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As the party wound down, a pair of newcomers, Fletcher and Lloyd Sternway, walked to Hawkhurst Rock overlooking the river’s mouth. They gestured toward the water, engrossed in a discussion.
Curiosity got the best of me, so I abandoned the party to join them. Announcing my presence, I inserted myself. “Hey guys, do you like our river?”
Fletcher pointed to his father. “Oh, hi, Apache. Dad says he doesn’t think flatboats could carry wagons across.”
“I said no such thing, son of mine. Unless you’re up to your gunwales in salted sailors, you’d need half your citizens to crew a flatboat—and dwarves aren’t known for seamanship. They can pull an oar, but they’re better off tunneling underneath than catching the wind. What ye need here is a simpler craft—a barge will do.”
“Do you guys know how to build a barge?”
Lloyd Sternway, the retired mariner, seemed taken aback by the question. “Build one? There’s no trick to that, but operating such a vessel depends on your water.”
“Hawkhurst has steady breezes, although I don’t know if they’re blowing the right way.”
“It’s not just air, but water currents a sailor negotiates. I spy something about your river. She’s not a river, not quite. She’s an estuary and fair for smooth sailing. I’ve seen harbors fouler than this.” Lloyd pointed to the lake. “Y’see the surface, now? Those yonder ripples show the currents speeding up a mite—it’s shallowing—likely from an upstream silt deposit. But your river doesn’t swirl so. If ye read her, she promises to be less troublesome than lake-crossings. Deep, muddy, calm—with nary a fish to be caught, but dead waters offer balmy fairways.”
“Does that mean it’s good for barges and ferries?”
“Aye, sir. It does.”
I didn’t understand or recognize how Lloyd read the water, but it sounded like he knew his stuff. All I could see on the surface amounted to dark reflections of the opposite shore mirrored against the blue-gray sky.
Lloyd’s son, Fletcher, listened while Iris spoke to Oscar and Glenn about the security logistics of establishing escorts to the East. Iris disengaged whenever someone joked, bickered, or redirected the conversation. Some might have found her inability to mince words aloof or off-putting, but it made me want to sober up and focus on the hurdles ahead. My desire to engage with her probably came from her leadership experience in the military.
Returning to camp with the news of navigable water crossings buoyed my spirits. Lloyd’s assessment of the Orga River meant another endorsement for the trade route. Charitybelle’s crazy plan seemed more than feasible—we could actually pull this off.
As enjoyable as I found the celebration, the following morning greeted me with the long-awaited update on our workforce efficiency.
Building Status
Barn
Remaining Build Time
Efficiency
Workers
1.0 days
161 percent
22
I couldn’t believe the 161 percent efficiency. By focusing on the factors contributing to our camp’s efficiency, I counted increases across the board.
If my user interface hadn’t frozen time, I would have hollered in triumph. Seeing such high morale, it felt like Hawkhurst had turned a corner. It felt like winning, and knowing that Charitybelle felt the same way made the taste even sweeter.
Morale
73 percent (upbeat)
Factor Events
350 percent
Factor Security
60 percent
Factor Culture
55 percent
Factor Health
63 percent
We bottomed out at 19 percent morale the day before. When I projected the calculations for the next few weeks, the nadir of our camp’s morale would fall only into the fifties and only if we made no more improvements.
Culture remained the only factor left unimproved by Fabulosa’s return. The party’s boost to events wouldn’t last, but I saw no reason to expect the 16 percent security boost to deteriorate. And the 8 percent increase in health would only improve.
The four factors contributing to health bore more good news for the settlement.
Health
63 percent (well)
Factor Diet
113 percent
Factor Fitness
75 percent
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Factor Rest
104 percent
Factor Comfort
72 percent
Yesterday’s events had, again, temporarily boosted the diet and rest rating. The food and seeds that Fabulosa brought fortified these numbers, and we planned to harvest fresh spinach soon. By the end of the party’s effect on morale, we’d have better clothes, bedding, and baths to fortify our comfort rating.
I wanted to dig a more permanent well closer to the roundhouse for the bathtubs. The only problem with this plan involved the requirement for lots of stonework.
Perhaps the dwarves could somehow make Fabulosa’s new quartz hammers work.
Hawkhurst Rock’s blue granite remained an annoyance. The settlement’s red core boosted efficiency and strengthened our buildings, but the hard stone made building difficult. Searching for a resource as commonplace as rock didn’t appeal to me, and I certainly didn’t feel like getting my butt kicked by vargs or troglodytes over it.
Quarrying rock presented problems for another day. For now, things seemed rosy. I kept the new citizens out of the workforce since greenhorns lowered the overall workforce rating. I wanted to see what held their interest before assigning tasks anyway. And since the barn’s build estimate ended today, I saw no reason to risk productivity.
I joined the Sternways after breakfast. I liked what I saw from Iris and Lloyd Sternway, but I hadn’t yet talked to Fletcher. Since he bolstered the camp’s security, it would be good to meet him.
I couldn’t quite figure him out. His fastidious grooming and clothes showed more color than Iris or Lloyd’s. If I hadn’t known Lloyd as his father, I would have guessed him from a noble house.
I greeted Fletcher. “So, I understand you and Iris met at Fort Krek. Did you serve under her?”
Fletcher shook his head. “No, not directly. She’s all brass. I clerked for the quartermaster and pulled nightwatch. We met at the pub.”
I nodded. “An easier place to win a woman’s heart, eh?”
His response surprised me. He held his arm aloft, wriggled his fingers, and enunciated as if addressing an audience. “I was awed by her upon my eye’s first sight!” He smiled, giving a sideways glance to gauge my reaction.
My mouth gaped in confusion.
Fletcher dropped the pose. “Sorry, dear boy. I pulled that one from The Bliss of Eurydice. Have you not seen it? You simply must. Although my comedy roles have garnered more acclaim, I can quote much of Eurydice by rote.”
“You’re an actor?”
Fletcher bowed. “As a rank 15 thespian, I’ve been known to dabble. Should you ever need a minstrel or mummer, I am at your service.”
“I didn’t think acting and mercenary work were….” At a loss for words, I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“Complementary? If I may be so bold, you’re in dire need of a sabbatical to Fort Krek. We simply adore a bawdy stage show. It’s a dreary post with scant traffic, so one must entertain oneself. Between sieges and sorties, the Weekend Follies served as our only distraction.”
“Wow. That is not how I imagined Fort Krek.”
“I understudied with Samson Torrey, albeit in a chorus. Of course, he wasn’t in his prime, but backing him up still amounted to very much an honor.”
Lloyd, Fletcher’s father, leaned toward me in confidence. “He gets his silky voice from me.”
I smiled. “Do all the Sternways take their theater seriously?”
Fletcher nodded. “Dear Iris doesn’t partake, but she’s indulged my theatrical fancy for over six years. Haven’t you, my love?”
Iris patted his hand—the first display of emotion I’d seen from the woman.
Lloyd studied Yula’s canoe, inspecting the twine lashings, sewn-together bark, and still-drying gum sealant. He tapped his finger on the frame, making no remarks, but nodded in approval.
When I offered to show them the camp’s watchtower, Lloyd joined us. The Sternways and I walked in single file through the meadow’s tall grass. Passing the charcoal pits, we entered the woods.
I enjoyed a déjà vu moment as the old sailor scrutinized the forest for ferry lumber. Lloyd looked for wood resistant to decay and found several suitable trees. Fashioning a barge wasn’t part of our immediate plans, but having a nautical expert on hand helped our chances.
Lloyd looped a spyglass around his neck. When we reached the watchtower, he scurried up the rope—as spry as anyone my age. It surprised me, especially after completing the journey from Basilborough.
“Be careful, father!”
Fletcher’s warning irritated the older man. “Cork your blowhole, and never tell me how to work a tow line. I’ve been a yard rat longer than you’ve been reaching ground, you landlocked taddypole.”
I laughed aloud at his comment, and neither Fletcher nor Iris could stop themselves from joining me. When Lloyd reached the top, he pulled out the spyglass and looked through it.
“Now she goes—easy out there.” He spoke to himself, and while the utterances meant nothing to me, they never felt out of place. Another sailor might understand his jargon, especially if they acted as crazy as this old man.
The interface map surprised me by extending the tower’s vision by another half-mile. Lloyd wasn’t even using the spyglass.
“He’s extending the range of our tower. How does he do that?”
Fletcher smiled with pride. “Father has a power called Overwatch. It’s from his high scouting rank from his time at sea.”
We waited while Lloyd scanned a full circle, seeming to make a mental picture of the forest.
Lloyd called down. “Sorry, captain, but up here, I can almost feel the ocean’s cold spray kissing me whiskers.”
“Would you like to watch the woods while the dwarves cut lumber?”
“Would I be interested? As much as in Fletcher’s ma on our wedding night. It’s been a spell since I served the crow’s nest. Spotting whitecaps and trouble is me specialty. I’ll keep yer shorties safe.” He tried to shake the tower. “She doesn’t wobble as much as I’m used to—that’s what I said to Fletcher’s ma on our wedding night!”
Fletcher took no umbrage and called up to him. “That’s enough of that, you salty seagull! Come down. They won’t be chopping wood until tomorrow. There’s no sense in dizzying yourself on thin air.”
“Ye know all about being dizzy. Me son nearly spilled overboard on his first wagon ride.”
Fletcher crossed his arms. “Nevertheless, we’re still waiting on you.”
“Hold fast your britches, boy.” Lloyd turned to me. “‘Tis serene up here, though I doubt me son will take a gander—not until they build a staircase with firm handrails.” Lloyd descended the rope so quickly I thought he’d lost his grip.
Back at camp, Yula lined another coat of gum along the sides of her canoe. While some layers had dried, she still hadn’t pronounced it seaworthy.
Fabulosa, Charitybelle, and Greenie chatted at an outside table as Yula worked on her project. I sat behind Charitybelle, wrapping my arms around her in a cuddle. She leaned against my chest and contentedly hummed.
Fabulosa had already told the others how she gained two levels, but I hadn’t heard, so I asked her to repeat her story.
“A pack of ostrich-sized raptors took after me on the way to Basilborough. My flaming sword scattered half of them. Some ran away, but a few wanted a fight, so I obliged ‘em.
“I leveled to 16 in that ambush, but I withheld from spending my power points—like Patchy does in case of emergencies.”
She winked, and I returned her smile.
“I journeyed across the valley floor since it seemed the most natural path for caravans. I ran into a nest of zombies half-covered in metalwork.”
Monsters on the valley floor concerned me. We must have passed them while detouring to the talax rams. “Metalwork? What kind of zombies wear armor?”
“Someone wove metal straps and fittings into them. I fought undead goblins, kobolds, and a couple of human-sized monsters. I couldn’t tell if they were pure human, but they roughly matched our size. As far as opponents go, they weren’t too tricky.”
Fabulosa reiterated her warning. “I reckon we gotta clear the area out. It’s in the valley east of Basilborough. I must have killed fifty zombies. Most were low-level. I dinged to 17 after spotting web structures hanging from the trees. It’s kinda hard to describe, but they looked like walls—or maybe more like curtains anchored to the ground. Entering a spider maze wasn’t for me, so I turned tail.”
“Babe, didn’t you say my duties included killing spiders?”
Charitybelle widened her eyes and emphatically nodded.
Having applied a fresh layer of gum to her canoe, Yula joined the conversation. “Were metal webs steecky?”
Fabulosa shook her head. “Not exactly. The metal had little chiggers—spurs that could catch on material. Some dangled what looked like fishhooks, dragging branches around.”
I looked down at my thick cloth robe. The thought of getting caught on those webs unsettled me. “I take it you couldn’t clear the webs away with fire?”
Fabulosa shook her head. “I didn’t even try. Something spun the webs from metal. But fire worked on the undead.”
Who could blame her for leaving? Even though she farmed monsters for experience, I had to credit her for going as far as she did. The thought of soloing in a place like that would have given me the creeps.