Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Breadbasket

The survey of the area took the rest of the day, during which time I tried to become more familiar with the limits of my deity given power. Besides it’s amazing ability to find things through solid objects, I discovered that it could also give me information about what each person was capable of doing. A personalized resume of their work, or to put it more crudely, a stat-sheet like what I’d have seen in an RPG back home. How one could quantify real lived experience as a number on a ghostly spreadsheet was a mystery.

I discovered this by testing it on Emmerich. True to his word, the eye revealed that he was a ‘level 50’ woodcutter. He had a few dozen of these different skills, but none were as developed as that. Cooking, cleaning, building and hunting were just some of the talent’s he’d honed over decades of life.

Not only could I see what his talents were, but I could also see his name, job-title, affiliation (presently listed as ‘freeman’,) and his age. I practically knew everything there was to know about the man just from a single glance. I decided against violating the privacy of every other person in the camp. I had gotten what I needed already. There were more secrets to this eye than I initially thought.

Jeremiah returned as the sun was starting to set beyond the horizon once more. He seemed somewhat displeased to say it, but he had good news for us. “Seems that your boy has convinced the others that this is the place.”

“Really?”

“Only a few are willing to keep on going, and they have carts of their own. Most of the folks think it’s a swell idea to settle down here. Everything we need to get a fresh start.”

I shrugged, “It was only a suggestion. Anyway – shouldn’t you be happy that this pilgrimage is over?”

“I ain’t much a fan of being on the road to be sure, it’s dangerous and no place to raise a family these days.”

“Where are we going to start?”

Emmerich stood from his log, “We don’t have much. We’re going to have to stick together for the time being. Get woodcutting going, building some shelter, and then finding food and water.”

Jeremiah stroked his beard in introspection, “We can sleep in the carts for now. That’ll keep us out of the rain at least. All the farmers are chomping at the bit to get their fields staked out and planted. But that poses us a little problem, how are we going to decide who gets what land?” He reached into his leather coat and unfurled a piece of aged parchment between us. On it was a crudely drawn map of the bay area. Jeremiah pointed to an area inland, “This is the most fertile ground according to them.”

“Wouldn’t it make sense to give them as much as they can manage?”

“You’re more trusting than I am. Wouldn’t put it past some of those folks to grab as much as they can so they can sell it off later.”

“We should at least make sure everyone gets the same,” Emmerich concluded, “I don’t want no fights being started so soon after we set down.”

As I looked down at the map I felt a familiar tingle in my covered eye. It was trying to tell me something again. I flip up the eyepatch again and watched as the inked scribbles on the map projected outwards in a golden glow. A three-dimensional map of intense detail spread out over the small circle that I and Emmerich had occupied for the past three days. I waved my hand through it to discover that it wasn't a solid.

“Is something wrong?” Emmerich asked. I shook my head and approached the fertile land that Jeremiah had described to me. Patches of the ground glowed a light green colour. I could feel the gears turning in my head once again. What if say, a level five farmer was given a plot of land there? The map responded to my request, and a small parcel of the open plains was highlighted in blue. The workable area that the imaginary farmer could manage on their own. I ordered the map to zoom closer. I could see the induvidual trees, hills and rock formations that made up the landscape now – and the outline of a hypothetical farm house on the area that I had chosen.

“Is something interesting about that patch o’ ground? Jeremiah chuckled. Neither of them could see what I was seeing. It was at that moment that I realized the full extent of the eye’s power, this was the king’s eye. I had been given the power to build something special. A city for the weary and fed-up, a refuge for those Laddites that she had insisted I help any way I could. I could see what people could do, I could use maps and charts to organize things with godly efficiency, I could delegate and organize of a level that would normally take hundreds and hundreds of people.

“I think the more experienced farmers should get more land.”

“…Naturally.”

“But we can’t just settle things like that for good. How many farmers are in this convoy?”

Jeremiah took a moment to count them up on his fingers, “Twenty in all, I’d say.”

I looked back down to my map. “If we divide the fertile land available to us by twenty, and place them equidistant to each other – that means that should they desire they could expand their farm to a new size.” The holographic farms multiplied and spread out across the green field, some larger than others.

“A good idea,” Jeremiah admitted with a tilt of his head, “We could measure out what we have and divide it up between the people who want it.”

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“And if more farmers come?” Emmerich asked.

“That’s a problem for another day,” I admitted, “But… I’m sure that there’s more fertile land available here. Maybe not as suitable as this plot here, but good enough to make a living and support the town.” The map zoomed out and displayed several other patches of fertile land to me. They were a good distance away from where we were. We’d need to consider a network of roads to make travel easier.

 “I’ll put it to them and see what they think,” Jeremiah nodded, “With any luck we’ll have fields planted and ready to go before the end of the week.”

I closed the map and blinked my vision clear as it adjusted to the low light of the forest. There were other concerns running through my mind. “Jeremiah, are you the leader of the convoy?”

He shook his head, “There are no leaders. We banded together out of common interest.”

“We need someone to make decisions, or a group of people.”

“And you’re proposing yourself?”

“I never said that. Camaraderie is good, but it’ll only take us for far if other people begin living here. Who are we to tell them what to do?”

“He has a point,” Emmerich agrees.

“But the thought of any nobleman taking claim over the place is probably unpalatable.”

“For certain.”

“So let’s try something new. Let’s say in a month from now – we let everyone here cast a vote. Every good town needs a mayor, don’t you think?”

Jeremiah’s face twisted in visible trepidation, “Voting huh. Can’t say I ever heard of a town that tried anything like that.”

“There aren’t any nobles here,” I argued, “This is the perfect chance for you to assert control of your own destiny, so to speak. And when quarrels start to happen someone needs to be the last stop for them.”

He relented, “I guess you’re right. As much as I’d hate to let any of those freaks take over, having someone to have the final say is important.”

“We could have a council of people to take care of things, representatives to make sure everyone gets their voice heard. Like someone to keep an eye on the farmers.”

“Woah there, let’s just get the fields seeded first,” Jerimiah insisted, “We can worry about who’s in charge of what later.”

I sat back down, “Sorry, I got a little eager there.” Jerimiah left us to go speak with the farmers in question. I hoped that our solution would please all of them for the time being, as unrealistic as that was.

“You have a leader’s head on those shoulders,” Emmerich chuckled, taking a swig from his cup.

“Nobody’s going to take my word for anything. I don’t even know most of these people like you do.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. An unbiased eye to make sure we’re on the right track.”

I’m not sure I agreed with that.

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