Telon

The fabric of his hood was wearing a little thin, he noticed. A bit of its hem was visible at the top of his vision, and he could see the sunlight through the blue fibers. It was not even originally intended for that much warmth, and he didn't need it in such clear sun. It was more of a costume he supposed; a sign of office. Still, it would have to be replaced soon. A primary benefit of the hood was that fewer people could see his face right now. He had traveled a long way down the lake-shore, but until he could get inland, he was less than safe. Who knows what agents could have trailed him here, and what they might do if they found him.

Telon was a rational man, and had no need of conspiracies in his life, but the series of events over the last couple weeks, culminating with a warrant for his arrest issued by his own Principal, would lead anyone to make some startling conclusions. That he could not go back to the Queen City, that much was certain. Some part of his research had ruffled the feathers of shady groups in the metro area, and without knowing more, a return north would be suicide.

The local college had been of some help, but had also introduced a host of new questions. While the dusty tomes he had scoured the previous two days confirmed his suspicion of shadowy controlling factors in the Queen City, they failed to be clear on the nature or reasoning behind these factors. There was something at the heart of the struggle for power, something beyond mere civil control. If there was a conspiracy to run things behind the scenes, then why Telon wondered, had his research become a target? The sources used mystical language and gave no clear answers.

For the past three years he had merely been cataloging features of the local landscape. His goal was to add to the existing knowledge of flora and fauna, details of the landscape in order to get a more cohesive picture of the environments in which people live. He also wanted to highlight any places that seemed special, whether from uniqueness, historical value, or just a sense of the atmosphere of the particular spot. Despite keeping excellent notes, and doing due diligence in the publishing proceedings, numerous issues kept arising that kept him from getting the research published. A manuscript was lost in the mail, a printing machine had failed just that morning, or the paper was not of the right stock, etc. Finally, he decided to self-publish the work as a casual guidebook on the metropolitan library network. It would get less notoriety, but at least the information could be shared. The next day an anonymous tip came just in time. He had only had enough time to gather some necessities and get around the corner from his apartment before the authorities were at his door. Most of his pocket money went to a captain at the beach, and a rather choppy boat ride had brought him, a few days later, to the College of the Silver Shores, where he had hoped to find some answers.

Now he sat here, in the bright midday sun of the market square, gazing out towards the open water of the lake and trying to put an order to his thoughts. Around him the bustle of the village's day went on. Rough-looking men moved freight up from the port and into tunnels in the rock that led to other docks down below by the water. Sages from the college conversed with students on broad grassy lawns on the side of the hill. Townsfolk of all kinds mingled about, either hurrying along one of the steep roads between the port and the hilltop, or browsing the market stalls in the square. The air was calm and pleasant; a gull cried here and there. Telon felt the wind shift slightly. The breeze seemed to gently urge him to put his cares aside. Whatever cabal sought his end, it was not in this place. He breathed deeply and removed his hood. As the fabric dropped, he noticed two figures enter the scene.

A father and daughter were walking across the square toward the metalworkers' stands. The daughter was almost a young woman, and carried a bookbag.. She must have just gotten out of her morning classes. The father was nodding and responding as they walked, evidently hearing something of her day. As they passed in front of where Telon sat, the father laughed, and the daughter pointed to a man talking some distance away with a group of portsmen. Now she had dashed over towards him, calling his name:

“Tormund! Hey Tormund!” she stopped abruptly when the object of her calls turned around. This man was more neatly dressed than the father, and clearly did not work at the craftsmens' stalls. His doublet featured a triangle-shaped badge that caught the light.

“Ayleah,” Tormund smiled, “and a good day to you as well.”

“I had just wondered, are you going to be going to be crossing the point soon?” Her father caught up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please forgive my daughter, this business with the ship has gotten her pretty excited.”

Tormund made a forgiving gesture. “It's fine, it's the same question I've been getting from everyone else in the village. The elders reckon I only need to make the case to the Park people, but I should leave as soon as possible.”

John nodded. “I hope they can resolve this. I would hate to see the matter taken into some metropolis court. I mean, we're all broken up about what happened, but sometimes such is the will of the land.”

“Yeah,” Tormund said, “that's the general sentiment...”

Their talk turned to other things, commerce of the week, the state of feuds, the College's response to it all...and Ayleah's attention wavered. She saw a bit of blue in the corner of her eye and turned to see a man in a blue robe sitting some distance off. His hair was trimmed short, and he was maybe a little younger than her father, but it was the robe that intrigued her. Sometimes the elders would wear robes, especially for special occasions. The only other people she had seen wearing robes were the college professors, and theirs were always clean and decorated with the symbols of their positions. This mans robe was plain, and dirty like he'd been hiking or sailing while wearing it. Despite its less than pristine state, the color shown through with an indomitable strength. A pure, deep blue like still water without a bottom. His eyes were a piercing gray, and she looked away as soon as she caught them.

“Okay Tormund, we'll let you be getting on.” her father's voice brought her back to the conversation, and she gave a nod: “Good luck on your trip Tormund.” The village marshal wished both of them well, and went on his way.

There was something Ayleah had wanted to ask her father, but she couldn't remember what it was now. John continued to lead the way into the market stalls. “Come on Ayleah, help me find something good for dinner. We'll be late for your afternoon classes if I start chatting again.”