To Kelton’s great surprise, he found that he enjoyed the company of the rough-and tumble band of wandering laborers, and between the easy conversation and the alcohol, Kelton quickly settled in as a contented member of their team. Each of the men took some time in the evening to tell pieces of their own stories, although as the evening went on it got harder and harder to finish any sort of tale; the friends interrupted, cracked jokes, and “corrected” whoever was speaking on important details of his own history. Clearly, these fellows had known each other a long time, and had heard these stories more than once or twice. Kelton noticed that one of the men, who had been working on the other end of the project as Kelton all day, was particularly interesting; his name was Jeremy.

Jeremy was a gregarious man that all the men seemed to naturally rally around. They enjoyed his company, and his wit, and he had a way of speaking that was almost bardic, one couldn’t help but listen. Kelton decided that he would do well to keep an eye on Jeremy; a man like that would be good to know. He reminded himself that there was plenty of time for planning later, and Kelton was worn out. It had been too long since he slept in a decent bed, and his body ached at the very thought of it. Too late for his comfort, but still considered early by the boisterous crew, Kelton made his way upstairs and found his room.

It would have been difficult for Kelton to imagine, just a few short months ago, that simply sleeping in a real bed would be the highlight of his week - and was second only to “freedom” as the highlight of the month. As it was, though, Kelton was more than satisfied with the room that Franz had helped him arrange. It might not have been anything special, or on par with the bed he had used in Khartok, but there was nothing wrong with either the bed or room. The inn was clearly filled to capacity, but Millie the innkeeper was pleasant and good-natured, and Kelton soon found himself feeling at home.

As the weeks continued, he settled into his new life. Wall-building was slow work, and it never really got any easier even as Kelton improved his skills. Nevertheless, he was making reasonable money, owed nothing to anyone, and was his own man; for the first time since he was a small schoolboy - maybe even since his father disappeared - he had friends that weren’t simply pawns or tools. Among them was Jeremy, whom Kelton had come to be just as charmed by as everyone else. Although Kelton didn’t have any immediate plans yet for how to leverage the information he would find, instinctively Kelton had assessed the man to determine his weaknesses and strengths.

In Kelton’s appraisal, he found Jeremy to be driven, but reasonably unintelligent. He would be easily controllable with money - although he had the respect of his friends and peers, Jeremy’s story was that of a poor kid that wanted a better life. He dreamed of being the guy who goes back home some day having “made it.” In some ways, although he struggled to put a finger on exactly how, Kelton found himself reminded of Richard when he spent time with Jeremy. Unlike Keltons’s brother (or rather, Vance's - Kelton decided that for all practical purposes, he was an only child), Jeremy wasn’t dangerous; Kelton was certain of that. His charisma could be a weapon if wielded as such, but it was clear that Jeremy was not enough of a schemer to use it for much more than a round of drinks or to talk a pretty girl into spending some quality time with him. In any event, Kelton had begun to plan again, and he was certain that Jeremy would play a role.

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One evening while having their after-dinner beers, talk turned to how glad everyone was that this job was so big. After all, it was nice to get good stable work, and with the funding that had gone into it, they didn’t have to worry about being cheated at the end of the job. Kelton used the opportunity to ask exactly why they were building such a long wall, and who was paying for it? After all, such a small city hardly needed to protect itself from invading marauders, and the wall wouldn’t be tall enough to do that anyway. What was the purpose of the thing?

The answer came quickly, as the drunken men scrambled to talk over each other tell the tale. It was a tragic one, and each was more sure than the next that their retelling was the best. The short version of the story was that their patron was a rich trader who lived in the city, and had raised his family there, although he was often on the road. He was considered a hero to the local populace, because he had brought in a lot of wealth to the town, and generally improved the standard of living for most by investing in things that he thought a “decent” community should have, after having grown up there in abject poverty. The man had lost a brother as a child to an illness, and his mother and father had died in a fire. Once he had started to acquire some wealth, he dug new wells, created clean water sources, and enabled a fire brigade. The town, as small as it was, had begun to have a social infrastructure that resembled a much larger city as the man tried to buy away his nightmares.

However, there were a million ways for the world to beat a man, and money can’t stop death. Being at the edge of the forest, it was not uncommon for wild animals to make appearances in the town, looking for a bite to eat. Unfortunately, this included wolves - and his youngest child, a girl of just three, had been attacked and killed. The heartbroken man swore that he wouldn’t let the city be defenseless again, and his new pet project was this wall. Was he really a hero? The men hotly debated it. Yes, he had done great things for the city and its people, and had doubtless prevented more deaths, but at the same time, he was only fixing the things he cared about - it was a selfish kind of heroism that simply attempted to ensure that his tragic past wouldn’t be anyone else’s future.

The statement may not have been made exactly like that, but in a flash, Kelton had an insight, and saw the world in a new light. This might be it, his path to the power and security he had been searching for since he was a child. Hoping desperately that it wasn’t just the alcohol putting ideas in his head, he made his excuses to leave the table and headed upstairs so that he could try to figure everything out.