Just outside of the village lay the sea. This is where Miguel had set up camp. There was a small beach where a dock had been constructed. To get down to the beach, one had to follow a long and winding natural staircase. Towering rocks lined the shore for miles, save for a small cut where a stream flowed to the water. Over the years the rock had been eroded away and a staircase of sorts had been formed.
It was just at the top of this path that Miguel sat. Set roughly twenty yards from the edge lay a crop of trees. It was under the protection of the branches that the travelers lean-to had been constructed.
Miguel didn’t have much. Not that he was poor for he always had much more gold on him than he needed. Miguel chose the more simple life. He preferred to be seen this way. He enjoyed the freedom that having money provided much more than he would the status or comfort it could afford. However, Miguel was not rich. He worked where he could taking the odd jobs here and there and saved almost everything.
Miguel sat on a stump next to his dying fire and thought. The rain had picked up a bit and so the fire was a constant struggle to maintain. The village lay high up in the north. If it wasn’t snowing in the winter it was raining.
Miguel could see the village from where he sat. To his left lay the beach, and in front of him sat the village. A large field lay between Miguel and the village. The village was nestled in a small valley surrounded on three sides by rolling hills and on the fourth by the giant rocks along the ocean.
Just to his right, coming up out of the plains was a hill that was larger than the others.
“That must be where the reservoir sits” he thought. Miguel pulled a long stemmed pipe from his left inside breast pocket and began dully stuffing the end.
A single drop of rain fell from the trees above and landed squarely in his pipe. Miguel swore and put the pipe away. By now, he didn’t have a single article of clothing that wasn’t nearly soaked through.
A wire. The thought pestered him. “What need would the builders have with a wire in a fountain?” Miguel looked up to the sky and saw dark clouds in all directions. It was going to rain and he was going to get wet regardless. Miguel sighed and, with some effort, got to his feet. He needed to go for a walk.
Anyone could kill a cow. That part was easy. Burning a symbol in a persons floor? It might scare the locals, but in practicality, it was child's play. Anyone could’ve done it. It wasn’t even hard to think of a dozen ways it could be done.
Killing a man in broad daylight in front of the entire village? Now there was a quandary.
Miguel wandered his way around the village towards the reservoir. The rain was consistent, but bearable. The ground was covered with a sizable layer of mud which stuck to Miguel’s boot. The mud rarely dried due to the constant moisture.
Miguel began to breath heavily as he made his was up the knoll. The mud made his going difficult and he struggled to reach the top. Miguel fell to his knees multiple times, and almost gave up. However, he was not in the habit of giving up and so he persisted.
As Miguel reached the summit, he took a moment to catch his breath and take in his surroundings. Lying in front of him was the large stone reservoir he had hoped to find. To his left lay the village and on that side of the hill ran a pipe going down the hill before disappearing in the brush and mud. Miguel walked up to the reservoir and peered inside.
The stone rose up to the hight of Miguel’s chest, and could hold enough water to supply the town for quite a while even with no rain.
Miguel peered down for a moment into the water and sighed. He had hoped for more. As Miguel turned to leave, he heard a slight tap of wood on wood as he took his first step.
It was just at the top of this path that Miguel sat. Set roughly twenty yards from the edge lay a crop of trees. It was under the protection of the branches that the travelers lean-to had been constructed.
Miguel didn’t have much. Not that he was poor for he always had much more gold on him than he needed. Miguel chose the more simple life. He preferred to be seen this way. He enjoyed the freedom that having money provided much more than he would the status or comfort it could afford. However, Miguel was not rich. He worked where he could taking the odd jobs here and there and saved almost everything.
Miguel sat on a stump next to his dying fire and thought. The rain had picked up a bit and so the fire was a constant struggle to maintain. The village lay high up in the north. If it wasn’t snowing in the winter it was raining.
Miguel could see the village from where he sat. To his left lay the beach, and in front of him sat the village. A large field lay between Miguel and the village. The village was nestled in a small valley surrounded on three sides by rolling hills and on the fourth by the giant rocks along the ocean.
Just to his right, coming up out of the plains was a hill that was larger than the others.
“That must be where the reservoir sits” he thought. Miguel pulled a long stemmed pipe from his left inside breast pocket and began dully stuffing the end.
A single drop of rain fell from the trees above and landed squarely in his pipe. Miguel swore and put the pipe away. By now, he didn’t have a single article of clothing that wasn’t nearly soaked through.
A wire. The thought pestered him. “What need would the builders have with a wire in a fountain?” Miguel looked up to the sky and saw dark clouds in all directions. It was going to rain and he was going to get wet regardless. Miguel sighed and, with some effort, got to his feet. He needed to go for a walk.
Anyone could kill a cow. That part was easy. Burning a symbol in a persons floor? It might scare the locals, but in practicality, it was child's play. Anyone could’ve done it. It wasn’t even hard to think of a dozen ways it could be done.
Killing a man in broad daylight in front of the entire village? Now there was a quandary.
Miguel wandered his way around the village towards the reservoir. The rain was consistent, but bearable. The ground was covered with a sizable layer of mud which stuck to Miguel’s boot. The mud rarely dried due to the constant moisture.
Miguel began to breath heavily as he made his was up the knoll. The mud made his going difficult and he struggled to reach the top. Miguel fell to his knees multiple times, and almost gave up. However, he was not in the habit of giving up and so he persisted.
As Miguel reached the summit, he took a moment to catch his breath and take in his surroundings. Lying in front of him was the large stone reservoir he had hoped to find. To his left lay the village and on that side of the hill ran a pipe going down the hill before disappearing in the brush and mud. Miguel walked up to the reservoir and peered inside.
The stone rose up to the hight of Miguel’s chest, and could hold enough water to supply the town for quite a while even with no rain.
Miguel peered down for a moment into the water and sighed. He had hoped for more. As Miguel turned to leave, he heard a slight tap of wood on wood as he took his first step.
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