The World, from my perspective

Cardinal Ernst von Henckelman was in a rather somber mood this evening at the palazzo, just outside of Rome. He had poured himself a quite liberal drink of Napoleonic Cognac and was puffing on a Ramon Allones Specially Selected while enjoying the comfort of a leather armchair in the library. In his lap, was a huge tome, which he opened and begun reading the ancient history of the Order. It was a matter of doing things the way they had always been done; borderline superstition. He had read the same chapter of the tome on every evening he had sent someone out on a quest to fight the powers of darkness. As had his predecessor and his before him, all through the ages. For the Order was old. As old as the Church, most of his order-brethren would say. But the fact of the matter was that without the Order, there would be no Church. Actually, with almost complete certainty, there wouldn’t be much of anything anyone would care about on the darkened, scorched, remains of God’s green Earth. Von H...

He stood on the tarmac, two large handcrafted suitcases, a carryon and a carefully rolled package beside him and waited for his pickup to arrive. Deciding to make use of this moment of unexpected solitude he opened the package, revealing a close to one meter long sword in a scabbard. He went through his carryon, finding his ever-present whetstone and began sharpening the thousands-layered blade. Being pleased with his work, he slid the sword back into the scabbard and opened one of the suitcases. Browsing through the assortment of luggage they had packed for him, he finally found a plastic case close to the bottom of the suitcase and took it out. It contained a pair of Glock 18.s and plenty of 33 round 9mm jacketed hollow point magazines. Realizing that he probably had some time for them too, he took a seat on his other suitcase and set about wiping them. “Where was that friggin pickup?” he thought, while polishing the glowing black harbingers of death. A few minutes later, he saw a be...

The journey to Campino was just as uneventful as one might expect when driving through Rome in the middle of a weekday; traffic aplenty with Vespas zipping through traffic like they owned the road. His driver apparently had some skill and experience with Roman traffic and spent most of the drive continuing the interrupted discussion about football, even once in a while throwing a question or statement back towards the back seat. Absalom gave them some non-answers, having decided he wasn’t going to be mocked for his good taste in teams, by these Polentone. Actually, he wasn’t even Italian, but having had Rome as home base for as long as he had, it was the only home he had. Now, if he only managed to persuade the Cardinal to give him a palazzo of his own, he’d have nothing to complain about. The car pulled past the normal parking spaces of Campino Airport, barely stopping to show the security guards their badges and pulled onto the private part of the runway. While most air-traffic into ...

He followed the Cardinal through the grand hallway and out on a balcony, where a servant had already set up a light lunch for them. On the table was an antipasta platter with fresh seafood and in season vegetables, accompanied by a crystal decanter of white wine. The Cardinal took his seat at the table and started browsing the platter for what he wanted, while Absalom strolled towards the railing of the balcony and enjoyed the view: the Eternal City stretching out in all its glory in the far off background, rolling hills and small villages surrounded by farmer’s fields nearer by and the meticulously tended garden - set up in a style reminding him of the Boboli Gardens in Florence, or even the Parc de Versailles – in the foreground. Truly a magnificent view, most befitting a renaissance Nobleman. Which it probably had was, a few hundred years ago. He joined the cardinal at the table, helped himself of the food and poured a glass of wine. The tableware seemed to be Venetian Murano; as al...

He remained standing, holding the back of the visitor’s chair. Knowing the Cardinal as well as he did, he imagined he had cut a bit of the front legs, making the seemingly very comfortable leather seat much more unpleasant for the unknowing visitor. Before answering the question, he looked around the room. As always with the Church, he was pleasantly surprised by the mixture of ancient and modern: a medieval crucifix hung on a wall next to a 50” plasma screen; a renaissance bookshelf next to a printer. Old mixed with new; maybe they should take that perspective on certain rules in the Church as well? He turned back towards the Cardinal, who looked at him expectantly, arms crossed over his chest, hiding the gold crucifix he had in a chain around his neck. But just as the Cardinal was about to repeat the question, he said: “To be frank, I haven’t got a clue. I thought we’d banned them for at least a few years since we managed to close that last Gate?” The Cardinal leaned forward and mov...

Waiting for his pickup to arrive, he gazed over the Piazza and ended with the balcony where the Holy Father himself stood when addressing his flock. He hadn’t had time to attend his latest sermon, which tore some at his conscience. Not that much though, considering what he’d been doing at the time, but still he felt a pang of guilt about it. “Well, he thought, hopefully I’ll be in town for the next one.” He saw a black BMW X5 with tinted windows pull onto the square. The few tourists there gave it strange looks since it was supposed to be a no-driving zone, which didn’t seem to be an issue for the driver nor the Swiss Guards who stood strategically placed around the piazza. The driver stopped the car at the bottom of the stairs and he walked down them towards it. A very large man, dressed in a black suit with a bulge under his armpit, stepped out of the front passenger seat, opened the right back door and nodded to him to get in. He stepped in, took his seat on the soft leather, strapp...

It looked like it was going to be another beautiful spring day in the Eternal City. The sun rose slowly through the morning mist into a blue sky crystal clear above him. He looked down on the still almost empty streets, with only a few early birds like him milling about. Mostly people heading for jobs where if they did it right, no one would think about them having done it. People like janitors, garbage men, maids and cleaners. People like him. He stood from the chair, emptied his glass of Evian and walked in from the balcony. Passing through his bedroom he slowed down to cast a quick glance at the woman still sleeping in his bed. It had been a most pleasant night; she in her early twenties and eager to please. He, a bit older than that, but then more experienced. He couldn't really remember her name, but since she would with all certainty be gone when he returned, he didn't care all that much. Still, he silently walked up to the bed and kissed her on her cheek. With a last loo...

Nu, efter att ha varit exakt två månader i Norge befinner jag mig återigen på svensk mark. I typ fem veckor. Sen bär det av mot soligare breddgrader, men det ska inte det här handla om. Det här ska nämligen handla om hur Norge var. Kortfattat var det riktigt bra. Och nu det lite längre svaret... Ankom, som tidigare nämnts, till Förde i slutet av Augusti där jag och brorsan blev skjutsade till stugan som vi kallade vårt hem under den tid vi var där. Stugan var en riktigt bra jaktstuga med all tänkbar bekvämlighet, utom möjligtvis bastu. Vi hade ss allt från satellit-TV till diskmaskin, även om propparna gick med viss regelbundenhet när vi körde igång elementen över natten. Det var med andra ord, lite kallt. Vi bodde med fyra andra svenskar som också var där för att skära upp lammen under säsongen. Två killar som stod på banden med mig och brorsan, och två tjejer som fick packa köttet. Riktigt bra folk allihop och vi kom alla överraskande väl överens om det mesta. Inga bråk om smulor på ...