lady Mer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ludvig Solvang
• Release date: Jul 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311970299

Book preview

The Battle of Neuschwanstein

Acknowledgment

Cover by John Nordhus

Thanks to Julian and Bill Powelson

for providing technical assistance and cyberspace knowledge.

Copyright

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof,

may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

If you still do, we ask you to support the author

after reading if you enjoyed the book.

Copyright © 2015 by Ludvig Solvang

Table of content

Title

Acknowledgement

Copyright

1. On the Road

2. River Man

3. A Strange Tale

4. Saved by an angel

5. Subs in the Woods

6. Camouflaged Mothers

7. The day the universe collapsed

8. The fight

9. Mum and Isaac Newton

10. Sis

11. P

12. Eyes and ears

13. An unsuspected call

14. A question of style

15. The tribes

16. A cunning plan

17. Party

18. The Castle

19. Heimat

20. The battle

21 Sight seeing

22. Banquet

23. Like a bad dream

24. A goat on the Roof

25. Murder

26. And the winner is...

27. Mer

28. An inexperienced horse

29. Lovestruck

30. The deep meta-pattern

31. In Real World

1 On the road

My father is a nice guy. At least as long he is treated right, my mother says. And he must be, as he is to no nuisance to anybody. He is a handy man, he even changes the wheels himself. When she wants something done, my mother asks him rather than me.

But sometimes he gets totally mad. And my mother lets him. Like when he gathered his old band. I must have known something about a band in his dark ages, at least I have noticed that antiquated amp in the attic.

Suddenly our house was filled with musicians; long haired oldies tuning fuzz-boxes, or similar. I believe my father kept a different profile in his youth. But when the stories told by father's friends became increasingly interesting, my mother said it was time for bed.

I should have installed that audio surveillance system.

Except my mother's nagging about clothes and shoes on the floor (shoes belong on the floor!), I believe we must have been a happy family. Until the grim day of January, when my father announced his holiday-plan. His great plan to trace his roots down into the scorched earth.

This is the reason why I the following July stood on a piece of tarmac, looking into a vertical cliff. If I turned around, I could see a few houses, cars, a little pier, a small part of the sea – and more rock. If I looked up, I could see the grey sky over the mountains.

The place was like the bottom of a well. But it was when I realized that my device was cut off from cyberspace, I really got that claustrophobic feeling.

I approached one of the natives at my age, and first she asked about my device. Then she told me to go to the third last pole on the pier. There I should stand on the outside of the pole, yes it is so narrow that your toes rest in thin air, and face eastwards (to the right). Remember do not sit down on pole.

After checking my post I sat down. The connection was immediately cut.

My father called from the car. I was invited into a basement to look at maturing cheese, but I declined. Later I walked an unpaved road for hours, because some obscure great (or great great great....) uncle once had build a railway with his horse.

But it was worse to come.

First time I really realized the true impact of this travel on the way of life as I knew it, was when we stopped at a gas-station and my father said:

You might as well look at your post now. I am afraid you don't have the right equipment for the rural surroundings we are going to.

You mean, we shall go to the darkness of no connectivity for the next fortnight? You really mean that? I had to have this confirmed.

I believe they use a different technology in the countryside. To overcome the distances, I mean, Dad said.

I have the latest model...

But the wrong technology. Didn't I tell you we will stay in the old farmhouse? Cousin John maintains it, and he lets us stay there a few weeks. My father was happy with this.

I knew his cousin: The man with the slimy fishes? The mad angler?

Yes. It's him. The place belonged to an uncle of your grandma's. He was a bachelor all his life, and never really bothered to modernize the hut. Cousin John has done some restoration work, but has kept the rustic atmosphere.

To be brutal, there was no connectivity at all. But we were here, the whole family together, and we could shout to each other if we got apart. The question was, how did Cousin John's family reach him?

He goes to the grocery store almost every afternoon around five. His wife can call the store during the day, and your uncle calls back at five. Dad had an explanation for everything.

And therefore I shall live in splendid isolation! This was unjust, I felt the mountains were walls in an enormous outdoor prison.

No, not necessarily. A few kilometres down the road you will meet the outskirts of the village, at least you can see the buildings of the Clergy Farm. The people here reproduce the way others do. I sincerely believe, you will find pals of your age. No sympathy from my father.

This was worse than I ever could imagine. What had happened to my nice and caring father? And my mother was cooperating.

Unbelievably.

In a few hours we would be there. Maybe I should take a long hot shower to try to calm down. Besides, my mother was right, there was a big stink when I tried to take off my shoes.

My father continued: We are going to live in a house as it was many years ago. But the stove is new. John put it in last year. He has promised a shed full of wood, and petroleum for the lamps. There is a creek near the house, buckets for the water, a wooden toilet in the bushes and a small gas-stove.

I went into a state of shock, and put my feet high without taking off my shoes.

Unbelievably!

2 River Man

The next morning was quiet. I heard a fly somewhere, and did not realize anything, until I opened my eyes and looked into some wood.

I was in a chamber, the very one where my great grandmother was born, my father had told me. I was in a small cabin without telephone, electricity or running water, was zillions of light-years away from the nearest known civilisation, outside it was sunlight, and I had no sunglasses.

As I woke up, my mother led me gently outside to a bowl of cold water, a soap and a towel:

We finished without you. I make you breakfast when you wash. Don't forget your feet! she said.

My mother seeking employment in the food construction business without being asked, maybe this vacation had its light sides too.

Then I carried wood and water. My mother intended to use the stove for cooking, even if there was an available gas alternative. Afterwards I went down to the stream to investigate an obscure figure behind a tree and a rock.

The figure appeared to be a young man at my age with a fishing rod.

No, he said. I haven't got anything yet.

I could see that. Still I had been about to ask if he had got anything yet.

You must be the wise guy around here, I said. I can see you haven't got anything yet.

You are not blind, the figure observed.

And you are not an imbecile, I countered.

The figure told me his name was OorT, or at least his nick, his nom de guerre:

I do not care too much about the name they gave me. I mean, it's OK when you are a child, a part of your parents' world. Then they can call you what they want. But now, I have transformed from the child I was, to OorT. It's the same basics, but still something else, OorT explained.

And your parents? The ones who gave you the original name? I asked.

Had quite a job there, man, he said. But we have reached an armistice. I do not hear when they call my child name, it was another person. I only respond when they call me OorT.

OorT recalled a period of heavy fighting when they tried to make the child do something, like to carry out the garbage or to move the lawn:

But now I must do what they ask me to do, just to keep the armistice. There are calamities connected to change of name and personality.

Definitively not a wise guy, rather a strange one. All my friends are strange, sort of. This looked as an if not promising, at least survivable, vacation.

I had a bumpy ride on the back of OorT's bike down to his place where he introduced me to his parents as Bazan before we reached cyberspace.

Schwarzenhosen: Nice to see you. Tried to contact you in the morning, but no response.

March: me 2 almost worried

I told them my name now was Bazan, did not know why, but I knew it was me. The response was a bit astonished, but all were satisfied to hear I had found myself.

Strange name that, Schwarzenhosen. He must be German, OorT said.

Yes, the name is a German word. And it is not a he, it's a she. And she wear black tights or jeans all the time, I told him.

OorT: But she is German?

Me: No. The German is a boy. He swears in German because he knows most of the teachers don't know what he is saying. If he shouts in German, be sure he is swearing.

OorT: But Schwarzenhosen?

Me: Once upon a time there was a controversy between our half-tame German and Schwarzenhosen, I mean before she was called that. They both got upset and started shouting at each other after class.

OorT: What did they shout?

Me: I do not remember her exclamations, but I can remember him leaning forwards with lightnings flashing out of his eyes and small puffs of smoke emerging from his ears. Suddenly he goes: VERDAMMTE SCHWARZENHOSEN!!!!

OorT: And she?

Me; "And she? I'll tell you my friend, that moment I witnessed a miracle. This black and white woman, cold as ice and sharp as steel, in that very moment she turned into a pussy-cat. The kind of pussy-cat when it is only a few weeks old and just has opened its eyes. And those eyes... she directed her eyelashes directly on him and asked:

Did I really make you THAT upset?

She went on by rubbing his chest gently, and caused a total meltdown. He purred when I left, and carried her rucksack later that day."

OorT concluded, the German Michael must have problems with his temper.

I told him it was like a security switch, and the key belonged to Schwarzenhosen. Like a steam boiler with a security valve to let out power before it explodes.

But why do you call him the German Michael? I wondered.

I read somewhere that the German Michael is the average German. Like John Doe is the average Euro-American.

3 A Strange Tale

The old bike belonged to OorT's grandma, and had big tires for travels on unpaved surfaces. It had no gears, so I developed a style of working the bike with both hands and feet to get up the steep slopes without demounting.

I was in cyberspace in the little village where I was able use my device. Yes, I could manage.

OorT had a sea of soft drinks, a mountain of snacks and a big screen. We watched a magician, followed by a program about how reliable eye witnesses really were.

We saw some guys playing with a ball in a room when a person in a gorilla suit paraded through. This clip was played for an audience who was told to count every strike on the ball. Most of those did not even notice a person in gorilla suit parading through the room.

Unbelievably, I said: They are paid to say they didn't see the gorilla suit-person.

I am not sure you are right, OorT suggested. I mean, the audience didn't see see things they didn't expect. Sort of. I mean... when one sees something unbelievably, we delete it from our imagination if we are trained that way. So if...

Do you mean you can see things I can't, and the other way around? What have you seen while I was watching TV? I asked, quite astonished.

No, just forget it. I am beginning to get tired. Do we manage to see Lamarbe IV before nightfall? OorT consulted the clock.

I can at stay awake one more episode. But I was not sure.

During the following days, OorT's strange tale kept my mind busy. He was kinda right. The majority of the audience did not see the gorilla suit-person, even if the furry beast almost filled the screen at one occasion. I believe we can trust TV in this matter, at least.

How come? How is this possible?

Many times I tried to make OorT explain to me what he meant, but he was in oyster-mode. It was not right to put pressure on him, but considering the importance of the matter, I felt I had no other choice.

We sat at a table towards each other, gaming with five other guys in cyberspace. OorT was in a vulnerable situation; he was engaged in war on an other continent, and I could destroy him at will:

If I attack from behind, your whole empire will fall to pieces as soon as I kick in the rotten door, I said.

We have a treaty. OorT pulled the ethical card.

Take no mercy, give no mercy, I thought, and said: I can break the treaty.

Why? he wanted to know.

I moved troops towards the border.

You told me half a truth about what we saw the other day. I had to squeeze him now, to get this mystery solved.

?

He knew he was put under pressure, without knowing why. But he could see my military build up. My navy blockaded six of his harbours.

When we watched TV. I was in gamer-mode, felt completely ruthless, and scrambled a few squadrons of bombers.

You didn't want to hear, OorT said. He was fully aware that my whole military might was directed at his country. Most of his troops were abroad.

I just asked some questions. Now I also felt a bit guilty. Still I moved two panzer armies towards our common border

Didn't sound like questions to me. OorT was still