A man walked down the paved roads of the valley. The sun was high in the air, giving the man an indication of the time. His satchel bobbed slightly with each step as he passed the mountains all around him. The derlin man reached into his satchel and pulled out a stick of dried meat, biting off a piece of it. It tasted salty, with a bit of sweetness mixed in. It was Wight’s personal favourite, so he kept it for last.

He almost got lost in the flavor, not noticing the slight mist clearing, giving way to the sight of a small village. About time, he thought to himself. He finished the last of his snack and walked through the gates of the settlement. No guards around? They really did throw this place to the dogs. Some children played in nearby, chasing each other with sticks and such. A little boy bumped into Wight, then became apologetic as soon as he realized the man was foreign.

Wight kneeled down next to the boy and gave him a smile, helping him up. “Don’t be running around without looking, son. Don’t know what irritable people you could run into,” Wight said. The little boy nodded quietly and walked away. Wight couldn’t blame the people living here for their fear of him. Derlins were rare in a village this remote. He could spot some lyclan families, putting his mind at ease. More of a community thing for these people, isn’t it? Figures that’s how it’d be for some place this small. He walked to the end of the main road, searching for a place to stay. If his plan failed, he could always rent out a hotel room and work on the fields as a farmhand. The centre led into other parts of village, containing a fountain in the middle of it. One of the roads had no houses on the side, but let directly to a castle, behind which were more hills.

The people around him shot nervous glances, perhaps intimidated by his clothing. It was the newest fashion, but people in these villages didn’t adopt them so quickly. Someone walked up to him from the group of onlookers. He was a toned lyclan, as a result of his time spent on the fields no doubt. Wight was pleased that the man presented himself, it would make his job much easier. “I heard you fellows needed some help with policing here now that His majesty doesn’t bother. That’s why I’m here,” Wight said to the man.

“So you’re a lawman, huh? Thanks for the generous offer, but we’ve collectively decided to decline it,” the man replied.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, son. This place needs my help. I’d be glad to hear it from your leader, if you still have one.”

“Look, woodentop, I ain’t going to repeat myself. I’m doing you a favour here and giving you a warning. We don’t take kindly to tourists or outsiders of any kind. You want a place to stay and have a nice hot meal? We’d be glad to provide that. If you want to boss us around, you’ll find resistance at every corner, understand?” the man said in his deep, almost regal voice.

He must have been the pride and joy of the townspeople, a well-built man instilled with the morals that the townsfolk valued the most. “I’m prepared for that,” Wight stated. The man readied his fists, the fountain water beginning to boil behind him. A homlin man stepped in between them just in time, calming both parties down. “I’d be right not to start a fight here. Take care of the outsider, priest.” said the man.

“I’ll be sure to treat him with the utmost respect.” The homlin man said. His blonde hair stood out from his drab clothing. The water had stopped boiling during this time, as Wight felt no need to enrage the man. His back stopped giving off that faint glow as well.

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Tivano walked away with a strut. He turned to face Wight and put on a smile. “Welcome, outsider, to Whistone. Village of bread and booze. I’m Kames McCoy, your not-so-local historian. What business did you have with these people?” he asked. “Uh, yes, I came here to establish somewhat of a constabulary actually. The people haven’t had a policing force for a couple years now so I wondered I’d make sure it’s running smoothly.”

“That’s going to be a problem. People here, well…as you’ve noticed, they’re not the most kind to foreigners,” Kames said.

“A very astute observation. I’d expect no less from a historian of your stature. That man seemed to refer to you as a priest, however,” Wight replied.

“Amateur historian, for now. The priest thing was something I did back then. I just came back here for some unfinished business myself.”

“So that’s what you meant by “not-so-local”. Moving on, do your people have any sort of leader?” Wight asked.

“We have a mayor, although an unofficial one. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow for him to come back. He’s gone to meet with some other villages, it seems,” Kames said. “I see no harm in exploring around, then. I shall see you later, Kames,” Wight said. “Wait! You’re going to go around and pick at people for information, aren’t you? You know that will lead to a few bruises sooner or later, right, friend?” Wight stopped in the middle of his walk and looked back at the man. He smiled slyly and said, “I can handle myself in a fight, if you were wondering that.” Kames distrusted the look on the man’s face. “I see no harm in making sure you see no harm,” he said. He picked up his pace and started walking around with him.

****

Kames acted as an excellent guide on anything except the last few years of the settlement’s history. “Yes, the annual bakeoff presents many opportunities to experiment with new types of delicacies. Once I even saw a man using robulin claws in a pie. A pie! Suffice to say, it didn’t win that year.” He kept talking about the various people who lived there. The village wasn’t big so the only way to distract yourself were these small events that happened.

Wight looked up at the setting sun, frustrated with the progress he had made. Even speaking to people was a problem, as they would step away and refuse to talk to him. Some of them shot him glares and a few daring ones even threw fruit. Wight was growing tired of the grudge they held being taken out on him, but there wasn’t much he could do before he was given official power to arrest and prosecute these people.

“Say, Kames. I don’t see many people around here using Wheels. What’s the reason?” Wight asked. “Too remote of an area. The church has tried to convince the people to move out of the valley, but they refuse to even consider the option. They can’t afford to send a wheelsmith this far, so they just left it as it is.” Kames said.

“Doesn’t that mean any halfwit with a Wheel can stroll into village and declare himself ruler? Seems a bit of a rickety bridge to build your home upon.”

“Haha, why do you think they hate you and me?” he said laughingly.

“You really are an astute historian, aren’t you?” Wight muttered.

“The standard for astuteness must have gone down significantly while I was here. Anyone could notice the water boiling, mate.” Kames commented.

“Damn, guess the one needing a bit of astuteness would be me in this scenario would be me,” Wight said. They walked past the castle again, locked with chains, sitting alone on slightly higher ground. Castle was no good either. Can’t get in without the key or some serious damage. Wight’s mind wandered from the castle to its owner. A thought came upon him.

“Kames, what of the ruler before the mayor. I see a castle, but no lord,” Kames grew quiet at the statement. The houses besides them were closed. They were the only ones standing in the street. The sun had fully set, and the windows of the houses revealed the lights inside them. “That’s why I’m here as well, Wight.