Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 19: The Same, Only Different

Day 132, post adventum

It takes a lot to drive me from my cottage. But some days the traffic in and out of Owl's Head is so heavy that the meandering sounds of humanity come uncomfortably close. Today, a parade of braying beasts, squeeky carts, and raucous conversation drove me west and then south, toward quieter hills. It's a pleasant area where one quickly finds a secluded overlook opening onto the river valley. As I crested a steep rise, a stand of trees and dense undergrowth came into view flecked with gold and rust. Here, I realized, there would be a Fall. Back home, the early red sumac nags you with the reminder that August won't last forever. Here, the effect was reassuring. Things aren't always as different as they appear.

Yesterday, Lord Enmar had summoned me to dictate some letters. Mid sentence, Guard-Captain Dreyfus ran up the stairs.

"My liege, pardon the interruption." He struck his fist to his chest in salute.

"What matter brings you here?"

"The stable boy everyone calls Bit was killed just now."

"Did you summon a healer?"

"Yes, but they could do nothing to return him."

"Well how did it happen?"

"He was exercising one of the horses. It was spooked, threw him, and then trampled his rib cage."

"That's strange. Those at the stable are quite careful to avoid spooking the horses."

"The people at the scene told me that it was an outlander who did it, with magic."

"Well then you better take a few men and clear out the people from that area. Find out what you can."

"Sir, I already have Brent looking for any sign of foul play."

"If this was malicious, I want hard evidence, not rumors and innuendos, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now I know poor Bit was an orphan, and the stable master took him in. Please inform him that you will dispatch a guard to prepare the body, dig the grave and secure a marker. Please also convey my condolences and that I will attend whatever memorial he deems appropriate at sundown. Return with what he decides."

"Yes, sir."

When Lord Enmar had sealed the last of the letters and handed them to a guard to deliver, he turned to me. "Do you think you might come to the memorial tonight?"

"I didn't really know Bit, and have only seen the stable master from a distance."

"I think it might be good to have an outlander there."

It made me uncomfortable to be cast in this scene at such a tense moment, but of course I'm too softhearted too refuse.

"Sure."

"I greatly appreciate it."

As sundown approached I had no idea what to expect. I hadn't observed much in the way of religious custom here. It turned out to be a small gathering, circled around the open grave and Bit's shrouded body. A group of teens peered out from behind trees at the edge of the graveyard. As we gathered in silence, I felt a strange sort of resentment. Immortality made most outlanders very callous about life, especially the lives of the natives here who weren't so fortunate.

The stable master looked down. "Bit never had much in this world. Wherever he goes, I pray that he's happy. He did well in this world by me, and by a lot of people. If that counts for anything, let it count for him now."

Lord Enmar clasped the stable master on the shoulder. Nothing else was said.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 20: Time to Go

Day 135, post adventum

Yesterday, I was on my way to work when Alyssa shouted in my ear.

"Mark!"

"What, wait, Alyssa, what? You scared me!"

I looked around. I was in her stall, right beside her and behind her counter. It was loaded with the morning's catch. Two customers were there and they were staring at me.

"You walked up in a daze and just stopped right next to me. What's gotten into you?"

"I've got a lot on my mind Alyssa. I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

She flashed a wide smile at her customers, "Just a moment folks, I'll be back in a second. Check out that swirlfish, I believe it's the best catch today." She sunk strong fingers in my arm and pulled me back about six feet and turned us around.

"Look Mark, you're not one of the mindless undead, but sometimes you act like it. You're been lost in that big head of yours lately every time you pass through here."

"Yeah, sorry,"

"Don't be sorry. We need to get you out of there." She rapped a fist on my head. I didn't even react. She was right, I was preoccupied.

"It's just that there has been so much to take in over the last few months. I can't figure out whether I should just live life here, or keep expecting I will go back. I'm torn between..."

Alyssa's hand shot up and she shook her head. "Not with me Mark. You need to go somewhere alone where you can sort through whatever's eating you. Next time you could end up in the fountain, or even in the river. Heck you're so loony you might walk all the way over the water to the mainland." She said it sternly, but with a slight grin in the corner of her mouth. I smiled weakly.

"Look here. My Hugh, he has the fishing. I always know that when he's on that boat, he has a chance to think his own thoughts and clear his head. He always returns from his early morning trip looking much better."

"I can't get away all that much."

"Sure you can Mark, just ask Lord Enmar for some time. Go travel the Vale, don't you know some people with a pig farm?"

"Yes I do. And I met a young woman named Della some weeks ago who asked me to visit her and her husband in Braemar."

"See, there you go! The walk down there will do you good. Friends will revive your spirits, and you will get things sorted out."

"But I just can't leave things here." She noticed that I shot a quick glance at Morgaine's stall. She wasn't there for some reason.

"People here won't mind Mark, you're not that indispensable." She mocked me by exaggerating the word "that". "Morgaine will miss you, but I wager she doesn't want to be friends with a zombie. She'll be back soon, had to go restock. Her business has been good lately."

"Ok, I'll think about it."

"Don't think about it dunderhead, do it. Wrap up things here, lock up that house and hit the road."

She was right. I do need time away. I stood there starting to imagine what I might need for a trip. I knew the trip would not be as easy as one back home. There were more things, even some real dangers, for which I would have to be prepared.

"Mark! You're doing it again. Stay with me! Man, you really need to go and clear your head. So do it, man, do it!"

"Yes, Alyssa, you're right. I'll ask Lord Enmar today if I can get some time."

"Good. You need this Mark. Trust me, I know. You're a lot like my Hugh."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She lost herself in laughter, bent over and slapped her knee. "Don't." She stood up, adjusted her dress, and put on her best salesman smile. "OK, Mark, now you must go."

I turned and resumed my way toward Lord Enmar. The eyes of Alyssa's customers followed me as I walked on to the guard house.

"So folks, how 'bout that swirlfish!"

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 21: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Day 150, post adventum

My trip south has been uneventful, except for last evening. I left Owl's Head a week ago and spent a few days with Arren, Myna and Larren. Their farm will always be a haven of peace and gentleness. Helping with the chores gave me some time to reflect on my situation, and although I didn't come to any major conclusions, I already feel better.

Yesterday morning I joined up with a trade caravan as it headed south past the farm. Morgaine arranged it for me. To my surprise, she really wanted me to go on this trip. I thought she'd be disappointed because she couldn't come along. She can't take that amount of time away from Owl's Head. The one thing I have resolved is to learn how to manage her butcher stand. She needs time off too.

We had stopped for the night amid a pile of sheltering rocks right off the road and were eating a crude stew when the guard on sentry called out a warning. As the other guards formed up, I retreated to the back by the three wagons. I had been told to do this. The guards knew I was not trained in combat. They had also instructed me that if things did not go well, I should run back down the road until I found help. Morgaine had prepared me for this possibility. Apparently if I drank the orange liquid in the vials she gave me I could run faster. I think she told me that the green would heal.

Even though I retreated, I picked a spot that would allow me to view the situation. The guards were tense, weapons at the ready, but all I could see slowly coming into view was a caravan that looked much like ours. Before it arrived, a rider shot forward on a great black charger and stopped right in front of our guard captain.

"Who's there leading you tonight, oh, it's you Cael."

"Good evening, master Bronson, why are you still on the road?"

"No rest for us, we've made a killing on the latest shipment to Braemar. Besides, we wouldn't stop outside these woods. Too dangerous these days." It was clear even to me this was an insult to the guards. They were getting more tense

Cael remained steady. "So best then, I guess, just to move along?"

"Oh Cael, where are my manners, I should at least greet your mistress. Has she survived the journey so far?" He grinned and looked at each of the guards hoping for a reaction. Bronson's guards were now pulling up behind him, with the wagons behind slowly arriving too.

The door to the wagon next to me opened. I was so tense I jumped back. A small, delicate woman attired in simple cotton pants and a blouse stepped out into the scene. I had no idea she had been in there the whole journey. I had assumed that Connor, who organized everything, was the trade master. She walked right up to the side of Bronson's horse, even though horse and rider towered over her.

"There you are mistress Olaria, always a lovely sight to behold. Well met! I hope you are doing well."

"Yes, master Bronson, I am fine. Do you have business to conduct with me tonight?"

Bronson chuckled. "Oh no my dear, no no. Our wagons are empty. We're simply making it back to Owl's Head as fast as we can with the killing we made in Braemar."

"Well then, any news?"

"Oh yes, times are getting tough in Braemar, sad talk about undead attacks. Their supplies are running low and people are leaving. We were able to make quite a premium on our goods, thirty percent!"

"My, my Bronson, always one to help those in unfortunate circumstances."

"Oh my dear! I'm afraid we've just resupplied them, but still, you might be able to sell them a few little trinkets."

"We shall see, you always do manage to make things difficult for me."

"It's business dear, business! My offer still stands. When things dry up for you, as they may soon, please consider working for me. We would make a fantastic team."

"Thanks for the offer Bronson, but I'm fine where I am at the moment."

"Ah well, I can wait."

Bronson's wagons had rumbled past us at this point. "Well, it's been lovely seeing you again Olaria, consider my offer." He didn't wait for a response. He kicked the horse into a sprint to get in front of the caravan.

Olaria turned and faced the guards. "Thank you all, hopefully that will be our only interruption tonight."

She walked back towards her wagon. As she was opening the door, I finally resolved to speak. Even though she was small, the mystery of her presence and her resolve in front of Bronson gave me pause.

"Sorry about that Olaria, what are you going to do?"

"Don't be sorry Mark." She leaned over in my direction and whispered. "Keep this to yourself. Last time I was in Braemar, I gave them some extra coin to be able to pay a premium on the next shipment of Bronson's goods. In exchange, the town promised to buy only from me. I will keep them supplied at fair prices."

All I could manage to say was "Wow."

"Bronson is in a hurry to get back and bring another shipment down because he believes he'll make huge profits. However, his next shipment will go unsold. It won't ruin him, but he will lose prestige, which in the long run just might."

"Well played Olaria. Well played."

She smiled and entered the wagon. I didn't see her again the rest of the trip.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 22: The Food Court

Day 152, post adventum

I finally made it to Braemar. I had been invited two months ago by a young baker named Della when she had traveled with a delegation to ask Lord Enmar for aid.

"Well met, Della. Haven't had the chance to get to Braemar since I first met you."

"That's no surprise since the only beings that want to live here really don't live."

"Haha that's the wit I always enjoy."

"So are you doing ok?"

"Besides worrying about whether I will see another sunrise you mean?"

"Yeah, why are you still here?"

"Someone has to keep trying to hold this community together and and Jon I are going to stick it out."

"Is there a future here? Didn't you say you two just moved into this house a year ago after you married?"

"Yes. I keep my mind off things by imagining the kind of town Braemar could be once we get past the troubles."

"Well what do you see?"

"First, I think we need a marketplace again. There are hunters who can sell meat once the animals return, and a lot of others who can sell reagents and food they gather in the forest. Unique stuff you can't get elsewhere in the Vale. Not to mention bakers and cooks like us. You have to start with a stable food supply and the attraction of a thriving economy."

"How will you get people to set up shop?"

"I'm thinking we need to set it apart from the markets in Owl's Head and Kingsport and I've got a plan."

"Yeah?"

"Well, we sign people up as vendors and give them incentives. Based on how much they sell, they will get better placed stands or shops, and local artisans will make them unique items. Special canopies, shelves, even attractive clothing. We will do things to set them apart from your regular old garden variety vendor."

"That all sounds..."

"And one last thing, we will give them royal titles to designate their achievements: lord, duke, baron, and so on. We will have a food court so to speak, and this nobility will work with us to try to continually improve the economy. If it goes well we could build an expanded center of shopping around the food court selling all sorts of things."

"Actually, I think I love this idea."

"Aw, it's just a dream. But if Braemar gets overrun, I think I'll head to the mainland and try to pitch it there."

"Well whatever happens, I hope your project works out somehow and somewhere. Please stay safe."

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 23: To Better Times

Day 153, post adventum

One of the few things to do in Braemar these days is join the locals at Flynn's tavern. Amidst the current problems, it serves as a communication hub and meeting hall. It's smaller than a lot of the houses in Owl's Head, but feels homier, except for the local guards Flynn posts on the roof to watch for trouble. He's assured me that they've only seen a skeleton come close once, maybe. The first night I went to Flynn's with Della and Jon, tonight I was on my own.

"Hello again Mark, how long you think you're going to stay in town?"

"Oh maybe a week yet."

"You are a character, you know that? Look around. Do you see any other people visiting our lovely little community?"

"I don't see why not..."

"Well, people only leave here nowadays, they don't come. Sure, people were happy that the first to go was that old bastard Phillon. No one saw the attack on his farm, but enough people saw the results to call it quits. And now that the animals in the woods have started to disappear, more have decided it's time to give up. No farms, no hunting, that's a recipe for disaster. So Mark, why are you here?"

"Well, I promised Della I'd visit. I think I also needed a break from Owl's Head."

"You got that right, Mark. Lord Enmar sits up there with the only functioning militia in the whole Vale, and we have to rely on our own resources and the kindness of adventurers. He hasn't sent us squat yet. What a place it must be, to be so unconcerned about everyone around them! Well the more things get out of hand, the more they will see their mistake later."

I hadn't told Flynn that I worked for Lord Enmar, so I was grateful that just then the door opened and two men carried in a large barrel. Flynn smiled and rubbed his hands.

"Put it over here boys!" Flynn went to work pounding in the tap. People gathered around as he poured the first mug and offered it to me.

"Try my latest experiment, Spidersilk Stout!"

"What's in it?" I was trying to delay him. I was unsure about anything that could be remotely related to spiders. For some reason, that's what the guards on the trade caravan I had arrived with feared the most.

Flynn just chuckled. "Ah, don't worry Mark. We can't get real ale anymore through Kingsport, not even hops to make it. So we've been trying other things for flavoring."

"And you decided to try spider webs?"

Flynn laughed. "Of course not! Can you imagine how much spidersilk you'd need? That's just our clever name for it. We've got these bushes all around town with bitter leaves. Spiders love the plants because the leaves are widely spaced for their webbing. We cleaned off the leaves for this batch, mostly." He grinned at me, then laughed again, louder.

"Come on Mark, drink up... here I'll join you." He poured a mug for himself and held it out to me.

"To better times."

"To better times."

I took a tentative sip, while Flynn gulped down half of his mug. The aftertaste reminded me of the smell of asphalt on a 100-degree summer day. I must have betrayed a slight grimace. Flynn doubled over and kicked the floor as he laughed, sloshing his new stout all over.

"Woohoo a whopping success! A free round for everyone!"

The other patrons cheered. I moved away from the bar as the others rushed in to claim their beers. Ever so slowly, I made my way outside to empty my mug.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 24: The Butter Beggar

Day 161, post adventum

Today, Della and Jon decided to appeal to the mayor of Kingsport for aid. They were getting desperate. Another stubborn farmer who had refused to leave his home for the safety of the town had been killed. This alone was not surprising. However, the farmer had been able to fight for his family, and in so doing, revealed a new threat. Amidst the dead were several twisted and decaying forms, not the skeletons everyone had come to expect.

I planned to join the party leaving at sunrise. So this evening, I had to say good-bye to Flynn and the others I'd come to know. Never having lived in any mortal danger, I didn't know how important these moments were. At no point in my life so far had I ever wondered whether I'd get the chance to see someone again.

As I was departing down the front steps of Flynn's, a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed my arm. I was already tense, and jumped forward, missing the last few steps and rolling to a stop. Before I could get up to run, someone shuffled close and grabbed my arm again. I turned and saw the face of Eileen, a local beggar. My shock melted into relief as my fear-heightened senses replayed the memory of our first conversation.

"Sir, can you spare a coin."

"Hi my name is Mark, do you need help?"

"Butter."

"You need butter?"

"Moon's busted."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Coin?"

"Sure, I'll give you a coin."

As I was reaching into my pocket, Eileen turned and walked away. Bridget came out of her house, and gave her a loaf of bark bread. Eileen immediately sat down on the ground in the middle of everything and teared into it. As if on cue, a flock of ravens descended from the rooftops. Bridget looked at me and put a finger to her mouth. I disregarded her.

"So, what's your name?"

"Pretty birds." Eileen spoke with a mouthful of crumbs.

"Yes, they are. Where do you stay?"

"Moon's busted."

"Ah well, I see. I know times are tough around here, but isn't there anyone to help you?"

"Butter."

My other conversations with Eileen were similar. However, tonight she looked into my eyes and said, "Mark, don't go."

I waited a moment. This night's good-bye's felt even harder now. I was caught between a desire to help somehow, and my own inability to contribute anything that actually could. As I sat there looking at her, Eileen held my arm, waiting for a response.

"I'm headed to Kingsport. I'm going to try to find help there."

"Moon's busted."

"Eileen, I hope to come back and see you again."

"Butter."

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 25: Buy Low, Sell High

Day 166, post adventum

My trip north and east from Braemar to Kingsport was uneventful. However, it afforded me the opportunity to enjoy the natural beauty of the Vale. Two days ago when we crested a rise, I got my first view of the ocean. Living in Minnesota, getting to a coast was expensive and therefore rare, so I plan on enjoying my time here. Since we've arrived, I've done almost nothing but sit by the docks in an out of the way corner and read.

As I write, Della, Jon and the others are speaking with the mayor of Kingsport. I honestly don't expect them to have much more success than they did with Lord Enmar. Precisely because of my work, I don't want to get tangled up in whatever occurs. Sometimes I wish I had the resources to help them and sometimes I don't. I have no experience with the kind of help they need, and what they've described sounds way beyond my ability even to imagine.

Just an hour ago, a young teen with what looked to be the first whiskers of a beard approached me.

"Heya good sir, you have anything to sell?"

"Sell? Not really, I don't have much with me."

"Are you writing a story or something? I could buy that from you."

"What? Oh no, this is just my journal."

"I bet I could find a buyer for it. How much would you sell it for?"

I chuckled. "Why are you so eager to find things to sell young man?"

"That's where the money is these days, and I'm going to make enough to be a merchant proper soon." I had noticed an awful lot of commerce taking place here. There was an intensity to it that was quite different than the leisurely shopping in Owl's Head.

"Things are changing, people are scared and preparing for things, the prices for goods are up and down and all over the place. You came in from out of town right? That means you probably have things that aren't from around here that people would want."

"Well it kind of depends on the assumption that I wouldn't know the value of my own goods, doesn't it?"

His smile disappeared, and his shoulders slumped. "Yeah." He moved and sat down on the ground next to me.

"What's your name?"

"Erik."

"Nice to meet you, Erik. My name's Mark. OK, tell me, why do you want to be a merchant?"

"Because that's where the money is! I want to be rich like them!"

"There are a lot of things to enjoy without being rich."

"Hmmm. Well, that sounds nice, but I need the money."

"You do, why?"

"I'm the oldest in my family. My dad was killed by elves when I was ten years old. My family doesn't have much and I want to help my mom. She works really, really hard."

"Do you enjoy buying and selling things?"

"Yes! Very much so! I want to earn enough money for my family, and then to visit the mainland and trade with them. That is, I hope the ships return someday so I can do it."

"Well you know what I enjoy?"

"What?"

"Books."

"Umm. Ok. I can't read, but they do fetch a good price right now in the markets. There's not a lot of new stuff coming in and those who can read are bored with the same old things."

"I see you do have a knack for thinking about the value of things."

"Thanks." His smile returned.

"Well, how about this. Here's a book I brought with me to read. I finished it a few days ago. It's relatively new, and so won't be available around here."

"How much you want for it?"

"Here, take it."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah take it, I want to support your budding career. I think you have the knack to be a fine merchant."

"Ok, so what's it about?"

"There is a man I met who speculates about the history of the Vale prior to the cataclysm. He presents a lot of evidence, but his conclusions are suspect. His writing, though, is quite entertaining, and it helped me understand more about this place."

"I think I know someone who would be interested in this very thing. Are you sure I can take it?"

"Yes, go ahead."

"Thank you sir, I mean Mark!"

"And if you ever visit Owl's Head, come and say hello ok?"

"Well when I become a merchant, I'm sure I will get there."

"Great. I'll be happy to show you around and introduce you to a few people."

"I plan on it! Thanks again!"

With that, he ran off in the direction of the market.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 26: King's Cannons

Day 169, post adventum

As I suspected, the negotiations between the citizens of Braemar and the mayor here did not go well. The town seems preoccupied with trade and the drama unfolding between the guild and smugglers. Della and Jon told me they are returning to Braemar tomorrow morning. I am staying until I can find a caravan to travel back to Owl's Head.

Luckily while I wait, the dock has a fine tavern, the Hearth of Britannia. The past few nights, after I watched the stars appear over the ocean, I've wandered inside for an ale. Yesterday, I decided to venture over to a dark corner where some sailors, mostly unemployed, were wagering over a game of cards called "King's Cannons". I'd heard them shout to the patrons for new players many times.

Of course, I decided to watch many games before I felt comfortable enough to play. The deck contains at least six dozen colorful cards. There are ship cards of three types: cruisers, frigates and dreadnoughts. There are quite a few cannon cards. Each turn you draw one card and play one in front of you, a ship or a cannon on a ship. In this way, you build a navy. At the end of your turn each of your ships can fire on one of your opponent's ships if they have a cannon. The three types of ships can take varying numbers of hits, either two, four or six. Hits are noted with red colored chits on the cards themselves. The size of the ship also determines the number of cannons it can carry, either one, two or three. Cannons can also be destroyed in lieu of taking damage. When you sink your enemy's ship, you get to draw a card, thus there is a real advantage in doing so. Scattered in the deck are a few "repair" cards which allow you to remove damage from one of your ships. There are also a few "critical hit" cards which allow you to double the damage of one hit. The game is over when one player concedes, or the last possible card is played. The winner is determined by the value of your surviving ships, minus their damage, minus your opponent's remaining cannons. After the beginning ante, players are allowed to bet after every five turns. The bet must be matched or the game forfeited. The rules seemed simple enough but require a great deal of careful strategy. There were more rules besides that I can't remember now that I'm trying to write it down. Suffice it to say, new players can be easily parted from a lot of coin.

The first game I played was against a dark, wrinkled man of the sea who was always smoking a pipe.

"Ok Merle, go easy on me, as this is my first game." The crowd around us snorted with enthusiasm hoping to watch me lose a purse.

"Aye, me boy, dontya worry. Ol' Merle knows how to go easy on ya the first time." He let out a dry, husky snigger. The crown seemed to echo it back.

For my hand of three cards, I drew three cannons. That was not a good start. However, I tried to keep my best poker face. We both threw a coin between us on the table. I had the first draw, determined during the shuffle. The next card was, of course, another cannon. All I could say was, "pass."

Merle let out a creeping smile and sent three large puffs of smoke into the air. "Good start, mate." The crowd chuckled. "I will play me first, of many, dreadnoughts."

At that point I was sure I was going to lose. However, after a series of turns, and two rounds of light betting, I had been able to assemble my own dreadnought with three cannons and two useless cruisers. Merle had his dreadnought and a frigate, each with two cannons.

"Well, laddy, you've got a pretty boat there, but it's a sitting duck." Although I had done three damage to his dreadnought, he had a repair card, and returned it to full strength. My dreadnought was sitting with five points of damage, and the cannons it had wouldn't be enough to absorb another volley.

Then, the next card I drew changed the course of the game. It was a "critical hit" card. With it, I removed his dreadnought and was able to draw another card. It was a very unusual turn of good luck for me. As soon as I played it, Merle stopped puffing and even seemed to stop breathing. The crowd looked at his expressionless face for a moment that seemed to last for minutes. All of a sudden he exploded into a huge, raspy guffaw.

"Beginner's luck sinks me again boys! Let that be a lesson fer all ya!" The crowd seemed relieved, and started to clap and congratulate me. "Well done me boy, take this one and deal out a'tother. That fer sure won't be happenin' eggin!" He emphasized that last word in such a way that it sounded more like a threat.

"If it's all the same, I'll take what I won and give it to someone I know who needs it. I don't trust my luck, and I think I need to study the game more before I play again."

Merle squinted hard at me. "Study? I'll learn ya boy! What kind of man doesn't step up to the cannons?" The crowds reaction was icy. I could tell they wanted to see me lose my money.

I stood up. Merle seemed shocked. "Sit ye down boy, this is all good clean fun!" All eyes were on me.

"Umm, no. But I will buy you an ale to thank you for the game." I pocketed my winnings and sped over to the barkeep before anyone could react. I tossed a coin onto the bar as I passed quickly out the door. "A mead for Merle please!" I confused the order because I was nervous and feeling a little mischievous.

The barkeep winked and I made it outside. The crowd's laughter followed me into the dark. It was either delight at the strange turn of events or mockery. I really don't care which.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 27: The Farmer in the Vale

Day 172, post adventum

I made my way back to Owl's Head by joining a group headed there to find housing. They wanted to move because they felt Kingsport a little too rough and commercial for their tastes and for raising a family. Each of them had a good deal of freedom due to being somewhat wealthy and so they also liked the idea of what a bigger town might offer. They asked me for my impressions the whole trip back. I fear I wasn't a very good salesman.

For whatever reason, they felt it would be safer and faster to travel north from Kingsport and then west to Owl's Head along the banks of the Flow River. It was a little disappointing because it meant I couldn't stop at Arren and Myna's farm. I might have waited for another caravan, but I already felt I had been away too long.

On the road north we passed a lonely traveler on the road. He was pulling a large cart. The others barely gave him a nod. For some reason I felt like stopping and talking.

"Good day sir."

"Good day."

"Can I ask what you do?" The farmer set down the cart he was pulling.

"I'm a farmer."

"What do you farm?"

He nodded over his shoulder, the cart was piled six feet high. "Wheat for the townfolk of the Vale."

Then I had a moment I always hate in a conversation. I couldn't think of anything to say to carry it forward. After an awkward pause, I blurted out, "What do you think of the current situation in the Vale?"

"Eh. Yeah. Not much."

"Really? With all that's going on?"

"Well two weeks ago, yeah I think that's when it was. Had to kill a skeleton that tried to come into the house one night, that wasn't so fun. We hear strange news out of Graymark Forest all the time too."

"Don't you worry about what might happen to your farm?"

"Look sir, I know you mean well. But I'm used to taking the little this broken down world gives me. All I try to do is give back more than I get. I remember seeing a maid one day as she danced with the wheat through my pa's fields. It was all I needed to see. I knew she just fit with me, and she felt it too. Now I have three little ones. The oldest is almost ready to be a real help. They're strong. They fit too. My Vale is just that. I don't need to worry about anything else."

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 28: No Means No

Day 177, post adventum

Tonight, I was heading back to my place after picking up supplies in the market. Morgaine had spent a few hours asking questions and filling me in on what I had missed. I looked forward to eating a hearty dinner and then resting for a full day before resuming my work. However, Tom stopped me in front of his Owl's Head manor.

"Hiya Mark. I was just about to lock up and head over to Jim's. But since you're here, let me show you a few things I've added to my collection."

"Ok." Seeing me seems to put my fellow outlanders into a show and tell mood. I've learned well how to hide a complete lack of enthusiasm.

"Come on in Mark. You can see my place is bursting, I'm thinking about buying the lot next door and tearing down the house so I can add on."

Weaving around two oddly placed wardrobes in his entryway, he led me to the left hand wall in the first room. Leaning against it was a large canvas thinly framed. Walking up to it, he turned to me and extended his arms to the side, one up and one down as if this were a game show.

"Oh. Wow. So you're the one who bought that painting from Lord Enmar's office."

"How'd you know what it is?" His arms dropped in obvious deflation.

"Lord Enmar had me write the commissions to begin the repairs of the pallisade. He told me he sold the painting to pay for it."

"Yeah I gave him 5,000 gold just so he'd sell it to me right there before anyone else could come and bid it up. He was happy to get that gold."

"You're lucky to have it. That's an ancient painting and no one remembers the battle it depicts."

"That's the cool part. It's one of a kind. Who cares what it is." He turned and admired the painting again. "It's getting to be such a race these days to find unique things."

"You know Enmar only sold it because he was desperate for funds to repair the walls. Morgaine told me the town is divided over it. Half said he did what he had to do. The other half think it was a local cultural treasure that wasn't his to sell. You're also lucky that Enmar is honorable and didn't leak who bought it."

"Yeah? Well lucky for them we're here now. It's bringing about a local economic boom." He was right, Owl's Head had grown since we started arriving. So had the tensions.

"Besides I want people to know it's here and come see it."

"Don't you think some will be upset?"

"Well what are they going to do, kill me?" There was our new curious immortality, Tom had tested it, I hadn't.

"You know sport, you should really come with Jim and I on one of our treasure hunting expeditions. I've got several rumors to follow up on. We always come back with tons of gold and loot. These days though there seems to be more competition among our type. The opportunities are getting smaller and more remote. You gotta get something while the getting's good."

"I don't think so. It's not my style."

"What? You know we can learn new skills here super fast. Heck, Jim has learned how to shoot fire from his hands! That and the fact that we can't really die means all it is is a helluva good time."

As if to punctuate his point, he went over to the opposite side of the room and pulled a sword off a rack. He began a series of thrusts, parries and weaves that I had to admit were pretty impressive.

"You don't have to worry about a thing. I know all the weird beasts here can seem frightening at first but Jim and I will take care of you. You just tag along so you can get started on the fun."

"I think I really should be getting home, need to eat and hit the sack."

"You could come over to Jim's... he's paying one of the locals to make dinner tonight."

"I've got to rest so I can get back to my work for Lord Enmar."

"You know you're always welcome to stay here. I've got plenty of beds."

"I enjoy the solitude."

"Come on Mark! You've got to start living! Who knows why we're here but we've got it good. Take advantage of all the fun that's waiting to be had!"

"I'll think about it."

"You do that buddy. I'm headed to Jim's."

He seemed to immediately forget I was there and walked out. I almost let my curiosity get the better of me. Wow, he did have a lot of stuff. But instead I just left and enjoyed Daedalus rising in the clear dusk as I walked back home.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 29: Hot and Cold

Day 187, post adventum

We've had an Indian summer over the last few days which just ended tonight. Although my cottage is relatively cool, nestled as it is on the edge of the woods, the heat still made me listless. I don't think I'm alone in being affected, much of Owl's Head seemed to slow down along with me. The exception was the river. Many residents, especially the children, have been making great use of the clear, cool water. A mage, whom I had not met, was making ice, frozen juices, and even snow for them. It was like a day at a beach on a lake back home, except of course for the magic. It always seemed to be somewhere in the background here.

Danny caught site of me and yelled for me to come swimming. I hadn't yet, but there was no reason not to get cool. The bed of the river was surprisingly smooth and soft. Danny wanted to do a little jousting with another father and his son. I looked over to Jeanne, who was sitting on a rock soaking her feet. She nodded her approval, so I hoisted him on my shoulders. The boys had a great time knocking each other into the water over and over. In fact, we had a swarm of kids that wanted a turn, so my shoulders are quite sore tonight.

When I was able to extract myself from that noisy tumble of kids, I climbed up the bank and went over to the mage. He had contrived what looked very much like popsicles. As soon as I walked up, he offered me one.

"Hey thanks, I don't think I've met you before, my name is Mark."

"I'm Zannon. Good to meet you Mark."

"What do you do Zannon? Besides making popsicles, I mean?"

"Making what?"

"Oh sorry, these frozen juices."

"Ah, you mean snow sticks. At least that's what we call them. Anyway, I don't do much these days. Not many opportunities to use my magic here. I water gardens every so often when the rains are delayed. Make ice on warm days." He sighed and his shoulders slumped. I hadn't noticed before in the bright sun, but his face was deeply lined, and he seemed quite frail.

"Well, I can see you make the kids very happy." He straightened a little but didn't smile.

"Times were when I wouldn't be caught standing still in one place. I used to hop around Novia like a March hare. Always seeking out the new and the fun and the dangerous, and hopefully all of those together at once."

"How'd you end up here?"

"All that just got old. Shortly after I arrived in the Vale, I lost interest in everything."

"Wow, did anything happen?"

"No. Something just came over me like a great dark cloud with no rain. I haven't been able to shake it."

"Something bad must have happened then?"

"No not really. They say that sometimes those of us who use magic can be affected by forces at play in the world. I don't find that a very good answer. If that's true, why would it have only happened to me once over the course of my life?"

"Well, are you healthy?"

"Yeah, healers can't help my malaise."

"Have you ever thought of trying to research a reason?"

"Nah, I've been around magic long enough to tell this is something beyond what we know."

"But I do stick it to the darkness once in a while and just come out and do something like this. I'm always glad I do."

"Hey, why don't you come by tonight for dinner. Morgaine is bringing some roasted chicken."

"I'd like that Mark, thanks."

"Ok, I'm going to go back to my place and get ready, come by at dusk when it's cooled off a bit."

"Alright, see you."

Zannon didn't show for dinner tonight, and I would have searched for him except that I had not asked where he lived. I felt sorry for him, his affliction sounded like a mental illness. I had wanted to bring it up in our conversation, but there's really no understanding of it here. With my lack of knowledge on the subject, I would have only confused the issue or made it worse. Tomorrow, I plan on trying to find him and invite him again.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 30: If I Had a Hammer

Day 189, post adventum

Today, after I left Lord Enmar, I found Devon on duty at the entrance to the barracks. I've gotten to know all the guards reasonably well, but he is perhaps the most approachable.

"Good afternoon, Devon."

"Heya Mark, done for the day?"

"Yes I am. Say, I have a question. Can I borrow an axe?"

He turned his head to scrutinize me with one eye and grinned. "Are we finally going to make a soldier out of you?"

"Whew, no. It's just that I know I'm going to need some more wood for the winter."

"Oh, you mean a wood axe. Why don't you just buy wood from the lumberjacks like everyone else?"

"I'm in the mood to learn something new. And it's very practical."

"That it is. Maybe you are an outlander after all. I'll have to keep my eye on you." He shot me the same scrutinizing look and laughed. I just rolled my eyes.

"Well, we do have some good axes, but our supplies are under tight control these days."

"You mean you can't trust me with it? I'll learn how to sharpen the blade so I return it in good condition."

"No, it's just that when outlanders first arrived, they would go around picking up anything that wasn't tied down. Heck they would even walk right here into the barracks and take our books and weapons while we watched! In response, Lord Enmar made Richard over there our official quartermaster. Now our weapons and tools are out of sight. I might be able to put in a good word for you though." Richard grunted back in the barracks but didn't look up from the book he was reading.

"So where do you plan to go lumbering?"

"In the woods right behind my house."

"Hey hang on there. There's an unwritten rule around here that we don't take wood north of the river, or for a few miles south of it. Otherwise Owl's Head would be nothing but bare earth. Plus, it keeps a supply handy for emergencies."

"That's why most just buy it I guess."

"Yeah, it's hard to transport unless you've got a cart. More to the point though, it can be dangerous. Harvesting wood in the Valeway is generally pretty safe, but as the supply decreases, more lumberjacks are having to venture into Greymark, which is not safe at all. Say, if you want Mark, I can head out somewhere with you tomorrow and show you how it's done. I won't just let you borrow an axe, I'll bring a cart too."

"That's great. I don't have to work tomorrow."

"Stop by early for breakfast, the guards won't mind you joining us." Richard grunted again. "Then we can head out."

"Perfect."

"You sure you don't want me to bring a battle axe you can try out?"

"Very sure, thanks."

As I said farewell and turned to go, Richard called out, "You're going to need it for those spiders." I looked back at Devon.

"It will be fine Mark, I know how to avoid them. Even if we ran into some, and we won't, I can handle them."

"Ok, I trust you Devon, but I better go before I change my mind."

Devon smiled. "It will be fine." Richard grunted.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 31: The Lady in the River

Day 195, post adventum

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon at Fire Lotus Tavern. A busy week had not allowed me the chance to catch up on local news. I was hoping to hear word about Braemar, but there was none.

Just as I was about to head home, word started to spread that the guards on the bridge had spotted a body floating in the river. No one seemed to know who it was as no one had been reported missing. For some reason, I decided to go see what was happening. I'm not usually a gawker.

When I arrived, there was a small crowd leaning over the west wall of the bridge. Guard Brandy had already brought to shore what looked to be a young woman, probably not older than twenty. It had been a grim task. Brandy had moved away and was on her knees trying to catch her breath. Those who could manage to look at the poor woman were whispering that they still had no idea who she was.

Down by the river, four women seemed to appear out of nowhere carrying forward a plain wooden bier. They laid it next to the deceased woman and started to arrange cloth, which they used to wrap the body. They worked confidently, tenderly even, with no trace of disgust. The crowd on the bridge was mesmerized by them.

Suddenly Morgaine appeared beside me and put her arm under mine.

"Who are those women?"

"They call themselves the Mothers of the Dead. They are just four local women who got tired of seeing the way that the deceased were treated. They have a special heart for those who die alone and unrecognized."

At this point, a noisy group of adventurers, still in full armor, came up the bridge. Seeing the crowd didn't break their conversation about the troll they had just killed. They glanced over at the scene and continued on their way. Many in the crowd shot them hostile glares.

Once the Mothers had wrapped the body, they began to secure it with bright white and gold colored ribbons. Then they lifted the woman on the bier and started walking towards the west. A silent procession soon formed after them.

When we arrived at the graveyard, someone had already dug a grave. Beside it was a simple oak coffin into which the Mothers gently placed the body. They seemed to have no difficulty lowering the coffin into the grave. A young man brought forward a plain marble headstone. On it was carved, "Unknown but not Forgotten".

At this point I thought everyone would return home. However, the Mothers sat down around the grave and started singing.

I whispered to Morgaine, "What are they doing now?"

"The Mothers will sit here until tomorrow morning, keeping watch. They will sing many laments and songs to honor the woman who died."

"That's quite remarkable."

"Yes it is. But I have to go Mark, let's meet for dinner tomorrow, ok?"

"Sure, I'll stop by after work."

Morgaine left and I stayed for a few hours listening to the singing of the Mothers. They sang mournful tunes in great variety, wordless laments with resonant harmonies, and dark but hopeful chants. There was quite a crowd that stayed along with me.

I only remembered the words to one of the songs.

In time long past,
When the world was young and fair
Everyone saw with new, bright eyes
That our being here is good

Now there are many
Who have grown weary and lost
And no longer see each other
The way they should

This one was good
This one was beautiful

This one is good
This one is beautiful

Let us see it once again

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 32: Like Salt in Wounds

Day 200, post adventum

Now that the weather had turned cooler, people were more inclined to hurry from one location to the next. All except one woman. I'd seen her before delivering salt to Morgaine. Unlike everyone else, she continued to plod slowly with two large bags over her shoulders. The funny thing is she walked no faster once she had unloaded her cargo. Today, I decided to ask Morgaine about her.

"So who is that mysterious woman who supplies you with salt?"

"Her name is Willa, yeah she mines the salt herself from some nearby caves."

"She just seems to supply you. Others here need it and don't seem to buy from her. Heck, many here even sell it. Why do you work with her?"

"Well..."

"What? It can't be a secret."

"I just don't want to tell you because it involves Lord Enmar."

"Why would he be involved?"

"Well, not directly. And not in a good way."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Are you sure you want to know? You really like working for him don't you?"

"Yes, but why would this change my opinion?"

"It's just that... people in charge have to make tough choices sometimes."

"True. Let's not beat around the bush anymore, just tell me."

"Ok, but I will say I don't mean to disrespect Lord Enmar. You know I think he's exactly the right one to oversee Owl's Head at this time."

"Morgaine, no need to stall. Let's have it."

She sighed. "About four years ago, Willa's husband was supplying all the food for Lord Enmar, for the barracks and parties and such. They had big farms just a little south in the Valeway. It was quite an operation. They had a hard enough time keeping up with the supply needed for Lord Enmar, but they always managed to do it. Merchants, like me, just knew they had to go elsewhere for produce and animals. By the way, I didn't have a chance to ask you about little Larren the last time you brought the shipment from Arren and Myna. Can he sit up yet?"

"Wow Morgaine, you can make a better attempt to change the subject than that. Want to try again?"

She pursed her lips and snorted. "Ok, guilty I guess. I'm not going to get out of this am I?"

"No, please continue."

She sighed. "Ok, but please don't share this story with anyone. I'm not looking to stir things up or spread rumors."

"Morgaine, you're stalling again! You know I have to keep all sorts of things private because I work for Lord Enmar."

"Ok, well. So, four years ago, right? You know how the economy in Owl's Head has been growing. It's attracted all sorts of people. So another clever farmer was able to move in and set up. He offered to supply Lord Enmar for half the cost. Now I know what was going through Enmar's mind at this point. On one hand, he didn't want to leave the people he knew out in the cold, but on the other, he really needed the funds to keep Owl's Head safe. He tried to see if Willa and her husband could lower their prices to match, but for some reason they just couldn't figure out how the other farmer was doing things so cheaply. In the end, Enmar made the decision for the common good."

"And I suspect Willa and her husband couldn't find other buyers because the merchants were already working with others. And there was even more competition."

"Right."

"Well, why did they switch to mining salt."

"Sadly, 'they' didn't. Willa's husband was a broken man, seeing his farmhands struggle as he let them go. He also couldn't manage to provide for himself and Willa. After a string of failed attempts, he hung himself. Willa found him with a note pinned to his shirt. All it said was, 'sorry'."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Really big oh. Enmar has never spoken about it publicly, but you know the news had to hit him hard. His decisions can have really awful consequences sometimes, even if they are ones he has to make."

"At the funeral, I asked Willa if she would come and live with me, but she refused. All I could convince her to do was supply me with salt. She's able to survive, and I think at this point, that's all she wants to do."

"Tragic, for everyone involved."

"Yes, it is."

"Well, don't worry. I think your assessment of Lord Enmar is right. I know leaders have to make tough choices that sometimes hurt people. Back where I'm from, they make a business of hiding it and not acknowledging it just so they save face. I think Lord Enmar couldn't speak about it because he was too saddened by it."

"That's what I think too. He has a good heart."

"Yes he does. And so do you." Morgaine smiled and shrugged. "Well it certainly doesn't change my opinion of Lord Enmar, but it makes my opinion of you even better than it already was." After I said this, I could swear I actually saw a little blush on those cheeks. I considered it great progress that I could get her to be bashful.

"You're great Mark, you know that?"

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 33: Nothing Much

Day 210, post adventum

Nothing much has happened recently, so I decided to log an entry to break the monotony. Lord Enmar is away for a bit and I don't work when he's not here. I've visited all the people I can without turning into a total bore. I don't have another poker game for a few days. There are only so many walks you can go on. I tried to redecorate, but I don't have much to work with. I would visit Arren and Myna, but I have a regularly scheduled trip coming up next week.

It's been the better part of a year since I left behind the world of electronics, but on days like today, I still feel the lack of instant entertainment. I guess this is why so many of my fellow outlanders learn to brave the dangers of combat. I guess being torn apart by a monster can be more enjoyable than losing your mind to boredom.

Of course, today was gray. And cool. And damp. What more can you say about it? Nothing.

I don't even generate interesting reactions from the residents of Owl's Head anymore. It used to add a colorful dynamic to life here. After a while, the natives sort outlanders into two categories, good and bad. If you get into the good category, they treat you like you've always lived here.

Yesterday, while I was bugging Morgaine for a few hours, a woman buying fish from Alyssa handed me her baby when she needed to dig some coins out of her purse. She didn't say anything and just held out the child. I had seen her around but we hadn't been introduced. Of course, she knew me somehow and thanked me by name as she left. Not everyone is obsessed with the history and prophecy about outlanders it seems.

It's funny too that if the residents of Owl's Head sort you into the bad category, it can also be quite boring. They keep you at a distance and interact only when it can't be avoided. Most of the "bad" ones don't care anyway. It's quite amazing the things they do to fill up their time. It's not worth describing.

If I ever return to my own world, the people there will never believe I could be bored. Traveling to another world always seemed like such a romantic notion. Maybe for others it's different. But for me, yep, I'm bored. Good night.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 34: Things That Go Bump In the Night

Day 217, post adventum

I awoke at midnight to the strange cries of something nocturnal. Even with all the time I've been in the Vale, there were still some unfamiliar noises that I just couldn't sleep through. It spooked me a little, so I did what I always do when I need to feel safe and headed into the center of town. Of course, the only people up were the guards. But seeing that they weren't concerned about the stirrings of the local fauna (or worse) reassured me. Guard Stephen was on duty at the bridge. He knew me well enough just to give me a simple greeting.

I was cutting behind one of the shops by the stable for a more direct route up into the keep when a sudden impact knocked me to the side. A young man fell in front of me as the contents of his pack exploded around us. Adrenaline flowed and I leaped up. The blood pounded in my ears. No one else around. He can't do anything to me right now. He was completely winded. I was merely bruised. No visible weapons. A lot of visible valuables. Coins. Jewelry.

"You better explain what just happened." No response. Getting a closer look at him, I realized it was the baker's son. No real threat, and guards within earshot.

"Look Rodden, I know you get up early but not this early. What in this world is going on?"

He only rocked back and forth trying to catch his breath. I decided I would start to gather some of the things lying about. He managed to wheeze out a stern, "mine!" He tried to sit up, but fell back.

"I'm not taking anything here. I just want to know what it all is." I might have asked if he was ok, but I figured it was his to suffer the consequences of running in alleys on moonless nights. As I waited for his breathing to return to normal, I picked up at least 20 gold coins, a small fraction of what lie strewn about, a few silver rings, and one surprising pendant with what looked like a large emerald. The ground around us was sparkling with the reflection of distant torch light.

"Where were you headed at this hour?"

"To Kingsport."

"Can't you do that in the daylight?"

"No. I know this looks weird Mark but please don't call the guards. And please let me keep all this stuff. I need it."

"Why?"

"I've got to get to Lydia, she's in Port Graff."

"Who's Lydia?"

"She's the daughter of a jewelry merchant I met last summer. They came through the Vale to sell their wares. I've never seen anyone like her... far more beautiful than the girls here."

"So you need all these valuable for passage then... whose are they?"

"Mine!"

"How did you get things like this." I picked up a large gold bracelet.

"She gave them to me."

"Why would she do that?"

"When she was here we spent a lot of time together. Her dad was very kind. He liked me. Problem is he was not going to leave his daughter in the Vale, and my dad would never let me leave."

"Lydia and I hatched a plan that I would use the items to buy passage to Port Graff, once I could get things settled at the shop. I also had my own money from those who tipped me for deliveries."

"You dad does kind of depend on you."

"My sister is old enough now to handle it. And my other sister will be too before long."

"Look, leaving in the night to meet a girl you haven't seen in a year is not the best plan don't you think? What if she's moved on to someone else?"

Rodden looked down and scanned the ground, he picked up a folded piece of parchment. Opening it carefully he held it out for me to see. "Dear Rodden, I will never move on to anyone else. Please come soon!"

"A paid courier brought me this three weeks ago. I got two similar messages before this one. Her family can afford such things."

"Look, I don't know if it's easy to get over to Port Graff these days."

"I'm going to try."

"What will your dad do?"

"Please, please don't say anything. I left him a note. He will take it hard, but he will get over it. He knew I never really wanted to be a baker. Once I get settled, I will send him some things so he doesn't have to work so hard."

"Well there you go. Attractive and rich, huh? That's a one-two punch that would knock out most guys. You know, you might want to consider a backup plan. What if it doesn't work out?"

"Why wouldn't it work?"

"Alright then. How do you plan to sneak past the guards?"

"There are so many gaps in the palisade right now, it's easy."

"Well you know I shouldn't do this, but, here, let me help you repack your stuff and send you on your way. If I ever make my way to Port Graff, I might need a place to stay."

"You got it. Anything, really."

"Well I hope it all works out for the best."

"Mark, I won't forget this."

"Perhaps. So long for now."

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 35: Hard as Stone

Day 223, post adventum

Yesterday evening, when I saw the crowd at FireLotus Tavern I almost returned home. Word had raced around town that someone had found six kegs of a sweet and smoky stout in the shed of an abandoned farm. Thomas was already serving number three by the time I arrived.

I found Devon by the hearth. We were shouting over the din, trying to catch up, when someone tapped my shoulder. It was a young man dressed in servant’s livery with a golden pick axe sown on the front. Devon cupped his hand over my ear and said, “That’s one of Lord Ashwell’s servants, I wonder what he wants with you?” The confusion on my face made Devon continue. “Lord Ashwell lives in the hills north of the city, he runs mining operations in the mountains that supply the whole Vale. He has a nasty reputation and is very reclusive. I’d be careful, Mark.” I nodded, bent down and turned my ear to the servant.

“Hello sir. Lord Ashwell asks if he could make use of your services tomorrow.” A passing patron pushed into the back of the young man and knocked him to the floor. I picked him up and ushered him outside.

“I hope you’re all right. My name is Mark. Lord Ashwell needs a scribe?”

“Yes sir, his last one just quit. Please, will you come?”

“I do have time tomorrow. Why not?” The young man sighed and relaxed. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a paper with a carefully drawn map. Before I could ask anything about Lord Ashwell, he bowed and ran off into the night.

The next day, I walked northeast for an hour to get to Ashwell’s keep. Dark walls loomed from the top of a hill over a smaller encampment of smelters and blacksmiths. Behind the walls, the manor house looked as if it was constructed from one large granite block. I was ushered into Lord Ashwell’s library and asked to wait. An hour passed before he hurried into the room.

“Mark, let’s get started. There’s your desk. It has plenty of supplies.” He paced around the room as he dictated a letter to the family of a miner who had died in a cave in. When he was finished, he looked over at what I had written.

“Mark, what is that scribble? Were you not taking down what I said?”

“It’s the shorthand I use so that you can speak as fast as you want. I write it out after we are finished for you to read and review.”

“Are you sure you can write our runes, Mark?”

“Quite sure, I’ve been doing it for Lord Enmar for the better part of a year now.”

“Yes, he did say you would be… acceptable. Let’s continue.”

He dictated two more letters about the ore supply in the region. “Ok, Mark, let’s stop there. I want to see the letters before I entrust you with any more. How long is it going to take you to write them out?”

“Can you give me twenty minutes?”

“That long?” He turned and left the room. I finished the transcription in ten minutes, but waited another hour. This time I decided to look through his collection. I got lost in an underworld bestiary and jumped when Lord Ashwell returned.

“Ok Mark, let’s see those letters.”

I presented the first letter, and he started to read, mouthing the words. “Mark, there are several things in here I didn’t say. This just won’t do.” He pointed to a sentence, and I checked it against my shorthand. “That’s what you said, but we can fix it if you just tell me what you’d rather say.”

“Mark, don’t you think I know what I say and what I don’t say?” His eyes bored into me and seemed to indicate that my life might depend on the proper response. “Perhaps I should…”

“Papa?” A small pale hand pushed the door to the library open. There was a pause, then a young girl with a crutch hobbled into the room. She couldn’t have been more than eight, but she moved with the determination of a young lady despite missing most of her left leg. Lord Ashwell turned and his eyes softened. “Dear one, my dearest, dearest one, why are you here?”

“You promised we could go to the creek today and play in the water.”

“That I did, truly, and we will. I just need to finish these letters. Just give me a little time my dear and I will come straight to your room.” She turned around and said, “I will go get ready, don’t be late!” She hobbled out of the room and paused to pull the door closed. Lord Ashwell turned back to me but said nothing.

It seemed best to break the silence. “It looks like you need to go, can you quickly indicate the corrections you want to make? I can leave the letters here for you.”

There was no more threat in his demeanor, but he corrected the letters so much they looked nothing like what he had originally said. As he walked out, I said, “It was nice to meet you, please let me know if you ever need more help.” He didn’t respond, so I finished the letters and let myself out. Everyone in the keep seemed terribly busy. I reined in my curiosity about Lord Ashwell’s daughter, figuring I would get the full story in time.

Addendum: Day 265, post adventus

Even though Lord Ashwell deposited a generous payment in my account for the few letters I had written, he never asked me to return.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 36: Community

Day 231, post adventum

I was traveling out of Owl's Head back to my cottage when a man farther up the road spotted me. He waved an arm high in the air and stepped up his pace. I had never seen him before.

"You must be Mark!"

"Yes, how did you know? I usually don't forget those I've met."

"Jim, your buddy, described you to me and I just tried your cottage."

"Oh yeah? What did my buddy say about me?"

"I need to talk with you about a very important opportunity you're not going to want to miss."

"Really?"

"Yes."

At this point the stranger shoved a piece of parchment toward me. It had a quite artistic rendering of a town being constructed amidst rolling hills and wooded acres. Elegant lettering above said, "Come home to Vale's Rest, the latest P.O.T." Below the drawing, "The place for outlanders. Start over. Have fun. Be yourself." I had so many questions I didn't know where to begin.

"So Mark, what he have is a fantastic new P.O.T. being built about 200 miles south and west of Owl's Head. It's an open spot, away from the locals, where our kind can relax and be ourselves."

"You mean outlanders?"

"Yes. For too long, we've had to try to fit in and watch what we say. All the while under a veil of great suspicion. It limits our opportunities in this new world. Who knows how long we will be here; we have to make the most of it!"

"What's a P.O.T.?"

"A preferred outlander town. I think we're the fourth that's underway so far."

"Is that why some of the outlanders have left from around here?"

"Yes. You know that we learn things very fast here. Many of us have become master carpenters, masons, and builders. This world has ample raw materials. P.O.T.'s are literally springing up overnight. All we have to do is do stuff, and we get really good at it whether it's building towns, using weapons, or even magic."

"Well I write all the time and I don't seem to get better at that."

"No Mark, the important skills."

"Oh, gotcha."

"Look, we need to get as many outlanders on board as we can because there may be a limited supply. We don't seem to be appearing in quite the same numbers as we did a year ago. We've already got about 150 residents, but we want to be the most important city in the Vale. I'm designated as a special envoy, my territory is the northern Vale."

"I'm happy here, why would I want to move?"

"Well I'm glad you asked. First, we can be ourselves. When we're among the locals, we can't talk about things like baseball without getting weird looks. We're always under suspicion."

"Suspicion can be warranted, you know."

"Second, we can use our new abilities with great freedom. We already have a field for our gladiator leagues and fights run almost every weekend."

"You mean you fight each other for sport?"

"We can't die and even the pain from injuries isn't as bad as it was back home. Our healers can fix anything. If you do die, you just wake back up an hour later and join your buddies for the after party."

"Won't the locals be suspicious when they see that?"

"No. Remember these towns are being reserved for our kind. We post guards around the perimeters to keep curious locals away."

"So these towns only have outlanders?"

"No. We let some of the natives in if they prove sympathetic to our plight. We do need help with all sorts of menial tasks: serving drinks, stocking shops, etc."

"Won't these locals rat you out then?"

"We don't let them leave."

I couldn't do anything but stare at this man. It didn't faze him.

"Mark, this is an opportunity most of us have only dreamed about. A fresh start, with superpowers. We don't need to let the way this world be like the last, let it tie us down until we're longing for somewhere else."

"Look, Mr.?"

"Call me Larry."

I was so annoyed at this point that I decided to have a little fun. "You know, Larry, if you guys are the fourth P.O.T., I think I better investigate all my options before I decide where to settle. In the meantime, I will stay put. I really need to be going. Come back to me when you have a real offer."

I started down the road again. He stayed rooted in place still trying to talk. "Well I'm here in Owl's Head for a few weeks. There's much more to talk about. We have all sorts of incentives, especially if you have a lot of skills. Ok Mark! Thanks for the chat! Really great to talk with you! See you tomorrow!"

I thought to myself, "Oh please no."

In the short distance I had left to reach my cottage I pondered what this new urban flight might mean. Maybe the native towns would be better off going back to the way they were before. How many outlanders would remain in them? Not many, if I had to wager. A strange sense of foreboding about the whole idea of P.O.T.'s weighed on me. I for one would be staying put.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 37: Born Again

Day 234, post adventum

I'm staying with Arren and Myna for the night. They surprised me with a steak dinner. Arren has started raising cattle in addition to the pigs. It seems that having a child has only increased his already superhuman productivity.

They also brought out a box after dinner wrapped in blue paper with a white ribbon. It contained a padded and waterproofed leather jacket. They thought my current attire was insufficient for the cold rain that could happen this time of year. Myna said, "Today is as good a day as any to give you a birthday gift since we don't know what yours is." She was obviously fishing for the date, but I changed the subject. They are already too generous. They even tried to pay me again for this trip, complaining that with beef in addition to pork the deliveries would be larger. Like every time before, I refused.

As we were drinking tea after dinner, Myna said, "Mark, you've told us a little about where you came from, I'd like to hear more. What was your life like before you came here?"

They could tell I paused a little too long and shifted just a bit too much in my chair. Arren said, "No need to share Mark, we just want to get to know you better. Heck, we don't get many visitors here so Myna gets bored with the little I'm able to talk about." Myna reached over and patted his hand.

"Well, my life back home wasn't all that exciting. I've told you how I worked for our court system and used machines to scribe what was said."

Myna said, "Yes, but what about your family Mark?" Arren turned and gently shook his head at Myna. "My love..."

"Ah, it's alright, yes. It's just that there's not much to say about them."

Arren turned back to me and said, "That's fine, Mark." Myna looked into my eyes. Unlike Arren, she had grasped what I meant.

I said, "No, it's ok. I trust you both the most of anyone here."

Larren started babbling from his crib next to the table. Myna looked over, "I swear he can pretend to be asleep when I put him down. He loves being right in the middle of what's going on." We waited for a bit until Larren had said all he need to say,

Myna said, "So Mark, I hope you know you're family now, so whatever your past was like, it's ok." She smiled, trying to reassure me. At this point, I really didn't need it.

"Thanks. I'll try to keep this short. Let's see... My mom worked as a waitress in a fancy restaurant. The clientele treated the staff pretty poorly. It was hard for her to see how much other people had and how little she did herself. One day, a man came in who treated her kindly and showed interest in what she thought. She fell hard for him. He got her pregnant; that was me. My dad then felt a certain responsibility and married her. They bought a house together. Of course, it was only his credit that allowed for the loan. Everything seemed to be going great until I was born. A week later, my dad left with no warning, not even a note. We never heard from him again. My mother started drinking. I remember my grandmother being around a lot when I was young. When I was six, she passed away. My Mom started getting worse, doing drugs. By this point she had alienated any remaining relatives we had, so I was taken and put in a foster home. I moved through quite a few of them until I finally ended up in an orphanage. When I graduated high school, there was a program that helped me go to community college, and I learned to be a court reporter there."

Myna's eyes glistened in the light of the fire. "I knew there was a reason we found you, Mark."

I felt I needed to lighten the mood. "Actually, the pigs found me first. I'm sure they would have been happy to take me in." We laughed for a bit, and a tear escaped down Myna's cheek.

Arren said, "Mark, I admire the way you made the best of a difficult situation. You worked hard and established yourself, despite the lack of support."

Myna took a long sip of tea. "So did you ever want to have a family of your own?"

Arren turned to her. "My, my, darling, Mark might need a rest from this questioning."

I said, "It's ok, Arren. Really. I haven't told many people my story, but you guys make it easy. You see, I always knew how difficult family life could be, and I learned that even more in the courts. There are a lot of horrible things people do to each other. I figured it was hard enough managing my own life, and so I left it at that. I didn't want to take a chance on having a family."

Myna said, "But weren't you lonely?" Arren arched his eyebrow and pointed to it. Myna smiled and pretended not to notice.

"Not really, no. There's a lot for a single person to do back where I come from."

Myna said, "Still Mark. Sure, family can be a challenge, but I know you'd make good choices. I could see you being a great husband and father." Arren dropped his face into his hand and laughed. "Mark, I'm sure you know where this is going."

Myna said, "Shush Arren. Things don't only go wrong, Mark, sometimes they go right too. Very, very right." Myna put her arm on Arren's shoulder, and he brought his hand up over hers.

I said, "Yes, I see what you have, and you make me believe it. Still, it's a lot to think about."

Myna straightened up in her chair and said, "Well until you figure it out, you don't have to worry Mark. You've got family now, and we aren't going anywhere." Arren smiled and nodded.

 

Mark's Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 38: Best Friends

Day 241, post adventum

Just now, I was walking home admiring Owl's Head in the cool blue light of winter's dusk. When I turned into the lane leading to the bridge, I froze. Two orange eyes blinked at the gate of the house on the left. They belonged to a hulking pile of shaggy, black fur exhaling regular bursts of steam. The creature watched me, but didn't move. Its fangs looked like they could puncture truck tires.

Guards always patrol that lane, but it seemed like an eternity passed as I waited for rescue. Right before I started to feel faint, the gate opened and the owner of the house emerged. Even though I had met most of the residents of Owl's Head at this point, I had not met him. The creature turned to greet him and whined until the man reached out, not down, and rubbed its head. That set the billy club of a tail swooshing back and forth.

The man started toward the bridge, not paying attention to me. I tried to speak. My first attempt was a squeak, too weak to be heard, so I repeated myself.

"Ho there, what is that thing?" The man turned to stop and look at me. Unfortunately, so did the animal.

"Oh hi, this is my obsidian wolf."

"I've never seen anything like it. How in the world did you manage to train one? They don't seem the pet type."

He reached down and tugged on a collar that was hidden in the creature's fur. "This little device. A taming collar. I was able to catch her in Ravenswood."

At this point, my tension started to ease so I decided to introduce myself. I walked stiffly forward and extended my hand which started to shake as the beast padded over and sniffed it.

"Yes, I've heard of you Mark, you're Lord Enmar's scribe." He reached out and grabbed my hand. "My name's Evan and this here is Beauty." At the sound of her name, the dog's tail began wagging again, harder this time.

"Frankly, this makes me a little tense."

"Beauty is perfectly safe."

"Ok but how are you sure the collar will keep this thing acting like a pet dog?"

"It's the way the magic works. I can share the recipe for making them if you'd like."

"Um, I don't think so. Do you use Beauty as a guard dog?"

"Not really. I just left her at the gate for a short moment while I dropped off some stuff and picked up fresh supplies. I spend my time out in the forests and the mountains exploring. I prefer to be away."

Just then a shepherd boy started driving a herd of sheep up the lane. At the sight of the wolf they wanted to turn, but the boy was able to herd them past, bleating in terror and hugging the wall on the other side of the fence. He shot Evan a few angry looks. Beauty sat, casually observing the whole thing.

"Are you sure it's safe to bring this beast into town?"

"Beauty's not a beast. She's safer than most of the people in this damn place." He had a point. He continued, "Anyway, I don't suspect even here will be very safe before long."

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but a giant white owl glided up the lane. It shifted its wings up slightly to slow itself, extended its talons, and landed right on Beauty's back. Both Beauty and Evan didn't react. The collar that the owl was wearing was much more obvious.

Before I could say something, Willa's oldest daughter appeared, running hard up the lane. When she approached us, she slowed and reached out like she wanted to grab the owl, but thought better of it.

I was sure Evan didn't know her, so I said. "Hey Ila, is this owl yours?" She nodded. "Well, this is Evan, and the wolf the owl is sitting on is Beauty." Evan walked around beauty, reached out and shook Ila's hand. She seemed to relax.

"Sorry, I just bought her. Mom thought it would be a good idea for the pests we get on the farm. I'm just learning how to get it to fly home."

Evan said, "All you need to do is touch the collar again, and the owl will follow you. You shouldn't have to direct it, the longer you have it, the more it will get attuned to what you want."

Ila reached out to touch the collar, but pulled her hand back. Even said, "Well I can't touch it for you, so here. Beauty's not gonna bite." He grabbed Ila's hand and extended it toward the collar so she could touch it. The owl's head swiveled smoothly and regarded Ila with what looked like some more intense attention. "Now back away down the lane."

Ila did so, and immediately the owl lifted off of Beauty's back and start following her. Evan said, "Just keep going all the way home and remember to touch that collar a few times and this owl will be your best friend." Ila called back her gratitude, and ran down the lane.

The strangeness of this land was already pressing in too hard, and I wanted to go. But I said, "Maybe when you come back, find me and we can talk more about what you've seen."

"Don't know how long I'll be gone, but we'll see. Take care Mark." He turned and started toward the bridge.

"Safe travels." I followed, but at a slower pace.