Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable

As some of you know, I started a series about a lonely court reporter who finds himself in the Vale.

I took a break, but now I'm going to start publishing his journal in order. You've seen the Introduction, in both written and audio form. (thanks Asclepius!)

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable are filled with all the non-heroic, non-adventurous things goings on in the Vale. If you have suggestions or want to edit, please do so here or on the Round Table site.

So without further ado, the first three.
EDIT: Added the next three on February 13, 2015.
Added 7 and 8 on February 17.
Added 9 and 10 on February 22.
Added 11 and 12 on March 7.
Added 13 and 14 on March 11.
Added 15 on April 2
Added 16 and 17 on May 15
Added 18 and 19 on May 24
Added 20-22 on June 13
Added 23-24 on July 3
Added 25-28 on July 13
Added 29 on July 29
Added 30-32 on August 17
Added 33 and 34 on September 21
Added 35 and 36 on November 16
Added 37-40 on December 5
Added 41 on December 17
Added 42-45 on January 21, 2016
Added 46-49 on May 30
Added 50-51 on July 18

I made it a goal to get to 50. Seems like Mark wants to record some more completely unremarkable events in his life.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 1: Introduction

Hello reader, my name is Mark. The first unremarkable tale I will tell is me. You see, I just woke up in the Vale one day. No light, no disorientation, no unexplainable phenomena. I went to bed one day back in my apartment, and woke up in the Vale, wherever this is. My first thoughts here were pretty straightforward. I figured I had to find something to eat and a place to live and that's what I did. I stumbled onto an abandoned cottage outside Owl's Head with four walls and a solid roof. I'm still hoping the owners are gone, not dead really, just not coming back.

Since I was a court reporter, I figured I could offer my services as a scribe. Lord Enmar and a few other nobles give me work now and then. I don't need much so it's a steady job. To fill my time I travel around and talk to all the other unremarkable people of the Vale. For some reason I feel I have more in common with them than my outlander brethren. I'm not the type to stare off into the distance with my chin upraised and a furrowed brow. Nor do I feel like crafting stories fraught with breathless enthusiasm for adventure. There are mundane things here too and this world is more than a playground for those of us from elsewhere.

All I know is that if you're still reading, you must not have much to do with your time. That makes you pretty unremarkable too.

 

Mark’s Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 2: Simple Virtue

Day 1, post adventum

Is it possible that the ground here feels more solid? Perhaps not, I did arrive barefoot. I shouldn’t let my imagination run wild. But why is it that part of me did not want to be found? All I had was a t-shirt, pajama pants, a warm day and mountains in the distance. The grassland where I awoke had nothing more remarkable than an occasional outpost of lonely oaks. Yet that is how I felt.

Setting out to decipher the mystery of my location, I was soon assaulted by a stomach turning stench. I had arrived downwind from a pig farm.

It was a curious operation, with a pen constructed of upright whole logs around six feet tall. The farmhouse was not in sight. There was, however, a simple wooden tower. I had just set my foot to climb up and look around when a voice stopped me, “Ho there and good morning!” A chorus of squeeling erupted in response.

A tall young farmer set down two large pails as I turned around. It has always struck me how he flashed a smile that first meeting which conveyed not the least bit of suspicion, fear or anger.

“Good morning to you too. My name is Mark. I’m in a little bit of trouble. I woke up close to here and don’t know where I am.”

“Sorry to hear that Mark, but that does explain why you’re so lightly clad. You’re at my farm in the Valeway, south of Owl’s Head. My name is Arren.” He approached and extended his hand, which I shook. He was perfectly at ease.

“I’ve never heard of those places, which state am I in?”

“State? I don’t know what you mean. Where are you from?”

“Minnesota.”

“Never heard of it, probably not in the Vale then.” Pointing to the pails he said, “Here, let me feed the pigs then we’ll go back to my house and figure it out.”

He emptied the meal in his buckets through a concealed panel in the side of the pen. He turned back to me and pointed into the distance. “The house is this way, you probably need some breakfast too.” In my desperate situation, his simple kindness seemed heroic.

I followed him in silence because I didn’t really know what to say. Thousands of thoughts passed through my mind in the span of a few minutes. How could my situation be anything but the result of something bad? I felt like I was waiting for a verdict and sentencing.

When the farmhouse came into view, my depressing introspection was cut short. I was approaching a rustic log cabin of sorts with thatch for a roof. Why so simple? Were they Amish?

Arren called out, “Ho Myna, we have a visitor!”

A bright eyed young woman, perhaps six months pregnant, appeared at the door. Like Arren, she did not have the reaction I expected. She simply smiled as she looked at me without fear or suspicion.

“Now Arren what did you find out there this time!” She chuckled and shook her head. “Come in, come in sir.” She waved at me to step inside.

As I crossed the threshhold I said, “Sorry for my appearance. My name is Mark. I seem to have come here without knowing how.”

Myna looked to Arren for an explanation. “I found him down by the pigs.”

She looked back at me and took hold of my arm, ushering me into a simple wooden chair near a large stone hearth. “Well we have a lot to discuss then don’t we. Please sit, I will go get you some breakfast.”

Arren sat by the door and removed his boots, then joined me across the table. Myna had disappeared behind a curtain. “So tell me what happened Mark.”

“Yesterday was a normal day. I worked a few hours at the courthouse, watched TV, went to bed in my apartment and then woke up here.”

“I don’t understand every part of it, but I take it you have no idea how you arrived close to my farm. Do you think magic was involved?”

“What?”

“I mean, I’m no wizard, but it sounds like some sort of teleportation.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Well, strange things have been happening in the Vale as of late. There are reports of trouble down south. There have been more wolves moving north for some reason, so you’re lucky you arrived during the day.”

Myna came back into the room and walked over to the hearth with a plate of fat sausage links and eggs. “Well Mark, you’re quite a mystery it seems.” She placed a grill in the hearth and stoked the embers.

“Well, you two seem somewhat of a mystery to me too.”

“Really, how so?”

“No offense, but I’ve never seen a thatched roof, or people living so simply before.”

Arren smirked. “We do pretty well for ourselves. I built this cottage myself and I would say it’s one of the best in the Valeway. I built that pen too and the wild beasts haven’t been able to break it. I do have to keep watch some nights in that tower to keep them at bay. Pigs are tasty. All sorts of things want to eat them.” The sausage on the grill in the hearth started sizzling. He nodded toward it.

“What sort of things do you mean?”

“Well, we get wolves as I mentioned, and bears. Sometimes the elves come looking around, although they tend to stick to the forests. Every so often we get something truly nasty, but that’s why we keep the pigs at a safe distance from the house.”

Myna cut in, “It’s really very safe here. We know how to defend ourselves.” Arren raised his eyebrow. “Oh yeah, when was the last time you practiced with your bow?” Myna folded her arms pretending she was offended by the question. “Hush now, or I’ll let Mark eat alone!” The genuine affection that passed between them put me at ease.

“I’m sorry, there are so many things I don’t understand yet about where I am and what you’re talking about.”

Myna pulled the sausages and fried eggs off the grill and served them up on three plates. She brought some forks and poured some water into simple wooden mugs.

After all was in place, Arren gave me a serious look. “Well Mark, we’ve got time to figure it out. And until we do, we’ve got an extra room upstairs for you to stay.” Myna added, “I will get to patching some of Arren’s old clothes today so you have something better to wear.”

I was stunned by the hospitality. “I can’t thank you enough.” Arren and Myna smiled at each other and began to eat. In the days that followed, we became fast friends.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 3: Beyond Belief

Day 14, post adventum

My time with Arren and Myna had to end. They would have been happy to have me as a permanent boarder, but I couldn't burden them any longer. Myna suggested I go talk to Morgaine in Owl's Head, a good day's journey north of their farm. She is a butcher who buys their meat and sells it in the market. If I was going to survive on my own, a city would be the easiest place to do it.

Leaving was hard. I arranged to return once a week to transport their goods to Morgaine, using the excuse that they would need help once the baby arrives. If I'm going to be here for a while I will need friends like these.

Once I crossed the bridge over the river and could see the city in the distance I stopped. Arren and Myna had prepared me well, and had told me to be honest if any guards questioned me. But I needed time to ready myself. I could handle a rustic pig farm, but some of the things they described were just beyond belief. So when I could see the blue light from that strange tower I headed left off the road to scout about a bit.

There were clusters of simple homes right off the road, workers and small farmers. They reacted suspiciously, which did not ease my fear. I hurried beyond them and headed toward the woods that blanketed the rise into the hills beyond. And there, just behind the first stand of trees, up a bit with a good view of the road and city, I found my cottage, abandoned for no reason I could tell.

That made me feel better about things. Maybe I could get established here if I couldn't get back. So I entered Owl's Head for the first time, past the strange electric fence everybody else just walked through and had my first conversation with a guard. A few questions, and some honest answers had me on my way to the keep. I spotted Morgaine in the market, or perhaps she spotted me first. As I walked up to her stall, she seemed to be inspecting me already.

"Ho there, someone new! What brings you here my friend?"

"Arren and Myna sent me to meet you."

"Ah, they're great people, a little on the boring side though. They're always trying to set me up, saying I should settle down... is that why you're here?"

"What? No, um. Well, no."

"Too bad." Morgaine winked at me, and I blushed.

"Honestly, I just arrived in the Vale. I'm trying to get settled here in Owl's Head. I think I already have a place to stay but I've got to find work to do."

She turned thoughtful for a moment. "Well, you must be another outlander then, that's it, it's an epidemic! Good for business, but you don't look like the butcher type."

"Well honestly, neither do you." Morgaine seemed caught off guard, but smiled. "Oh yeah?"

"Well I don't know any butchers that wear red dresses."

She smirked. "So they wear blue dresses where you're from?" We both laughed.

"I don't think I could be a butcher in any case. I'm more of a writer, I record conversations and such."

"You mean like a scribe?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well we should go meet Lord Enmar then, he might be able to use someone like you."

Morgaine turned to the woman in the next stall. "Hey 'Lyssa, can you cover my sales for a moment?"

The woman was busy with another customer. She didn't look over but shouted back, "What's my commission?"

"Haha, maybe I'll introduce you to this new gentleman."

Before I could react she put her arm under mine and led me across the plaza.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 4: Trust

Day 28, post adventum

Taking dictation for Lord Enmar has been an education. My initial appreciation of this world has eroded somewhat. What value can magic and other sentient races have if all they do is bring more trouble? The world I've left behind had enough without them.

Three days ago, he gave me a special project. Several people had asked him to record an interview with the oldest living resident of Owl's Head, Trixon, known affectionately as Eldest. There was a genuine interest in the history he could still recall. People here do seem to like books of all types, and libraries are not uncommon. The city even has a bookstore.

So I spent a day with Trixon, recording all sorts of facts about Owl's Head and his life. Hopefully, they will be helpful. I will deliver the full text to Lord Enmar tomorrow morning. I'm going to title it, Conversations with the Citizens of Owl's Head, Volume 1.

There is one part of our conversation I left out however. After a simple dinner, when I was about to take my leave, Trixon interrupted. "Mark, I'm curious to know something about you too."

"Why? There's not much to tell."

"Are you sure? Look son, just because I'm cooped up in this room all day doesn't mean I don't know what's going on."

I looked over to the window next to his bed. It framed a perfect scene of the plaza in the keep. A lady had brought Trixon here from his simple hut, expressing the general esteem of the community. Everyone wanted him to have greater comfort and enjoy the view of the life of the city in his declining years.

"That's not what I mean, Mark. People stop in to visit all the time and they share all sorts of things. Many of them have been talking about you."

"What? Wait, why?"

"Because you're a part of Owl's Head now, my son, whether you like it or not. People like you, but you seem... distant. Like a man who's sitting on a dock in a strange town only because he's waiting for the next boat to carry him on."

"Well I really don't know why I'm here or how long I will be."

"I imagine finding yourself here has been a lot to accept. But as I've told you, this is not a bad place to be. You could have ended up in a lot of places and times that are much worse."

"So I've heard."

"Look son, every morning when I wake up, I wonder for a few moments if I'm still alive. There's always a flash of disappointment. I want to go. I have no idea what awaits me, but I'm ready Mark, ready to see what lies beyond. I have great hope that it's something beautiful, so beautiful that's why we don't know about it because we can't - it's indescribably good.

So every morning I face the question, why can't I go? I've learned to accept that if I'm still here, there's a reason. There's a reason this day I need to open my eyes, drag my bones around, talk to people. The reason for today is sufficient. I trust that and go on."

"Honestly Eldest, it's a little hard to understand why I'm here."

"You don't have to, and you may never, you just need to believe it. Don't be separated from your life by disappointment about what hasn't happened and what you don't know. Mark, It's a great place to be."

I told Trixon that I would try.

I am sitting at home right now. I started recording this entry in my journal about fifteen minutes ago when a bell rang out clear and strong from Owl's Head. There was no need to ask why.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 5: The Neighborhood

Day 30, post adventum

I've spent the last few weeks passing the cluster of a dozen or so cottages that lie between my place and Owl's Head. The residents have always greeted me, but in a way that doesn't invite more interaction. In this world, I can understand why. Strangers are stranger here. It's not their fault, I hadn't made any particular effort to introduce myself either. So this evening, I decided to stop and do so.

The first person I happened upon was a woman sweeping her front porch. This time, I surprised her after the usual good evening. I stopped, looked at her and said, "how are you tonight?" Ok, I admit, this was not a brilliant opening.

She stiffened for a moment, and then responded, "Fine, thank you."

"I've been passing by your home for a couple of weeks now. I figured it might be good to introduce myself, my name is Mark."

She paused as if weighing her response. "You're the one who's taken up residence in Flennig's abandoned place."

"I don't know who owned it before, but if they return I will leave."

"Oh, he won't be returning."

At this point, the woman's husband poked his head out the door. "Jeanne who are you talking...."

"Good evening sir, my name is Mark."

The man walked straight out of the cottage toward me and looked me over. "Yes Mark, can I help you with something tonight?"

"No, not particularly, I just wanted to introduce myself."

"Ok, my name is Paul and this is my wife Jeanne. You live up in Flennig's old place?"

"Yes, but I was telling your wife I will leave if he wants it back."

"No need, that won't be happening."

Suddenly a boy bolted out the door straight toward me. I estimated he was about seven years old. Jeanne tried to run after, but Paul grabbed him and pulled him close. "Hey mister Mark, are you a ghost?"

"Shush Danny. Sorry, Mark."

"It's fine."

Danny wriggled out of his father's hold and took a step forward. "Flennig's place is haunted isn't it, mister? That makes you a ghost!"

"Danny, that's just what you and your friends say to make up games and scare each other. Sorry, Mark."

I knelt down. "Well Danny, you can pinch me to see if I'm a ghost."

Danny started for me, but Paul grabbed him into a close hold. I stood up again.

Jeanne spoke, "That's our Danny, always full of life."

Paul nodded, and then turned serious. "Mark, I've heard you're working as a scribe."

Of course he would know me well. This place was like any small town. People talked. For sure they already knew me better than I knew them.

"Yes, that's right."

"Well, I was wondering. Would you be willing to teach our Danny here how to read and write?"

Danny looked up at his father. I wondered why they hadn't asked sooner. Jeanne spoke, "Yes, it would give him something to do other than get into trouble when his chores are done!"

"Sure, I've got plenty of time. And I've got plenty of supplies too. I would be happy to do it." I figured they hadn't thought about the cost of acquiring paper and ink, so I didn't want them to be uncomfortable asking about it. "What you say Danny?"

"Let's start now!"

Paul looked down at Danny. "Hold on boy, we've got plenty still to do today. What about tomorrow evening after the chores are done?" All three looked at me in unison.

"Sure, I will stop by on my way home."

Jeanne said, "Thanks Mark, this is very kind of you."

"No problem at all."

Addendum: Day 93, post adventus

Tonight when I got back home I found the scrap of paper I've attached to this page slid under my door. I've been teaching Danny not only the runic alphabet, but also the English alphabet as our own "super secret code language". He surprised me, as I've only been able to get him to copy out simple words and do some basic reading. The note says, in English, "Mark: You're not a ghost. Danny."

Somehow, that's very consoling.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 6: Just Another Day

Day 32, post adventum

A man walks into Fire Lotus tavern and looks around until he sees me.

"Hey Mark, you like to write don't you?"

"Yes, why yes I do, why?"

"Well I've got a story for you."

"It's a good thing I keep parchment on me at all times. Even when I'm trying to unwind."

"Just this very moment a woman walked into town."

"Ok."

"She had this gigantic chair stapped to her back made with all sorts of bones and a monstrous skull."

"That's better. Tell me what you saw."

"Well I was fishing down by the creek at the bridge. This woman comes up the road as if she wasn't carrying anything, smiling and enjoying the day. Then it really gets wierd. Guard Michael was on duty. He said hello to her, but didn't act as if anything was unusual. And Michael knows she's an outlander! Um no offense."

"None taken. I do think Michael is a guard in the loose sense of the term."

"He didn't say anything. So I followed the outlander and got a good look at all them bones. I think it was some kind of throne. I was beginning to think I was going crazy. No one said anything. This gal had packs and swords hanging off her in every spot and no one even turned their head!"

"No one reacted?"

"Nope. She owns a big mansion across from the market. Everyone was buying and selling as if this was just another day. First, she placed the throne in one spot in her yard then moved it to another. Then she took out two tall flaming torches from who knows where and put one on either side. She got up and sat down about fifty times then went inside. It was quite a show, but no one in the market even so much as looked at her. Maybe, just maybe, James let out a nervous cough. So I ran up to his stand and said, 'hey did you see that?' He just gave me a big grin and said, 'See what?' I pointed at the throne across the market. He looked and shrugged."

"Are you sure about all this?"

"Come follow me, the bones are still there, I will show them to you."

"Yeah well, I'm here and let me buy you an ale, ok?"

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 7: Winners and Losers

Day 38, post adventum

Many have encouraged me to develop skill with a weapon or magic. Even Lord Enmar has prodded, but only to have more trustworthy and capable defenders for Owl's Head. People are usually shocked when they find out I live alone outside the city.

I wish this was all people were suggesting. In my position, I have become a potential advocate for every sort of need and proposal under the sun. Luckily, my professional experience makes it easy to resist. Plus, I hate politics. My response is always the same, "Lord Enmar is quite approachable and open to hearing your requests and suggestions." That usually ends the conversation quickly.

Today, after finishing delivery on another set of letters, I headed for the shop of Theo the Blacksmith. He greeted me when I walked in, but was busy with other customers. By the time he could help me, I had pretty much settled on buying a sword with striking silver filigree on the hilt.

"Ah, I see you're interested in one of my latest acquisitions."

"You mean you didn't make this?"

"No, the filigree is actually beyond my skill at the moment... one of your outlander brothers sold it to me." I didn't like getting lumped into that category. "In fact, there's quite a few outlanders trying to sell me weapons and armor they acquire in their travels. They seem perplexed that I won't buy every rusty sword they stumble upon."

"How much would you sell this one for?"

"A thousand."

"I'll need to work a few more months to save up that much."

At this point he turned thoughtful and looked around. Seeing no other customers in the store, he walked over and closed the door.

"Mark, I'm worried."

"Yes? Why's that?"

"Well not only are outlanders trying to flood me with a useless supply of rusty weapons, I've now seen some of them practicing at the public smithing table. I've always been able to maintain a decent living because there's not much competition. But a horde of new blacksmiths? That changes things."

"I see."

"Do you think you might be able to bring this up to Lord Enmar? Maybe limit the public smithing, or give me an exclusive license to sell in Owl's Head? I'm worried about the future. I can't move my family and even if I could there's no where to go in the Vale."

"It's a tough situation I grant you, but you know, Lord Enmar is quite approachable and open to hearing your requests and suggestions." Theo's eyes narrowed.

"Look Mark, I'll cut you a great deal on this sword if you can help me."

"Theo, I know you're doing what you need to do to try to protect your livelihood. I just can't take sides if I'm going to serve Lord Enmar."

"I see." Theo turned, opened the door, and sighed. "Well Mark, maybe you can get one of your outlander brothers to just give you one."

"I'd still like to purchase this one eventually."

"Hopefully I'll still be in business when you're ready to."

"Yeah I hope so." It was the least awkward thing to say.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 8: The Roads in the Vale

Day 42, post adventum

At the market, I finally tracked down someone Morgaine said I should meet. Even after meeting him, I still have no idea why.

"Good day sir, people around here say you have some interesting ideas about the roads in the Vale."

"Most around here think it's a silly fascination."

"Well I want to hear about them."

"Ok. No one in the Vale remembers how the two main roads came to be. Some think they were there before the towns, others just think it was the obvious foot and cart traffic."

"What do you think?"

"The way the Vale Road connect with the King's Road is unnatural."

"Why is that?"

"Well if the roads were carved by foot traffic, they'd take more direct routes. The forests in the Vale are not so dense as to prevent roads from developing. There should be a triangle of roads connecting Owl's Head, King's Port, and Braemar. Also, I've studied the maps of Novia. Towns usually pop up at important crossroads, and the most significant crossroads in the Vale is empty. Not even a farm stand selling tomatos."

"Interesting points. How do you explain it?"

"The Vale Road has an obvious name, but why is the other called the King's Road?"

"Ok, why?"

"There was a King in the Vale at one point, his castle was at the crossroads in the center of his realm, and the King's road was what brought him to port to claim other lands or visit the rest of his realm. The Vale Road connected him to the rest of the isle."

"Who really knows what happened before the cataclysm."

"Well there's evidence you see."

"Really, what?"

"You know all those large potholes right around the crossroads? One is even so big that idiot of a driver Polmer ran his cart right into it. Some say the holes come from the rains and that no one really is in charge of fixing the road. I say they are instabilities cause by previous construction: foundations, basements and such."

"That's hard to say don't you think?"

"Well then why is the crossroads empty? I'll tell you why. There must be some sort of curse that destroyed the castle and keeps people from doing anything but pass through."

"Well maybe I will try to stop and spend some time there. I've been meaning to see some other places in the Vale."

"Furthermore, I have a collection of stones I've taken from the roads... they're the kind of stones used to build castles not pave roads. Come back over to my place and I'll show you."

"Got a busy day here, think I will have to come some other time."

"Ok. Well you let me know, people need to learn more about our history."

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 9: 'Tis Better

Day 51, post adventum

Having been saturated in entertainment and news, I had no idea how hard it would be to adjust to the simplicity of life here. The only easy and safe source for both seems to be the Fire Lotus Tavern. I always keep an eye on what is going on there.

Many nights, a minstrel performs. He is quite talented, and only remain here because he says travel to other places has been interrupted. Whatever the reason, he provides some much needed entertainment.

The following is a summary of the oddly reminiscent tale he told tonight. Perhaps the muses span worlds.

"A long time ago, in the town of Etceter, there lived a strong and good young man full of promise. His training as a soldier was progressing rapidly until he noticed a strange weakness in his fingers. He dismissed it until he started to feel his arms weakening too. Greatly troubled, he sought out the town healers. They told him he was stricken with 'the curse of Quel'. Although rare, it happened enough that the healers knew there was no cure by medicine or magic. Over the course of the next few years, the young man would grow progressively feeble. At the end, his heart would be too weak to beat.

Following this dire news, the poor fellow moped alone in his home for months. He distanced himself from his family and friends. He filled his head with all the dreams of what would never be: finding a wife, having children, fighting battles with his comrades, becoming captain of the guard. Lost in sadness, he hoped to advance the disease more quickly.

One day a stranger intruded on his isolation. He said that far west of the town, in a cave in a lonely hill, lived a witch who could cure him. The young man knew of this witch, as everyone feared her and told stories of her conniving. However, he decided there was nothing to lose. His dark thoughts hoped that even if she couldn't help, she might end his life.

The journey to find her took a full day on his unsteady legs, but he did find the cave exactly where the stranger told him it would be. And there, lo and behold, stood a woman at the entrance to the cave watching him approach. She was trim and neatly dressed, not at all what he expected. What was most disconcerting was that her face conveyed no emotion at all, even when she spoke.

When he had drawn as close as he felt comfortable, the young man spoke, 'I have come to seek your aid.'

'You have the curse of Quel.'

'I do. And I don't want to live life anymore like this.'

'I can cure you.'

'Please then good woman, tell me how.'

'Long have I studied our poor race my child. I have learned many things that others do not know.' At this point she reached into a pocket in her robe and brought out a small leather pouch. 'If you mix the contents of this bag with water and drink it every day for the next ten days, you will be healed.'

The young man started forward to take the pouch.

'Wait, you must know this: In payment for extending your life, I will contact you in three years and take that which you most dearly love.'

The young man hesitated, but not for long. The possibility of a cure was all he could imagine. And sure enough, when he returned home and followed the instructions the witch had given, he returned to health. Because of her reputation, he claimed his cure was miraculous lest the townspeople fear him being influenced by dark magic.

Back when he was sick, the people he had distanced had respected his desire to be alone, but no longer. Family, comrades, and potential dates sought him out regularly. Still, the witch's warning sounded loudly in his ears. He feared getting too close to anyone because of what might happen.

After a few days, he left Etceter without telling anyone, deciding to live a simple, solitary life in the hills. That way, when the witch returned, the thing he loved the most wouldn't be too painful to lose. The years ticked by as he wandered alone with very little to do, enduring the isolation. It was quite hard at times, almost approaching the pain of his sickness, but he knew it would come to an end.

Three years to the day, he woke and found a letter on the table by his bedside.

'My dear child, I have received the payment for your cure. You have given me what you loved the most: the dreams you have delayed for the past three years. So fearful have you been of losing anyone and anything, that you threw it all away during this time, just as you did when you were ill.

I did not ask for this repayment to be cruel, as many would suspect, but to teach you an important lesson you would not learn otherwise. This is the healing you needed, not the healing you desired.

Go live your life now, not minding the cost.
If you fear losing what you love, you've already lost.'"

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 10: Sticky Situations

Day 59, post adventum

Things have been settling into predictable patterns as of late. One of my routines is visiting with Morgaine every time I see Lord Enmar. The first few times I tried to pass quietly through the plaza, she would shout my name, leave her stall, run over and ask me how I was doing. Rather than make a scene, I now leave extra time to say hello. She always has news to share, I usually just listen.

Today, Morgaine stopped speaking abruptly in the middle of a fascinating story about sheep. She was watching something behind me.

"Ooh, ooh. Marie is on her way here and she doesn't look happy."

Sure enough Marie appeared at my side. "Good morning, Morgaine."

"Good morning, Marie, how are you?"

"Fine, but I have some questions for Mark."

I had met Marie only once before, and she seemed pleasant enough then. I couldn't imagine why she would be angry with me. In fact, this was the first person in this world to ever be angry with me. Perhaps this is a milestone toward establishing yourself somewhere.

"Sure Marie, what do you need?" My words were met with a glare.

"Was my husband playing poker with you again last night?" She lingered on the word, "again".

"No." Marie frowned and harrumphed. "Last night we played five hundred." Her glare grew more intense.

Starting a few weeks back, I had invited Jack and a few other men to my place to introduce them to card games. I had made my own deck out of pasteboard, carefully drawing the designs of each card. The other fellows enjoyed it so much we decided to make it a weekly event.

"These men, Morgaine, what are we to make of such silly games?"

Morgaine put her hand to her chest and grimaced in sympathy. "They are brutes Marie, insensitive brutes." When Marie turned back to look at me, Morgaine winked.

Marie continued, "Yes they are. Now Mark, I have nothing against Jack playing silly games once in a while, but don't you think three times a week is a little excessive?"

Now I was in trouble. Our card game routine was weekly. Jack was using me as an excuse for something else. However, there was no way I was going to step into this marital disturbance.

"Shouldn't that be for you and Jack to decide? I have no intention of causing difficulties." Luckily Marie didn't ask any questions that would force me into an uncomfortable truth or an uncomfortable lie.

"Well, Mark, you outlanders and your strange ways cause no end of trouble around here. Perhaps you should try to return to your home, instead of trying to ruin ours?" Morgaine winced. Marie marched off.

Morgaine tried to console me, but I indicated that I needed to be getting to work. I knew if I stayed, she would try to pry more information from me. It wasn't my place to share it.

Now I am faced with a dilemma. Do I confront Jack, since he is unfairly using me as an excuse for something he doesn't want to share with his wife? If I do, I become entangled in what could develop into an ugly situation. Or do I sidestep that difficulty and let Jack continue to abuse my friendship? This would also allow the situation between him and Marie to grow worse. I will have to think about it.

 

So INFOCOM'ish. Love it

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 11: Life Eternal

Day 75, post adventum

Today was my weekly trip to visit Arren and Myna. I knew something was up the moment I arrived at their cottage because Arren answered the door. By the time I arrived he would normally be out in the fields, and return to join me for lunch.

"Hi Arren, where's Myna?" He had the largest smile on his face I had ever seen.

"She's upstairs, with our new son."

"Hey, congratulations! When was he born?"

"Three days ago now." I'm still getting used to the lack of instantaneous communication. Of all the people I've met so far, Arren and Myna are the ones I'd always want to be in constant contact. I don't mind a delay in getting good news, but my pessimism makes me worry about the bad. Heaven forbid.

"Come in, Myna's mother and sister have joined us here to help with the baby." We introduced ourselves.

"We've heard a lot about you Mark," said Myna's mother, "but don't just stand here, go up and see the baby!"

I walked up to the bedroom, followed by the others. Myna was sitting in a rocking chair holding a tightly wrapped bundle, smiling. When she looked up and saw me, she flashed what was surely now the biggest smile I had ever seen.

"Oh, Mark. I'm so glad you're here! Come and meet Larren."

Myna's mother explained, "He's named after my father, who brought our family up to the Vale from the mainland."

I walked over and like everyone was transfixed in admiration of the peace and simplicity of this new pink face. Morgaine would of course want to know every detail of the birth, so I asked all the questions I could think of, more than I would normally do. After that, we went back downstairs to let mother and baby continue to rest.

I had my own question for Arren. "Arren, you've told me why you have to take extra precautions to defend your pigs, and everything else. What about this new baby? How do you feel about bringing a child into such a dangerous world?"

"Things will carry on much as they always have. We manage well, we will be ok." He was still smiling.

"But I've also shared with you the things I've learned from Lord Enmar."

"Yes, I know. We will be careful. But look Mark, your perspective is turned around. We've done one of the best things you can do in dark times: bring new life and new light into it. There's a new tiny little star in the sky that will shine on forever."

"Forever? I've heard about too many lights being snuffed out lately."

"Yes, Mark. Whatever happens to us, you, I, Myna, Lorren, we will continue on forever somewhere, somehow. Life for us may change, but it never ends."

"I don't know. I find that kind of hard to believe. What if there's nothing more?"

"Look Mark, you left your world and came here. Was that the end of you? You're not dead."

"Well that's different..."

"Why, how? Maybe you died and that's why you're here. Who knows? Life continues on, no matter what, I guarantee. And for one thing, whatever happened to you, Myna and I are grateful to have you here."

There was no way I was going to give my pessimism and skepticism any more reign at the moment. I realized why Arren and Myna were so happy now in the face of all their troubles. They felt like they had done something good that would last forever. I felt small by comparison.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 12: The Dayflower Affair

Day 81, post adventum

Yesterday, Lord Enmar summoned Peter, one of the guards, while I was copying a contract.

"Yes, my liege?"

"Ah Peter, I have an important assignment for you tomorrow."

"But.. surely there are more important things to be done, others who could do a better job, I..." Lord Enmar arched an eyebrow in warning. He was generally fair in hearing opinions, but very careful not to allow it to grow into insubordination.

"Yes, I know. It's not the most... well, desirable duty. However, the dayflower competition is important to a lot of people here. You will be my representative and the judge."

Peter looked like he was being punished as he struck his fist to his chest in salute and turned to head down the stairs.

Lord Enmar called after him. "Try to have fun with it."

I asked Lord Enmar why the competition was important. He simply smiled and said, "I have a feeling you're going to see it for yourself."

He was right. So this morning, my curiosity led me to follow a steady stream of people toward the moon tower. As I approached, I spotted Paul and Jeanne in the crowd of onlookers.

"Good morning, Paul, good morning, Jeanne, how are you?"

Paul said, "Ah fine, good to see you Mark. Jeanne here is a little disappointed she couldn't enter the competition this year. Our dayflowers didn't do so well." Jeane nodded, "And this year Lord Enmar has donated a wagon as a prize! Can you believe it? A wagon! What a year not to be able to compete!"

"Pardon me, but I don't think I've ever seen one of these flowers before." I didn't know whether this was a similarity with my world or something new. I am no botanist.

Jeanne said, "Let's head up to view the competitors Mark, I'll show you." The competitors had brought tables and formed a circle with them around the tower. The crowd was milling about outside the ring, examining the plants. On each table, there were exactly ten, in identical pots. Paul was already fulfilling his duty, moving around to each competitor and examining their entries.

"Jeanne why are they here at the moon tower?"

"Well, many believe that the tower helps the plants to bloom and also promotes the most unique color variations."

"I see." Perhaps I was a little too skeptical in the tone I used, for Jeanne quickly tried to explain.

"You have to understand dayflowers Mark, they're very ... unpredictable. You never know when a bud is going to open, and when it does, it opens in the morning and only lasts for a single day. The competitors are allowed to pick ten plants for their competition, but it's a guessing game as to which they should choose. Ten plants usually allow each person to have a few blooms that can be judged, but sometimes a competitor gets skunked. So everyone has theories about what helps them to bloom. The moon tower is a generally accepted one, and that is why the competition is held here. The competitors have to set up exactly the same distance, to be fair."

I examined one of the nearby blossoms. It was shaped like a series of petunias, one on top of the other, with silky petals like a rose. This one was red with some orange flecks. There was no consistency to the colors or patterns of the other blooms I could see. Why is it that such beautiful things are so short lived?

Peter called out to get the crowd's attention. "On behalf of Lord Enmar, thanks to all our great gardeners who have entered the annual dayflower competition." The crowd applauded halfheartedly. Everyone was waiting to hear who would win the wagon.

"It was hard to choose one blossom. Everyone is beautiful in its own way." I imagined that Peter was dying a little on the inside having to say things like this.

"But the winner today is the unique green and purple swirled flower of Renna the Tailor!" The crowd clapped more enthusiastically and pressed over toward her table to examine the winner again.

A loud voice screeched, silencing everyone immediately, "That's my plant!" I turned and saw a short man next to Renna pointing at the bloom he now claimed. Peter rolled his eyes so hard I heard them scraping his eyelids.

Renna folded her arms. "We were here together all night, how could I have stolen your plant?"

"You must have distracted me!"

Peter stepped between them. "Then we will check the pot. Renna please remove the plant." Jeanne explained that the competitors scratch their name on the inside of each pot to prevent claims such as these.

Renna said, "Gladly." She turned and grasped the plant by the stem and yanked. She handed the empty pot to Peter. He looked inside and said, "There's no name."

The short man shouted, "See! I told you! It's mine!" Renna said, "How? It is my plant and I put my name in each pot!" Peter rolled his eyes so hard now I thought they would pop out of his head.

"Look, this proves nothing, the winner is Renna." She grabbed the plant and put it back in the pot, cradling it protectively.

Another competitor shouted, "Wait that must be my pot! I didn't put my name in any of mine, come and see!" Peter covered his eyes and shook his head. From behind Renna another voice chimed in, "Neither did I!" A chaos of accusations and finger pointing erupted.

Peter shouted, "Enough! Competitors come with me now to Lord Enmar. We will ask him to decide the winner. Everyone else stay here." He stormed off toward the keep.

Addendum: Day 95, post adventus

I never heard the result and the competitors seemed unwilling to discuss it. I didn't feel right asking Lord Enmar about it. All I know is that the wagon offered as a prize is still sitting in the same spot outside Peddler's Row.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 13: Simplicity

Day 93, post adventum

Down a side road, just off the path that leads from the bridge up past Peddlar's Row and into the keep, you can always find Joshua in the small front yard of his family's house. I will never understand how people in this world sometimes have similar names. But there he is, a Joshua.

I hadn't said more than hello to this young man, but I had plenty of time today to stop. Joshua has some sort of mental disability. He usually has a scrunched up face, and his arms move through a variety of awkward positions. He paces in a slow limp around the yard, saying hi, but very softly, to all who pass. He is always delighted when the sheep that wander around the town venture closer to his house. They seem more than happy to let him pet them clumsily through the fence that borders the yard. I know the guards are very protective of Joshua, and thus he is spared the attention of those who are intentionally or unintentionally cruel.

I entered just inside the wooden fence and waited for Joshua's pacing to bring him closer. He looked at me, said "hi" and stopped.

"Hi Joshua, my name is Mark."

He stammered out my name softly in reply. Although the way he carried himself could look intimidating, he really was quite gentle in the way he spoke.

"I just thought I'd introduce myself." He repeated my name.

"It's a nice day today."

"The sun and the birds, the sun and the birds."

Joshua's mother poked her head through the open door of their cottage. She gave a slight smile and retreated back inside.

"I bought a new shirt yesterday, do you like it?" Morgaine helped me pick it. I have been trying to follow the attire expected for working in Lord Enmar's office. He doesn't care so much, but most others do.

"Blue. I like it." Joshua smiled his own unique smile, which is hard for me to describe, so I won't even try. He started to repeat the word blue in a sing-song way.

We didn't talk much more, and I simply sat in the yard. Sometimes Joshua sat with me. Sometimes he moved around the yard as he usually did following his unknown motivations. But I stayed for hours. Here was one person I could totally relax around. He didn't care whether I was an outlander.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 14: Must You Choose?

Day 102, post adventum

Bartenders carry on all sorts of conversations without saying a word. Thomas is one of the best. As he handed me my ale, he shot me a look of warning. He knew I was wondering about the guy by the hearth. I knew Thomas had a special concern for whomever he was. Even on the busiest days, a minute didn't go by without a quick glance to check on him. That only intrigued me more, and so I tried to stare back that I would be careful. His eyes narrowed into blades. "Sorry Thomas, I'm not a bartender."

"Hi there. Mind if I sit here?"

"No."

"I come to this tavern enough to know that you come here an awful lot too."

"Yeah I do."

"And I always see you come in at the same time, sit here off to the side of the hearth and stare into it for an hour or so and then go."

"Yeah that's right."

"And no one ever talks to you, so I thought you might like company?"

"Why?"

"I'm not from the Vale and I'm getting to know the people here. I like hearing what they have to say."

He just stared into the fire.

"Well where are you from?"

"I grew up just north of Westhollow."

"Yeah? I haven't been over there yet. What's it like?"

"Rich soil. Good rain. Almost flat. Ideal spot for growing all types of things."

"Sounds like a great place to grow up. When did you come to Owl's Head?"

"About a year ago now."

"Why'd you move? Set off in your own direction? Find adventure?"

"No reason for me to stay. The rest of my family is gone, and I couldn't take care of the farm by myself so I sold it."

"Sorry to hear that. You must be around twenty?"

"Nineteen."

"You're still young, what happened to your parents?"

"They just got sick and died about two months apart from each other. For no reason we could tell."

"That must have been tough. Is that when you decided to leave the farm?" At this point, I didn't know which was hotter, the hearth or the glare I could feel from Thomas back at the counter.

"No. My brothers and I managed to give it a go for a few months."

"Did they get sick too?"

"No."

"How many brothers did you have?"

"Two, both younger, Eteo and Pol."

"Tell me if I you don't want to say, but what happened to them?"

"Hmm. Well when ma died, they didn't agree about what we should do. Eteo thought we should stay and work the farm ourselves. He was right that we could have taken care of it. Pol wanted to sell the farm and move on. He was right that it was very uncomfortable to stay in the place where everything reminded us of pa and ma, and he wanted new adventures. They would argue back and forth all day every day, and then turn to me as the oldest to decide which of them was right. The arguments just got worse."

"That must have been hard." I was glad the buzz in the tavern kept our conversation private.

"Every day I said nothing. I didn't want to seem like I was choosing one or the other. I thought we would just figure it out."

"Well what did you decide?"

"I didn't. One day we were bringing hay into the barn and Eteo and Pol were arguing again. Eteo got so mad he pushed Pol into a pile of hay. One of our large rakes was inside it. When Pol got up blood was pouring from holes in his chest and neck. Eteo rushed forward. Pol grabbed the rake and shoved it through him. I couldn't do anything as they faded out." I looked down into my ale. I couldn't stand to look at his face.

"If I had chosen what to do, one might have been angry, but they'd both still be alive."

"Look. I'm sorry I asked you about this."

"I come here every day the time they died. To think."

"Would it be ok if I came over and said hi when I'm here? Don't have to talk about anything in particular."

"Yeah. That's fine."

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 15: My First Elf

Day 105, post adventusm
The door to the Fire Lotus Tavern must burst open all the time. When it happened today, hardly anyone reacted. Even after the stable boy Bit shouted that Devon was bringing an elf up the road, people only slowly got up from their seats. Thomas led the group to the long front porch where everyone waited.

This was the first time I saw a creature I hadn't seen before back home. Unfortunately, it happened just when this world was starting to feel somewhat normal.

Being at the back of the porch, I didn't see the elf until it was right in front of us. The crowd instinctively backed up a few steps as it approached, but remained silent.

The elf's long hands were bound tightly, but otherwise it was unrestrained. Devon was leading it by a rope attached to the bindings. It walked as fast as Devon did, but hunched over and looking at the ground. It didn't seem as dangerous to me as people claimed. Also, it was nothing like the elves from the movies. Its leathery gray skin looked to be stretched over its tall bones, an appearance more like the stereotypical alien. Its clothing was the simple working garb of a farmer. Was I missing something?

Devon was not keeping his eyes on the elf, but on the people gathered around to stare. A woman walked up to the side of the porch and whispered, "they say that he was caught in old man Harper's barn." Another responded, "filthy thief."

"What was this one doing so close to Owl's Head anyway?"

"Maybe it's touched."

"They're all touched, nasty brutes. They shoulda killed it rather than bring it to the clink."

All of a sudden, the elf turned its head and looked at me. Everyone stepped back again. Its dark eyes weren't threatening, but cloaked in a sort of gentle sorrow. Behind this, buried deep down and kept in check, there was an unfocused rage, white hot like a furnace. Although it made my hair stand on end, that moment evoked sympathy more than fear. I have to know more about this elf and all of them.

Any chance of that happening today, however, was lost instantly. Someone shouted, "don't look at us!" The elf's head snapped back and it stumbled to the ground. A potato bounced and rolled down the road.

Devon drew his sword, and Thomas looked around the porch. Everyone else looked down and remained motionless.

After a few seconds, the elf shook its head and stood up slowly. It resumed its position, head down behind Devon. The guard then spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, but low enough to be menacing. "Enough. The person who speaks up or moves next will be put in the same cell with this elf."

Nothing else happened, but Devon kept his sword drawn as they resumed their way. When they passed into the keep, everyone relaxed and started going back inside. Thomas stayed until he and I were the only ones left. He looked like he was waiting for me, so I went back inside too.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 16: Wild Growth

Day 110, post adventum

The morning began with a gentle steady rain. It was a great opportunity to stay home and read one of the books I had collected. I have been getting the urge to travel lately, so I picked up a volume on the history of the Vale. There are also several copies of the Unreliable Travel Guide on my shelves for light reading. Parody must be an instinct that spans worlds, like so many others.

I had just settled down next to my only window when there was a knock at the door. I never get unexpected visitors, but I had to admit this person's timing was exceptional. There was no choice but to answer the door. My cottage was not big enough for hiding.

"Morgaine? Um, hello. Why are you out on a morning like this?"

"It's a perfect morning to be out Mark, simply perfect."

"Well do you want to come in and dry off for a bit?" She was wearing some sort of heavy coat with a wide brim hat, both slick and weather-proof.

"No, no time for that. Do you have anything to wear for the rain? I could use your help." In some ways I was relieved. Having a guest would have been uncomfortable, and her, even more so.

"No, but I can probably borrow something from Paul."

"Ok, let's go!"

"Wait, you want to tell me what this is about?"

"You mean you don't know me well enough at this point to just trust me?" She feigned being provoked for a few seconds then laughed. I smiled and nodded, it was classic Morgaine. I was growing accustomed to it.

"So sorry, let me grab my boots."

"Well Mark, if you must know, we are going to collect leather cap mushrooms. They appear only on rainy days in high summer."

"Um, ok. I'm assuming you eat these despite the inedible name?"

"Yes. They go perfectly with any kind of meat, and also cook up well by themselves. They are always a big seller for me, and now with prices going up on the finer foods..."

"Ok, where do we go?" I stepped out of the cottage and was about to shut the door.

"Wait!" She grabbed one of three baskets she had set down on the steps and went in and set it on the table. "That's for later." She smiled and I knew I shouldn't ask. She handed another empty basket to me, and we were off to Paul's.

After being properly attired, we walked into the woods behind my cottage. The mushrooms were not plentiful, but not hard to find either. "Now Mark, be careful. There are mushrooms that look similar, but are smaller and have big white streaks. Those are very poisonous."

"Ok." After working quietly together on the hunt for a few hours, an idea came to me, perhaps inspired by Morgaine's impishness. I had found one of the poisonous mushrooms while she was off at a distance. I tore off a bit of the cap to look like a bite mark, faked chewing, and walked up to her. "Morgaine, these mushrooms really are quite delicious..."

She screamed and started yelling. "Spit it out! Spit it out!" When she reached me I showed her I had nothing in my mouth, but she didn't laugh like I was expecting. She grabbed my arms, and her head drooped down. She was shaking.

"I was only joking Morgaine." Already I felt bad. My attempts at humor misfire more often than not.

She looked up at me again and put an arm under mine. We started walking side-by-side in silence. After a minute, she began to speak. "When I was a young girl, my baby brother found a patch of nightshade behind our house that appeared out of nowhere. My Mom had turned away from watching him for a second and was carrying me. I can still remember turning, seeing him chewing on a leaf, and being dropped as my Mom ran to try to save him." Her head drooped again and she just let me lead her on a walk in the woods. I had never seen her like this.

After a long while she looked up and said, "Sorry Mark. Ok, let's get back to work. We need to fill those baskets." We worked in silence for another few hours until the baskets were bursting.

"I think we're done. Let's get back to your place, I brought something to repay you for your help."

When we got back to the cottage she opened the basket on the table to reveal two large steaks, a couple of bottles of wine, butter, garlic, assorted spices, and two fat sweet potatoes. "Now get the fire going and I am going to cook up some of the mushrooms we collected with these steaks. You will soon understand why they are in such high demand!"

I have to admit, the mushrooms and the sauce for the steak were the best thing I had tasted so far in this world. However, Morgaine could sense during dinner that I was still a little sheepish after the episode in the woods.

"Come on Mark, lighten up, it's ok. It takes a special man to be able to get that kind of reaction out of me." She exaggerated batting her eyes. I couldn't help but burst out laughing. The wine helped.

From that point, she shared many more things about her life that I hadn't known. We talked well into the evening, and laughed a good part of it.

"Well Mark, I shouldn't stay much longer, the neighbors will talk." It was a joke, but true enough. She made a move to start clearing the table.

"Morgaine, let me do that. It's the least I can do for such a wonderful dinner."

"Are you sure? The dinner was repayment for your help."

"Very sure. Just get back home before it gets too late. You need help with the baskets?"

"Nah, they're light. Any girl who can handle sides of beef should be able to handle some measly mushrooms." She made a mock display of flexing.

"I guess you're right." She grabbed her things and made her way to the door.

"Don't be a stranger, ok? Today was a good day."

"Yes, yes it was, good night."

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 17: A Night on the Town

Day 119, post adventum

Yesterday morning, I visited Joshua. It was good to see him, simple and quiet as always. On my way home, strolling through Peddler's Row, William waved me into his shop. It must have been a slow day for him, since his customers are all magicians and alchemists.

As I crossed the threshold, I was assaulted by a riot of battling smells, most of them foul. How can someone work there? I guess you can get used to anything. As my eyes adjusted to the interior, my vision was attacked next. There were simply too many items to behold. Small boxes, pouches, vials, beakers and other containers filled with liquids, powders, and parts of who knows what. Does he even know all the oddities he has tucked away there?

"You need to start doing more around Owl's Head, Mark."

"Yes, um, hello William. Oh? What do you mean? I think I'm getting along ok." I was in fact feeling pretty comfortable with my job, the people I knew, and the time I had to spend alone.

"There are committees and organizations of all types. I'm part of the Owl's Head Theater Association. We work to bring new performances to the Vale. Harder to do these days with the lack of travel and all, but we still manage."

"I've never been much for theater, although I do enjoy a good show now and then."

"We don't need help with the performances themselves, just finding plays, securing a director and actors, and setting up a performance area. Owl's Head doesn't have a permanent theater, but it is one of our long-term goals on the strategic plan."

My eyes were still wandering around the shop. "Wow, I had no idea."

"Look, why don't you just join me and Jenna tonight. Our committee is staging a production of a new short feature called Aurum Berries. It was brought over by smugglers, which makes it quite intriguing. We're also offering new stagings of several other popular short performances. Four plays in all, it will be quite an evening."

"I thought you said there's no theater?"

"We create temporary ones. The local Lord who owns the castle west of town is on our committee. He built us a stage for this performance down by the river. The ground slopes down providing great viewing for all who attend."

""Well... So what's this play about?"

"A town in dire straights conceives a plan to save themselves by swindling visitors."

"What kind of visitors?"

"Don't be so sensitive Mark." It sounded like it could be an uncomfortable piece of social commentary. Luckily, I'd grown accustomed to this kind of commentary already.

"Ok, it might be fun to be out on a nice summer evening. Should I meet you there? Do people dress up for theater here?"

"Yes meet us there at sunset, the performance will start about an hour after. People do dress up, yes. But it's also popular among the more audacious to go in a costume of some sort. It's part of the fun."

"Ok, thanks for the invitation. I will meet you there, but not in costume."

He smirked. "I wouldn't ever expect it of you Mark."

That evening, I was relieved when I arrived and found William and Jenna not in costume. They were, however, dressed quite regally. I had learned a little about what things cost. William must do quite well for himself. The couple had happily gathered around a sumptuous display of food and drink provided by the local Lord. Most of the others were dressed in an array of finery and armor, with a few costumes, or lack of costumes, thrown in for good measure. I could tell by the finery of the attendees that this was probably an invite only performance.

"Mark, Mark, here you are! You haven't met Jenna my wife before, isn't she beautiful?" She beamed. It was obvious they both liked to enjoy their libations before a performance.

"Oh Mark, it's such a pleasure to meet you. Morgaine keeps telling me great things about you."

Seems like I couldn't help but be knitted into the social fabric. I hoped they didn't see the embarrassment I was trying to conceal. Thank goodness it wasn't fully light. "Yes, Morgaine. She's been very kind to me since I've arrived." Jenna shot me a wink, but had the good sense not to pry further.

"Why don't we go greet our host. You've probably met already?" The host of this gala was an outlander like myself. The locals assumed we all knew each other. We had met in passing, but that was beside the point.

"Sure."

Jenna handed me a pewter goblet filled with wine. "Here, you'll need this." I don't know what she meant by that, maybe just that these performances are best enjoyed under the influence. We chatted pleasantly with the host until someone came around ringing a bell. William loaded a large plate with food then led us to our seats, right in the front of the audience. It was certainly not the spot I would have chosen.

As the actors took the stage, another troupe moved to stand around its edges. They brought forth glowing orbs out of thin air. Magic always made my hair stand on end. However, the lighting was, for lack of a better term, quite magical.

I enjoyed Aurum Berries, although I did wonder about what the playwright intended by portraying foreigners as easily duped. The second play began and was well underway, when William, sitting next to me, slumped over onto my shoulder. I assumed he had fallen asleep, but my attempts to wake him did not succeed. I managed to prop him upright again, and Jenna looked over seemingly unconcerned. I tried to shake him and I noticed his lips were turning blue. I immediately stood up. "Is there a doctor in the house? This man needs a doctor!"

My outburst was followed by the most uncomfortable silence I have experienced in this world to date. The actors froze, fixing me with annoyed gazes. Jenna gave me a horrified look as if she couldn't understand what I was doing. Everyone else simply sat and stared. A moment of self-doubt began to grow, it was too much for me to comprehend.

Thankfully, one of the stage lighters walked over, breaking the tension, and placed a hand on William's chest. Light spread from his fingertips and surrounded the sick man in gentle brilliance. It only lasted a few seconds. William opened his eyes and began to look around, assessing the situation. He laughed nervously. Jenna hissed to the actors, "Continue!"

I sat there for another ten minutes waiting for the second performance to conclude. I have no memory of it. Thoughts filled my head. What had I done wrong?

After the play was done, there was an intermission. William excused himself saying he need to go to the bathroom. Jenna leaned over toward me, but kept watching the actors clearing the stage. "Now Mark, see here. William has a weak heart. The last thing we want to do when he passes out is create a scene. When it happens, the stage hands know to come revive him, but only at a discreet time that won't interrupt anything."

"I'm sorry. All I could think was that he needed help."

"I'm sure, Mark. Why do you think William got into the business he did? He has no magical ability, but he supplies those who help him when he needs it. They've never been able to cure him, but they've done a great job of keeping him alive all these years. Perhaps where you come from, the healing arts are not as good?"

In some ways, she had a point. "Ok, I'm sorry, I didn't know." I had no idea healing magic could make people so casual about serious illness. Such a condition as William's would be so fraught back home. That was a very uncomfortable lesson learned.

William returned and the last two plays were performed. I don't remember them either. The evening concluded as awkwardly as anyone might imagine.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 18: In the Shadow

Day 128, post adventum

The residents of Owl's Head never talk about the super volcano looming over them. During the day, it's visible except in heavy rain. During the night, it shines as if to compete with Daedalus for attention. I have tried to bring it up in conversation, only to have the subject casually changed. I don't quite know what to make of its failure to generate any sort of attention or worry.

This afternoon, as I was returning home, I stopped to say hello to Willa, who was feeding chickens in her yard. She and her husband live next to Paul and Jeanne.

"Hey Willa, how are things?"

"Good Mark, about the same as always."

The moment we finished our greeting, a low rumble sounded and the ground started to shake. Chickens flapped around the yard. I instinctively looked up at the volcano. I'm not going to lie that it makes me nervous. I expected to see fire and smoke bursting up into the sky. However, there was no change on the mountain and the little quake subsided after a few moments. Willa returned to feeding the chickens, smiling and shaking her head.

"Willa what do you think about living in the shadow of that monster?"

"I've got so much to do Mark, I hardly think about it. Speaking of, I've got to get these chickens to market, they're about as big as they're gonna get."

As I was forming my next question about the volcano, a puppy appeared around the corner of the house, running as fast as its stubby legs would go. Not soon after, a little girl appeared. chasing it. She couldn't have been more than four. After her a teen appeared, but not running and just watching the scene from a distance.

Willa looked up at the toddler. "There's my Dana, so full of life that one!"

Dana was careening after the puppy with a twig in her hand. "Stay away from the chickens, wolf!" She said wolf as woof.

"Ah Dana! Protecting our farm! Good girl!"

All of a sudden the puppy, who had run across to the other side of the footpath, stopped. It turned, bowed down and started to growl. Immediately Dana shrieked and reversed course. "Help me, help me, the wolf is gonna get me!" The puppy now chased her, but not fast enough to catch her. They disappeared around the house, but returned a short while later to repeat the whole thing.

Softly I asked, "What's the name of your other daughter there?"

"Ah that's my Merle, more of a shy one, she is. But a hard worker and smart enough to run ten farms." Merle sensed we were talking about her and retreated a bit back behind the house.

Now that I was captivated by the adorable wolf huntress/damsel in distress, it didn't seem right to bring up the volcano anymore. Owl's Head was an old town. There wasn't any mention of the volcano doing any damage in the history I had read. Lord Enmar never brought it up. Maybe I should just stop thinking about it.

But I had read a lot about Pompeii, and I couldn't shake its hold on my imagination. People there lived happily, never expecting they might be buried in falling rock and ash. Is this what it feels like to live in California? Minnesota, where I'm from, is not exactly a land of impending doom.

I have to imagine that amidst all the mortal dangers that assail people here, the volcano just fades into the mix.

"Willa, you think I could get a few of those chickens before you take them to market?"

"Sure Mark, I'll even give you a little discount since I won't have to haul them. I'll probably get around to the butchering tomorrow. I'll send Merle with them and you can pay then."

"Great Willa, thanks. Have a good evening."

"You too Mark."