3. THE WATERHOLE
That dreadful sun was up, glaring with its full might upon Violet's third day of expatriation. She woke up in a heap on the bed down in the panic room. She'd not gone to sleep there but her half-awake memories oozed back to her. No zombie had found itself to her door, but at the crack of dawn heat began clawing its way into her house. She was so exhausted from staying up late the day before that she'd tossed and turned furiously. In her stubbornness to not wake she'd finally got up and tugged only one side of the bed out - enough for her to squeeze by and down the shaft to where it was cooler. There she'd flung herself back onto a bed and probably slept another hour and a half.
Violet blinked at the sandstone edges of her panic room. It was hot even down here and she felt like heated sludge, but it was only initial-waking crappiness. She decided she had to get up and finish yesterday's writing. She climbed out, pulled a small strand of hair from her mouth and stumbled over her bed. She heaved tiredly before summoning enough strength to push it back into place. First thing she craved, as always now, was a drink of water. After that Violet flattened her hair so it looked less like a perching wildebeest. She'd never had unruly hair prior to living in this biome. Violet slipped on her boots because she didn't want to burn off the soles of her feet, but she didn't bother with a hat yet. She drew her iron sword as a precaution, it flashed into her grip, but even holding it she felt silly. Violet opened her door and walked backwards outside. The sun made her scalp sweat, her ears and neck started to burn. When she decided her house was free of mobs of any kind, she vanished the sword then got on her tip-toes, jumping to grab the white linen shirt and cargo shorts she'd thrown up there yesterday to dry after washing them. Her other change of undergarments stayed inside and had dried by the window.
Violet went back in, and in retrospect, wondered what she'd been thinking when she threw her clothes up there. It had probably been evening, and her mind was elsewhere on another task. Not only was the indoor heat of her stuffy house enough to dry them, but it was better to wear wet clothes in this climate anyway. Violet would've never believed that before coming here, but after living in this temperature for long enough she was convinced.
She fetched another piece of bread to nibble on, then sat with her tankard and made herself continue writing before her memories of yesterday were lost to her. The reason why she had so much to write was because she'd progressed in her assignment here so quickly. She'd accomplished as much in under forty-eight hours that she had in a week at the other villages. Violet was quite sure it meant these villagers had met with more than just wandering traders. Perhaps remnants of the trading company mentioned in the journal of the dead lord?
Most rural villages like these had no experience with outsiders who stuck around and weren't only interested in one day of trading. It wasn't because of distrust, as testificates weren't really intelligent enough for that. It was ordinary confusion - most villagers didn't know what to make of Violet and it was her helpful contributions to the village which served as her way into being accepted by them.
The villagers here were too aware of Violet, too curious, too willing to make deals with her, such as exchanging her labour for hospitality and a lunchtime meal.
Once they were more familiar with each other, Violet was going to start asking Chief Herkel about the types of visitors they'd received. For now she didn't want to ask anything and be labelled as nosey. They were sure to misunderstand, but in time Violet would get to her questioning stage and she'd be asking a great deal of things, constantly, all about their customs and history. She'd be filling her blank volumes with all of this, and likely sharing her observations with the chief to keep their compliance. The only thing Violet wouldn't share was her private journal which was for her most secret observations, mostly because they were likely to offend, which is why it stayed in the locked drawer of her desk.
When Violet finished writing it was almost midday. She'd spent half a day sleeping and catching up on yesterday's work. She finally undressed and washed herself, then changed into her second pair of clothes. She started scrubbing the pair she slept in with her bucket water, then when finished she opened the door and tossed the water outside. She could've poured it onto the floor for all it mattered in this heat. Not really though, Violet cringed at the idea of doing something so unclean. At least this time she draped her wet clothes neatly over the back of her chair and table. They would certainly dry. Finally it was time to step out and Violet knew what task she wanted to complete today. She didn't need a to-do list because it was likely to take up the bulk of her remaining hours. She fitted on her hat and stepped out.
The villagers were all gathered at the gathering site. She glimpsed them between buildings, all standing together with their straight postures and sleeves together. Violet didn't want to interrupt. She went into Ansel's stone masonry and started sweeping and tidying for him. She avoided the sharp edges of the stonecutter and didn't touch his tools, thinking it might annoy him.
"Oh good day there, Violet," Ansel said with surprise after stepping in later, he looked around. "Thou've cleaned mine shop."
A wave of uncertainty made her check, "I hope that's alright?"
"It is fine. I thank thee."
"Do you know where I could find a shovel?" She asked and he tilted his head.
The set of stone tools she'd been left by Augustus's team excluded a shovel and a hoe. Violet had told them not to leave her anything but they never listened, always absently tossing in odd items and food for her after the first build. Violet was led by Ansel to a chest at the back of a building, where various wooden tools were kept. They were worn along the edges but Violet was allowed free use of them. She thanked Ansel and vanished the shovel into her inventory before making her way to the well. Villagers she passed gave their typical nods of greeting, and they seemed less uncertain and a bit friendlier already. At the well Violet filled her pail, water pouch and tankard. She took a good long drink and then filled her tankard once more. Then she set off to the south side, in the direction of her house.
Prior to building she was going to make blueprints and show them to Herkel and the two old advisors in his council. The waterhole itself would be a nice way for the villagers to cool off, so long as none of the children played too rough here and drowned. She'd probably ask Herkel to discuss that during a meeting sometime.
Violet stopped in a wide space that was close to the village but not in anybody's way. She paused there and deemed it appropriate. She brought out the shovel and dug one block of space, the sweat was dripping from her. Then she vanished the sand and walked around to mark another section of the outer perimeter, piercing the spot with the blade of her shovel.
There was a chance no villager would ever use the waterhole. As a species, the adults preferred sticking to their paved walking routes, and they didn't even jump if they could help it. They didn't have the physiology for fighting or long-distance travel - there was a clumsiness, a lack of wiring in their brains that would've allowed for sharp or keen reflexes. They spoke with little intonation in their voices, and expressions or tone were subtle. Violet had learnt to read them well enough in all this time, and noticed subtle differences between villages: they had their own accents, idiosyncrasies, common sayings - some of which were hilariously weird, like one mixed metaphor that Violet couldn't recall now in this heat, about chickens and hoeing and diamonds that had thrown her into a laughing fit upon hearing it. There was just an overall way of doing things which made every village unique.
Her master paper would be the first study into common testificate villages that went into so much detail. She pondered this while she continued marking the edges of her sand circle, making some corrections and stepping back while turning her head, judging whether the size was proper. The heat made it hard to do all three: ponder these thoughts, physically work and deduce whether the size was right. Violet squinted for a few long seconds before deciding it was fine and moving around to dig up the outer edge.
Nobody was studying testificate villagers because they were regarded as unimportant and foolish. It would be seen by many as a trifle thing to study. But what Violet hoped most of all was that her paper would change the minds of people about these beings, and maybe share some of her own admiration for them in the process. There was no real competition or ambition here. They just lived their lives and harmed none. If only humans, endfolk and all other sentient life had evolved in the same way instead of like greedy expansionists, there would be no wars. And yet the testificates were looked down on for keeping to themselves. They lacked the imagination to be inventors and unite with other villages to build an empire of their own, even though their great many numbers would rival entire kingdoms on other worlds. Violet considered their way of life and thought it peaceful.
She had to keep taking breaks and refill her canteen. On these breaks she needed to find shade, or the sun was likely to give her heatstroke. She even resorted to pouring tankards of water all over her body. Passing villagers watched her while she did this, and some peered over at her work but said nothing.
The waterhole's outer edge was fifteen blocks across. In a day's work she hollowed out the first layer and then she dug out a peanut-shaped second layer for if the villagers wished to submerge completely. It took her hours to do, and she'd collected over three-hundred blocks of sand. More than four and a half slots in her inventory were full of it.
The day was cooling but Violet couldn't work any more. She'd have to finish this project over the coming week, and tomorrow she'd work to convert the sand into sandstone. Thankfully all that digging hadn't snapped the shovel. She stepped out of the shallow pit tiredly and walked back to the village, deciding her next order of business would be following up that research with Meliora in the library.
"Thou quoth a waterhole? That is the task thou granted thyself?"
Meliora stood curious at the table where Violet sat, still coming down from working so hard in the heat. She had the lord's green journal in front of her, and the librarian kindly put a piece of freshly baked bread beside it. She bit into her own.
"Thank you. And yes, I'm not sure if it'll be frequented much, but I know I'll be using it even if nobody else does."
"Nobody hither had thought to try doing a thing like that…" Meliora glanced up thoughtfully.
She turned away and Violet found her bookmark and picked up where she left off. Parts were draggy again, but before Violet could get too bored a curious detail would pull her right back in. They were like gold ingots amongst the pages, and she filed each detail away to record in her book at the end of the day. She read another good chunk and then it was getting late so she replaced her bookmark and put it back in its space on the shelf, then farewelled Meliora.
On her way along the path Violet saw an iron golem turn into view. As she walked towards it she wondered if it would go around her like it did the villagers, or was it indifferent enough to simply crush her underfoot? Violet kept walking straight but when it was a few paces away she chickened out and played it safe, giving the behemoth the path as it stomped along. Then she left the village limits and walked back home.
Violet sat at her desk and dutifully compiled the day's notes, which were less because she'd only interacted with a handful of the villagers. Her stomach grumbled, but she made herself finish before taking out another mushroom stew and a bread piece so she could dunk as she ate. She sat at her table by the window and her drink was just water in her wooden cup. She stared out at the monsters while munching away, her idle-brained nightly entertainment. Then she made herself go to bed earlier than she had the day before. The exhaustion of manual labour helped, as much as it increased her appetite too.
That night was the first time Violet was startled awake by bashing and growling.
She'd been in a deep sleep and awoke to surprising cold. She sat up in the dark and looked to the door as it jolted under angry fists. Violet wondered that if she were half-asleep, would she think she was back in her student dormitory at Lan'Tim, and that another student's invention had set the dorms alight with soul fire again? Would she think the urgent banging was Professor Castellan making sure she got out? Would Violet run to the door and open it, come face-to-face with a decayed, snarling face and realise too late that she'd invited her own death upon her?
The door banged still with further growls ripping from a guttural throat, it sounded like it was choking on a fistful of gravel, but angrily. Violet sat there for a moment, her heart naturally beating a little faster, and then she got up and worked to pull both sides of her bed out. She made her way down the trapdoor and climbed into the bed there. She felt a little better, but the angry sounds above were still audible and she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep.
She tried anyway, turning fitfully and bunching the pillow and then the sheet over her ears. When she thought she could take no more she lunged out of bed and her iron sword appeared in her hand. She had a mind to go up, fling open her door and let the thing impale itself on her sword. But suppose there were more than one out there….
Violet vanished her sword and fell back into bed once more. She resigned herself to staring up at the ceiling, and then eventually the thuds vanished and the growls became pained howling as the creature caught alight in the sun. Once it was dead Violet closed her eyes with relief. She soon remembered the waterhole, and all the other tasks she wanted to do today. With an internal sigh she forced herself out of bed to start day four.
She ate, washed, dressed and went for another walk. Taking a different route she ended up behind the mountains that were behind the village. At the tips she was in direct sunlight, but in-between it was like dusk. Violet was trudging up a dune, keeping her breathing steady when she noticed a distant spider crawling along a lower path, maybe a hundred metres away. It probably wasn't hostile but nevertheless Violet didn't want to be anywhere near it. She was worried she'd provoke it somehow. She adjusted her course. It took extra time and she was almost at the tip when she was met by another nasty surprise.
Creeper. It popped its ugly head over and looked right at her.
Violet immediately ran back down the slope, she couldn't keep her footing with gravity aiding her so she let herself roll. Sand flew about, as did her arms and legs. At least the dusk-light prevented the heat from hurting her. When the ground levelled out Violet was right back on her feet and running. The sand made this difficult but her grip boots helped a lot. She sprinted the length of the path and after a few minutes when she was sure the creeper wasn't following, she finally stopped and panted, squatting with her hands on her knees. Even now she noticed how pleasant it was to not have the sun burning at the back of her neck and ears the moment she dipped her head. Violet straightened up. She could've lost herself were it not for the fact she was so familiar with the landscape. As it was, she recognised the dune fifty metres to her left by its three points, as well as the steep pillar-shaped one behind it.
Violet followed the downward slope and saw something the topography scan hadn't picked up: the mouth of a cave. She stopped dead in her tracks.
No wonder there were monsters about. This was probably where they all went in the day - the ones that didn't ignite when their terrible forms were kissed by the newly risen sun. Down there in the dark undergrounds would be countless monsters…. The lip was sandstone and further down Violet could see the smooth grey of regular stone. A perverse feeling overcame her: she wanted to get closer and see if she could spy any precious minerals at the cave's entry, perhaps where it'd be safe to mine them without a monster finding her. She wanted to be able to do trades with the villagers, and she wanted coal for torches and different stones for detailing.
She was carrying a stone pickaxe in her inventory line, but Violet didn't bring it out. She didn't want to get any closer. She stood on tip-toes and peered into the darkness, hearing nothing, and somehow that was more ominous. Then she thought she heard a creak of some kind - or was it just her mind? - she couldn't be sure, and had to amend her former thought when she jolted with fear. Violet retreated backwards several places then scaled up a dune that would lead her back. She was ready to call it quits on this and any other early morning walks in the future.
Violet didn't want to spend as much time digging sand as she had yesterday. She felt like her hands had blisters from sweating while gripping the shovel, and being under the direct sun for so long was awful. So she decided she would break up the task with other jobs instead. On her first break she helped Sigrid the animal caretaker by carrying food for the animals, watching her check them over to ensure their health and also by asking innocuous questions she could record in her first volume. On her second break she said good day to Otto and Derg, the fishermen brothers, and they were all too happy to let her clean and organise their workstation. Derg showed her how they filleted fish and Otto gifted her with a cod. She knew where to go on her next break to cook it. Next time she left the waterhole she visited Ansel the stone mason again, and he helped her start converting all the sand into sandstone for new buildings. She used his oven and coal to cook the cod and they ate it for lunch together.
As she went outside again Nicolai raced past her while laughing. She wondered what mischief he'd been up to and which villager would next be angry with him.
Shortly after returning to the hole the shovel cracked, a split appearing down its length - the wooden ones didn't last long after all - so she went to see Dunstan the toolsmith in his shop.
His hands were covered in faded scars from years at work. Then there was the matter of his eyepatch... He was nice enough but affronting somehow, difficult to read and not distinctly warm. Violet was cleaning for him, scrubbing with a cloth and wringing it into her trusty pail. He was working away at his smithing table and Violet straightened up for a moment and wiped her forehead, then stared at his eyepatch dreamily, wondering how exactly he'd lost his eye. Was he slamming that hammer into a bright orange pick and a fleck of ember did the harm? He noticed her staring and Violet got embarrassed, lowering her gaze back to the floor.
"Are thou curious about mine eye, traveller?"
"Uhh…" He didn't seem mad so Violet just smiled sheepishly.
"I was young and playing with the other children up the dunes. I was pushed and rolled down, mine brow landing into a dry bush."
Violet shuddered, "How awful…" was all she could say. She wondered who among the other villagers had pushed him that day, leading to such a terrible accident.
"Our village hasn't let children play towards the dunes since."
"Probably for the best," Violet agreed.
After his work station was swept and clean, Violet left with a new shovel - an iron one. She worked through the afternoon before deciding to end her day once more at the library, she was almost finished with her book.
She and Meliora greeted each other like friends and then fell into a silence so Violet could read. She appreciated friendships where quiet wasn't challenged. She and Meliora could be sitting in a room together saying nothing and it was nice. Meliora got to know someone new who shared her passion, and Violet got to read and talk to someone who was smarter than the average villager, and kinder company than Petra or Dunstan.
Violet became lost to time but when she heard Meliora who was also reading turn a page from her desk, she cast a glance outside and saw the orange of the night's approach. The story had become tense with a falling out between the lord and his business partner, and Violet dearly wanted to get to the end. She made herself read through the pages faster, consuming the contents. When she reached the last page and a half she was shocked. Her mouth dropped open, and she turned over the book as if expecting more. She sat there, her mouth still open.
Meliora looked up, "Thou hast finished it?" Her tone was a tad sombre.
"I did… They were attacked by pillagers," Violet was in disbelief.
"'Twere a heavy ending."
"Was it the shipping company? Did they send the pillagers… for retribution?"
"That I know not. Yet 'tis a troubling thought."
Violet gnawed on her thumb nervously. If there were pillagers once upon a time in this region, that meant their tribe could still exist. If Violet found herself in the middle of a raid she wouldn't know what to do. She was utterly unprepared for that scenario.
The scouting technology at Lan'Tim could only do so much. It hadn't found the little cave among the dunes, and while a wide berth of land had been mapped it wouldn't be able to identify pillagers either. There were no castles or kingdoms out here, but if this were actually a barbarian no-man's land it certainly wouldn't have passed the initial screening for safety.
"Violet, are thee well?" Meliora noticed her expression.
Violet forced herself to shake off the worries. Getting pillaged while on a half-year assignment would be extremely unlucky, like pulling a needle from a haystack. This village had stood for all of the elders' - Dagorov's and Arbell's - long lives, and it wasn't going to be burnt down while Violet was there.
"I'm fine," Violet wiped her tired eyes. "That ending just shocked me."
"Do not feel ill for what befell him. 'Twere from a time long hence."
Violet hurried to make sure she got home before dark. She had another mushroom stew for dinner. Then she stayed up writing her observations for the day. She set down her quill and decided it would take until the end of the week for the waterhole to be finished. She was very tired and climbed down the shaft to sleep, praying to Notch that she wouldn't be woken again.
The next day, which was day five, Violet met with Chief Herkel and shared her concerns about the children wading into the waterhole unsupervised and falling in where it was deep. He suggested they build a fence so Violet decided that was what she'd use her sandstone for. With the use of Ansel's crafting table and stonecutter they both produced acceptable stone fences. After knowing that Violet was building for the village, a few were willing to help out in some ways. It was another possible sign that they'd had unique visitors and Violet felt her curiosity about that grow. After all, the buildings were kept in good shape instead of looking beaten by years of lashing sand. Either Ansel took his job seriously or they'd been helped before.
"I suppose the children can open the gates?" Violet thought aloud between crafts.
"Yes, yet they wot not to ope the gates to the animal pens."
"But Nicolai leaves them open..." Violet murmured and got no response, Ansel went back to sawing the sandstone she'd put together. Hoping that her plan hadn't been short-sighted and selfish, Violet kept on working too.
Violet spent much of that day setting the sandstone fences around the waterhole and fixing them together. At one point she looked up and saw little Tobias on his tip-toes, peering over at her from the other side. It didn't look like they could climb over, at least. He scrambled away again with little Gweneth chasing after.
That afternoon at the library Violet picked out a different book, a lighter one about farming. She wondered if there would be anything in it that could be used to challenge the farmer Idalia who seemed rather set in her ways. After retiring to her home, that was day five done.
It was the day after that when Violet used her pail to begin filling in the hole. This was possible thanks to the well's magical properties supplying her pail with source cubes of water. It was frustrating work to make it resemble a clear body and eliminate all areas that caused a flow. In this case aesthetics was just as important as functionality, Violet had created a new structure around this village and it needed to look as if it belonged there. That day was the hardest and Violet felt like she spent almost all of it getting the waterhole right. The water cooled her but it was little comfort with the overhead sun now glaring from above and below, off the water's surface. Worse still, she was only running on a few hours sleep due to another zombie bashing on her door and snarling with bloodthirst. Working in these conditions made her feel ill, but her stubbornness drove her to endure.
At one point she noticed all the villagers wandering outward from their homes, inspecting stick bushes in the flat or climbing the dunes. Similar to gathering time there was another indigenous practice called wandering time, where for a period in the day they'd explore the surrounding terrain. There was nothing in this arid climate to forage and yet they ambled anyways. Violet hoped they'd never find the cave as she went back to working.
On the seventh day, by the end of her first week Violet completed the finishing touches and was quite happy with what she'd made.
The only problem which Violet realised in the late morning after sticking her foot in - the water was uncomfortably warm. She laughed at the absurdity of her heated brain's thinking. It would need a covering of some kind, and Violet may need to gather more sand to build it. At the very least it would be good to swim here at dawn and dusk. The fences should keep the skeletons from hiding in there to put out their fires at sunrise, and Violet was again surprised she hadn't thought to build them herself.
There was another option for getting more resources: mining. Violet didn't like to do it. She thought it dangerous. Not only might she accidentally bury herself but she might dig into a cavern or abandoned mineshaft, then be swarmed by the monsters that lived there, all while under a dim torchlight because she was far from the surface. Not only did Lan'Tim boast other worthwhile studies, but also ones that could be pursued within the safety of the college's walls. Still, Violet's passion was her own. She would put off mining until she had to do it.
Standing with hands on her hips then, she supposed she'd think more on it tomorrow. There were other orders of business she liked to cover first while on assignment, such as her first expedition to another village. She hoped to find potatoes, and apples to make her favourite drink, and perhaps some pretty material to work into the detailing of the new buildings.
For the rest of that day she would take it easy with the remaining tasks. Instead of builds she would build on a rapport with more of the villagers.
。。。
【AN: Feel free to review if thee doth wish.】