The largest ship I owned moved towards the shore at an increasingly slower pace as if teasing us. When it finally made landfall, a last cheer rose into the air. Suddenly, the captain screamed orders, and the ship began to be unloaded, slowly but surely.
I watched in amazement as the crew scurried around like ants who had just found a pile of sugar. My eyes couldn't believe what I was seeing as a stack of seasoned wood slowly started to form on the ground right off the beach. Sacks of various grains and feed were mounting up next to it. It was not hard to pick out the newcomers as they looked around with almost dazed looks in their eyes. Several of the faces I didn't recognize were assisting with the unloading.
Jonas, the founder of Cove Village, Lisa, and a few other leaders of the old village came and began directing people to where they could rest. I was glad to have them assisting Griff.
Really, not much had changed for them. Instead of having one headman, I allowed them to maintain a council. I was interested to see how it worked and whether it would work in other villages. So far so good. It was thanks to them that things were running smoothly in the new town. It really was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Before they let me take them under my wing, most of the people in Cove Village were half-starved. Now things were flourishing for those people who had fled noble oppression.
I approached the small group of people who were being handed bowls of fish soup. Kim was still baking it the same way with the local herbs, and no one was going to take the job of town cook away from her. I started greeting people and welcoming them to the town. I asked questions about each of them, trying to get their background. As was the norm, they were afraid of me or of making a mistake around me, but the relaxed manner in which Kim and the councilors spoke with me slowly eased the tension. They balanced respect with friendliness in a way that gave the others a sense of the type of leader I was.
After being fed, the families were directed towards the newly built orphanage. It was a shame that we were going to have to move the whole town to higher ground soon. It really was a nice orphanage. Not as nice as the one that the kids were vacating in Kerisi, but it was one of the log homes we had built, and we had added a playground.
I had discussed the idea of just telling the Baron to take a hike when he had told everyone that he was claiming the home and would be moving the children elsewhere, but in the end, we decided it would be best to have the children out of Bicman for now. And we didn't need additional gossip in the courts about the restrictions I was placing on the baron. If I were going to restrict something, it had to make sense to the noble community. As some might say, give him just enough rope to hang himself.
If I could just find a way to kill that man, things would be so much better. Not that I would actually do that, but sometimes even I have fantasies about what I would do to people who think they can harm those I claim as my own.
I spent the afternoon trying to get to know everyone, even though I really wanted to talk with the captain about his trip. In the end, it was Griff who passed all the information to me.
The trip went well, and they were able to get everything they asked for. The captain had negotiated with my Uncle and felt he had gotten a decent deal. For a 10% price increase, he had most of the wood he brought back cut to a size that would fit on the ship. We would still need to run much of it through the new sawmill, though. It would probably take another four trips to get all the wood and sailcloth we were asking for. As long as we kept supplying him with books and paintings, he could line up suppliers. Grain prices were also lowering, and they were able to secure a better price than they had thought.
As our conversation started winding down, another cheer rose up, and the Wave Runner came into view. I had been nervous since their trip outside the cove had taken longer than I expected it to. Their arrival excited me even more than our goods did. The men jumped onto the pier. I approached. "So?"
"It was incredible, my lord. Forgive me for returning so late, but when we saw that we could make it past the mountains to the barren lands, we had to continue on," Barry's son said.
"Anything interesting?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, my lord. This is all we found."
He handed me a small sack. It was obviously sand. I thought he was playing a prank on me, and when I opened it, I realized I was right. It just wasn't the one I was expecting. I saw him smile as I poured pure white sand into my hand.
My grin matched his as I began to laugh. We were going to make so much money.
******
The Cove Dancer rocked gently beneath us as she cut through the afternoon swells, her sails full and snapping in the salt-sweet wind. The deck creaked softly with every rise and fall of the hull. I leaned back the boat's hull, glaring at the shoreline where my stolen lumber was—once again—being spirited away by men far too enthusiastic about “county projects.”
“They stole the rest of the long-beam cedar,” I muttered, watching a gull drift lazily overhead. “That was supposed to be for the Schooner of my dreams. I swear, if the road crews, engineers, or the thieves in Pine Ridge steal one more plank, I’ll—”
Emily snorted behind me.
She plopped down on the bench by the mast, tucking her legs under herself as the shadow of the sail fell over her. “You’re whining.”
“I am not whining,” I said, turning to face her. The wind tugged at my scarf, nearly flinging it into the sea. “I am voicing legitimate concerns about rampant material theft. There’s a difference.”
“Mm-hmm.” She picked at a splinter on the bench. “Strong words from the count who told everyone in North Cove to ‘dream big’ and then acted shocked when they actually did.”
A wave lifted the bow, sending a spray of cold droplets across the deck—and across my face. Emily didn’t even flinch. She had grown to love the water. Even when it was choppy and restless.
“I didn’t tell them to dream that big,” I said. “A forty-five-day manor build? Twice the size of Plimgus? They’re treating it like some sort of county-wide speedrun.”
Emily scooted closer to me and bumped my shoulder with hers, deliberately. “Amos. You are the reason they’re like this.”
“How am I responsible for their lumber-stealing madness? They're like a bunch of teenage delinquents.”
She leaned back on the rail so the wind whipped her brown hair behind her. “Because you’re the one who came in talking about new paper, new plows, new furnaces, new everything. Every time you say something like ‘we could build this’ or ‘why not try that,’ they take it as a personal challenge. You infected them.”
“Great. I’m a highly contagious idea plague.”
She chuckled quietly. “One that gives them hope.”
The sun was lowering toward the water, turning the waves into rolling bronze. Emily’s freckles glowed in the amber light, and she looked—well—way too pleased with herself.
I sighed. “I just wanted a ship.”
“You’ll get your boat,” she said, patting my arm. “But right now, every worker in North Cove wants to prove to you, and to themselves, that they can build something impossible. That’s your fault.”
She jabbed a finger into my arm.
“And stop pretending you don’t love it.”
I looked away toward the horizon. The Cove Dancer’s prow carved through the sea, scattering foam like powdered sugar. And… she was right.
“Okay, fine,” I muttered. “Maybe I like the ambition. But I still want my wood back.”
Emily laughed, bright and effortless. “Yes, my lord, I’m sure your mighty schooner will get its precious planks. But your manor gets first dibs. Because apparently, everyone in North Cove wants you to live in one of the fairy tale castles from the stories. By next month.”
“It’s not going to be a fairy tale castle. It is a 1800 southern-style home.”
“You told them it could have balconies,” she reminded me. “And pillars.”
"That still—"
"And don't forget the heated floors."
I groaned. “That was supposed to be a joke. We don't even have boilers yet.”
Emily shrugged, “They took it as a challenge.”
I buried my face in my hands. “This is how cults start.”
“Too late,” she said cheerfully, as the ship lurched forward due to a sudden gust of wind. “You’re already Malitouma's Hand of Impossible Projects,” she said with a laugh.
“Wonderful,” I said. “Do Hands at least get their ship's wood back?”
“No,” she said firmly. Then, softer: “But they do get manors built in forty-five days.”
I let out a long breath.
“Fine,” I said. “But when we get the next load, the shipbuilders get the lumber.”
Emily tried to keep a straight face. “I'm sure you will. Now, watch where you are guiding us before we drift into the rocks.”
******
I kept my complaints about the other projects that had been stealing my wood to myself. She was right after all. The ship could wait. The new sawmill was cutting the wood faster than we could get it to the site. They had made an experimental crucible steel saw blade just to see how good it was, and the few people I had brought from the lumber mill in Bicman loved it. Unlike the wrought iron blades that had to be swapped out a few times a day for sharpening, this one would last a week. It was not restricted to softer woods either.
The next few days passed relatively quickly. More people meant more workers. Most were helping with the general labor of digging the foundations for the Town of Hillside. It would temporarily replace Cove Town. I say "temporarily" because after the swamps were drained, I could see that two towns eventually merged into one city. This all meant I was in constant meetings. It wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be, especially when things were going well.
The town hall smelled of fresh-cut lumber and fresh paint — the birth of a settlement underway. When I stepped inside, the chatter died instantly. Sunlight spilled through the wide shutters, catching in the dust motes that drifted lazily above the long council table.
Jonas, Lisa, Cori, Brock, Michael, and Sir Griff were all waiting for me. Maps, charcoal sketches, and clay markers cluttered the tabletop. It looked like the planning room of a Roman engineering corps — if Romans had used mismatched chairs and a table that wobbled on one leg. Actually, they probably did sometimes. Movie sets were misleading. Everything was rough but functional. A sign that the apprentices had made it.
“Morning, everyone,” I said, taking my seat at the head of the table.
Jonas was the first to speak. His boots were muddy up to the calf, and an unfurled survey map was spread out before him. “My lord,” he said, nodding, “the road crew has finished marking the grid. All primary avenues are staked and chalked. We’ve laid out enough space for two thousand residents to start — more once we terrace the hillsides.”
He anchored map corners with stones.
Lisa leaned forward, her graying brown hair tied back with a strip of cloth. “We aligned the streets to follow the natural slope as best we could. Good drainage, easy wagon access, and the main square centered exactly where you wanted it.”
I traced a finger over the broad circular plaza drawn in the center. “This will be the heart of Hillside. One day, a fountain will stand there.”
Cori snorted. She always snorted. “If the workers don’t break their backs first.” She crossed her arms, perpetual scowl firmly in place. “You realize you’re asking a frontier town to build this aqueduct thing like we’re already a great city.”
I smiled. “If we wait until we’re a city to start acting like one, we will have to do twice the work.”
“Still sounds like madness,” she muttered, earning a nudge from Brock.
Speaking of Brock — the big man cleared his throat. “The river diversion channels are holding steady. Engineers say the flow’s strong enough to feed the aqueduct line. We’ve already begun laying stone for the raised channel.”
Michael raised a hand, ink smudged on his fingers from sketching. “And the cistern design is ready,” he said. “Concrete basin, debris screen, overflow trench. Once the water reaches the plaza height, gravity will do the rest — fountains, baths, homes, workshops. As long as no one builds higher than three stories.”
Gravity was the new buzzword around here. I had been using it a lot lately while trying to create a water-powered city, and it had caught on.
I loved Michael, the guy took to city planning like a duck to water. He was constantly with the engineers, learning everything Sander could teach him and figuring out how to incorporate it into our vision of the town of Hillside.
Sir Griff finally spoke up, his sash dusty from his morning walks around the fields. Though he oversaw all the land, he seemed to be everywhere at the same time and had his pulse on his fief the way I wish I had on the county. “My lord,” he said, “the men have begun trenching on the eastern slope for the sewage line. It will run under the river as planned. A stone culvert will carry all waste northward, well past the bay.”
“Good,” I said. “I want the cleanest town in Falmoren. None of the filth is draining into the harbor.”
“It's going to be an ambitious project,” Jonas said, his face serious.
A murmur of agreement passed around the table.
Jonas tapped the map. “Everything is ready for your approval. Once you sign off, we break ground on the roads and homes.”
We spent the next half bell going over every detail. Most did not understand why I wanted such large streets or the distance between the homes and roads. I didn't bother explaining indoor plumbing, gas, and electrical lines. Whether it was ten years or fifty years, it would happen. At the rate we were going, though, it might not be enough. What if in fifty years we needed four lanes instead of two? The idea made me laugh. I guess we would have to deal with one-way streets.
“You’ve all done incredible work,” I said. “Every last one of you. Let’s make Hillside something the kingdom can’t ignore.”
Lisa smiled. Brock nodded. Sir Griff bowed his head. Even Cori managed to at least stay quiet rather than grumble.
Jonas placed a quill in front of me. "Then let’s build a city.”
I dipped the pen into ink. I would love to see the look on the faces of those stuck-up nobles of Kimton when they learn from those who traveled here that they were behind the times.
The best revenge, I thought as the point touched parchment, is success.
* * * * *
The best way to describe everything was organized chaos. After a tenday of rest, the ship set sail again for Carok. This time, it was loaded with all my remaining paintings. And when I say all, I mean all. Every wall was now completely bare. I probably didn't need to, since the Mit Trading house owed me quite a bit of money. But the new Bank in North Cove needed money to get it kick-started, and this would help with the first sums. Also, I wanted twice as much money as was in the bank in case we did something wrong and had a failure. I was no financier, and so it was bound to be rough. So I wanted capital, as well as a money lender, picked up on the next trip.
I really needed Benjamin back here. A preliminary road that was more like a glorified trail had been built through the marsh. It was straight and mostly level, only navigating slightly around some of the larger hills. It made it a 60 km trip to Plimgus. So that a rider could make it from Cove Town to Plimgus in a single day if they really pushed their horse, but usually, the Nore River Crossing or North Point is where couriers stopped for the night.
My thoughts were interrupted by a messenger. "My lord, a message from Baron Yarbeth of Bicman."
Ugh, what does that man want?
"Thank you," I said while handing him a coin. Technically, the coin was to be paid by the sender, but I felt that the courier might get me information faster if they knew I would hand them a copper.
As I walked towards the meal hall for a light lunch, I opened the letter.
To the Esteemed Count Bicman of North Cove,
I have had recent troubles with the people of my land and request your assistance. I believe there may be a band of robbers or murderers on your lands… Blah, Blah, Blah.
I had already heard the reports from my own people. The baron's son had been harassing people in the Village of Karr. Apparently, he was looking for a good time. What he got was rejection. Later that night, some of his guards showed up but suddenly vanished. No one confessed who it was, but it was either the Karr or the group that was so bent on rooting out spies that they had become vigilantes. I was beginning to think they might be one and the same. Or at least a portion of them. I loved the Karr, but I was not keen on them creating a group that acted above the law. I would have to send a letter to Jess explaining that if he knew of such an organization, it would be helpful if he would inform them to hand the people over to the relevant authorities rather than take justice into their own hands. In the meantime, I had a rumor to spread and a letter to write.
After lunch, I sat down to write a response to the stupid baron.
To the Lord of Bicman, Weston Yarbeth,
I have received your report regarding the recent disturbances near the village of Karr, and I understand your concern. The matter is not unfamiliar to those who have governed these lands before you, and to address it properly, some history is required.
The people of Karr were once the proud and ancient stewards of the northern marshlands. Long before the Kingdom of Falmoren expanded to Lake Cofi, the Karr maintained a flourishing settlement upon its shores. When the former king extended his influence into this region, the Karr readily accepted an offer of alliance and citizenship. Their loyalty has remained steadfast for generations.
Regrettably, not all who have held title over this barony honored that loyalty. Some among the former nobility sought to deceive the Crown and reduce the Karr to bondage. Their treachery provoked an uprising that nearly destroyed the Karr entirely. Only a small remnant endured.
It is taboo among the commoners to speak of the Shades of Karr. However, all who live in Bicman know that the Endless One marked the land for this injustice. The ground surrounding Karr has been restless ever since. From time to time, the shades of the wronged Karr stir, especially when provoked by disturbance or disrespect.
Because of this, long-standing customs have been maintained by my father, who governed these fields before your arrival:
• Travel only upon the main roads near Karr, • Avoid wandering the cursed grounds after nightfall, • And above all, show no hostility toward the Karr people, whose misfortunes are bound to the land itself.
These measures have kept the peace for decades. When they are followed, the shades seldom rise; when neglected, they do not easily return to slumber.
If, after observing these practices, you continue to witness unusual activity, inform me at once. I will make the journey personally to Karr and offer what rites and appeasements are required to settle the shades. The Karr themselves know these customs well and remain dutiful subjects of the Crown. Their guidance should not be dismissed.
May this knowledge aid you in your stewardship of Bicman.
Sincerely, Lord Amos Bicman Baron of North Cove County
And that is how legends are born. Especially in societies before the Age of Reason. Without science, we fall back on superstition.
I would send word to the different headmen of Biman to spread the word. Hopefully, this will scare the Hector straight.