Elody was asleep in the cart, having had to stay up all the previous night. She was still supposed to be watching it, but she didn’t care if Sam was upset. She was with the cargo, as uncomfortable as it was, so it was still technically attended. If that wasn’t enough for Sam, well, she didn’t care. She didn’t think anyone would even bother coming in, regardless.

The door jostled as it was unlocked. Elody did not wake at this, only coming to as Sam opened the door and walked in. She sat upright, expecting a reprimand, but no such thing came.

“Ah, hey there, Elody. Got a minute?” Sam asked, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“Sure?” She replied, unsure.

“Thanks,” Sam said, then hopped up on another of the crates, sitting down. “I’ve got some questions that maybe you can help with?”

Elody nodded for him to continue.

“So, I got this weird note here. Got it from a priestess of Messages. Well, she gave it to me, then I threw it away, then last night I went back to get it back. Now I feel mighty stupid. Anyways. It mentions asking questions and some road I gotta walk. First time I saw it, I didn’t wanna think I was tied up in anything. Wanna focus on my business, you know? Wanna keep getting money, keep moving up.”

Elody made occasional affirmative sounds and nodded to show she was listening along.

“And then something about last night changed your mind?” She asked.

“Yeah, you could say that. Look, I ain’t religious,” Sam said, spotting Elody’s raised eyebrow. “Hey now, I can be lil superstitious without being religious. I know all about the gods meddling in things they want. I get that. It happens, fact of life. I just thought they were done with me, is all.”

“Done with you?”

“I don’t wanna get into that just. Suffice to say, they used to have their hooks in me. Or at least, felt like it. I dunno. But then, you two spring into my life. That’s fine. Mostly normal. I’ve had guests along with me before, even if they haven’t been quite as odd as you two. Brushed it off as happenstance.”

Sam was talking with his head resting on a propped up arm, while he used the other to languidly gesture into the air with his other. It was very unusual of Sam, from Elody’s perspective. It was unlike how he usually talked, normally so directed and purposeful with his body language. Now, it felt to her like he had been restraining himself and now he had been spooked enough by whatever note instigated this to finally show himself. His gestures added gentle emphasis to his words as he spoke.

“Then yesterday happened,” Sam continued. “Its one thing to get a weird guest with me, another to have them explicitly out on some mission, and then its a whole nother country for them to just bumble into what they need for some outlandish quest while in a foreign town, all nice and neat like that. It stinks of the gods, you know?”

“Some would say you’d be wise to not speak ill of them,” Elody pointed out.

“Yeah well, they’re already messing with me, so why not?” Sam asked. “And then there’s you. You were, what, magically exiled from some far-away land, vowing revenge on those who wronged you?”

Here, Elody responded rather quickly, rather than waiting for a beat.

“What, do you think that it’s cliché?” Elody asked.

“Since you ask, yeah, kind of is. Not what I was gonna say though. I was gonna say it's naive,” Sam said.

“Naive?! What gives you the right to throw that at me? How would you know what it's like to be an active member of your community, only to be thrown out at the drop of a hat?”

Elody was standing now, looming over Sam. Her face was a mess, her tail rigid behind her, and she wore an ugly grimace that revealed just how deep a nerve that struck. Sam was unfazed, and responded calmly, as though she were still sitting across from him.

“I would know,” Sam continued, rolling his hand into a point at his own head, “Because that happened to me, too.”

It took several moments for Elody to school her face again, and then sat down.

“Please explain,” She requested.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a breath.

“I really didn’t wanna talk about that, but I suppose it’s inevitable,” he said. “Arright, lemme collect myself before I go on storytime mode.”

He got up to grab a flask of water from the front of the cabin, then returned and did a few small stretches. The space wasn’t large enough for Elody or Hugh to stretch out in, but for the averaged-sized Timberfolk man, it was enough space for him to stretch his arms all the way up.

“Old man, remember?” Sam said in response to a raised eyebrow from Elody.

After he finished his preparations, he sat back down and prepared to tell his story.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It was a beautiful day in Laskavan, the sun shining through the smaragdine canopy above, washing a walkway and storefront in golden-green light. The walkway was a tree branch with a flattened top, with smaller branches that weaved together to form a barrier on either side. These walkways were not natural, or were they entirely artificial. These walkways were one of the many ways the Timberfolk had learned to engineer the giant trees that they called home. It was a lengthy process made rote by the Timberfolk engineers to convince the tree to grow in ways that, while immediately not beneficial, provided it with better conditions via Timberfolk action. In essence, they convinced the tree that it was tricking the Timberfolk as much as they were tricking it.

This was how the Timberfolk lived, by living symbiotically with the enormous trees they dwelled in without resorting to brute force. This ranged from the earliest methods of arboreal engineering, such as the walkways that connected all residences and establishments, to much more recent and complex ones, like convincing the tree to grow fruits at specific locations and causing glowing growths to appear that lit homes and paths alike. It was in this way that the Timberfolk people shaped a city that would care for its residents equitably, while the residents cared for it in turn.

Even as the tree of Laskavan was engineered to take care of everyone’s basic needs, there were still those who grew food, produced goods, and sold them. There were merchants and distributors, artisans and laborers. Laskavan did no more than provide the basics, and people wanted more than just to survive; People invariably want to thrive. Additionally, despite centuries of work, Laskavan still did not provide enough for all who resided in and around it. It was an ongoing, multi-generational project, and needed supplemental resources while it progressed. Perhaps, it would never be able to support everyone, but they would strive as a collective to reach that point.

Samengawin lived in this collective his whole life, up until this point. He had recently turned twenty six years of age, and was the proud owner of a grocery. He owned it entirely, and operated it with the assistance of several hired hands, though he personally managed the vast majority, leaving largely the manual labor to his employees.

He built the store from the branch up when he was sixteen, as soon as he was regarded as an adult. He had always possessed a strong drive to contribute when he was a child, and as he had grown into an adult, that transmuted into the idea that in order to help those around him, he needed wealth. Even as an adolescent, he understood that wealth was not merely money or items of value. He knew that investing in infrastructure and systems were wealth as well, and often the most valuable things of all. After all, what was Laskavan if not such an investment, he thought.

The early years of his store were tough, but good. He learned how to source goods from distributors or make orders from the farmers and orchardists beyond. He was a quick study in how to ingratiate himself to those with more means than himself so that he could borrow from them, all so that he could make his own business better.

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

In those early times, his success was measured not by his immediate returns, but by his shrewd decision-making, knowing what kinds of promises he could make, and which ones were worth it. He cut corners where it affected himself, to further funnel resources into his business, but maintained integrity elsewhere. He had a personal pride that his employees always were paid appropriately, even when that meant he suffered in the short term. He needed not fear starvation nor homelessness, and muddled through.

By the fifth year, when he was twenty-one, his business entered the black. He had paid off his debts, and was able to breathe easy. His grocer, while far from the only one, was a popular shopping location, thanks to its wide selection of goods that were either more available, or available at all.

This was where his business should have reached its own adulthood, where improvements could always continue, but in minor ways. Sam wanted more, however. He had seen how his actions directly benefited the community around him. Many of the things he offered couldn’t be found elsewhere, and wanted more of that. He thought about how much easier it would be to offer his goods if he had better access to his own distribution.

He struck a deal with a struggling distributor. They had been struggling to make connections, and could not pay their staff enough. The staff who could easily make more elsewhere left, and the remainder of the staff were less and less adept at the job, causing a feedback loop. Sam offered to ensure they could always pay their staff. After all, he didn’t want the workers to suffer, and a quality business needed to compensate those who made it function. In return, however, he demanded that this distributor work exclusively for him.

The city of Laskavan did not care for this. The city warned Sam that what he was doing was illegal, and that he was not allowed to own more than a single business. Sam argued that he did not own the distributors, that the original owners remained and that there was clear separation between the two entities. The fact that they worked for him exclusively for him and under his paycheck was irrelevant, he argued, and would only make Laskavan a better place.

The argument continued over the course of a year, by which time Sam’s words seemed to ring true. His already wide selection became wider, and no more expensive than they were. Many seasonal items were available in larger numbers, and for larger windows of time, and the city was suitably impressed. Still, they made clear that this was toeing a line, and he should be careful.

As much as Sam insisted that he heeded their words, he could not stop himself. He thought of loopholes and ways to get around the edict. When a friend of his from childhood asked for his help, he saw an opportunity. He offered his friend the means by which to build a business of his own, much in the same way Sam had acquired means to build his year ago. They made an agreement that his friend would act under him, though not in any legal capacity. In this way, they could both benefit- His friend could acquire an artisanal workshop, and Sam would get priority access to his goods for a reduced rate.

The immediate response was amazing. It took only a year for his friend to get set up, and when Sam was twenty four, his business was booming. Not only did it offer quality groceries, but now it offered a selection of home goods that complemented his existing sales. Laskavan had no laws against this, many businesses selling another groups goods to improve distribution. While the practice was common, Sam’s under-the-table priority access to these goods gave him a slight edge.

That slight edge was all he needed. He began investing his gains into more under-the-table deals, skirting the legal pressure he had been given in order to expand his wealth and ability. While it was all ostensibly in the name of serving his community better, other nearby businesses began to chafe. They saw his rapid expansion and knew something wasn’t right. While any of them would have similarly jumped to do the same, their fear of legal repercussion kept them from doing so. They felt the pressure he was exerting, as many of their customers and business offers slowed down, as his slight edge quickly snowballed into an overwhelming advantage that choked out his competition.

Over the next two years, Sam’s business had ever more goods to offer and more customers as he was able to get more goods at cheaper prices. His subsidiaries- though he would never call them as such- offered goods at cut-rate prices, which allowed his wares to be sold for much, much less than anyone else.

Then, it was all over.

When Sam was twenty-six, he was approached once more by the city. They had received complaints about his business practices, and decided to investigate. Sam argued again that he only owned the one business, and none of his partners were exclusive. The city refuted this fact, citing their findings as they laid out his under-the-table deals they had sniffed out.

While Sam had funded his subsidiaries, he had stretched himself too thin, long having abandoned any idea of directly overseeing their operations. He thought he had been providing enough to them to ensure workers were compensated, that his dealings, while sketchy, were fair. The reality was sobering: his subsidiaries were little better than sweatshops, with bad working conditions and insufficient compensation. They showed him that his miraculous prices and availability directly rested upon worker abuse. This, they said, was a crime.

Sam was heartbroken. When he made these deals, he had trusted these people. He had done so intending to make his community better, and to help provide for the city of Laskavan. The reality was that over the prior five years, he had let his success go to his head, and greed grasp his heart. He was only striving for a feeling of more and more, and it was becoming evident.

Laskavan understood his motive and why he had been driven to do these things. On its own, it was a beautiful desire, but one that was easily corrupted. He had been warned, and so he would be stripped of his business. However, that did not have to be the end for the shrewd businessman Samengawin- he was offered a position within the city of Laskavan’s government, to become a part of the public distribution. The city saw his skill in negotiating and balancing resource acquisition, and thought it would be a shame to discard that, if only he would continue in a capacity that was more regimented and controlled by the law of the city.

Sam of five years prior would have taken the deal, would have seen that such an offer was only a step towards his ultimate goal of helping people. But as greed interposed into his heart, promising the only way to help was to become wealthier, he balked. He cursed the city, claiming that it was tyrannical to prevent people from helping others through personal advancement.

The city was more than just one person, and was an entity that had existed now for hundreds of years. They had seen people like Sam before, and when allowed to continue in the past, they undermined the same communities they claimed to serve. The city did not purport to have perfect law, citing that as the reason he was only given a warning in the first place at all.

Their rules were just as the tree they lived upon, rules to coax out the best for everyone. The tree may feel that growing branches in odd directions to be counterproductive, yet the city encouraged Laskavan and gave it means to grow. When it began to rebel, they had to take drastic action. Sam was rebelling, and it was time for drastic action.

On that sun-dappled walkway that led to his storefront, a Samengawin of twenty-six years was given notice that he was to vacate premises and surrender everything to the city. He was barred from ever owning property within the city again. He was asked to leave; he was no longer welcome here.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“Of course, I couldn’t just let them punish me for my success. I pocketed some extra coin, bought a wagon on the way out, and charted a course for another city. If I couldn’t do business at home, I’d do business abroad. I don’t think I’ll be allowed back, not that I wanna go anyways!” Sam concluded with a huff.

Elody waited to make sure he was done with his story, then let out a long breath.

“Well,” she breathed, “That explains… a lot.”

“I don’t like talking about it. Reminds me of my past failures. I wanna focus on the future, not the past,” Sam said.

Elody looked at Sam with worried eyes. She had a lot of thoughts about what he had just told her, but held her tongue. She knew there was no point telling him that now, he was only now beginning to open up to her, and immediately sharing her own views would only close that off. She was stuck with him for a while, and wanted to engender trust with him. If she kept that up, perhaps in the future she could share her thoughts, and he might just take them to heart.

“The hell is that look for?” Sam asked derisively.

“Sorry, it's just that your story has a lot of parallels to mine,” She lied, “We were both business owners, we were both trying to help our communities, and then the forces that be cast us out for it. I can sympathize.”

“I don’t want yer damn pity!” Sam spat without hesitation.

Elody realized that she would have to play it extra safe if she wanted to make any headway with Sam. A little emotional effort now would make the long trip back to Ade much, much more bearable. Plus, she had already promised Hugh she would help him, so she couldn’t just jump ship, not unless she absolutely had to.

“Not pity, Sam. Just sympathy.”

Elody sighed.

“It feels like it's been a year since I got exiled, you know. Even though it happened less than two months ago. It also feels like yesterday. It’s both at the same time,” Elody said.

Sam calmed down at this. Holding in these feelings had caused them to fester, and now that he was opening up, his attitude stank. He saw she was trying to clear the air, and accepted the gesture.

“Yeah, I get that. I mean, it has been years for me, but at the beginning, yeah, felt like that. Everything was new, and it was so much to take in. But also, it still feels so fresh to me, like it just happened,” Sam said.

Sam huffed, then his chest started heaving as he leaned back and looked upwards to disguise the tears streaming down his face. He hated crying, and he hated crying in front of people even more. It made him feel out of control, but he couldn’t help it this time. He had been holding so much in for the past several years.

Elody had to stifle a chuckle, seeing Sam in such a state. Seeing the normally uptight man bawl like a baby in front of her was fairly amusing, though she knew well not to share that. She also knew the pain, and knew not to keep it inside, having cried many times about it already. She had her path, she just had to stay on it.

Sam’s tears came to an end, and he wiped away the excess.

“Don’t you tell a peep of this to Hugh,” he ordered.

“The crying or the story?” Elody asked?

“Either.”

Elody tapped her chin in thought.

“About the crying, my lips are sealed. The story, well,” She said, “You may want to tell him that yourself. Not right away, but soon. If you want to work with him, he deserves your honesty. He’s a good kid, he won’t be mean about it. Hell, it’ll likely endear you to him somewhat, just knowing you’re not such a hardass.”

Sam laughed, clearing some tension.

“Arright, Elody. I think I’ll do that. Now, it's high time I got some work outta you today, I have some crates that need moving.”

Elody got up without complaint and grabbed the indicated crate. Before she did, Sam got her attention once more.

“Oh, and Elody? Thank you.”