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“Ooh.” She claps her hands together. “Looks like this is the last one, so PLEASE, no interruptions. I don’t want you all ruining this for me!”
There are grumbled noises that could be assent, could be “do one Becky,” it’s really hard to tell.
“In the distant past, in a land across the ocean, there was a kingdom beset by great tragedy. Although actually to dive in there is to skip past a lot of important history, because it wasn’t always a kingdom. Like a lot of these places it started out as a collection of clans, then villages, and then warlords came and did what they are want to do - slaughter the innocent, usually in the name of some greater power, but really mostly for their own gain.
“Anyway, the warlords died - usually violently - and the groups drifted apart, only for the whole cycle to repeat and collapse until eventually someone decided it would be an idea to learn from the mistakes of years gone by and band together willingly under one, still violent, but slightly less barbaric leader.
“And this worked for a while, the land became prosperous and everything was well. Crops were abundant, sickness was still a problem because it was pre-sanitation and there were a lot of needless deaths from things like tooth abscesses and the flu. But in spite of this, overall, things were okay.
“Of course, that sort of prosperity brings it’s own problems. It’s not that the people of the land forgot how to defend themselves, they knew it was still important. Savage mercenaries still struck from time to time, rival villages led by ambitious men (NB: it was usually the men doing the sacking and pillaging but let’s not get into that because that requires a full and firm discourse on the patriarchy and the weighting of nature verses nurture and biological impulses and this is supposed to be a light and entertaining fairytale) looked at their prosperous neighbour and wanted what they didn’t have. But while the importance of being able to defend themselves was not forgotten, it maybe fell a little by the wayside.
“Sentries still kept watch, but during harvest season the duty was shirked. People still learned how to defend themselves, but only as a lesser skill to feeding themselves and their neighbours.
“Not that any of this would have saved them, when the invaders attacked.” Becky’s tone perks up. Until now she’d been reading in a dull, drab monotone, but now it looks like things are about to get exciting.
“This is because the invaders came by sea, in a unique and fascinating kind of boat, made from wood of the Quercus robur, or as it is perhaps more commonly known, Oak tree. Interestingly, there are in fact, approximately 600 extant species of oaks, whilst the common name "oak" may also appear in the names of species in related genera, notably Lithocarpus. The genus is native to the Northern Hemisphere, and includes deciduous and evergreen species extending from cool temperate to tropical latitudes in the Americas, Asia, Europe, and North Africa. In our, present day, North America contains the largest number of oak species, with approximately 90 occurring in the United States. Mexico has 160 species, of which 109 are endemic. The second greatest center of oak diversity is China, which contains approximately 100 species.
“The main reason this widely found wood was used to build the ships was practical, as well as being commonly available, Oak wood has a density of about 0.75 g/cm3 (0.43 oz/cu in) creating great strength and hardness. The wood is very resistant to insect and fungal attack because of its high tannin content. It also has very appealing grain markings, particularly when quartersawn, and in the 9th and 10th centuries was in fact used as a status symbol.
“The wood to build the ships was hewn from green logs, by axe and wedge, to produce radial planks, similar to quarter-sawn timber. Oak wood of this type, from Quercus robur and Quercus petraea, was actually used in real world Europe as the principal timber for the construction of timber-framed buildings, as well as for the construction of ships, especially naval men of war, until the 19th century. However, the people of our unfortunate kingdom had yet to discover this, alternate seabound use, preferring mainly to use it in dwellings.
“These wooden boats were known as Dragonships, in recognition of the dragon shaped prows, although as all of us who have met an actual dragon can attest, the dragon of popular mythology is very different to the actual monster. But that’s getting off topic.”
There’s a groan of relief around the room as they hope to god that the story is about to start being an actual story, and not just an info dump about wood. And not the sexy kind of wood. The actual literal wood, kind of wood.
“These light, wooden boat were built with a shallow draft hull designed for speed. They were also double-ended, the symmetrical bow and stern allowing the ship to reverse direction quickly without having to turn around; allowing them an unmatched flexibility. Dragonships sported a rectangular sail on a single mast which was used to replace or augment the effort of the rowers, particularly during long journeys. Most importantly, though, their shallow draft allowed them the hitherto unseen advantage of being able to navigate waters less than a metre deep, which allowed them not only to perform beach landings, but in fact sail up rivers and attack from locations a ship full of angry warriors would never be expected.
“Really, it was a miracle of engineering, they were ahead of their time--”
“Jesus, fuck, get to the point!” Dean shouts, unable to bear another goddamn moment of this bullshit.
“I didn’t write this.” Becky snipes. “And I’ll thank you not to interrupt.” She feels like she has to defend the rules, because she put them in place, but oh god, she wishes she hadn’t.
“I thought this was supposed to be a fairytale, not a history lesson.” Crowley observes.
“Proper world building is vital to believability.” Cas pouts.
“This isn’t worldbuilding, Cas.” Sam puts in. “This is putting us all to sleep.”
“Where does the story actually start?” Charlie asks, quickly, before things can get fighty.
“It starts on the first page. Every detail is important.” Cas snaps.
“Cas, c’mon man.” Dean groans. “No-one cares about the unique design of the ships. We just wanna hear the story.”
Cas looks at Dean like he wants to do a unique redesign of Dean face’s, with his foot.
“Hey, wait.” Becky pipes up. She’d been skimming through the - now that she looks at it, suspiciously thick - sheaf of paper that Cas had handed to her. “I’ve got it!”
“Thank fuck!” Dean groans. Cas smacks him on the back of the head, and Becky quickly starts talking before they start fighting, because that’ll lead to wrestling, which will probably lead to dry humping on the ground, which admittedly might liven things up a bit actually maybe she should just let them…
Be strong, Becky, be strong.
“Blah blah vikings came and left, there was peace and prosperity, and then, finally, 13 pages of waffle about history later, the tragedy occurred - a terrible famine ravaged the land, decimating the crops - of which being a primitive culture scientifically and not understanding the principles of biodiversity, there was an overreliance on one genetic strand - for god’s sake Cas, is any of this relevant?”
“Famines don’t just happen for no reason, Becky.” Cas snipes, and everyone rolls their eyes.
“Okay, well we’ll all just assume there was a reason for everything that happens from now on and carry on from there, okay?” Charlie Bradbury, peacekeeper extraordinaire who wishes she was at home playing playstation right now, says.
“But if you don’t know the cause of the famine you won’t be able to appreciate the full effects and consequences.” Cas mutters.
“I know, but we don’t have time to read everything, and it’s so long. Surely there’s some you can cut out, just to make it a bit quicker?” Sam hedges.
And for some reason, that sets Cas off.
“Fine! I’ll abridge it for you. There was a terrible famine, almost everyone died, the holy grail turned out to be new species of crop and not an actual magic cup, the END!” He snatches the papers from Becky’s hands, storms out of the room.
Dean looks after him with a pained expression, hauls himself to his feet and sighs, like he hasn’t just volunteered himself but been forced to do this.
“I’ll go make sure he’s okay.”
No-one is surprised. Charlie closes the door after him, y’know. Just in case there’s about to be some really violent angry sex that no-one (okay only like, 3 people max) wants to hear.