The Snow-White Land
The snow-white land. Today, an incredibly powerful gravitational field filled every direction from this day onward, densely packed like an endless universe stretching out. What I mean is, the days I'd waited through to approach this one repelled each other endlessly, like like poles of magnets, so time simply refused to pass. Anxious, trembling. There's this unit called an eon, where a single migratory bird flying in over 100 or 1,000 years pecks away at a massive mountain with its beak until it turns to powder—a span of time that vast. I trembled in anxiety through a period that felt just like that eon. This wasn't about how strong I was; it was the heart of a man facing a sense of responsibility unlike any I'd known before. Somehow, it felt like the world was shoving a long-overdue bill in my face—the kind from that phrase "cultivate yourself, regulate your family, govern the state, pacify the world," but I'd skipped straight to the end without the family part. Suddenly, I knew exactly what time it was, what minute, where my feet stood. What I had to protect from here on out. It all hit me crystal clear. Honestly, it felt dizzying.
But absurdly, I—the unmanned probe drifting at the edge of a massive black hole, floating aimlessly—was yanked back to reality the moment I faced Guinevere in the wedding hall. "Pretty. She's really pretty." If those three words filled my entire head that day, would you believe it? I never imagined something like this could happen to me. From the instant Guinevere stepped into the entrance she'd artfully cut and adorned with red and blue fabrics like blooming flowers, she captured my mind. And she held it through Merlinus's rambling ceremony, through our hand-in-hand march out, through changing clothes and chatting with guests in the garden turned banquet hall, until full darkness fell and all of Avalonia faced each other under the night sky lit only by minimal fires. Then, gripping hands tight, as I said I loved her first and was rewarded for my courage. I wanted to gently stroke her flushed face even in the dark, take that small white hand and lead her to the bedroom. No—carry her like fragile porcelain. Handle her like porcelain, love her slowly. My instincts, mentored in my past life by that badass Gigachad, kicked my ass to move, and like a dumb colt with my mouth agape, I obeyed.
The cold air warmed quickly. We didn't light a fire, night deepened, and dawn came? Not sure. At some point, Guinevere's shy eyes wanted only me, and my mind—trapped for days in this bizarre gravity well—sought only her. And it was all worth the agony, the wait. A single gesture, a breath, made every hair on my body stand on end. Currents raced through senses I didn't know existed, awakening life more intensely than ever. And... my body, which seemed unbreakable already, felt somehow even stronger on instinct. Had my soul matured, maturing my flesh too? But who cares. The worries about showing something grand to my people and the outsiders at the wedding felt empty now. What's the true meaning of life? [Chirp—chirp chirp!] Hearing the cute sparrow boldly hop onto the windowsill, I awoke to all the universe's truths. Begone, worldly cares. I am the sage.
"Mmm—"
"Gah!"
The warmth burrowing into my arms startled me. Hope I didn't wake her? Peering closely, her happy expression shone even in sleep. What now? One wrong move with this stupidly huge, strong body, and I might hurt her.
"..."
So I stayed rigid, just turning my head to gaze at her quietly. If only another eon could come like this—but time, sluggish once, now reclaimed its debt like a tax collector grabbing overdue payments without mercy. [Chirp!] The sparrow that left returned, squawking. Dawn had fully broken; whispers from people trying to be quiet, the city minimized noise even fully awake—all vivid in my ears. Their blessings rang clear. So grateful, but just a bit more. This perfect moment might never come twice in my life. For the first time, I felt greed.
But then Guinevere smiled against my chest, parting her red lips without moving. "The best afternoon I've ever had since birth. Vir meus, mi vir, marite, coniunx, domine." Smack— All ways to say "husband." Affectionate ways, even more affectionate, everyday, official, more official. So many words tickling my chest with her breath, all scented like sweet apples. Next came visual assault. As she pushed the blankets down, climbing atop me—it was mental violence. Her pale, slender fingers trailed from my abs to chest to face, teasing everywhere. I was like prey snared in a hunter's trap, begging for mercy. What to do? How to respond to those longing eyes, that expectant gaze? Right—like she did to me. I'd romantically call my wife by various names too.
"Uxor, coniunx, do—"
Gasp— This kiss on my chest was deeper, truer than before. My mind rocketed back to the mysterious cosmic edge, black hole boundary—no, no time for that now. [Chirp chirp!] The sparrow flew off again.
-----
Two days later. My mind, frolicking in the clouds, finally descended to reality. Not that I wanted to come down; Guinevere, my playmate, said it was time, so here I was.
"..."
The autumn sky was still clear, but my office felt oppressively gloomy? Missing Guinevere? But now I could see her daily. Knowing someone waited to return—that brought stability beyond just having a home. At the same time, deferred responsibilities weighed heavier. So I grabbed the stack of parchments neatly piled in the corner and moved them to my desk-table. First, I scanned each region's winter prep status and concerns, then checked comments from Uterius, Merlinus, and local admins. If I had anything to add, I'd write in the blank or stamp approval. What did I know about city management? So mostly, I'd think "Ah, this issue here," and press my eagle-head ring into red wax thunk.
Voilà—pretty seal adorns the final approval, completing the document. It was like doing computer work by hand: slower, more meticulous. Huge difference, but strip speed and detail, and human administration hasn't changed much from now to the distant future. Is tech's victory the real win?
"Hm."
Sadly, no past-life genius inventor here—I didn't even know how to make proper soap. Good at fighting, war... not this. Not some ultimate weapon either. So as final approver, I'd study local issues diligently, remember them, solve step-by-step; promote the capable ones, push them up—that's my clumsy first steps in ruling.
"Huh?"
Even as a crappy reincarnator, I had basics. Like germs swarming this beautiful world, invisible to normal eyes. Why cheese rots, why we string fresh kills and smoke them over fire— I knew. So on hygiene, I drew hard lines, unyielding like a clean-freak to others.
"Budget issues delay public toilet maintenance, old drains, sewers— No. Not on my watch. Rejected. Comment: Want to write 7,000 characters of nagging, but space limits to 70..." [Scritch- scratch- scritch-]
ABSOLUTELY NOT.
Resubmit annual budget/plan. Consult Londinium's Merlinus for shortfalls. Romano-Britannia's gold overflows—
Space overflowed anyway. This shows my firm intent. Formalizing separate paths for intake/output water, daily bath changes via aqueducts not buckets—re-notify. New Romano-Britons thrilled with land: remind crop rotation keeps soil young; use abundant wind/water—build windmills/waterwheels beyond border towers. Keep announcing. Central belt Avalonia-Londinium-Camulodunum; locals might gripe "Central idiots know nothing!" But on my few commonsense points, no backing down. If short on gold/manpower, different story—but with inflows now, drive hard to the end, shoot, score. That's my take. Of course, I might be wrong, so I always heed wise voices.
"Boil water to drink. Boil before cooking. Boil anything going in your mouth. Wash hands leaving/entering home. No touching kids with dirty hands. Dirty hands on wounds kill. No washing laundry in urine, no cleaning teeth with it. What else...?"
Reviewing my "don't" list, I drafted winter notices for regions. My rough, blunt words would soften in my admins' hands to stern father's advice. Fine by me. Tonight's dinner was basically Romano-Britannia's full commander/admin meeting. Yeah, admit it. Work thoughts at meals? I'm bonding with ruling faster than expected.