Sorother Weyr

I thought that there were some constants in life—you know, those things that will never change, like that Dragonriders would always be there to protect us. I guess it was naïve, really. It’s practically a rule or something that whenever things are going fine, something will inevitably go wrong, or change, or…you get the picture.
About fifteen Turns ago, that something did. Even in the Turns preceding, the populations of dragons had been declining, which wasn’t entirely unexpected given that we were in the midst of an Interval. With fewer dragons hatching and fewer Impressing, those who did Impress were cherished. To become a Dragonrider was to become one of the most elite, provided for in every way. As our only protection, they could not be risked.
Afterwards, people would claim that the sparse numbers in the Weyrs had been signs of things to come, and that we should have paid attention, but the reality is that there was no reason anybody should have seen it coming. I don’t know how diminishing dragon populations could have signified it.

First was a decade of widespread drought, crippling the food supply systems all across the planet. People died of starvation in the holds and halls, as what little food there was went to provide for the dragons and their riders. Above all, the Dragonriders had to be provided for.
It always seemed like a stupid concept to me, as I watched my siblings and parents and friends wasting away. It must have eventually occurred to others as well, because gradually people began to wonder why they were doing it. When the ‘riders came to collect the food, they would hold some of it back. Who can blame them for wanting to feed their children?
The Dragonriders did blame them. When they discovered that food was being withheld, parties of ‘riders would descend on the Holds, tear through every possible place where food could be kept, and remove anything they found. Then, they would leave, abandoning the unfortunate hold in shambles and disappear back to their weyrs.

Holdless numbers increased more quickly than even earlier in the drought, and as more and more of Pern turned to dust, survival became more and more difficult.
Even the Dragonriders were affected, but now they weren’t the only ones exploiting the Holds: groups of Renegades, those Holdless who seemed to have lost their former standards, took a page from their book, and began to attack Holds to raid whatever they could, but they weren’t limited to food. They would take anything they could get their hands on: women, men, children, food, runners, belongings…
A discreet war of sorts emerged between Riders and Renegades, each trying to assert their rights over the belongings of the people. Perhaps once the Riders had been noble people, dedicated to the protection of Pern, but the need to fight to survive does strange things to people.

Things turned around, but as the rains came once more, they could not wash away the desolation left in the wake of the drought. The Pern that emerged from it was a very different one from that which went into it. Only four Weyrs came out of the drought intact: Fort, Telgar, Bendan and the unified remnants of the rest under the banner Sorother. They are the ultimate power, holding final say over every single aspect of our lives. The Dragonriders can even determine whether we live or die, for it is they who control the food distribution and they who control every aspect of our lives.

Now, Pern is a dangerous place to be. The favoured Holds, those who support the new regime, thrive, and the rest…not so much. Those who are not under the protection of the Dragonriders are at the mercy of the Renegades.
To live in a Weyr is to live in a decadent world of plotting, gossip, romance and betrayal. To live in a Hold is to live in a place where every day is uncertain. We do our best to get by, but with so much to do to supply the weyrs, every moment of every day has to be used to its best advantage, or we will suffer the consequences: If we fail to fulfill our duty to the Dragonriders of Pern, the punishments are severe. To live in neither is to be less than nothing, for Between is nothing and we have not even that.

Nothing is constant. Maybe it’s still naïve of me to think it, but if things changed once, they will change again, and a small group of people are daring to question the current state.
Perhaps now the Dragonriders are self-indulgent and oblivious, and Renegades prey on the helpless, but there are still a few who cling to the old ways. Not even threatening their families, their dragons and their sanity can deter everyone. It can cow them into submission, but there are still those who dare, quietly, to join with the pockets of resistance springing up across the continent.
It is foolhardy of them, for by joining with them they stand to lose everything and gain nothing. The power of the Weyrs is complete--no small band of protesters is capable of achieving anything except death for themselves and possibly their loved ones too. They call it valiant, I just call it stupid. There has been enough death without willfully bringing more.