Chapter 6: Chapter 6: The Bucket

Jerimiah returned with good news the following morning, just as the sun finally peered over the vast horizon beyond the untouched bay. “Aye, the farmers are over the moon with the land they’ve been given. Fertile soil, easy to till and plant in, they think we’ll be ready for the coming season with little trouble.”

“Good, but can people pay?” I asked, echoing the conversation we had the previous evening.

Jerimiah stroked his beard, “Hm. Everyone has brought all the coinage they can, but it’s true – having the farmers suck up all of our combined wealth so early would be problematic. Without a way to mint our own or get it from outside trade, we might need to make a compromise for the time being.”

“They have enough supplies to survive for the moment, don’t they? We need to be forward facing and anticipate the next problems before they arrive.” I splashed a small amount of clean water onto my face and dried it with a towel I had borrowed.

He nodded, “I was sceptical of you at first, but that plot laying was some damn fine work; this place is perfect for a new town.”

I turned to Jerimiah and explain my rationale, “Towns are only as good as the planning that goes into them though. Letting people build whatever they want wherever they want is easy, but it might cause serious trouble later. What if someone builds their house on top of an important aquifer? Do we demolish it to get to the water? Or let them stay because they got there first?”

“That’s a tough question.”

“I’m not really an optimist, but someone has to think about those things.”

“All the farmers agree that an eye like yours is good for settling things,” Jerimiah explained, “I think people would be happy to let you square things out like you did for them. Fair, quick, accurate. I can picture it now. It’s going to be a fine farming community; and if we get a lot of folks living next to the coast, there’s going to be enough trade to share.”

“We’d need to build a dock.”

Jerimiah nodded, “The shipping lanes around here are some of the best, that’s why they built that old outpost out here before all the turmoil started. Easy connections to Lunarmar and the Black Cove.”

“The Black Cove huh?”

“You ever visited?”

I sat down on one of the logs and tightened my shoes, “No. What’s it like?”

“It’s… a pretty grim place. Big, pitch-black cliffs hanging over like giants. But when the fog rolls in there’s no sight quite like it. Seeing that whole city illuminated by lantern-light is something I’ll never forget, no sir. The food’s great, worth visiting for that alone.”

With my morning preparations done, I follow him deeper into the camp. Emmerich was organizing a group of woodcutters when we stumbled across him. “Good morning fellas! A fine morning to share in the bounty, eh?”

“Morning Emmerich.”

He gave me a gap filled smile, “I was just whipping our intrepid foresters into shape. If we want to turn this place into a proper home, we’re going to need more timber than what we carried here.” They looked every bit the team of lumberjacks that he described, with thick bushy beards and biceps that were the size of my head.

“Were you going to clear this forest?”

Emmerich shook his head, “For the time being, we’re going to pick out areas we believe won’t be of much use. The hunters in our caravan have already insisted of preserving some of this forest for the future so that animals can breed.”

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“I don’t like it when they tell us what to chop Emmerich,” one of the men complained. I wasn’t so blind to imagine that these kinds of tensions would go away in hard times, because hard times tended to bring out the worst in people. It was a miracle that they hadn’t already broken down and gone their separate ways. A dearth of leadership would only allow these things to fester, someone had to have the last word – and relying on seniors to command people through respect and social contract wasn’t good enough.

“For the time being, we all have to listen to each other,” he replied, “I trust that they know what they’re doing. I’d rather have meat on the table for the foreseeable future than an easier time hauling logs today.”

“Shame we had to leave all our animals behind,” Jerimiah sighed, “I could go for some steak right about now.”

“Emmerich, Jerimiah, can I have a word?” The two older men followed me away from the huddle. I ensured that we were out of earshot before I pitched my next inquiry, “Who is in charge around here?”

“Nobody,” Jerimiah answered.

“Yep, we left those meddling nobles behind for a reason.”

“I get that,” I responded, “But when hard choices need to be made, someone needs to have the final say. People are going to start arguing over who gets what or how we build this town. I know that a lot of folks in the convoy respect your opinion Emmerich, but would they be willing to take a hit if you told them to?”

Emmerich saw my point, “Ah. Maybe not.”

“This some kinda’ secret plan you’re hatching?” Jerimiah asked.

“No. I mean, has anyone in the convoy talked about appointing a leader, even temporarily.” Both men shook their heads. “If we asked everyone who they wanted to be put in charge, we might have a proper answer.”

“Ask everyone?”

“You ever heard of an election before?” The two men’s bewildered stares spoke a silent answer, “You get a list of names, from people who’re interested in doing the job – and then everyone gets a vote. The person with the most votes wins.”

Jerimiah’s eyes lit up, “Oh! One of those things. The merchant guilds love that kinda’ stuff.”

“Nobody in their right mind is going to vote for me anyway,” I explained, “Nobody here even knows who I am. But a guy like you, Jerimiah or Emmerich, people know you – they trust you. They’ll listen if you tell them to do something with backing from the rest of the camp.”

“I don’t have much interest in being in charge,” Jerimiah admitted, “I just like farming.”

Emmerich didn’t seem much enthused either, “Me neither. I’m getting too old to worry about the big picture.”

I approached the nearby campfire and grabbed an empty wooden bucket, “Somebody must be interested. Alright, I have an idea – let’s get people to put their names forward. Then in a few days people can raise their hands and elect someone to make some choices.”

Unbeknownst to me at the time, an idea had already hatched in the minds of both men who I was speaking with. Emmerich left to start working on cutting logs and planks. Jerimiah agreed to rustle up as many people as possible to put their names onto the list. And so, it was that our fledgling town would hold its first election, and I’d be thrust into the first of many complicated conflicts.

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