The shrill cry of a Watch Company K whistle was still a very new sound for Alain, and he looked up whenever he heard it. It sounded out over a little bazaar in Old Temple, and he turned just in time to see a flash of stringy blonde hair before thud, something fast and small child-shaped collided with his chest.

Several heads turned, and the woman behind the table Alain had just been haggling with muttered something about what the world must be coming to.

The detective stumbled two steps back and watched a round loaf of bread thud surprisingly loudly against the cobblestones and skid to a noisy halt against a table leg, and a boy skid half as far, dressed in old clothes and an overcoat meant for a grown man. Alain suspected it was the only coat he owned. The boy's bright green eyes searched frantically around him, saw a Watchman drawing near, and glared at Alain. He spat on the ground and cursed in French - the tone of it was familiar... Alain frowned.

"Got you." The young Watchman grabbed the boy by the shoulders and dragged him to his feet. "You could've picked a better loaf of bread to get caught over, eh?" He grinned over at the bread, but the smile vanished when its baker appeared to collect it. He started pointing at the boy and scolding him in Russian.

RhyDin could be a confusing place sometimes.

"Listen you, I want this boy put away, I won't have these rascals make me look over my shoulder every time I am wanting to sell my bread!"

"Sir, he'll be taken care of properly, don't worry - "

"Of course I worry! I have cause to, with these children running amok and their mothers saints know where and - "

"What's your name?"

The two men blinked at Alain, but he wasn't looking at either of them. He was looking at the boy, who looked back, and tried to hide his curiosity by scowling away from him. "Not telling you, monsieur."

The accent was unmistakable. Alain turned to the baker then: "How much was that loaf of bread?"

"Two... three silvers!" the baker said, but even the change in price didn't deter Alain from counting out three. He added, "But who knows how much business I lose from this distraction!"

Alain looked up from his wallet with his eyebrows mildly raised... and then held out three silvers and one gold coin towards the baker. The baker hesitated... and then snatched the coins and stalked away without collecting the bread, muttering angrily in Russian. At once the Watchman released the boy and ruffled his hair as he walked off, earning him an angry leer.

Then the boy turned to look at Alain, and was silent, his expression uncertain. "Who are you?"

"Alain."

The boy looked thoughtful then, and Alain sighed softly.

"Someone's spat my name before?"

The boy nodded shyly.

"I'd be angry, but... I probably deserved it. What's your name?"

"Claude Delapore."

"I've heard of the Delapores." The boy startled. "You're Newbreton?"

That made Claude laugh, but he nodded. "Stopped speaking French since you came to RhyDin?"

"I was never any good at it." Then Alain gave him a playful shove, adding, "Not that it's any of your business, master thief. Go on, collect your bread, I'll walk you home."

* * *

Home was not expected to be nice, but Alain's eyes still found a surprise in this forgotten little clearing outside the city walls. When Amalia De Courell arrived in RhyDin over a year ago, she brought two hundred refugees with her from their wartorn homeland of Nouveau Bretagne. He'd heard they'd moved their tent colony outside the city when bandits noticed them, and moved again when winter set in. Now, after Amalia had struggled for a year to care for them and finally left - something Alain blamed himself for - they had set up a shantytown south of the West End. The first thing he noticed was the mud.

Between all the shacks and lean-to's and even some tents still, two hundred pairs of boots had worn down all the grass, and the melting snow and frost created an inch-thick layer of brown goop in every place that was least convenient. Mud caked the arms and knees of the people, their belongings, even their homes.

Alain began to wonder how disease had not killed them off, but his thoughts were muted when a healer in grey robes made the sign of the cross at them as he walked by.

"How long have you been living like this?"

Claude shrugged silently, but then added, "At least no one's dropping bombs on us."

Alain nodded and let him lead the way, soaking in the despair of poverty and at the same time, trying not to stare at it.

"When we followed Amalia through, we thought things would get better... and they have, sort of... you know? I mean, you remember." Alain nodded again. The boy shivered. "Anyway... yeah. Maybe half of us got work at any one time, but it never lasts. It comes and goes. My pere worked at a mill for a little while, but he just got let off..."

Alain had the good sense not to ask about his mother. "How many of you are there?"

The boy shrugged again. "One hundred seventy at the last count."

"The other thirty found jobs?"

Claude grimaced and looked away. "Half did. The other half are... dead. Some starved, some murdered. Here's home."

Claude ducked into a miserable little shelter holding out a loaf of bread, eliciting excited French cries and praises to God. The boy pointed outside, but when his father looked out, Alain was gone.

* * *

On his way out of the village, Alain stepped on a wooden plank. He'd have dismissed it, but his boot dragged and smeared off the mud, and he saw writing. Esp?rance, he managed to decipher after picking it out of the ground. Hope. He looked over his shoulder twice as he left.

Three days had passed since Alain discovered silver near the Forgotten Layers Inn. Every day since then, he had spoken with people who had someone or something to offer to the refugees' plight - Tera had offered much of the surplus from the Kingdom of Westridge, Ethan and Kacey wanted to work on site, Rena offered horses... and earlier in the day, one of the shepherds whose herd Icer helped to keep healthy came right up to the S.P.I. office with an unusual gift.

"Mister Dee-moor?"
"Yes?"
"Is good goat, is gift, is blue dragon saying I should give."
"But I -- "
"Here, here! Good goat, is no need worry!"

And the man had left Alain in the upstairs hallway of Province Plaza holding a rope tied to a goat. Several more gifts of livestock followed throughout the day.

There was a great deal the refugees would still need if they wanted to see a village through to completion... but soon, Alain was sure, they would have it. What he needed more than anything was for them to follow him.

He returned to the refugee camp dressed more simply than before, in wool trousers, a sweater over a collared shirt, an overcoat, and a flat cap. It's a rare style for him, but one that was pretty iconic in Nouveau Bretagne.

It succeeded in drawing attention. People had glanced when the unknown stranger had walked one of their children back into the camp several days ago, but for him to return? Mothers left their pots unwatched to duck their heads out of tent flaps, and unattended children raced out after him, laughing.

Alain looked over his shoulder with a smile and asked one, "Is there a bell?" The child stared blankly up at him until he amended, Une cloche.

The girl yammered away excitedly with one of her friends and they dashed off, giggling. The children were muddy, all of them dirtier than children should be - it was amazing, a testament to the miracle of youth, that they were able to set aside their misery so readily upon sight of a well-dressed stranger, dressed as an upright working man from their lost homeland.

It was a dinner bell that Alain thought he recognized from a steakhouse in RhyDin. It wasn't unlikely these children stole it. The girls set it in front of him and stepped back with their best serious faces, and then burst into another fit of giggles. Alain held it up, took the chain at the end, and started swinging.

The first dozen tolls left the whole camp silent, and he heard the silence behind the clanging. Then there was a murmur as a mass of humanity crawled out of their shelters, wary of this strange man but also curious, encircling him.

In little more than a minute, every able body was out of its shelter, weary eyes brightened with interest in what a mass of the wretched could possibly be called out to hear. This was no zealot or missionary, was he? He dressed like one of them, and soon, he spoke like one of them.

Though perhaps most of these people would know English, more would know their native dialect of French - and the words he spoke in RhyDin in English had become so cold... It was slow going at first, but quickly, Alain regained his confidence with their odd brand of Cajun.

People of Nouveau Bretagne - you suffer! I know what it is you fled from, but you came to this place looking for hope. Though you have been spared the wrath of war, want is your constant companion. I see it in this camp, and I see it in your faces.

The people were quiet. Alain had their attention. He turned to make sure he would get to face each of them, and spread his arms to gesture.

Our homeland was once the Jewel of the Continent, a place of peace and prosperity. We had our homes, our families, our livelihoods... and happiness. And now, fled from war, strangers in a strange land, you have only two things - your memories of better times... and each other.

I have come here because I have a third thing to offer you... Hope! That was the name of this place once, was it not? I give you hope because I know how you have suffered and I know what you deserve... a chance at something better.

That chance lies to the north. Through the generosity of my friends and allies in this city, I have found a silver vein that no one owns, not even myself - I leave it to you to take, if you will take it together, and no one man claim it. They have provided for me, no, for you, the tools to build that mine, to cut down trees for your houses, livestock for you to raise and live off of, skilled craftsmen to help you lay strong foundations, and the food and money to survive until your new homes are built.

Caught up in the speech, Alain had to pause, catching tears before they could start. He put his hand to his chest and continued.

Come with me... go north, and I will walk with you every step of the way, and lay foundations with you... to build Hope.

For Alain, the silent pause lasted an eternity, but it was only a fraction of a second that the great mass of wretched humanity surged back to then amble forward, inward. Hands of the young and old pressed into his hands, onto his arms and shoulders. Old women thanked him tearfully, and young men asked eagerly what they could do, while others asked him, Who are you? What is your name?

* * *

Hours later, there was a truck, the one that belonged to the Division, parked in the middle of the camp. The food that had filled it was mostly gone now, and Alain sat around a fire with their leaders to make plans.

They would not go all at once... but the first of them would leave with the livestock, tools, and other supplies in the morning, to be the first settlers of Esp?rance.

As Alain and his people came to Forgotten Layers to start work on the village for the refugees, Izira opened her inn to all those who would care to take shelter there during their hours of rest. On the first morning, as many went straight to work, Izira made available a large bunch at the inn for the afternoon. And though, Alain had told her to only expect a few, Izira made food enough for that and many more. It was a good idea on her part, for many more there was to feed. Perhaps Izira saw something Alain did not?that many people would come to aid him in this task of his. She was but one woman among those many.

Morning of Monday March 10th

Alain, already fully dressed, jacket hoisted over his shoulder, creeps quietly from his room in the peaceful early morning hours of the Forgotten Layers Inn. He can hear muffled breathing, snoring, and the occasional cough, but not a word within earshot, nor any light in sight. Depending on the dim pre-dawn light to get around, he makes his way to the bar in the common room to start a cup of coffee. He sets his jacket and his tool belt on a table and rubs at his bared arms - black undershirt, work jeans and boots are as stylish as he's getting today.

It would be a while until Izira appeared. When she did it was at the heals of a large orange tabby that sneaked out as she opened the door to the kitchen. Izira seemed to have been up for a while, long enough that her hair was dry and she was dressed. It was a white blouse that covered her bust and arms - a black corset and skirt starting just under her bust and ending just above her knees. Simple black heels as was customary for her. Today her hair was pulled back into a bun - though, a few wisps of curls escaped. Her smile as soft as the pre-dawn light. Perhaps the wait was due to her knowing it was Alain moving about the inn and not sure about going to see him. Imagine her, hiding in her own inn. But it had been her plan to make another spread for those going to work another day... and so, since he'd hear her in the kitchen anyway, she showed herself. "Morning."

"Good morning," he answers her softly - a tone that might be taken in another context to be intimate, but he doesn't want to wake anyone, yet. His smile matches hers, one of the gentle expressions only dear friends can elicit from this man. "I thought I smelled something good in there... Do you want any coffee?" He crouches a little, holding his hand out for the tabby while looking up at her.

Silas of course moved eagerly towards the attention. His master lingering near the door. She gave a nod to the comment on the scent of breakfast, his people seemed eager and willing to eat... and she was ready and willing to feed them. Her smile cracked a little at the offer of coffee, "Actually I don't like it much." Now how many times had she had it with him? She nodded towards the kitchen, "I have some juice in there."

He seems briefly surprised... but understanding dawns quietly, and he masks it well. He rubs Silas for a few moments and straightens to pour himself a cup. "I'm not really sure how you survive without it..." He takes a seat at a table, his chair turned more towards the bar so he can speak to her. "Do you drink tea?" His first sip is careful.

As he moved, she moved towards the bar - leaning against it. "Tea, yes. Coffee is just... "She didn't really continue. Thoughts wandering to the wizard, her standing to his back holding the coffee ready for him. She smiled in apology. The cat wandering off to amuse himself with attention gone. "Would you like your breakfast now?"

"You expect me to say no?" He grins slowly.

"I expect you to tell me what you want." She chuckled, leaning over the bar top.

"Whatever's ready. There's little I won't eat." He watches her, his grin steady, and scratches a stubbly spot on his cheek.

A nod as she considered, "I'll see what there is then." Standing upright and vanishing into the kitchen. It was a while before she returned and when she did she bore a tray full of good things. True, he had his coffee, but she also supplied a glass of juice and a glass of milk. Seasons scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon - not too crisp, toast and jam. A small cup of cut fruits - all of that set before him. "Here you go!"

He blinks at the offering, and smiles. "You're too good to us, really..." He picks up a piece of toast to spread some jam on it, but looks up from it at her and nods to the kitchen. "You want to grab yourself something to eat before the others wake up?"

"I've been picking at things while cooking." She confessed with a smile, "Don't worry about me." Making her way back to the bar. "Do you need anything else?" Was spoken over her shoulder.

He shakes his head. "I'm good, thanks..." Alain can be very subtle in many ways, but his appetite is the same it was when he first arrived in RhyDin, and the same it's been since his teenage years - ravenous. While maintaining decent manners, he demolishes the meal pretty quickly. "I'm hoping to get the last surveys done today," he says to her, well before he's done.

Sneaking into the kitchen long enough to grab her glass of orange juice. She returned in time to hear his comment and back into leaning against the bar. Happily watching him enjoy his food. "What after that? Building?"

"We'll get the sewer piping started, and at the end of the week, start laying some foundations - leave the herdsmen to mind the livestock and keep building those pens." He spears some egg and a piece of fruit, pulls it off with a piece of toast, and eats it. He never really separates his foods. "By next week, it should start looking like a proper village."

"That's amazing Alain." And she sounded to truly mean it.... about what he was doing, not what or rather how he was eating. Of course, that was mildly interesting as well. She'd never considered that combination. Juice in hand, though forgotten for the moment as she watched and spoke with Alain.

He grins. "I won't be amazed until we get all the infrastructure finished before summer." Aaaaand, he's finished. He returns to his coffee. "The people can afford to continue living in tents until they have their own homes built... The weather will be warm enough for plenty long."

"With so many helping you, I think it a very likely goal." She moved from the bar again, leaving her drink behind and moving to gather his plate. "Do you want anything more?"

"No thank you... That should last me until after noon." He takes another sip of his coffee, thinking a moment. A few moments more, and his notebook comes out - money, resources, labor, and other calculations related to this project. "There's another wealthy noble that's taken an interest in our work. It'll certainly help if he makes good on it."

She set the dishes in the wide sink behind the counter, "Money isn't much of an issue is it?"

"The problem is making sure we convert that money into the labor and resources we need, and that they're made available by the time we need them."

"Let me know if you have either running short. I would think someone I do business with would be able to find a way to help you. At a fair price, of course." She smiled, business was still business for some.

"What kind of resources do they have available? What we really need is someone who knows a lot about converting magic into power - like electricity..." He hears noise at the stairs, and looks up in time for one of the refugees who's been working there the last two days place his hand on his shoulder and greet him, speaking in their odd mutual dialect of French. They exchange words for a moment, and Alain says something that makes the man chuckle, who then looks up at Izira and bows his head, deeply grateful to this generous woman.

"I think I might be able to find you one such as you speak." Spoken to Alain as she gave a kind smile to the man. "Tell him I will have a plate out for him in a moment." And into the kitchen she slipped again. She had been paying attention to the people, there were many of them - but she focused her attention... knowing something as simple as a favorite breakfast gave more energy to the people than perhaps even the food did. Alain had thrown her off though with his willingness to eat anything and everything - well, there were others such as him and she feed them that way as well. Returning with another tray of what the man had fed himself the previous days.

Merci beaucoup, the man says, and tucks into his meal. The others begin to stir upstairs, doors opening, people yawning and chatting quietly in a mix of English and French, and Alain looks up at Izira. "I think I'll go ahead and get the horses ready and get the tools together." He collects his belt and his coat, and pauses once more to smile at Izi. "Thank you for breakfast."

"You're welcome." She offered softly, before picking up the tray from the sink and moving to set the food out for the others. Her eyes lingered on Alain a moment before she disappeared behind the kitchen door once again.

There is a small gathering of workers around Alain, but off to the right, towards the east, a much larger group comes into view as Kacey descends into the beautiful little dell. Not long after Alain's arrival early this morning, he and his workers were joined by more than thirty more, their group now totalling fifty, all eager to work - but left awaiting jobs. It appears Alain and the small group with him are debating how to organize them.

Most of the resources they'll need have already been moved into the area, including the copper piping for the sewers and all the tools they'll need. Further away, closer to the mountains, are a few small pens with livestock, and at the edge of the woods, a growing colony of tents.

As soon as Alain spots Kacilla, his face lights up (because he's really not sure how to organize construction workers) and he waves her over. When she draws near, the men around him introduce themselves to her, most of them having somewhat French-sounding names.

"I'm glad you could make it, Kacey," Alain says to her, and rubs at the back of his neck as he looks over at the crowd of workers, now looking back curiously since Kacey's arrival. "We've gotten our resources organized, and we've got a fair idea of what we want to do... but now it's a matter of organizing labor."

His tone pretty clearly welcomes her to take the reins.

Alain hired him to handle security. The knight takes his job seriously.

Widow scared the 'fugees, the first time they saw her. Arikai couldn't rightly blame them; it takes a damn strong man to not be scared by a warhorse the size of a Percheron, coal black with ruby red eyes, whithers and flanks covered with ridged scars. The first time she spoke to them, one of the Bretonians actually fainted. Widow giggled about that for the rest of the day.

He could feel Alain's eyes on him when he met the detective outside the Red Dragon that morning, the question unspoken but quite obvious. What's a knight doing with a nightmare? It lingered still, never quite asked. He hoped that time and experience would prove to the man - as he was slowly trying to prove to the new inhabitants of 'Hope' - that Widow had a good heart. Like Arikai, she was just looking for a place she could do the most good in.

He was still mighty shocked when he walked into the stable and found a passel of girls braiding ribbons into the war steed's mane. They'd taken the liberty of currying, saddling, and feeding her, as well; seeing as how she wasn't complaining, he didn't see where he really could, either. It still struck him as a little undignified, to be out riding the perimeter on a horse that looked like she was bound for a May Day parade.

Widow told him to shut it. She liked her ribbons.

He pitches in wherever a steady hand and a strong arm might be needed - helping clear brush here, raise a wall there, dig a trench or lay a foundation someplace else. He's a blur of movement second only to D'Mourir himself, trying to watch everything. It doesn't take long to learn that there's wolves, in the hills around the village, and he finds himself spending most nights sleeping near the flocks with a nocked bow, guarding the shepherds who guard the sheep. There's rumors going around the camp about petty pilferage - he's at a loss how to handle that'un, short of catching someone red handed, but he hopes Alain will have some ideas. He's found his morning exercise attracting adherents, too; every sunrise finds him in the clearest space in the camp, practicing with his sword. At first it's just a couple of the boys, with sticks, but pretty soon men with swords begin to join, as well. He's never considered himself much of a teacher, but he does his best. He won't be around forever, and with all the wealth this place will attract with its silver mine, the people have to be able to defend themselves.

Hope starts at home, after all.

Early morning, 17 March

Alain's truck was not at the site yesterday, or at the Forgotten Layers Inn this morning.

It rattles along the bumpy, dusty road towards the site with a dozen men packed into the back - elves, specifically, carpenters and masons and the like from the Kingdom of Westridge, sent to help with the site. They'd been a little leery of the truck at first, but now most of them have dozed off, cradling their tools.

He looks in his rearview mirror and sticks his arm out the window, signaling to the drivers behind him that they'll be turning right. They all follow the freshly cleared trail that leads into the valley, and the elves begin to wake each other up, to point and murmur at the streams and mountains.

Elves are used to natural beauty, but still this place is a sight to behold.

Alain rolls to a stop, parks the old truck, and cuts the engine, and several wagons fan out around him, also stopping, laden with supplies and more elves, almost fifty in total. Almost immediately they're climbing out, few orders given as they unload the supplies in a very organized way, and a few wave to the foremen and several workers who are hurrying over.

Sacramant is the first word to reach Alain's ears as he climbs out, cigar clenched between his teeth, and he puts on a big, smug grin for the workers hurrying their way to investigate, clearly pretty pleased with himself.

"Monsieur Alain," Damien says, looking past him incredulously at all the elves. "Who... who are these people?" All around them, introductions are already being made, hands shaken, and one now uncomfortable-looking elf even gets hugged.

"Carpenters, masons, and others from the Kingdom of Westridge, forty-six in total." He claps Damien on the shoulder and drops the keys to the truck in his hand as he moves past. "Go see Izira to see how many she can feed, and I'll talk to our cooks here - I'm pretty sure they're hungry." The thought of the look on Izira's face when over a dozen hungry elves pour into the Forgotten Layers Inn is enough to make him chuckle. He walks towards the camp, passing many wide-eyed Newbretons walking the other way.

Wednesday afternoon, March 26

Rena,

It has taken some days to integrate the new workers from Westridge into the teams from Alain?s home world. Work progresses here, but would be the faster for another six men if you still have them to spare. Any with experience in herding, keeping cattle, or construction would be particularly useful. Also, you mentioned in passing that you knew or might be able to find a competent engineer who would work out here. If you are able to do so, I would be eternally in your debt.

With Gratitude,

Kacey


Rena read the letter from Kacey then picked up the phone and called Byron. He and Stalker had free run of the other place that Rena used to live in before she departed to run from her demons. They spoke for a few minutes then hung up, Byron promising to gather up the men and having them arrive in RhyDin before nightfall. She said six but it was hard to keep the guys from being bored before calving started so it would probably be more like 10. Then on to the second problem.

Last night she spent time on the Isle before her shift, sipping from the never ending mug(so Eless thought) and listening for a break in the conversations flowing around. Once Azjah and Scarlet finished speaking, especially since Scarlet got her wish of a flight on the Dragon, Rena spoke up about Kacey's request. After a few moments of conversation back and forth between the two, an arrangement was met that pleased both.

Kacey would receive the following reply:

Greetings Kacey,

Sometime Wednesday night or Thursday morning, two trucks will arrive on your site with between 6-10 men. Byron couldn't give me exact figures when we talked the other night. Also Azjah will be flying in an engineer with the qualifications you seek. He(it also could be a she, I didn't ask) will be arriving within five days.

Anything else you need just ask.

Warmth regards,
Rena

The letter was sealed and mailed off...then she went to make arrangements for the engineer upon his arrival.

It was the first day of digging at the Esperance mine, and Alain was close at hand to supervise.

There were men among them, even not counting those already down in the mine shaft, who knew more about pulling metal from the earth than Alain suspected he ever would ? and yet they had insisted he be close at hand in case they needed his guidance. Why they chose him puzzled him, but he had little time to think about it.

It?s slipping!

Alain heard the winch falling apart before he looked up to see it clatter to the ground, and several men leapt forward to grab onto the chain and keep the pallet laden with silver from crashing back down the shaft. There were two vertical shafts leading down to a single tunnel, the smaller one further away for getting the miners in and out, the one before them for pulling out the silver. A large, sturdy chain ran through a pulley supported by a timber over the shaft, that ran down and connected to the pallet below.

In seconds Alain was with them, wrapping a length of the chain around one arm and digging his feet in. His boots slid several inches in the mud before he could stop, and he heard someone shout to fetch the oxen.

We don?t have time! he called out. We have to pull ? everyone together! ? with me on three. One ? two ? three, pull!

They pulled, the group grunting and groaning as their bodies strained against the immense weight, and the pallet lifted up several feet.

I want three men on that chain! and three moved towards another chain used to pivot the timber connected to the pulley. They had not had oxen ready or many other sensible things, but none of these men had actually built or led a mine before, and had not anticipated the winch breaking. One ? two ? three, pull!

The pallet came up several more feet. Pull! And with one last surge of strength, the pallet reached the top. Steady! Steady! He could almost hear his own muscles screaming to give out. Alright? slowly give it some slack?

As the timber pivoted the pallet away from them, the group slowly gave the chain slack. Steadily now? easy now? As soon as the pallet set down, most of the men fell over, sore and exhausted. Alain slumped onto his butt, rubbing at his forearm and his back, but as the others surged forward to have a closer look, Alain was compelled to join them.

He could hear the young mageling they?d hired yammering excitedly about enchantments and how they could?ve automated this, and Alain tiredly replied, ?Yes, we?ll have you do that next time, Silas??

In six neatly lined up boxes were silver and silver ore, plucked straight from the earth. It was covered in dark dirt now, but to everyone looking at it, it was beautiful. Alain took up a lean on the timber and managed to grab one of the site supervisors ?

Find Arikai. At dawn, we leave for Drachen Walde.

Alain had always looked at Esp?rance as a sort of outlet, a place to relax, but the morning after that night's meeting about politics, he wouldn't be surprised to look in the mirror and find grey hair.

He'd taken on a lot of responsibilities, but twenty-two was far from the right age from far-reaching political responsibilities. So his reasons before the outline that sat on the bathroom counter before him (in his room at the Forgotten Layers Inn) were two-fold.

He blamed the nobility in full for the civil war in his homeland. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that they even considered having a noble rule them after all this time, but these refugees all had different feelings about the war - which was why it had been a civil war, and not simply a revolution.

Second, he realized he would not be able to dedicate enough time to the position they wanted for him, so he would take one of the alternatives they had discussed the night before.

He dressed much the same way he had when first he visited the refugee camp, in wool trousers, a nice shirt, and a flat cap, and left for the village.

* * *

"Thank you, all of you in this, the Second Assembly of the People of Esp?rance, for coming here today." He smiled at those assembled in the hall, even laughed a little as he added, "After last night... well, there's a lot for us to talk about."

There was a murmur of a chuckle from the crowd and some nodding, and then quiet. One hundred were assembled today, almost all of the people aged sixteen or older, which was likely to become the voting age in the village. A woman in the front row stood cradling a baby, swaying to soothe him while she watched. Under this intense scrutiny, Alain very nearly buckled.

"Yesterday, the First Assembly suggested to me that I become baron, and that this be the Barony of Esp?rance..." He read from the paper that had been presented to him the day before. "...that as rightful lord of this land, I ought to take as my own ten per cent of the profits from the silver mine, and a ten percent tax on the livelihood of each household." His lips thinned as he thought.

"I appreciate the offer, and the intent, but I respectfully decline." It startled many in the crowd, but the men and women he had worked more closely with smiled strange little smiles. "I have spoken of investing personally in the mine, but if any portion is given away, it should be to all of you - for a good school, a playground, houses for the newlyweds that wish to live on their own and start their own families, their own households... maybe hire a healer, get a few of us trained so we can look after each other when we're not well..."

He dropped the paper and looked up. "I understand the gratitude, but the people you really need to help, you've been helping all along - each other. This village is your hopes and dreams, and your future. If you want to be grateful to anyone, be grateful to one another, be grateful to God... because, time and again, in spite of everything that's happened to us, we've gotten all that we need and more."

The loyalty of the crowd was regained after their initial shock. The whispers had died down, their eyes back on the front of the hall. "I understand you feel you need help with your political leadership... and for that, I'll suggest an alternative plan offered to me last night. A council, a sort of legislative body of six members, whichever six gain the most votes... and I'll... agree to the suggested position of Lord Protector, a title that will give me only two privileges - first of all, the right to observe any meeting of the council, and secondly, to cast my vote only in the event of a tie."

He gestured to the room, then, with one hand. "My final suggestion... is that you vote on it, and maybe the lawyers among us can help us get this thing in writing."

There was a long silence, but slowly, surely, the murmurs of assent built to open conversation, men and women nodding to each other as they stood up with only sporadic applause. It was agreeable to them, but their meetings had moved past the point of impassioned speeches and rallying cries.

Now it was just another job, like tending the fields, mending the wires or any other task, that needed doing.