“I remember when the clifftop road went all the way out, right through and all the way past the Dennison farm.” Marly and Iben had gone to their rooms, and on the table the mostly-empty bottle of wine was the second of the night. A candle nearby was just beginning to outshine the sunset's fading light. The old-timer straightened a bit as he saw he had the other's attention.
“Course, that was back before the scholars came in-now, I won't deny that their, influence has been for the better. The town's thriving now like it never was in those days, and it's safer too around here.
But back then it was all one big township. The road connected all of us living on this side of the cliff. Sure, parts of it never got a great amount of use, seeing as business primarily went out to the water and back, even in those days. It was a kind of principle of the thing though, like a life-cord that bridged our community. Now there are five townships spread out over this land where there were only three before. The land is the same, it is us that have changed, and so the land has also changed.
“Back then we had a king. I will never fully know if we were better off for that or not. However a part of me is, nostalgic for that time. They were not from here either; our history is one of settlement and usur-pation.”
He paused, and gave a brief chuckle. “Even I and my family are not from here” he looked over at Davy, who was only half-listening. “We came down from the eastern hills when my grandfather was a small child. We've had this homestead just long enough now to be considered among the locals, I suppose.”
“Where were they from- the royal family?” the guest asked, casually sipping at his cup.
The old-timer shifted and looked askance to remember the fact. “I believe it was -originally- a branch of the old Malletts Crown lineage. They traveled inland and found the water here. It reminded them a bit of home, and perhaps a bit of one of their stories. Those are usually the reasons why people remain in new places. They settled on the western shores here, on the peninsula as well as on the Marshrock island to the north. I hear some villages on the island still follow the ways of the kingdom, but it is long since I went sailing out there.
“In this township they built their seat, as you probably saw on your way here. The throne palace is magnificent, even with the forest grown up around as it is now. On the small rocky hill where the lowlands meet the water they built a village. At first it was walled, you can still see evidence of that wall today. The woodlands around back then were frequented by bands of raiders and wild people with no culture for themselves. They persisted on stealing what they could from travelers and local villages. When the new village was established with its imported technology and modest wealth, it became a prime target for the raiders. It took years before people like my great-grandfather were able to make a living outside of that early small walled village.
“Even so, we on the clifftop have always been the secondary township. The peninsula already had a small settlement in the raiders' time, which just got subsumed by the new culture. That town still feels a bit that way. The raiders camps along the water have always been slightly dingier and more dangerous than the woodland; yet they are the primary draw of local commerce. The ports are essential and still provide us with a wealth of goods and opportunities.
“Back then the road ran all the way through though, and you didn't need to even crest the hill between here and the water if you wanted to travel to town. I remember when King St. was the main road up there. Now it's closed to most traffic; only tourists and the people who work for them really go through. The Swamp Harbor still has its character, tourists don't go down there except on accident. For how long though? The world is changing, even if no one else sees it. I like our new village center; I like that it has a quiet, friendly feel. But I also liked when I could go all the way up along the clifftop, through the Dennison farm and that weird gulf there. The road would gain the high ground again and the King St. sign would greet you as you entered the village. Since I made no turns to get there, I always felt like I lived on King St. too.”
The guest sitting at the table smiled and was about to speak when a cold breeze blew across the porch and fluttered the candle flame. The four of them grew suddenly silent and looked between the twilight and each other.
“The world is changing indeed.” the old-timer said, almost to himself. His look of concern and his son's as well were nothing compared to the inner thoughts of the guest, and he tried to hide them. Fortunately, an owl hooted somewhere nearby, with a mellowness that perfectly broke the tension. The night was normal and peaceful again.
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