'Are you sure about this, Flannigan?' Wyatt asked, glancing around them.

Mayor Flanno and Wyatt, had ventured into the forest around the based of the mountain, while the militia camp slept. Their faces etched with an odd mix of apprehension and determination. The dense canopy overhead cast dappled shadows on their path. Every rustle in the undergrowth, every animal cry in the distance seemed amplified and made them jump. Flanno's forehead was creased with worry and Wyatt's knuckles were white, gripping a large item in a cloth sack as if his life depended on it.

Flanno grimaced. 'That Joe...he knew something was off. We can't take the risk, we have to move the goods. What if he's a Royal Agent? You know the penalty if we're caught with this.'

Wyatt shifted the heavy burden in his grip. 'But you risked so much to get it. If the Almanac is right, we don't have time to source another one. Why should the people rely on the Royal Cultivators? Why can't we defend ourselves like in our grandfather's day. The threat...'

Flanno threw him a sharp look. 'Not here. Speaking their name has power.'

The two men shared an uneasy glance. They were far from the safety of their town, threading an unfamiliar path. But they were on a mission.

After a long trek, Mayor Flanno guided Wyatt to a secluded grove at the base of the mountain. Elderly trees stood as silent sentinels around the perimeter, their branches woven together to form a natural cathedral. At the heart of the grove was a sight that stole Wyatt's breath away - a venerable statue of an elephant, so weathered by time that moss climbed its flanks and crowed its raised trunk with a verdant halo. It was a monument to an age long past, imbued with enigmatic lore and quietly radiant with the gravity of ancient rites.

With a reverential gesture, Mayor Flanno motioned to Wyatt. The latter dutifully brought forth the large item cloaked in the cloth sack. As he unwrapped it, a plant came into view - its leaves were a vibrant emerald, and its stalks had the tiniest buds of fruit present, just days from ripening.

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'Are you sure Flannigan? A wild beast could simply swoop in and take it here?' Wyatt said.

They placed the plant at the base of the worn statue, setting it gently onto a bed of rich soil. With practiced ease, they scattered leaves and twigs over the plant, expertly blending it with the surroundings, concealing it from prying eyes. Their task completed, they exchanged a glance, their faces mirroring the gravity of the moment.

As Flannigan and Wyatt rose to leave, a glint of light from the setting sun caught Flannigan's eye. It was a faint marking on the statue that he hadn't noticed before. Squinting, he edged closer, his fingers tracing the worn lines of the carving. As his eyes adjusted to the twilight, an intricate scene unfolded before him. The carving depicted an elephant, tall and formidable, engaged in combat with a monstrous creature, a giant humanoid with a massive club. The elephant stood on its hind legs, its front legs raised in defiance, a fierce determination etched on its face. The troll, on the other hand, loomed menacingly, a grotesque figure of strength and menace. The scene was depicted with such realism that for a moment, the very air seemed to crackle with the energy of the epic battle.

As Flanno's gaze wandered further, it landed on an even older picture carved into the stone of the statue. It depicted a...goat, maybe? The goat stood sentinel on a rocky outcrop, facing an oncoming...storm, perhaps? A vast black cloud that darkened the sky. The goat's stance was resolute, its gaze unwavering as it stared down the tempest.

Flannigan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced at Wyatt, his expression one of steely resolve. They were indeed on a path that their forefathers had tread, a path fraught with peril but one that held the promise of their town's salvation.

Wyatt lingered. 'I just...I cannot leave it here without a guard. All those extra taxes, the money taken from our people, all so we could get this on the black market.'

Flanno touched a pendant beneath his shirt. His thumb rubbed against the worn copper, tracing out the shape. Too many of their father's gifts had been taken from them, but this was still his.

'Do not worry Wyatt. Remember what our father taught us.' Flanno looked back at his town. 'The Harbour defends its own.'

Wyatt nodded. 'And the mountain provides.'