Few people dislike cold weather more than me. Maybe that’s a hyperbolic statement given there are millions of people in the world. Wait, were there still even that many people in this version of the Earth. I actually didn’t know, and the System hadn’t told me. I doubted Proctor would know either.

Anyway, I’m digressing, the point is I hate a cold climate. Now, you might say, ‘it’s January, wait for Spring’. Fair point, but as the System had already hinted, it was going to be cold in Moonlight unless or until the ball team succeeded. I wasn’t optimistic things would improve all that drastically after the seasons changed.

And, there’s the dang wind. The stupid, constant breeze. It was rarely still in the village. Cold wind constantly blowing. Yuck.

All another way of saying, I wasn’t feeling Moonlight’s ‘magic’. Yes, I understood Trevor the giant’s meaning was more literal, but still.

“It could work,” Proctor said. “That’s not a bad name.”

“The Moonlight Magic,” I said. “I don’t know.”

“I love it,” Trevor said.

“As do I,” Dillard said. “You fools happened upon a name of decency.”

“You have magic,” Trevor said. “People here will love it.”

“So, you’re saying they will come to the park and watch ball games based on the name?” I said.

“It would be part of it,” Proctor said.

I had my hands on my hips, and I think the others could see by my expression I remained unconvinced.

“I don’t know, it sounds like a bad lounge act from the 1970s,” I said. “Moonlight Magic. It’s like an AM radio hit, or an Elton John album or something.”

“I think you’re being a tad harsh,” Proctor said. “Trevor’s right, the villagers will get behind it.”

“You’re on board with calling the team the Moonlight Magic?” I said.

Proctor gave a solid nod, with his chin stuck out, a true look of confidence. “I am,” he said.

His assuredness swayed me a great deal, I can’t lie. I was rarely one to unequivocally believe in my rightness to the point I’d block out the opinion of others, especially those I respected.

“The Moonlight Magic,” I said, repeating the name again, only this time with more hope in my voice. I started to come around on it. “What do you think about the park?” I said to Proctor.

“How do you mean?”

“The name,” I said. “Don’t you think we should name the ball park too while we’re naming things?”

“I think we should probably make good progress on building a park first, no?” Proctor said. “The name for that will come of its own accord. No need to force it right now.”

“Magic Park,” Trevor said.

He caused me to laugh. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Magic will work for the team name, but I’m thinking we’ll land somewhere different for the park’s name.”

“I ain’t sure about what the park is,” Dillard said. “Ball… park?”

“Where we play baseball,” I said.

“Park?” Dillard said, his face contorted. The concept was lost on him.

“A place,” I said. “A recreational spot.”

Immediately, I realized that wasn’t going to clarify it for him.

“Wait,” I said. “Think about enjoying a walk, a stroll. Ambling from one location to another.”

Dillard nodded slowly. I believed he understood.

“You’re looking around as you take steps along your way,” I said. “You’re pleased to see the trees, the birds-”

“Not pesters,” Dillard said. “They don’t please me.”

“Okay, no pesters,” I said. “But, my point is, you’re strolling in a peaceful place. It’s tranquil, and you’re happy. You’re observing these beautiful things around you, and it’s good for your heart, and it calms your mind. There’s a pond, there are animals drinking at the pond. It’s calm, and the temperature is pleasant.”

“Park?”

“This is your experience in a park,” I said. “A potential park. It’s a slice of pleasantness, conserved for your enjoyment. A tract of land made nice, or it’s already nice, and it’s designated for people like you to experience, and enjoy.”

“And this is for base… ball?” Dillard said.

“That’s what we call the place where baseball is played,” I said. “It’s a park. A ball park. It’s probably because baseball is fun. It’s an enjoyable game. It’s pleasant. It tickles the mind, and it stirs the heart.”

“Ah,” Dillard said. “I like the sound of this game.”

Trevor and Dillard went back to scraping and flattening land where the site of the proposed park sat on Moonlight’s west end. Proctor and I walked north toward the tree line, out where we’d found The Tomb before where Slate and Math had been prior to their reclamation by the System. We’d walked about a hundred yards from the others when Proctor and I could see Barkley, and one of his bodyguards approach on horseback.

They rode up gently, and Barkley greeted us with a smile, and he climbed down gingerly from his saddle.

“Your men are working hard,” Barkley said. “I’m impressed with the level of industry you’ve imparted upon the village.”

I was impressed with Barkley’s level of erudition compared to a lot of the people in the area. My guess was he’d grown up affluent, and had the best the era offered in either private academies or tutors. Perhaps he’d been one of the only people around with access to books. Speaking of which, I hadn’t seen a lot of those around. I remembered seeing a few in the main foyer of the Moonlight Inn & Ale. Obviously, those would’ve been lost in the devastating bug attack.

“Pleasure to find you out here,” Barkley said.

“What can I do for you?” I said.

“Might I speak with you on an important matter?” Barkley said. His eyes edged toward Proctor as if unsure about his presence.

“Proctor’s my right hand,” I said. “He can be party to whatever it is you have to say. So long as you’re fine with it.”

He folded his hands, and smiled warmly. Well, I took it as warmth, it could’ve easily been something else.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Of course,” Barkley said. “I’m an open book.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, and his body language beckoned us to join him in a bit of a stroll away from his bodyguard, and the horses. We stepped with him, heads bowed against the chilly breeze.

“Sponsorship,” Barkley said. He seemed confident in the idea, I’d know exactly the entire context just by his utterance of the word.

“Sponsorship,” I repeated.

“I’m a man of means,” Barkley said. “I believe you’re aware of this.”

“I am,” I said.

“I wish to contribute to the fortunes of your mercantile adventurism,” Barkley said. “You are beginning a business.”

“It’s a baseball franchise,” I said. “Yes. A business.”

“You seek a fortune,” Barkley said. “I wish to be of service.”

“Sponsorship,” I said.

“Exactly,” Barkley said. “I provide much needed funds to your endeavors. You will need a fair load of capital, yes? I bring currency to the table.”

“Of course you’re going to seek something in return,” Proctor said. He was devoid of tone.

Still, I could see Proctor’s interjection irked Barkley slightly.

“No sponsorship is without its reasons,” Barkley said. “‘Tis true, I would seek-”

“What?” I said. “What is it you’re looking for?”

“A name,” Barkley said. “I understand you’re marking out space for where you plan to build your store, of sorts.”

“It’s true,” I said. “We’re soon going to build our park. The place the baseball club will play many of its games.”

Barkley stopped strolling, and he smiled. “I won’t pretend to understand much of what you’d just described. However, you will place a name on such a facility, yes?”

“Ah, I see,” I said. “You’re asking for naming rights. On, what? The park itself? Perhaps one of the adjoining facilities?”

“I would leave that to you,” Barkley said. “Something for you, as you saw fit. Perhaps contingent on my level of sponsorship, no?”

It was an attractive idea. I liked the idea of bringing in more gold in exchange for naming rights. To me, it was easy money.

We walked him back toward his man, and the patiently waiting horses. He mounted his horse, and threw us another well practiced smile.

“Your business,” he said. “It has a name, yes? You’ve arrived at a moniker?”

“The Magic,” I said. “The Moonlight Magic.”

His game show host smile broadened.

“How… enchanting,” he said. “I look forward what other names you might conjure. I hope I’ve given you a few things to ponder.”

The rich merchant left us to ruminate on it, and he rode off, back east with his bodyguard.

“I don’t trust him,” Proctor said. “Though I’ll admit, his offer was a fairly standard practice back in the modern world. It might worth considering.”

“I’m already considering it,” I said. “I don’t really see a downside, though I understand why you don’t trust the man. He’s a bit slimy.”

“A bit,” Proctor said. “Would you allow him to name the ball park itself? It’s quite a prominent name, nearly as powerful a community icon as is the team name itself.”

“I realize,” I said. “I don’t know if I’d be keen to play most of our team’s games in Barkley Park.”

Had to admit, that name kind of rolled off the tongue nicely.

“There’s other facilities we’re going to have to build,” I said. “Maybe he could buy the naming rights to one of those.”

“Agreed,” Proctor said.

“One thing I’d love to conquer is this stupid climate,” I said.

“Yes, it is cold,” Proctor said.

The psycho somatic power of his words caused us to shiver.

“It’s also January,” I said. “But, I’m under the impression the climate here is such that it’s always going to be unseasonably chilly compared to similar climates back on ‘regular’ Earth. Like, I’m not convinced when Spring hits here, it’s going to warm up a whole lot compared to where we are now.”

“Unfortunately, I believe you’re correct,” Proctor said. “The System will withhold pleasing temperatures as a motivator for you to create a winning team. A more winning team would be seen as more entertaining for our alien captors.”

“In other words, ‘you want it warmer, you gotta win’,” I said.

“Precisely.”

“Makes it clear then, doesn’t it?” I said.

Trevor and Dillard, believing I was going to come and strike lightning upon them at any moment, were eager to continue working away. Proctor and I left them to it, and we walked out of the area completely, and went east. We went all the way east where the perimeter wall, and trench were under construction. Proctor and I stood near the perimeter line, and looked down at the two dozen mud covered locals, busy, talking, laughing, but all the while digging into tough, frigid earth.

“Slow going,” I observed.

The large group, even concentrating its power on a twenty foot long area, hadn’t made it past five feet down. I envisioned using the soda to compound their efforts, which made me feel better by the slow pace of their progress.

“How will we fill this water?” I said.

“Rain will help on that end,” Proctor said.

Gak the barbarian saw us standing on the rise observing the work. He broke from the group, and came over to greet us.

“We’re making our way, ya?” Gak said. “We will deepen it.”

“We were just wondering about filling it with water,” I said to Gak.

He tilted his head, and his face read as skeptical. A friend of Gak’s approached. Gak introduced him as Torag. His cheeks were entirely coated with mud. He was tall, and broad, though not as large as Gak.

I checked his stats:

[Tools:

Hitting 45

Power 45

Fielding 30

Running 35

Throwing 40

OFP = 39]

Not world beating numbers, but better by comparison than a lot of others I’d seen. Another mental note to self.

“What is it you discuss?” Torag asked. He wasn’t shy, that was for certain. He even came across as a bit overly familiar, a trait I’ve never enjoyed in another person.

“Our trench,” Gak said. Then he pointed at me. “He wishes it to be a moat.”

Torag immediately looked at me like I’d asked him to drink arsenic.

“You must not,” Torag said. “‘Tis a trench. It must remain a trench.”

I admit he got my ego up a little bit. Who was this guy? And, I was in charge here, no? Maybe I shouldn’t have felt that way, I mean it wasn’t exactly my village. I was living here now, and it would be my home for as long as… well, as far as the System was concerned it could be forever. But, if the team was going to take precedence over pretty much everything else, meaning it’s rises and falls would wind up doing the same for the village itself, and since I was the one in charge of the team, didn’t that mean I was de facto in charge of the village too?

I didn’t articulate any of this to the two large men before me. Another time, perhaps.

Still, I liked the idea of a moat rather than a simple trench for security purposes. I was surprised these two didn’t immediately agree.

“No, no,” Torag said, condescending in tone, “no moat.”

“It’ll fill with rain anyway,” I said. “Right? So, isn’t it a moot point? It starts out a trench, and it turns into a moat eventually anyway.”

“No moat!” Torag said. He shouted. He actually shouted at me. The idiot. He then marched off to rejoin those digging.

I scowled at the man, and he scowled back at me as he trudged away.

“What’s his problem?” I said.

“Why such anger?” Proctor said.

Gak held out his hands. Imagine a barbarian playing referee. “Forgive him,” Gak said. “You don’t understand his history.”

“He was beaten by a moat as a child?” I said sarcastically.

“‘Tis the water,” Gak said.

“Right, well, speaking of which, you think rain will fill it in good time?” I said.

“You wouldn’t have to wait for rain,” Gak said. “‘Tis a spring out there.” He pointed behind us to the northern forested edge of the village’s limits on that side. “A natural spring. You could bring that water here.”

An idea sparked within me.

“What if we lined the bottom with concrete?” I said. I gasped at the thought, imagining something like a swimming pool or a lazy river ride in a water park. Silly, in retrospect. Moonlight wasn’t Disneyland.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Proctor said. “We’re not even sure how many of those water chestnut sodas are in that machine.”

“A moat is concerning, friend,” Gak said.

“Just on the word of your angry pal, Torag?” I said.

“You do not understand,” Gak said. “It’s the water.”

“You’re right,” I said. I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“‘Tis a lot of water,” Gak said. “All in one place.”

My arms folded across my chest, I became more frustrated the more we talked about it. It’s like Gak expected I knew exactly what he was alluding to.

“Can either of you help me out here?” I said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The water,” Gak said. “We try not to have so much water… in one place. It is something we do not do. Nor do we speak of it. Not often.”

“Because?”

“Because, my friend, you do not know of the Fifth Dragon?” Gak said. “Surely, you have been told of the Dragon of Stone, called Arakawa?”