“Old Jack has quite an arsenal,” said one villager knowingly to another. The stranger sitting in front of the village pub perked up. This was the sort of thing he wanted to know. “Who,” he asked, “is Jack?” “Farmer Jack,” said one of the villagers. This is a work of fiction. All persons, places, and…
It was a long way to the capital where the king lived, so Baron Jubal was pretty much the law in all his lands. Recent decades had not been nice to his neighbors, so he was, for practical purposes, lord of all he surveyed. He was feared. He was obeyed. But he was not loved….
“But I am Justice!” “I think you misunderstood. I came to this town looking for justice. A rich man in my village robbed me, and I came here for justice.” The woman looked bewildered. Justice—for that was indeed his name—just looked stubborn. “I’m Justice. People hear you wantin’ Justice, they call me. I’m Justice. What…
Ferod stood in shock in front of the shrine. He’d distinctly heard the words. “Are you sure you don’t want more?” He didn’t really believe in the old gods. Nobody even seemed to remember the names of whatever god or gods this shrine might be dedicated to. But he had run out of money to…
“Why were you in such a hurry to leave the last village?” Roban looked at his daughter. She was also his apprentice in his trading business. He drove his wagon on a circuit amongst the towns and villages that extended hundreds of miles and weeks in time, buying and selling things that were available in…
“We’re not going to bother with any of that marching crap,” said Jeffords to his troops. They were his because he was the only one in town with experience in combat, little as that was. The villagers were lined up, sort of, in front of him. The idea was that he would prepare them to…
The old man sat in his simple room looking at the bag of gold. “Use it however you want,” the rich young fellow had said. “I feel I need to give it to someone, and I have no idea who. I think you may know.” The old man was renowned for his wisdom and his…
He couldn’t be more than four or five years old, thought the headman. He really should know, as this was the son of the resident priest at the little shrine on the north edge of town. But he really couldn’t remember. This is a work of fiction. All person’s, places, and events are products of…
(See also A Fresh Perspective – II.) For years merchant trains had passed through the town by the falls on their way to the great north-south trade route to the west. The terrain was terrible, but alternate routes were even worse. One could go two or three days journey southward, past the end of the…
“We want you to recover the staff,” said the mayor. “Why? Why not just make another one?” asked Jed. He was young and liked to do important things. Recovering a stick didn’t sound important. “Make another staff?” asked the mayor incredulously. This is a work of fiction. All persons places and events are products of…
