Chapter 1.1: The Birth of Aralin
Chief Nagorn idly picked up a stone along the riverbank and cast it into the waters, watching the rock crash through the surface and send up a small splash around it. His lifetime friend and adviser, Valgre, stood next to him, speaking, "Everyone is tired, Nagorn. Tired of walking, of constantly moving. When are we going to find this perfect land, this promised land?"
The stoic, boulder-like Chief simply picked up another rock and threw it, watching it sail through the air before finally plummeting into the waters once more as he listened to Valgre continue talking, "The elder ones say that the soil here is good enough to grow food, and we can get more seeds from the forest, as well as hunt game. We can fish in the river and along the seas, and the people speak of salt rocks to the east. We should settle
here, Nagorn."
The boulder continued staring off across the water before finally grunting and nodding his approval. But before Valgre could walk off to give the order, he said, "Valgre, I still want you to accompany the men further east. I have a feeling there is something else out in those lands." The lieutenant paused just long enough to reply, "Understood," before continuing his walk back to camp.
Valgre quickly returned to their people and gathered them together to declare, "Chief Nagorn has told me that we have finally arrived at the land where our children shall flourish. You can all rest easy a bit and prepare to lay down permanent roots. To the farmers, you can start preparing your fields to plant." The crowd of people sighed in relief almost in unison, having travelled across the lands for countless years as nomads. Valgre received many hugs as thanks as he passed through the people towards the waiting band of men.
It took him a few minutes, but he finally arrived, "The Chief says we don't get any rest. We're to scout further east." Many of the men in the group expressed their annoyance with grunts and grumbles as one of them asked, "Seriously? What's so important we have to keep searching while everyone else relaxes?" Valgre shrugged, "He wouldn't say. Gather some supplies and let's go."
They had walked a few days before stopping to take break and eat a few bites, when Valgre noticed something as he scanned the horizon. It jutted out of the ground like a red fist. He turned his head to the group, "Falre, come here, tell me if you know what this is." The man came as ordered and looked as Valgre pointed, "No idea."
The lieutenant considered the rock for a moment, wondering if this was what Nagorn had anticipated they might find. Finally, he told Falre, "Gather the men together when they're rested, we're moving towards it."
It took them another day to finally reach the enormous red rock. When they had finally reached its base, Valgre could only stare up at its height and be awed. The group shortly decided to name the formation "The Red Fist," but Valgre investigated it more closely, discovering a cave filled with ancient paintings on the wall. He traced them gently with his hands, once more awed by the figures of men, beasts, and something else. One painting near the entrance showed the Red Fist, the waters and lakes to the north, but a drawing of what seemed to be tents and people to the Fist's southwest.
While it was entirely possible Valgre was misinterpreting the image, he decided they might as well take a look as he emerged from the cave to command the men to begin traveling towards the southwest.
Unfortunately, after more days of travel and searching, they found only stone ruins instead of people. Valgre judged that perhaps a few hundred people had lived here as he passed between the piles of stone that once marked homes. Eventually he ended up at what he guessed was the center of the settlement, as the stone remnants were constructed around it, leaving a central stretch of open ground. The man turned around slowly, taking in the the sights, wondering what happened to the people, when he suddenly bumped into something.
He quickly regained his balance and turned around to discover a medium-sized pot. As he rubbed his chin wondering what it was, Falre walked up next to him, "Odd. They have a few of these lying about, mostly pieces, but these are larger..." Falre tapped the pot with his foot, causing the contents to clatter about inside, "Something in it too."
Valgre took that to mean they should see what it was, so he grabbed the pot gently and turned it onto its side, sending dozens of small pieces of other broken pots scattering onto the ground, "Odd. Pieces of itself, in itself. Why would they store them together like this." Falre shrugged, "Counting people maybe."
The lieutenant picked up a few shards, examining them, "There are marks on these pieces. Two different kinds of marks. I think you're right, but I think they were counting choices." Falre seemed confused as he asked, "Choices of what?"
"Maybe anything. Chiefs, what to do, whatever choice had to be made I guess..." Valgre considered that process for a moment. It made sense, including the people in the decision-making process, unlike what they had now, with Chief Nagorn deciding everything. A lot of the people were upset with him having constantly moved the tribe forward, "Falre, get the men together. We're taking a few of these things and their pieces back with us to the others."
The group had to travel many more days to return to camp, but when they finally arrived, Valgre breathed a sigh of relief to see the farmers had prepared some of the land for planting, and to see that the tents were still in place. Strangely, no one was in the fields. As they approached the settlement, the men could hear some kind of commotion in the center, causing Valgre to order them to pick up the pace so they could find out what was wrong.
Valgre himself rushed ahead, finally finding a crowd in the center of town. He quickly forced his way through them, though most quickly moved out of the way when they saw who he was. In the center, he found some of the elders talking amongst themselves as he demanded, "What is it? What's wrong?" One of the elders turned to him, saying simply, "Nagorn died of disease. No successor was given."
The lieutenant stood there a few minutes, stunned, until Falre jostled his way through the crowd and asked Valgre what was happening, to which he replied, "Nagorn died. We don't have a successor, which could mean a power struggle." Falre stood next to Valgre, whispering, "But we brought those things back. To choose. Right?"
The man couldn't believe he'd forgotten about the pots, but now it made some sense. Perhaps Nagorn knew he was dying, and someone knew Valgre would find the solution to the tribe's problem. He instructed Falre to bring the men here, with the pots, while he told the people of how they would pick their next leader. Once they understood, his men brought the pots forward, placing one each in front of the contenders; Valgre, a warrior named Grahl, and a farmer named Devre. The men and women received one shard each, to place in the pot of the man they wanted to lead.
Valgre knelt in front of Nagorn's grave and grabbed a handful of soil, letting it run between his fingers as he wondered aloud, "Did you know you'd die, Nagorn? How could someone foresee something like that? And to foresee me finding the answer to your death, the means by which our tribe could go on. Would you have approved of my method, Nagorn? Voting to decide leaders, courses of action... I guess it doesn't matter. Our people, the Aralin people, have flourished. The crops grow well, the rains aren't too bad, the fish are delicious... Part of me wishes you were alive, but the other part... The other part is glad you died. I'm sorry to say that, Nagorn, but the truth is, I've been the better leader..."
A hand came to rest on Valgre's shoulder as Falre said, "Chosen, we need you back in the city. There's been a discovery to the north." The Chosen nodded and stood, "Let's go, Falre."
