by Lars M.
Gillem intruded, "She's right and you know it. Besides, I do believe that Arcangelo will do his best to help pay them back for what they've done." I nodded and my charismatic friend continued. "What we should focus on right now is the present, and how to best help the village move on. I've taken the liberty to stick to the original plans for tonight. My aides have prepared a feast. What we need to do is decide the planning..."
Mr. Callahan furrowed his brows. "I approve of giving people a chance to mourn and move forward. Especially if we're supporting Arcangelo and his task to gather fighters to move after the crooks. But a feast? How does that help?"
I cleared my throat. "I have some suggestions for that, if you don't mind."
The next hour flew by, and before I knew it, I was walking back toward the tavern with Gillem, discussing small details about the evening's feast. Before we opened the door, he paused. "Oh, I almost forgot. I was supposed to give you this."
"This" was an envelope. It held ten shiny gold coins and a letter. I read the quest notification first.
Congratulations. You have completed the quest:
Winning Hearts and Minds, Part II
You have managed to build alliances with both Nerit and High Hold, laying the groundwork for any future expansions of the village. You have also gained limited access for villagers from Grant's Crossing to the Library of High Hold and secured trade agreements, cultural exchanges, and a limited military pact.
Reward:
You have received 1000 experience points. Experience towards next level 3545/6000.
Reputation with Grant's Crossing increased by 1000 (+30%)=1300. New reputation: 6450 (revered)
Universal reputation increased by 500 (+20%) = 600. New reputation 1750 (Local celebrity)
The letter... I didn’t know what I had expected, but this wasn't it.
To whomsoever should read this.
The carrier of this letter, Arcangelo, has been found to be a man of stellar reputation and a great friend to the village of Grant's Crossing. Any assistance you can provide him will be appreciated.
Signed by the Council of Grant's Crossing:
Autoria Dernfuddle. Gillem Drizzlefog. Grant Callahan.
Re-reading the letter, I could hear the grin in Gillem's voice. "I know, I know, what help is an introduction letter from a backwards village in the middle of nowhere going to be? Heh- you might be surprised. Autoria claims she still has some connections in the larger cities."
"But... why?"
He shrugged. "It was my idea. I didn't tell them about your situation, but... well, at some point, you'll probably have to move on. I wanted to give you the best possible foundation for that."
I looked at the letter again, lost for words, and then enfolded my friend in a huge hug. "You know, keep this up, and I'll end up actually liking you, Gillem. No, wait, this is too good for the usual manly bull. If ever I leave this place, I am going to miss you, and no two ways about it. Seriously. I'm not going anywhere until I can't avoid it any longer."
His smile was tinged with sadness. "But we both know it might happen again. The caravan was here here just a week ago. This time, one of the guards had been paid to wander around the village with your poster, asking questions."
I could feel a tic starting near my eye. I did not need that right now. "I... wow. Yeah. You're right. There's no way I'm even going to start dealing with that until we've handled those bandits."
"Are you sure? I mean, that's nice and heroic, but you've gotta watch out for yourself."
"Heroic, my pasty-white arse. I just... don't like making life-changing decisions until I really need to. And you've finally learned how to make coffee the way I like it!"
Gillem snorted. "Heh. That was easy. I just use half the water I'm supposed to. Jeb calls it sludge."
We shot the breeze for a while, and it felt like being home - but inside, it felt like the clock was ticking down to my imminent departure.
Chapter 35 – Unreveling
Everybody turned up for the occasion. Usually, when you say something like that, it means 'about two thirds came.' Not this time. Everybody. All races, all ages, even those injured from the battle. The town square was packed to the edges, with people spilling out into the adjoining streets.
It was a potluck happening. Some people brought something to drink, others some food, and Gillem emptied out his best stashes for the occasion. Nonetheless, the mood was grim. Even the children were muted and stayed with their parents instead of running all over the place. Gillem had told me how it usually was. Not a single Reveler’s Moon was the same, but some things were assured. There would be games for all ages, with prizes for all winners. Crafters tended to create something special for the evening, and the bragging rights for winning were at least as important as the actual prizes. Alcohol was always involved, and it wouldn't be a proper Revel if there wasn't at least one fist fight.
Tonight, it seemed fist fights were off the table. Discussions were mostly hushed and practical in nature, and people hadn't even bothered to bring any of the games. Everybody strolled around, ate a bit, and tried to pass the time. A few sobs could be heard now and again. After half an hour had gone by, Autoria made her way to the stage they used for these things. Today, there was no need for throat-clearing or shushing your neighbor. Her voice could be heard throughout half the village - it was that quiet.
"Friends. Family. Neighbors. This is a dark hour. You know me. I will not sugarcoat the truth, nor will I paint a false picture to make the situation look better. In all the years since the founding of Grant's Crossing, this has been our closest brush with death. Eight of our own are gone, and had we not been warned beforehand, the result would have been even more disastrous.
”Eight villagers. Five of these were new to the village, but even so, they belonged to us. In the darkest moments, when enemy forces swarmed us, they grabbed weapons and defended the rest of us. Let no one else doubt me when I say this. The Fallen of Nerit are no more. They belong to us now, heart and soul, as citizens of Grant’s Crossing. Should anybody dare to say otherwise, do so now." Her challenging stare ranged over the square to complete, deafening silence. Even Ms. Darkvine kept her peace.
"Coreck. Pivek. Lurad. Mavok. Nasat. I would have a minute of silence for these brave souls. May Thracken judge them fairly in the afterlife." She lowered her head for a full minute. When she raised it again, tears were visible in her eyes. "I have known Mallard Bullhop my entire life, it seems. We were young and reckless when we first came here, and he has always been there. In the thick of the crowd, chatting amiably with everybody, making friends regardless of station, race, or beliefs. Now, out of the blue, he is..." she paused to wipe tears from her eyes. "His wife, Laticia, arrived in the same way as most of you, following the caravan because she had heard that here, in the middle of nowhere, was a place where you could make a home for yourself, if you didn't mind working hard. Laticia never shirked a day’s work in her life. However, worker bee though she was, what stays with me is her grin. Throwing back her head, roaring with laughter in abandonment. That, and her incredible capacity for gossip. This is how I will choose to remember her. Please, when we part here, share the best stories you have of the seven - it is the best way to remember them - with joy and reminiscence."
She bowed her head for a few seconds. When she looked back up, her expression was one of seething anger. ”The last person who died, you all know as well. Herbert Gardarsson and his brother spent time in Grant's Crossing for over a decade, taking trips guarding caravans. It was not until six years ago that they decided to settle down within the village and establish their own business, assisting caravans whenever guards had been hurt and needed relief, or when the kobolds were raiding in force. The Blood Brothers." She spit the name with distaste. "Never has a name been more apt. The brothers, along with Othell, have caused untold damage. Even from the Pits, they continue to do so, as those they used to work with continue their reign of malice and violence." She sighed. "Still, o
ne cannot deny that the brothers were not evil through and through. Many among us have shared pitchers with them and called them friends. Not only that, they both shared a love for children, and many here have happy memories of engaging in rough-and-tumble play with the pair. Finally, in the end, Herbert regretted his choices, asking us to share the story far and wide. So this is what I ask of you - share what you recall about the pair, and never forget to include how a path of selfishness, greed, and violence can lead to an untimely and ignominious death."
Autoria remained silent for a while, scanning the audience. When she continued, her voice rang with honesty. "What remains to be discussed is only this: What happens now? Where do we go? The answer from the Council is simple. It is the same as we have advocated for the past many years since the founding. We stay and work for the future of Grant's Crossing. We are at the brink of what could be a breakthrough into a new era for our village, with alliances in place with both Nerit and High Hold. Nobody gets to decide for you, however. Only you can say how you want to handle this. We will only say this and say it with certainty. Grant's Crossing will stay strong!"
The stately gnome looked a bit taken aback as a thundering applause washed over her. She probably wasn't used to public speeches of this size, and she definitely was unaccustomed to being impassioned in any way. Blushing, she looked my way and waved me over. I slowly joined her, letting her have her moment.
A bit of chatter had started up when I approached. "Well done. That was a beautiful speech."
"I - had not prepared anything. I did not know how to wrap my head around the magnitude of everything... or anything, really" Seeing Autoria out of it was something new to me. I realized, to my surprise, that I might actually come to like this woman.
"You did exactly what was needed." I indicated the crowd, where people were talking. It was not a huge change, but the fog of despair that hung over the gathering was dissipating. "You made them stop focusing on yesterday and start thinking about the future."
"Thank you, Arcangelo. Will you talk to them now?"
I shook my head. "I was going to, but now, I'm going to give them a chance to let your words seep in, get their thoughts settled first."
And that's exactly what I did. I wandered around the place, playing softly without entering any of the conversations, allowing the villagers to come to terms with their new situation. Everything wasn't entirely peaceful. Some, understandably, did not handle the attack well and had reacted outwardly.
"There he is. That's the bastard that started everything. If you hadn't arrived here, Mallard would still be alive!" A halfling I didn't recognize shouted at me, tears brimming in her eyes.
I did not respond immediately, but her companion did. "Come on, Malvina. You know it's not his fault. Would you rather live with that accursed Othell preying on us? Who's to say what would even have happened? They might as well have tired of bleeding us slowly to death and taken us unawares. Come here, love."
It was not the only accusation I received. I tried to respond to them as fairly as I could, but I was forced to walk away more than once. Their wounds were still bleeding, and it would take some time before they started healing. Eventually, however, the mood started simmering down and a smile broke out here and there, like the sun glimpsing through dark skies.
I took to the small stage without any introduction. As is often the case, when I lacked the right words for a proper introduction, I let the music talk for me. It was a journey everybody present knew, since they had lived the entire thing. I started out with a peaceful, meandering tune, merry and thoughtless. The song soon took a darker turn, however, and signs of trouble entered the horizon as disharmonic, fearful passages took over. Before long, the mood of the song had turned sad and fearful, with discordant notes jarring the melody. A slow-building crescendo worked its way up to a triumphant finale and I let the violin drop, looking over the crowd with an open gaze.
"What seems like ages ago, I was asked to gather the story of the founding of Grant's Crossing and present it at Reveler’s Moon. I must admit that I have almost discarded the task several times over. At first, it seemed I never could find the time to search for the information. Then other, more pressing, matters kept intruding, and I postponed it over and over again. In the end, I finally managed to gather all the stories available to me. I looked forward to presenting my findings before you as a message of positivity - and then this happened." I shook my head in dismay. "I almost dropped it, then. What good would a story about the past be, when the future is as uncertain as it is?" With a fond smile, I answered the question myself. "In my eyes, it's not just important, but vital. But you can judge for yourself."
"When the Original Four decided to make the attempt to found Grant's Crossing, the Dawnlight Forest was untamed. Caravans did not exist back then - they were merely foolhardy adventurers willing to risk the dangers of the forest for a chance at beating the competition, arriving first with the latest luxury goods from the other side of the continent. The mere thought of founding a village in the middle of the forest was unheard of - why risk the dangers and antagonize the residents of the forest, when you could pass by unimpeded? Mallard, Autoria, Grant, and Cassandra thought otherwise, however. They were willing to risk everything in order to forge their own destiny,- to fight against the world in order to carve out their own tiny kingdom." I was quiet for a spell. "Does this sound too grandiose? Is this inaccurate, when the actual happenings at the time were so often dark, filled with danger, boredom, or merely hard work?" I shook my head. "No. Just because a task is dirty or onerous, it can still be a grand undertaking. You can definitely apply any of those words to the founding of Grant's Crossing."
I looked at the villagers gathered before me. I definitely had their attention, and I smiled. "Let me expand a bit on this. First, these four twenty-odd-year-olds, with access to only their own funds and connections, managed to obtain everything needed to establish the foundations of a village. Then, somehow, the youngsters managed to impress the powers that be enough to earn the official recognition and rights to found the village and link it to the Cabal as a whole." I made my voice as dry as possible, "Now, anybody who has ever had to deal with bureaucracy will have to admit, that this feat in itself is tantamount to slaying a dragon." A couple of chuckles erupted, and I continued, "Following that, they managed to fight their way all across the eastern part of the forest. Back then, there was no path, no guards to patrol, however intermittently. No, these four and their two hired helpers trudged through the forest, overloaded with tools, food, and items. The travel was hard enough in itself, but that wasn't all. They had to be wary all the way, defending against the might of High Hold and the ever-present dangers of the monsters of the forest. And we all know that the monsters we have nearby are nothing compared to what lies in the more untamed regions of the forest."
Taking a break, I theatrically exhaled. "Just the thought of it makes me want a nap. And our heroes definitely needed a rest - but did they get it? No! Upon arriving here, they were beset by the kobolds of Nerit. If you consider the friendly kobolds at your side, you may not recognize the threat they were back then. Even so, the rulers of the western part of the forest at that time did not like anybody challenging what they perceived as their territory. No, our founders were forced to toil under constant attacks for weeks. Picture trying to erect a building for sleeping, when you can constantly expect kobolds charging in and screaming at you, poisoned darts flying through the air, or monsters being set upon you. I'll admit that I struggle to understand how they succeeded, but they did. After a certain point, the kobolds gave up the fight, admitting to defeat."
I expanded my arms to indicate the surrounding buildings. "That was how Grant's Crossing was founded. The rest, as they say, is history. Now, some of you may wonder what that has to do with our present situation. Well, if you look through the history, one key factor in the history of this village has been this: perseverance. The four young people setting out with their plan were not e
xtraordinary themselves, but during the founding and the following years, they have constantly stayed true to their vision, struggling against tall odds to eke out an existence. The same goes for the rest of you. Staying strong in the face of constant adversity? That takes perseverance. Living for years under the shadow of increasing threats from the forest and never bending? I'm not sure I could do it. In short, I stand in awe, not only at the mental strength of the Original Four, but of all of you. This is why I have no doubt that you will make it through this dark time – because, my friends, this is what you do."
I never figured slow claps existed in real life, except for when ironic bastards wanted to tell you that you suck. This time, however, it happened exactly like it does in the movies. My final comment was received with stony silence until somebody in the crowd started slow-clapping and the rest joined in. At this point, I was becoming used to the villagers of Grant's Crossing enjoying my antics, but this was something different. You learn to hear when people clap out of politeness and when they whole-heartedly enjoy your performance. This was a whole other frenzied level of approval. I spotted Mrs. Bertinga with tears in her eyes. Lyle's dad was applauding and... smiling?
It took a while for the noise to die down. I kept a composed face the entire time. When it finally began to abate slightly, I held up a hand, and half a minute later, it was possible for me to speak over the noise. "I do have one additional thing I would like to add. I would prefer to end this evening on an upbeat note, but in the current situation, I'll opt for realistic. You have an amazing mayor." I pointed at Autoria where she sat in the back. "Of course, you already know this, but it bears repeating. She, and the rest of the Council, have plotted a course that has kept you steering true for the past decades. Stubbornness, hard work, and perseverance have achieved the rest." I held up a cautioning finger. "However, there will be times when sheer stubbornness will not do it, where you will have to react and risk everything in order to reach your goals. I cannot judge whether this is one of those moments. I will, however, caution that the villains who attacked you are still out there and could be regrouping for another attack soon. I am gathering a force that, together with forces from High Hold, will hunt down our attackers and try to end them. Forever."
