A plan was discussed and plotted discreetly over the next two days. The village buzzed with excitement for the coming vote. One of the local (and most wealthy) merchants, a man named Din, was the favorite to win election. Not all cared to share a table with him, but there was general agreement that he had the influence and congeniality needed for the role.
On the dawn the poll was to open, business went as usual in the marketplace. Shop keepers opened their doors for the day, and traders trekked in from the woodlands with their goods. There was a quiet energy to the villagers' demeanors and conversation, and no-one noticed the tall hooded man standing casually to the side of the square.
As the bustle of the morning began to get underway, a messenger hurried directly across the square without stopping, and entered the township office with an envelope. The envelope contained the official ballot form that had been approved by a special electoral committee offsite. The form would be immediately copied and distributed to voters as they came in throughout the afternoon. Being a first for the town, the electoral process involved many local volunteers, and so the receiving clerk at the office did not question the identity of the tall messenger who delivered the form.
Two hours after the polls had opened, the buzz about the marketplace had changed from excitement to confusion, and an hour after that there was a downright uproar. Voters marched on the township office searching for answers, some visibly angry. Word had spread in the village center quickly as more people had cast their vote. Most were simply surprised to not see Din's name on the ballot, and wanted to know if anyone had heard a reason why. Those who had vocally supported Din's candidacy though suspected foul play, and assumed the culprits might be those closest to the electoral materials. The office was surrounded, and though the mob had no real cohesiveness, afternoon came with extreme tension.
It was only upon discovery of the original messenger that the mob gained a purpose. A young volunteer named Clade was found leaning against the hidden backside of a large tree near the edge of the village. He was only a bit dazed, but seemed to have suffered a blow to the head. By his account, he had been on his way to the township office that morning with the secure envelope when a tall cloaked person had wrestled him to this place and knocked him out. He hadn't seen what had happened to the envelope in the struggle, but was reassured when the townsfolk had told him the rest.
Sutton, in the intervening hours, had left the village entirely, and so the identity of the cloaked man remained a mystery. Jaen however, was relaxing under a pine overlooking the lake when they found him. He had been trying to take his mind off the proceedings, and not worry about the outcome of the vote. His and Sutton's plans to alter the ballot copy in his favor might not work to elect him, and that was fine. He would gain notoriety in the town from his name being so visible, and then he would run in the next election once he had spent some time with the people and proven himself here. Either way, the plan would-
-would work maybe, but he didn't get to finish that thought. A loud noise from his right turned his attention, and it became immediately clear he would not be spending any more time in this township.
To the office clerk's credit, she had remembered right away the upstart young gentleman who had come in a few days prior requesting to talk with the village council. She remembered he had left somewhat disgruntled, and had heard the council talking about how it seemed he had wanted them to elect him right then and there. Upon hearing this testimony, the louder members of the mob declared the fraud to in fact be the young stranger's fault. Indeed, there was general agreement among those present that no-one had heard of support for the stranger's name on the ballot. The polls were closed by popular demand, and the only thing left was to find this Jaen Bartlett.
That person in question was extremely lucky only one boat lay tied at the dock to which he led his pursuers. He was also lucky it was late enough in the afternoon that the townsfolk were contented enough with seeing him gone and did not seek to pursue him further. The loss of the stolen boat itself was deemed a reasonable price for ridding themselves of a potential nuisance and the owner was assured of reimbursement in any case. As he crossed the lake in haste, Jaen knew he could never set foot within eyesight of any of them again. He spent that night on the dark reedy shoreline, feeling humiliated for his efforts.
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Back on the western shore, Ayleah watched the sunset. There was an easy path down from the old woman's house, through grassy tussocks to a rock on the water's edge. The land came more easily to the lake here than in the village center, and a hamlet of sorts clustered around a small grassy cove. The view across the water was broad enough to catch the evening light and, though she was facing east, Ayleah could see the orange and red glinting on subtle wavelets. On the far side, a campfire stirred, and she wondered at the surrounding population and the people living here. It felt good to be back in a rural town, but this place was again different from her home. The township stretched out and up into deep green forests; fertile rocky land that seemed to go on forever in its nooks and folds. In just the two days she had stayed with the old woman, she had learned a surprising amount about the use of local herbs. A different variety of plants grew here in the hills than she had studied before, and they had a variety of culinary and medicinal uses. Gaile was no lore-master, but knew enough about daily uses to be enlightening. She had extended a kind offer to Ayleah when the latter's efforts in the marketplace had been fruitless.
“I don't know that I recognize the name Battell, but it sounds like it's probably a surname, perhaps one from the mountains. What I can offer a poor traveler like yourself is a safe place to stay a few nights if you need, and I also have some pretty good maps of the region, if you'd like to take a look.”
Ayleah had gratefully accepted, and the maps had proven immensely useful. They gave her detail not shown on the limited ones she had from the Sanctuary about the foothill ranges. It seemed she was on a large island of hills a little distance separate from the main ranges. Niisi and Leb had suggested she accompany them to Bartlett Falls. They were sure someone there would be able to point her the right way, and the Falls lay at the absolute foot of the mountains as well.
Out over the placid lake the red escaped to the sky, turned purple, and fled to the west. The water darkened, and the township slept. They would remake the ballot, and vote again tomorrow.
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