Marketplace

 

The marketplace spread out below them, extending from a large central meadow into the riverside woods beyond. It seemed as though the whole township had been converted to an open-air market, with stalls lining makeshift streets in the open field. Closer to the trees though it grew more orderly and settled, taking on the look of a more permanent village. Eagle Bend had always been a popular location for trade, and the local farms did well for the fact. The older establishments formed grand respectable estates among flat sections of rich woods. Wide grassy lanes crossed and circled the river-bend, leading to hidden meadows and neighborhoods that differed slightly from each other in the natural separation. Niche markets prospered, each in their own open glade, or tucked into the corner of a shared meadow. Along the rough riverside beneath dark hemlocks were merchants of gems and riches from the river vales. In the flat open maple groves were old family farms selling medicinal herbs and sweeteners. In the central open square Ayleah found some of the best fresh produce she had ever seen.

The group from the falls homestead went off on rounds to procure their supplies, giving Niisi and Ayleah a good portion of the day to explore. They both enjoyed the grass roads lined with houses and shops. It was a pleasant village: near to the river but open and mild. The hills to either side gently closed in this small paradise of meadows and mercantile woodland groves. Ayleah felt at ease; she chatted with Niisi about the farms and shops, as well as what she might need to know going forward with her trip up the mountain. They bought a few necessities in this respect, and Ayleah was glad of the advice from both her day companion and the shop owners alike. Niisi seemed to have a wealth of knowledge about the wilderness, though she had professed to not be nearly as hardy as some others around. Her contributions to discussions with the locals were always of comparative nature from her memories of home. Everyone seemed to enjoy the addition of her perspective, making her a good conversationalist. To Ayleah's delight, the two had formed a quiet sort of friendship during her time at the falls estate. Niisi was ultimately reserved, but friendly and thoughtful. She listened to Ayleah's concerns about her home back on the lake-shore, and shared things she had learned from life in the hills. Niisi enjoyed Ayleah's company too as a fresh air after her time among the serious, masculine energy of the falls estate. The rangers and rulers of the dark falls rocks were excellent company, but tiring after a while in their stolidness and mild curiosities.

It was lunchtime, and the two friends ate from a food cart near the riverbank. Tall hemlocks shaded a small park area with benches overlooking the rushing waters. The bank here was steep and rocky, almost overhanging from erosion when the water had been very high. A narrow but well-trodden path swept down from the park to a small beach port in a semi-protected cove. Beyond the cove, the river jumped and snaked through a vast tumble of boulders. White spray lingered over sheer-sided rock islands that showed a multitude of different hues. This was a more normal stretch of river, only just forming the beginning of rapids further downstream. The river coursed around broad Eagle Bend before funneling over ledges toward Bartlett Falls in the gorge below. The wild water contrasted nicely with the placid land of the river bend; woods and meadows peacefully bustling with the day's business. Under the evergreens it was cool and shady, but just beyond in the open meadow square the sun shone warm and bright.

Heading back up the slope, Niisi and Ayleah decided to take a shortcut through one of the smaller streets. Most of the wide grass lanes circled around islands of forest where stately farmsteads poked out of the undergrowth. One path at least though led straight through an island of forest, its grass sparser and mingled with long browned pine needles. Substantially narrower, the street's mossy eaves were a well-shadowed tunnel to the bright meadow above. It seemed less-visited, and had a dank feeling that came from sunlight not often reaching the buildings to either side. As the two approached the entrance to the street, a couple of rough-looking strangers on the roadside regarded them with looks of mild suspicion.

Some of the buildings that lined the lane were also in disrepair, adding to the stranger feel of the place. Overall though it did not feel wholly unsafe to Ayleah. Somehow it wasn't unsettling in a bad way, but rather in that way that makes you feel thrilled to explore further. She and Niisi walked as confidently as before, and they even took an interest in some of the established shops along the way.

It had a curtain for a door, and a long hall the front of which seemed to stand in one of the more well-lit parts of the alley. The curtain was elaborately patterned, with rich purple fibers twisting through rays of every other color imaginable thinly repeated in curling designs. As Ayleah was drawn to the side of the path nearer the door, she could see the true extent of the intricate craftsmanship. It had faded evidently from use as an outdoor tapestry, but it still radiated with a soft beckoning light and seemed of solid quality. Niisi was saying something to her, but she wasn't aware of what it was. The curtain must indicate the hall of some master craftsperson. Ayleah gently pushed through the slit in the middle and went inside.

The air inside the hall was remarkably clear and crisp, though Ayleah could see incense burning in a far corner. The room seemed not large enough to fill what on the outside had seemed an extensive workshop. Its shape too was strange; the walls to either side of the doorway slanted immediately outward to the far one, forming a triangle. Apart from the small table with incense and a mirror on the far wall the room was unadorned. For a moment Ayleah had a thought that perhaps this was not a place intended for the public, or at least not for her, but the thought quickly passed like a small leaf over the edge of a waterfall.

She was heading toward a small door in the far corner by the incense table when something caught her eye. The mirror in the middle of the back wall did not reflect in the usual way. It seemed to always reflect at an angle rather than directly back to the viewer. Now that she was out in the room she could see that two other mirrors exactly like it hung on the other two walls of the room. When she looked at one of them straight on, she saw only an endless passage heading into darkness as two of the mirrors reflected back on each other. What puzzled her was which two were reflecting at any given time. As Ayleah considered this phenomenon, looking from one mirror to the other, she tripped over the edge of a low dais in the middle of the room. Catching herself, a haze swept over her vision. She straightened, one foot on the dais. There was a flutter on the edge of her vision, and she looked up to see Niisi coming through the curtain door with a strangely worried look on her face. Just as Ayleah was about to ask her what was wrong and to tell her about the neat mirror trick, she stepped up with her other foot. The triangle room vanished and was replaced by an endless hallway, stretching into darkness on both sides.

Ayleah at the Falls

Ayleah stayed at Bartlett Falls for a full week, even though she had gotten the answer that drove her there within the first day. The library itself with its troves of local lore could have held her interest for that time. Shelves of stately old ledger-books and archive drawers of maps and documents promised worlds within worlds of knowledge and discovery. Here was collected all the wisdom and tidings that had come down with the water from mountains and valleys to the east and south. Bartlett Falls was a storehouse of history knowledge. It sat in a nexus of land, people and the connections between them, uniting the fertile lowlands with the rocky foothill country. Aided by the Bartlett's resident historical scholar, Ayleah was able to find the origin of her mystery name. Battell was a very old prominent name that appeared in disparate locations, attached to quite a few places in valleys to the south. On the Lincoln mountain though, was a more singular and near occurrence. A hermit village, likely sprawling and with a small central marketplace placed itself as a dot on maps of the skyline. The township of Battell seemed to sit about two-thirds up the mountain slope, at a junction where two climbing roads met. Judging from the map, the way looked well-traveled and it seemed easy enough to get to the plateau. Ayleah was sure that was where Telon had gone, but was more uneasy that no one at the falls had marked his passing through. She had asked if he had been seen of course, but to no avail. There were many visitors that passed through this river dell, but a blue-cloaked scholar would still have been noted.

Furthermore, Leb cautioned her that it would take some preparation if she wanted to ascend the mountain, and recommended she wait a few days for a ranging party to set out. In the meantime she busied herself in the study of the library's maps and books, but also ventured out on the grounds of the historic park. The wild wide river, churning and splashing in sparkling torrents, left its home in the green mountains and coursed down towards broad valley plains. It had here but a short while left to run between such high forested slopes. Past the Bristol city-cluster it slowed as it wound through rolling open land and lowland groves, colossal fields opening in sunlit wonder to either side. The falls were as a doorstep to the mountains; a semi-circular shelf of smooth gray rock. Waters braided around boulder islands were joined by smaller falls to the side. Water streamed in chaotic ecstasy from the forest glens to meet in the general main flow. Suddenly the waters joined in one solid force to thunder over the ledge into a deep hole in the land before spreading again to continue the braided course downhill. Over the pool extended great tongues of the same smooth gray rock, forming a short precipitous gorge downriver. Across the span the land rose sheer in cliffs that supported sparse ferny vegetation. The near side, a rich grove of hemlock and moss, harbored gentler ledges punctuated by a few gigantic boulders. Here and there were signs of the ancient mill-city. Large blocks of man-made stone sat on the cliff-sides, most notably overlooking the central pool, where a large square block served as the estate's back terrace. The manor itself stood on a rock knoll set slightly back from the overlook on which grew a venerable beech tree. It was built like a castle; a palace of the same gray rock on which it stood. Moss and herb gardens surrounded the house, and paths led down both towards the overlook and away into further garden glens. Dense wooded slopes towered steeply over the whole glen, so this small shelf above the falls seemed an isolated pocket of the world. The evergreens and narrowness of the river vale kept daylight soft and brief.

Ayleah found all sorts of cool rock lookouts in the woods by the river. Ledges of rock stuck scarily out over the rushing torrents and beautiful boulders hid themselves in dense leafy places. The river woods were fascinating, but she was always reminded that the rocks and trees were not the real power here. Always in the background was the sound of the water. The falls thundered constantly; a rushing hum in the background of all life near the estate. It was a reminder of the terrifying fall so close at hand (the rocks were often slippery, and it was a long drop to the churning foam of the pool). It was also a reminder of the power and force of the water to shape their lives. They were only there because of its presence; the ancient city-ruins were evidence of that. The water was essential to the importance and functioning of this place in olden times and today, and yet a fear of the river felt healthy. Its current dwarfed any power she, or anyone else, might have at their command. It constantly carved at the rock below, shaping the land ceaselessly in a somewhat predictable, uncaring way. It was much more of a force than the grand placidity of her lake, and she found herself seeking refuge from the rushing of the falls. The groves downstream were quite pleasant, and filled with mossy herbal gardens. The gorge also softened there, beginning to tumble back into the rocky riverbed once more.

Niisi and Leb, though they had their own lives to attend to, were nevertheless good company. They took her to some of the more interesting ruins, like a large rusted metal pipe that led all the way through one of the rock ledges. It could have fit an entire village inside its dark cavern, though the air was poor and the puddles that collected on the dirty metal seemed foul. The whole park was a sort of township dedicated to tourism at the falls. Its gardens did provide enough though to sell as specialty goods, and there was a robust, if sporadic, marketplace scene on the main roadside. Most actual living and trading took place a little ways upstream at the township of Eagle Bend. The homestead at the falls was seen as part museum, part monastery, and part public park.

The river made a wide round sweep just before funneling into its narrower course towards the falls. It encompassed an area of flat, pleasant land where the sharp river vale relaxed and opened slightly to the sky. Eagle Bend seemed much more like a typical rural town, and was the primary trading post for this upper mountain gateway region. Steep roads ran down to here from hill farm country all around, their namesakes hoping to sell to local cities, or to travelers just entering the mountains. The good markets and historic farmsteads with access to the clear river waters make it an attractive destination. Ayleah realized she was happier here than among the gray stone and the noise of the falls, and would join in trips upriver for supplies as a pretense from getting away from the heaviness of the Bartlett estate.

Back at the Falls

His thick-soled boots sounded against the cold stones of the floor as he left the central hall. The Bartlett Falls council had connections to wide-ranging sources, through trade and recreation popularity. As such they were annoyingly well-informed. There had been no point in pretending any aspect of his story, and the disappointment from his father especially had been palpable. So Jaen, concealing his mood as best as he could, had listened to the advice given, and left the chambers as soon as was respectably possible. His mind racing with potential next steps, he went to find his companions.

As seemed to be the case lately, the meeting with his parents (the damned council included) had not gone to plan. Jaen had counted that at very least his failure at Norton Brook wouldn't affect too poorly his status at home. This was not to be the case, and while he could see the fortune he did yet have, his parents' judgment still seemed a punishment. Others on the council had questioned the wisdom of his decisions, but it was his parents that offered this new course of action. It would perhaps benefit him, they said, to spend some time with his uncle on the mountain. Jaen had been to the alpine townships before, but only as a youth. His woodland training had been mostly solitary, and while it had taught him many things about survival, the management of a community was altogether different. It was his parents' regret that they had done less to prepare him for this vision of himself, and their contention that time spent in the mountain townships with his uncle would be of help.

Jaen's uncle Grive was known as one of the most amiable yet hardy and capable premirs of the Skyline. He oversaw a rambling township that encompassed two small summits on the Lincoln mountain. Mostly a rural community, though he traded time and dealings with hermits and city visitors alike. The north side of his locale bordered on a developed side of the mountain, and even featured a raised marketplace with easy landing for air travelers. Grive was known as a busy yet peaceful man; he was never seen to stop moving unless maybe in those times when everyone said he was at the other end of town. He commanded respect through his fierce appearance, but those who knew him felt safest when he was in the room. In short, he was the unconscious model of who Jaen wanted to be, who currently seemed to be engendering the opposite effects on people around. The young Bartlett knew all this, and yet resented the wisdom of the suggestion.

---

Leb had been relaxing on a stone balcony when Sutton returned. His senses relaxing in the safety of the Falls Estate, the tall bodyguard looked weary. Leb welcomed him and indicated a nearby seat.

Sutton gave a soft groan when he sat down. “Well, that was a folly of a trip.”

“Maybe not entirely,” replied Leb, “our young master may have learned something about his limits.”

Sutton grinned grimly. “One can only hope. What do you think the council will have to say to him?”

“I don't know, but I suspect it will lead him away from the falls again. Will you go with him if he takes off on another journey of self-discovery?”

Sutton sighed again. “I feel that in some way it's my calling. This place has been quite good to me, and if I can give back by helping its wayward son... at least I'll feel as if I've done something; given back the energy that this place gave me. My life has been full, but this is an equilibrium for me.”

Leb looked at him thoughtfully. “That's a nice sentiment my friend. I guess I've never much considered the exchange of energy in my life. I give to the world wherever I can, and I know I get back the same. Maybe in a couple more decades I'll have to make more of a review.”

“And what about you Leb? You have been Jaen's friend for longer than I; will you go with him this next time?”

Leb looked at the thick green of the trees above them and shook his head. “I would follow Jaen anywhere he willed, but not right now. I have family here to look after; responsibilities in my own life that cannot be neglected now. I know he'll be alright though. He'll figure out who he is and where he really belongs. I know Jaen has the spirit of his forefathers, even if he doesn't trust that it's there.

Sunset Reflections

 Ayleah winced as she shifted her weight to get more comfortable on the rocky ground. She had only her blind luck to thank that the wound was not too deep. The thief had come face to face with her suddenly around the side of the taxi, and his blade hadn't been very long. Jaen had done a good job on the bandage. It would need changing before they left in the morning, but for now it felt comforting. All three of them had done so well in the crisis. She hoped she wasn't, in the end, a burden for them. Her own survival abilities gave her some confidence, but she was also grateful that her newfound companions seemed so much more experienced in the ways of adventure.

Even Jaen, who had been sullenly reflective most of the day, had broken his quiet immediately upon sensing a threat. He had seen the robbers first, and though Leb did most of the actual fighting, it was his call to action that had saved all four of them. Niisi had protected her once she was hurt, skillfully wounding the attacker so they could get away. Once in the taxi again, they had given her such wonderful care; soothing the shock of what had happened. It all seemed a bad dream now to Ayleah as she sat a short distance away from camp, watching the sunset.

They had stopped at the side of the road for lunch when the two robbers attacked. The spot must have been near an unsavory sort of city, but they had chosen it for the grand view that lay before them. The road topped an open hill, giving a panorama of mountains to the east. The first range ran in a straight dark line from north to south, fronted with steep wooded cliffs and tumbles of massive boulders. The land had been shaped by water in ancient times, in turns liquid and frozen. From one spot a torrent must have once streamed out, cutting a deep gap in the line of mountains and leaving a pool of sediment just beyond. Upon the lip of this ancient terrace they now made camp. The view west looked back over the rolling landscape from which they had come. Ayleah gazed out and thought of the mountains she had seen when they were down there.

Now closer, the mountains seemed more wild. No longer green-blue shapes against the horizon, she could see the different trees that made up the cloaking forests. Here and there rock peeked out of the greenery, hinting that beneath all the life and growth and decay was a more primordial solidity. The gap where lay the small metropolis of Bristol was a narrow gateway into a different world. Ayleah had experienced forests and old wild places, but nothing like the depths of what she sensed beyond that mountain gate. The sun gleamed bright as it passed out from a wispy cloud, bringing her back to the present.

It was a gorgeous sunset tonight, though she supposed the location helped. In front of her, the ground sloped sharply away. They were atop a dusty cliff that marked the end of the sediment terrace. A little ways up slope the trees gave way to a vast open field on the edge of the metropolis. This narrow strip of trees between the metro recreational fields and the cliff edge provided a pleasant grove for resting. The four of them would be spending the night at a public campsite here and leave for Bartlett Falls in the morning. Leb wanted Ayleah to rest, and said they could make good time on the river road and be at the falls by midday. Ayleah liked the campsite well enough. It was dry and sandy, but being in the trees near this steep edge felt a little like being back home. The shape of the land was similar, though there was no lake below the cliff. It did face west though; the sunsets at home had also been very pretty. She sighed and softened her gaze as she took in the colors of the setting sun. it was particularly rich tonight; a deep burnt orange predominated. The sun barely showed over the horizon, and likely had already set. The show was just a play of refraction, though a beautiful one. Small wispy clouds sailed here and there, almost invisible until caught by one of the colors. One became edged in a glowing fire, gilding the tender tuft. For a moment Ayleah was entranced by the depth of the orange glow, the color unimaginably pure in its representation.

As she fell asleep that night, Ayleah thought about the balance of the world; the day had held such frightening contrasts of emotion. That a day in a life could so casually include both the terror of the attack and the gratitude of friendship in equal and immense measure was incredible. The intentions of the robbers did not seem to belong to the same world as the beauty of the sunset's gleam. Her last thought was about that orange-gilded cloud, and how it seemed odd that she couldn't remember leaving that seat by the cliff.

"I remember when...

 

“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.

Mia the Scientist

 

Mia found the tension of the world. It was a necessary component to keeping everything in place, since without any tension a contraption might reach a stasis and slowly fade from relevance. She wanted liveliness in the world, and for it to move in a way harmonious to its own flourishing. As it was, though beautiful, it had no aim beyond a constant business of the inhabitants. Life buzzed away in patterns of its own, not fully embracing the grand picture. Mia saw reality for its whole self, and knew it was underappreciated.

Too much tension would destroy the harmony of course. She had seen the effects of cataclysms on varying scales while studying in the wild. Over a threshold of tension, the forces could no longer hold harmony in place, leading to a sometimes violent dissolution of bonds. The only way for greater tension to maintain in a stable system was if its internal energy was channeled in flowing patterns. A cyclic flow would allow each bond to relax for a moment as the energy concentrated in the opposite bonds. The flow had to keep moving, but certain systems were so efficient at self-regulation that Mia rarely had to check in on them. Soon she knew the technique was ready to be used at a larger scale.

Larger systems in the world already had rudimentary energetic flow patterns, but Mia wanted to see if these could be enhanced. She did not think it proper to meddle directly with the energetic systems of other large consciousnesses, so she directed her efforts at herself.

One of the most important parts of understanding the system was to break it down into separate parts. A whole could always be thought of as a set of parts that one hopes work together in harmony. Once examined, it can be divided into those parts, and the set of parts may even change depending on the type of examination required. The parts and their relationship to each other can be better understood when viewed as parts of a whole that arises out of that relationship. Dynamic energy within the system can be balanced by allowing each part to shine in its purpose, while allowing the opposing parts to retreat and replenish. This flow also allowed the polarity of the parts to widen, leading to increased diversity within the system. Increased internal diversity led to more dynamic relationships between systems, which lead to revisions in internal dynamics. The cycle was self-sustaining as long as the system maintained healthy flow equilibrium and engaged with external relationships. In this way the system could not only manifest itself, but grow its potential. The external relationships, as long as they too remained harmonious, expanded the size of the entire system.

The humans seemed to know a bit about this, for they had created cities and metropolises that dotted the land. Their knowledge was incomplete though, because they did not have harmonious external relationships. They did not seem to, in large part, understand this concept of reciprocal harmonious growth. Instead they battered along, each attempting to shape the world for themselves, and only coming to harmony with each other or the land by chance of fate. The world could be better than this. Mia did not know if her schemes for influence would in the end be good for the world. She knew though that she had a unique perspective. Her body was one with the world, in a way it seemed no other living thing was. In fact, she did not really know if she could be considered living; she was a consciousness, but sustained herself on sunlight and rain, as well as sweet floral breezes. She did not eat or breathe as the animals or plants, and almost envied their limited perception and sensuous toil. Only almost though, because she was free. She only had to obsess over a place to go there, or over a thing to be in the place to see it. Time and space were only relevant in that they had meaning for the world for which she cared. Her plans for that world were surely better than anyone else's.

And so she began within, shaping herself to reflect what the world would become. She examined and shaped the parts of who she was, creating the harmonious cycle. It expanded to the vibrations of her skin; her outer bodily form glowed with newfound power. Once she settled in this new state, the patterns flowed out and around her, touching the dense thicket and tufty mosses that lay around. The world shivered, tantalized by this new energy pattern. As leaves and other small things adjusted, it slowly seeped in to the wider world beyond. Mia strolled through the land, her power growing now with focus.

Sutton

 

Sutton also spent the night in the woods east of the lake, though in more relative comfort than Jaen, being himself constantly prepared for the occasion. In the morning he made his way surreptitiously back into town, hood down this time, and mingled with the villagers. He quickly learned of the election mishap of the previous day, and of the rough expulsion of one Jaen Bartlett from the village. Once he knew that Jaen had escaped the town mostly intact, Sutton returned to the eastern shore to look for signs of his young charge's landing. Sure enough, he found the abandoned rowboat and campfire ring among the reeds, and from there, the trained tracker was easily able to follow Jaen's trail up the slope. When he reached the roadside where Jaen had sat, he examined the marks on the ground and paused, looking east. It could probably be assumed that from here Jaen had found transport back toward home, whether or not that was his destination. Having none himself save his own feet, Sutton knew he would not be able to catch up now. He would make his own way back to the falls, and perhaps would meet with Jaen there. Otherwise, the young Bartlett would have to continue to take care of himself (Leb, he assumed, was well on his own way home now, as he should be), and Sutton truly wished him well on whatever coming-of-age he had in store.

Sutton was of tough stock, born and trained in older, mountainous ways. His lithe form was a mirror to his mind; honed over many years for the skills and purposes that were required. With foundations in a truly wonderful childhood, he had left his home deep in the foothill vales to pursue strength. In his teenage years he joined an academy which was dedicated to the improvement of the self. The curriculum required service to often less-fortunate others in the most extreme mountain lands. For years he toiled and trained, bonding with his team, the mountains, and himself in the process. He learned the skills of survival, hard work, and true compassion, as well as how to defend his life and others' from the dangers of the world. He brought this understanding of life back down from the heights, intending to live a quieter existence now that he was nearing the middle of his life. Nevertheless he still wanted to use his abilities for service, and so he found the community of Bartlett's Falls. It was a stately township, storied and proud. No deep wilderness either; nearby cities and traffic along the river made for a wonderful diversity of bustling people, especially in summer. Sutton knew this was a place where he could have a positive influence on the world. He applied for a position with the town watch, and rose quickly to prominence. Friendships with the Bartletts and other members of the council solidified his place as a fixture of the community. Everybody knew the tall severe man as trustworthy and fair, if sometimes a little coldly so. His relationship to Jaen became that of an informal mentor. Jaen looked up to Sutton, though regularly refused to take his advice in the field. He seemed to view the older man as perhaps a better father figure than the actual father he had, and irrationally resented him a bit for that fact. Sutton, on his part, only wished Jaen would rise to his abilities, as he saw so much potential in the able-bodied lordly youth. Therefore he was always ready to assist Jaen even in his more foolish endeavors, knowing that wisdom can only come through a proliferation of experience.

Well-experienced himself in traveling the countryside, Sutton traveled easily back east. He made his way down a road out of the forest, and emerged in more open land. The hills around Norton Brook are an outlying clump of land, separated from the first range of mountains by sweeping valleys of farm fields and mysterious lowland meadows. Sutton followed a similar track to the others, also making their way back towards the higher hills. The first range of mountains stood as a line unbroken save in one spot. There the land dove down out of sight into the rocky dale of the river, and a terrace in front of the gap held a collection of small cities. Numerous buildings clustered together as a sort of countryside metropolis with multiple large market centers and a thriving cultural community all its own. The falls township lay beyond, a little ways back into the mountain rift, and has always had a good and close relationship with the metropolis. Sutton always enjoyed the view from these western fields east towards the mountain gap. He chose a spot for the night by a tree on an otherwise open hilltop. As the sun set he was comforted by the soft glow of the lights from the metropolis.

In the morning Sutton awoke to the sounds of birds calling and chirping, as well as a rustling sound that didn't seem to belong. Upright in an instant, he caught two ill-looking strangers rifling through his belongings. Judging quickly from their clothing and manner, he guessed that they were city folk from somewhere nearby. Clearly not upstanding citizens in their own home, one of the dirty ruffians saw he was awake and reached for a gun barely concealed in his waistband. However the short sword barely had time to flash in the morning sunlight before both thieves fell to the ground. Two quick strokes from where it had lain at his side, and it was done. A lithe crouch and a quick step was all it had taken. The bird sang its song again, trilling contentedly. Sutton sighed resignedly: breakfast would have to be on the road today. He packed up his bag and left the camp site as it was. Anyone coming across it would only find evidence of two people ever there.