Black Wings had been struggling a couple of years earlier. People weren’t reading it, so there were few who were willing to take the risk of distributing it. Then Diljá heard of a columnist who had an article for them. It was a man, known for his severe and unreserved tone of voice, who had written a few bold pieces for Ísafold, but not controversial enough to cause any real trouble. Diljá let it be heard that Black Wings was interested and eventually they had managed to set up a meeting behind an abandoned factory on Gufunes.
Hrólfur didn’t want to go at all. He didn’t trust this fellow, but Diljá wanted new blood for the magazine. Garún agreed with her on that front. She was desperate for direct action, direct attacks on the Crown, but the others were unwilling to risk it. Not yet, they said repeatedly. When the time was right. As far as Garún was concerned, there wasn’t a wrong time to defy the Commonwealth.
She went with Diljá to the meeting and waited all day in the abandoned basement room of the factory, where they had a good view of the meeting spot. When the time was approaching three in the morning, a woman came walking along, not a man. She was in a dress cut in the latest fashions, a silken shawl over her shoulders, obviously imported. Garún wanted to ditch, certain it was a trap, but Diljá went out by herself to meet the woman.
For a long time Katrín only met Diljá to deliver articles and shorter pieces. She continued using the same male pseudonym. Garún and Hrólfur kept their distance, unwilling to trust her with too much knowledge about how they operated for the longest time.
Then one day Diljá came with a piece from Katrín that was different. It was so long that it would take up almost the entire magazine. The article listed in the utmost detail how the Crown intended to take over the thaumaturgical energy source in Öskjuhlíð and use it exclusively for military purposes.
Valtýr Melsteð, Katrín’s father, had held a seat as goði in Lögrétta for decades. He regularly held unofficial meetings at their home, where old and new party members alike would meet to discuss policies and other plans. Nobody minded if Katrín was sitting in the adjacent living room while the meeting took place; the same went for her mother and sisters. She was a part of the family, one of them. She was a member of the party, after all. Besides, she was just a woman. What could one vapid girl really understand? What could she do?
Katrín’s father had met his party members to discuss the possible profits the state could receive from the full militarisation of Perlan. This was an unofficial meeting, to gauge the political situation, as this was likely to be opposed by many other goðar in Lögrétta. Katrín had found it easy to eavesdrop by knitting just outside the living room.
The power plant was owned by Innréttingarnar, a state-founded company established shortly after Hrímland joined Kalmar. It focused on promoting and investing in local enterprise. The woollen mills in Eimvogur and the shipyard in Gufunes were only a fraction of the company’s operations. Several decades earlier, when Vésteinn Alrúnarson had put forth his theories about the mechanical utilisation of seiður without need for a seiðskratti, the company had seen an opportunity and quickly started planning a thaumaturgical power plant in Öskjuhlíð. To this date, it remained their most remarkable and successful venture.
Technically the company was owned and run by the Hrímlandic state, which meant that Kalmar pumped funds into Innréttingarnar. Building up infrastructure and industries in their colonies would only serve to benefit them. On paper it was the king himself who was the head of the venture, but in actuality the head of the Kalmar colonial authority, Count Trampe, was the one secretly holding the reins – and the stiftamtmaður’s grip was tight. The board ran the company independently, but everything needed to be approved by Trampe. Most of the profits went to the Commonwealth, who trickled money back into the company as they saw fit. Trampe had been elated at the success of Perlan and quickly set his military engineers to work on creating a machine that could harness the sorcerous power. So, Loftkastalinn had risen to the skies.
Perlan did a number of great things for Reykjavík. It provided the city with electricity, heat, even limited fuel creation for ships and automobiles. There had been grand plans to use the marvel to further improve the lives of Hrímlandic citizens, but they were put to a halt when Kalmar figured out how to engineer the skorrifles and seizure-bludgeons, the weapons and engines of the flying fortress. Now, Trampe was intending to completely take over Perlan’s operational power, denying the people the benefits of the power plant.
The board of Hið Hrímlenska Hlutafélag, the company designated as the owners of Innréttingarnar, was composed mostly of powerful human Hrímlanders. Making up a majority of the board were Katrín’s father and his fellow members of the Citizens’ Party. The party supposedly stood for home rule, but they were consistently ambivalent towards the Commonwealth when it suited their own needs. Now, they wanted Kalmar to dance to their tune.
Sheriff Skúli, the chairman of the company and the party leader, was the instigator of the meeting that took place in Katrín’s home that night. Losing the power plant’s capabilities completely to Kalmar’s military ventures would deal a devastating blow to Hrímlandic society – but it could do wonders for their own personal profits. The way they saw it, their financial gains benefited the people of Hrímland
