The people of the River Collective were an odd sort. Known as the Riverfolk, they were another large species of rodent, much like the Ratfolk. However, while the Snif or Rhyth were reminiscent of rats, the Riverfolk were descendants of a creature known as a capybara. Where the Ratfolk swiftly diverged after their ascension to sentience, the Riverfolk retained most of their ancestor’s appearance and demeanor, only growing larger, more sociable, smarter, and gaining a false thumb that allowed them to grip things better.
Retaining their avid love of water, the River Collective not composed of distinct towns and cities like most nations or countries, but rather a general sprawl that clung to the myriad waterways. There were still towns, however they were not nearly so central to the existence of the River Collective as they might be for other countries. Most of the towns were where an enclave of a different culture or nation had established themselves. This was common, as many people viewed the River Collective as the ideal neutral ground, with the Riverfolk proving able arbiters in international affairs.
The climate in the River Collective was far enough north that the temperature was milder throughout the year, though they still had four distinct seasons. The preponderance of water and nearby mountains had a balancing effect on their climate, resulting in pleasantly warm summers, mild winters, and a reliably long growing cycle.
The waters that flowed down from the mountains to the south and east brought with them a fresh supply of minerals, ensuring that crops grew easily and with little effort. As a result, both everyone was a farmer, and no one was. It took extremely little effort to help grow crops in the rivers and canals with the local community, and was viewed as a relaxing activity. Specialization of food production wasn’t something the Riverfolk cared much for as they simply did not have the need.
There were still many artisans and specialists within the River Collective, as both the Riverfolk and the residents of the guest enclaves found tasks that required skill and education. Potters, glassblowers, chefs, architects, logisticians, anything that was to be found in another culture was to be found here. More, in fact, owing to the blending of other cultures via the enclaves, allowing for unique fusions of cultural approaches to technique and mastery that existed nowhere else in the world.
Despite the laid-back attitude of the River Collective, several of their neighbors found out hundreds of years ago that they were surprisingly fierce warriors, more than capable of repelling any attacks sent their way. The difference between the Riverfolk and their expansionist opponents was that the Riverfolk did not care for more land. Any time they required more space, whether for living or otherwise, they had taken it as an opportunity to undertake a grand project, the most recent of which being the digging of the many canals which nearly tripled the coastline that the current generation enjoyed. Then, as quickly as the pressure was put on them, they collectively sat down in the sun and proceeded to relax for as long as they were able.
The collective urge to make life as pleasant as possible- and to enjoy those fruits as possible- created a territory that was both dreamlike and disorienting to outsiders. Travelers such as Elody and Hugh, who never been through these lands before, were constantly entraned by the sheer diversity available. Despite the continuous sprawl of the River Colletive, the cultural fusion meant everyone had different approaches to the same things. These fusions were most pronounced closer to enclaves, where things tended to be more tailored to whatever kind of people that lived within.
“Haven’t we passed five different places selling Kettlebread?” Elody remarked as the trio traveled north. They were following a road that ran parallel to a canal that would lead them towards South Wella.
“Don’tcha see how different they are?” Sam laughed. “That ain’t just any old Kettlebread. That’s Saried style kettlebread. Entirely different.”
“What’s so different about it?”
“No spiciness, since Saried’s can’t taste that anyways. Also, its shape is easier for them to grab than a regular roll,” Sam explained. “Now Draconid style kettlebread? I’m usually arright with spice, but they really want you to be breathing fire when you eat those!”
“Seems like there’s a lot of different kinds.”
“Welcome to the River Collective!” Sam announced with a grin. “They say you can find anything here, if you look long enough.”
Hugh perked up upon hearing this.
“Could we look for-”
“It’s just a saying, you dolt,” Sam admonished, “And besides, we don’t have the time to spend on a maybe. If you see anything useful, holler. We already got you that notepad to practice with, we won’t just stop there.”
“Could we please?” Hugh pleaded. “I would like to at least look around a little. It would be nice to stretch my legs for a while.”
“I second that,” Elody added. “We’ve been riding for, what, six hours now? We haven’t gotten a chance to take a break, much less see the sights.”
“We ain’t here for sightseeing.”
Elody took a calming breath before presenting her case again.
“Think of it this way,” Elody said, “Hugh and I need a break. Why not let him roam around for a little while, with the off-chance he finds something useful. Meanwhile, you and I set up and sell some of the goods I’ve been cooking up?”
Elody could have sworn she saw little coins show up in Sam’s eyes the moment she brought the idea up.
“Well why didn’t you say so?” Sam exclaimed, and directed the cart towards an open space.
The waterways of the River Collective tended to have a stretch of green space bordering either side, where grasses, ferns, and kettles grew plentifully. It was a combination public use space as well as recreation and food production, as many of the plants in addition to the kettles were edible. Groups of Riverfolks lay in the grasses, some with a few people of other varieties. One group had two Sarieds, light-coloured hooded snakes that were known for their melodious voices. Another group had a Ratkin of indeterminate origin, and another group still was composed of nothing but Wellans, large and bipedal cat-like folk.
The groups got up and repositioned as the cart went off the road and into the green space. Sam had not only seen many other temporary vendors do the same, but had also done so himself on a number of occasions. The law was lax on the matter, unless you overstayed your welcome. How long that timeframe was was indeterminate, and was decided by how much you frustrated the locals. Knowing that they would only be open for a couple hours, Sam was fearless.
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Hugh was nervous about getting out to explore the local market stalls, but found that the reaction he garnered in Hearth was nowhere to be found here. While a few people looked at him with mild intrigue, having never seen a Frostwalker before, the River Collective was a melting pot of many creatures of all shapes and sizes. A few odd looks was the worst he got before he melded into the crowd.
As Hugh went to explore the market stalls for anything he found useful, Elody and Sam got to work setting up their own stall out of the wagon. The side of the wagon opened up and the shelf flopped down, stopped by chains. Elody moved the panel to the doorway as Sam went through the practiced motions of setting up his display.
The River Collective was a melting pot of many cultures, but the majority of people were still the Riverfolk. About four out of five people were one of the brown, muzzled rodents. Despite being much larger than their ancestor, the capybara, they still preferred to travel on all fours. This meant that, despite their size, they were still rather short, and standing up brought them to about four feet tall on average. Elody brought a stool out to the front of the wagon, so their clientele could see their goods.
“It’s funny that a wagon run by a Timberfolk man is so tall,” Elody remarked.
Sam rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” He retorted, “but this wagon wasn’t made for my kind. It was made for Draconids. It was cheaper, let’s leave it at that.”
Elody chuckled, but said no more.
It didn’t take long before people came up to the stall and began to peruse what they had. Sam took charge of handling the majority of customers, but let Elody take over as soon as they expressed interest in Elody’s products. He watched their reactions carefully as Elody talked about the salves and poultices she had made and what they did. Sam had reasoned that having the person who made the product talk about them would make customers more likely to buy, and wanted to test his hypothesis.
“This one?” Elody said, holding up a blue tin. “This is a salve meant for reducing itchiness. It's one of two that I have. I think you’d prefer this other one, as this is meant for scalps- er, it's meant to get under hairs and stay there for longer comfort.”
“Will it stay if I swim?” The Riverfolk lady asked, head barely above the counter as she stood on her hind legs. Elody didn’t want to say it, but Riverfolk reminded her of prairie dogs when they did that. As she stood, she scratched behind one of her ears.
“No, it washes out with water. I don’t imagine it would last should you go swimming.”
Sam wanted to jump in and assuage the customer and finalize the sale, but he refrained and waited to see how Elody handled it.
“It’s quite effective, though! Are you suffering from itchiness yourself?”
The lady again scratched behind her ear.
“Yes, it crops up from time to time.”
“Here, go ahead and try some!” Elody offered cheerfully as she held out the open tin. “Just take a dab and rub it into your fur.
Behind the counter, Sam could see Elody’s tail swaying side to side with contentedness.
The Riverfolk lady took a dab of the cream and rubbed it in. Moments later, her eyes widened with surprise.
“It’s- It’s gone!”
Elody smiled and offered the customer the tin, only for the lady to purchase three of the tins. Sam gave a small clap as he watched her.
“Not bad, Elody,” he congratulated, “Making her forget all about the downside by stressing the benefit.”
“What? No, I was just trying to make sure she got what she needed-”
“Relax, Elody,” Sam laughed. “You’re alright at this. I’m going to leave sales of your goods to you, since you seem to have a knack for this.”
Elody was slightly taken aback, but didn’t say anything. She recognized he was giving her a little bit of trust, and understood how valuable that really was. Then, she smiled and nodded.
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Over the course of the next two hours, Sam and Elody handled a growing number of customers. Elody noticed that the Riverfolk were always courteous, as opposed to some of the Wellans or the singular Ratkin man that wandered over. The Riverfolk almost universally wore the same expression, one that looked like they were lost, but didn’t really mind.
“They kind of have an old-man look, don’t they?” Sam said to Elody offhandedly. “Kind of like they’ve got jowls?”
“I don’t know, I think they look more like horse rats. Heads like horses, bodies just big enough to hold them up. No tail, though.”
Sam laughed and turned back to another customer to help them.
After three and a half hours, Elody’s supply of goods was nearly dry. Sam had done quite well for himself as well, selling quite a few trinkets he’d picked up from Hearth. He tried to sell small pieces of the fire lichen, but in such a humid environment with easy access to water, no one saw much value in it.
Hugh came back about this time, ears perked up and some kind of food on a stick in either hand.
“Try it,” Hugh urged the two, without preamble.
Sam eagerly took the snack and tore right into it. Elody took a much more cautious bite, slowly chewing the roasted spiced vegetable.
“What, ah,” Elody said, trying to hide her displeasure, “What is this, er, treat?”
“See those?” Hugh excitedly pointed to a patch of tall water plants with large green capsules at the end of the stalks. “Those are the kettles we keep hearing about. They are a treat, and I wanted to share them with you two.”
“Well, this is just…” Elody searched for an appropriate euphemism, and failed. “I’m sorry Hugh, I don’t care for this at all.”
Elody was expecting dissapointment, but instead the large Frostwalker’s hand shot out faster than she’d ever seen as he snatched the roast kettle back and tore it apart. Elody blinked in surprise at the act of voracious destruction. Within moments, all that remained was the stick.
“I was thinking,” Hugh said, as though he hadn’t just erased a helping of food from existence in moments, “Why are we going along the road? Can we not sail down to Wella?”
“I guess you didn’t catch it when I was filling Elody in,” Sam explained, “But there ain’t any boats to catch here. The only boats around here are for one or two people, not whole wagons. And even then, none are for hire. Besides, there’s too many bridges for any boats to come upstream.”
“Why are there so many bridges?” Elody asked. “I thought the Riverfolk swam about?”
“Well sure, but there’s the enclaves. Also they don’t live in the water, just next to it. Sometimes they wanna get across without getting wet.”
“So, we must travel on foot,” Hugh concluded. “That is disappointing.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Sam said, “Once we get to South Wella, we’ll be on a boat for quite some time.”
“Plus,” Elody added, “If we went on a boat, you wouldn’t be able to get more of those horrible veggies on a stick.”
Elody paused, thinking about her remark.
“Are you sure we can’t get on a boat?”