Artisan
Ome Town was a large settlement nestled in a valley between the mountainside and an ancient city. It had roughly paved roads, and houses mashed together from bits of rubble from the neighboring ancient town. Bibarel and Floatzel guards roamed its perimeter, offering just enough security to keep out any big operations. Every morning before the Starlys began chirping, the few morning workers would arise to their duties, followed by the regular citizens and travelers.
A young zangoose, one of the early workers, could be seen in the crowd. She passed her time by working for the town carpenter and spent her nights with personal art projects.
It was a cool spring morning when a special request had come in.
She walked down the Golem-rolled road that linked the other dwelling, making her way to her workplace with a single strap pack that was swung over her shoulder and enjoying the quiet atmosphere of the still awakening town. The workshop was at the end of the road, embedded within the makeshift wooden wall that protected the town from both the elements and invaders. The building itself was made of uncut logs and a roof of natural foliage, the master carpenter being as nostalgic as he was skilled at his craft. Beside the workshop was a closed-off yard of lumber provided by the Machokes and Golems that provide most of the heavy lifting for the town.
Upon reaching the old wooden door to her workplace, she carefully rested two of her claws into the perfectly carved recesses hat fitted them. There was a satisfying click, and the door opened up to allow the smell of wood dust to fill her nose .
The inside of the workshop was dimly lit by the morning sun, the leaves from the four trees that supported the walls allowing only the necessary amount of light into the room. Just one of her teacher's clever designs.
In the corner of the room was her sleeping teacher. The tall Sceptile was quite old, as shown by his faded green scales and slightly wilted tail. Despite his overall appearance, his claws were always sharp and ready for his work.
She quietly removed her bag from her shoulder and rested it against her work station by the door. Shuffling past several other in-progress projects from the previous night that were organized against the wall, the zangoose reached the desk the Sceptile had his head rested upon and gave it a gentle tap.
"Morning, Jalce."
In an instant, the sceptile's snores stopped with a rough snort, and his head lifted up to see the zangoose coily smirking his way. Still adjusting his eyes to the light, Jalce rose from his seat and began walking towards the sliding doors that lead to the small lumber yard.
"You're late…" He murmured, taking a glance at the sunlight penetrating the roof.
"You're too early." She replied, already shoving back the wooden door frames, tables, and fence projects against the wall like she had them last time. "You need to stop working after I leave, I'm going to feel bad everytime I see you finishing up these things without me."
"As if," Jalce scoffed, "I may be old but I still need a bit of practice every now and again. You finish more projects than I do per day, so don't give me that guilt trip, Shersa." The Sceptile pushed the doors into their respective alcoves in the walls, opening up the room and breathing in the morning air that came with it all.
Shersa chuckled. "I really only worry that you're doing too much. Sooner or later I'm going to come here with no master at all because you'll have worked yourself to death."
Jalce glanced over his shoulder, revealing to Shersa his tired and stern face in the light. He curled his large leafy tail to his side and crossed his arms. "If I die doing what I love, then it's nothing for you to worry about."
Shersa sighed. "Could we not talk about death this early in the morning?"
"You brought it up… and it isn't early!" Jalce turned and gestured towards the uncut logs in his materials pile. "Time for some warming up, bring me a set of cut timber. If you're cuts are fine and well measured I might allow you extra helpings for breakfast."
"Yes, sir!"
The zangoose went out the wide doorways and got to work. As she began choosing her materials, Jalce went to retrieve the mail that rested in his designated slot beside the door. The mail was delivered by staravias at dawn, and for the shop work orders it came by a special slot that carried the mail from a red marked trunk at the top of the building. Placing the bundle of requests on a dusty table, Jalce went to the cupboard to start on the meals.
In the workyard, she had measured out all her pieces and was already starting to cut them. Just beyond the fencing that bordered the yard, townsfolk were starting to increase in numbers on the streets. Machops, bidoofs, sentrets, and mareeps could be seen making their way to their own jobs. A chansey, kangaskhan, and miltank were heading to the local school, and not long afterward several child monsters were on the same route. It wasn't long before the towns center was filled with several different species out to either shop, eat, or just wander.
Once Shersa had done her morning chore, she placed the last freshly cut material against the back doorway and walked in to be greeted by a meal on the center table. She moved aside some tools and other small items and seated herself before digging into the Cheri Berry bread.
Jalce walked into the room with opened request orders.
"A lot of requests for that flower door decoration you made last week. It's getting more popular than the very doors that they are now resting on." Jalce stated, sitting on the opposite side of the table while flipping through the papers.
"Jealous?" Shersa asked between bites.
"No…" Jalce looked above the papers and now at Shersa's eyes. "Just proud." He went back to counting the different orders.
Shersa smirked. "Careful, Jalce. I might let that go to my head a bit."
"You still need to work on that hastiness of yours, Shersa. Measure twice, cut once."
"I- I really do not need to keep hearing that everyday."
"Well… hopefully if I say it twice, I only need to order wood once." He replied nonchalantly.
Shersa returned to her breakfast, unable to counter a very truthful statement on her tendency to rush work when she got too excited. Her rush would often result in several redos and a rise in the material cost over her five years under Jalce's mentoring. Despite this, Jalce kept to his teachings and was determined to make her successful in the craft.
"Hmm… how interesting." Jalce muttered, his brow furrowed upon the sight of the last letter in his hands. Shersa glanced across the table to see a very strange parchment in between his claws. When the usual requests came in they would be written on the typical heavy, brown paper that was provided by the local shop. This one was pure white and seemed very thin as it waved in the breeze from outside. The writing, as could be seen from Shersa's perspective, was also crude and large.
"What is that?" Shersa questioned. "It looks like it came from outside the town."
Jalce did not answered until he had read and reread the order twice over. Once he seemed satisfied with what he had seen, the Sceptile folded the paper back into the envelope it came in.
"While requests from outside town have never been too uncommon for me, this one is almost… too foreign for my liking." Jalce said.
"No offense master, but that sounds awfully prejudice."
"No no no. You see… well just read it for yourself."
He flicked the thin package towards her. Shersa opened it up and unfolded the letter. At first it seemed like a starly had inked its feet and danced across the piece of paper. But as she studied it, she soon saw there was in fact a very roughly written message in the scribbles.
TO the woodworker in OME
I am a neighbour in the ruins close to you.
I would like a piece of SUPPORT for my DISABILITY in walking
I can pay when sent
FROM a friend in the ruins
"Wow," She muttered upon finishing.
"Now you see my point." Jalce took in a deep breath before looking around the shop and exhaling heavily. "I would imagine he requires a walking stick. Why on earth he's asking for one from me is… odd to say the least."
"Why is that?," Shersa asked before looking at the letter again.
"Shersa, find a suitable branch in the woods and you have your walking stick. Having someone design your… cane when you won't even give the needed measurements is just idiotic." Jalce got up and went over to a barrel of long wooden rods. He shuffled them around, looking at each individually before pulling out one that was equal height to him.
"Plus, the sender of that letter claims to live in the ruins. I can only imagine what kind of meaning they have for 'pay' if we're answering a trade deal for a hermit." Jalce placed the rod along the edge of the table. "Unless… " The sceptile glanced back at Shersa, who was still inspecting the letter. "Notice anything in particular about it yet?"
Shersa had been studying the lines in between the words to find that the random scribbles were in fact failed attempts at structuring the message itself. Different words like "market, center, heart, and home" were all crossed out or written over.
"Well, I can tell this is not by someone who has written before… or even seen a letter. It is almost as though someone guided them on it."
Jalce nodded. "Yes. The other night I was out in a meeting with some of the Machokes-"
"You mean drinking with the guys?," Shersa interjected with a coy smile.
Jalce went silent, then continued. "Anyway, in that meeting Furl mentioned that some of the younglings had been talking about a monster in the ruins. They claimed it had been flying between the tall structures and that it had tentacles on its head, with spikes for paws."
"If that is your mystery customer, it would explain the handwriting."
Jalce chuckled. "Of course, you have to take into account a young child's imagination. Nonetheless, it would seem like this stranger needs our help, and that someone in town is giving them some info."
Shersa tilted her head in confusion. "What makes you say that?"
"I think it would be the talk of the town if someone like what those children describe paid us a visit to simply deposit some mail. Someone from here more than likely met this stranger in the ruins and told them about who could help them out with their walking problem."
"Would it not have been easier to just come to us directly? Or maybe even get someone with some healing knowledge to help?"
"Maybe they have already. Whatever the case, we will accept his request." Jalce took the wooden rod and carried it to his desk and got to work on it.
"Hey, I always thought the ruins were taboo?" Shersa asked, putting aside the letter and getting to work on some of the other requests.
"Hmm? No. The ruins are just unpleasant, barren, and a reminder of an old dark time." Jalce replied. The sceptile had coated the rod in a green oily solution and began bending and stretching the ends.
Shersa cut apart the block of wood into the base of the door decoration she always made. She had done it so many times, it was easy to neglect measurements and carve it out by memory. "Sounds like a wonderful place for a trustworthy individual to hang out." She said sarcastically.
"I'm sure the client has his reasons, and if you're that worried then why not head to the Star Delivery post and ask who sent the letter?"
"I guess… But why are the ruins so barren in the first place? You would think the Golems and the Rhyhorns would love to reside in those huge stone buildings."
Jalce almost jumped hard enough to lose his grip on the staff at her words. "Shersa… you did not pay a lot of attention in history, did you?"
She stopped her actions and gave Jalce a blank stare, and while doing so overcut one of the 'petals' of the wooden flower. "Um, I may have slept through that subject." She admitted as her paw tried to cover her mistake.
Jalce shook his head in disapproval before shaping the walk support again. "I find it incredible someone so intuitive can forget basic history."
"Honestly, much less 'forget' and more… it bores me to death." Shersa laughed.
"Well, without breaking out my books, those ruins are the remnants of a war that ended before my own time."
"Wow, something older than Jalce, go figure."
"Don't push it."
"If it was so long ago, how come it is still… unpleasant?"
"Would you ever play in an old graveyard?"
"I suppose not, but still."
"Shersa, there is a saying that 'history is written by the victors'. In this case, the victors were not too proud of their history. That decaying city is what is left of a time we wanted forgotten."
"Then why did we make a town so close to it? So we won't forget what we should be forgetting?"
"In a sense."
Jalce placed the finished walking stick in between two holders that kept it in place to dry. The once straight rod was now a elegantly curved walking support with a large bulbous top and glossy finish. The sceptile then reached for some of the branches above and adjusted them accordingly to allow direct sunlight on the staff.
"Finished. Go and ask the birds at the post office who sent the letter so we can get a better idea on how to deliver this without looking like fools. By the time you get back this should be ready for delivery."
Shersa nodded and shoved her current project into her bag before heading towards the door. As she was walking out she heard Jalce calling out.
"And don't assume I missed your overcut earlier, I'm giving you extra lessons when this delivery is done."