A man woke up feeling groggy, disoriented, and naked in the middle of a medieval town. He had no idea how he got there, who he was, or what had happened to him. His mind was a blank slate, devoid of any memories, except for his basic instincts of survival and, apparently, a language, though he didn’t know what the tongue was called. He looked around and saw people staring at him, some with disgust, some with amusement, and some with pity. He felt embarrassed and vulnerable, and quickly ran into an alleyway to cover himself.
As he was catching his breath, he noticed a beggar sitting in a corner, who looked at him with what he sensed was empathy. He felt grateful for the stranger’s kindness and accepted the pouch of coins the man offered. The beggar told him that he “looked like you could use the money more than me!” and smiled a half-toothless yellow grin, the man thanked him sincerely.
After taking the charity from the beggar, the man then decided to look for some clothes, and noticed a seamstress’s shop nearby. He approached the old seamstress and explained his situation to her. She looked at him with suspicion, but when he showed her the coins, she took pity on him and gave him some old, simple clothes she had in the back. She told him to keep his money and wished him good luck.
The man thanked her and asked if there was a cobbler nearby. The seamstress replied that her husband’s store was next door, through the hallway. She led him there and told her husband to fit him a pair of simple shoes for free, and that she would explain later. The man felt touched by their kindness and promised to pay them back someday. He then headed to the pub, hoping to find some food and maybe some answers.
He ordered some food and a drink, and sat down at a corner table. The bartender noticed him and struck up a conversation. The man explained his story and how he woke up with no memory of who he was or how he got there. The bartender shook his head and said, “You can’t even recall your own name?” and the man sadly shook his head. The bartender replied, “Well, that won’t do. You’re John now, after my favorite uncle.” John smiled sheepishly and thanked the bartender.
After some time, and finishing his food, John headed back to the cobbler to get his shoes. He thanked the cobbler and his wife and told them his name was John, a gift from the bartender. He then wandered around the town, trying to figure out what to do next. He knew he needed food, water, and shelter, but he had no idea how to get them.
Eventually, he saw a large woodpile behind the blacksmithy and headed inside to talk to the blacksmith. After explaining his story to the smith, John asked if he could split six months of lumber for the smith, in exchange for the splitting axe. He then said he would come back weekly to split for him if the smith kept his axe sharp and in shape. The smith laughed and agreed, and John got to work.
That night, John asked the smith if there was anywhere he could sleep out of the chill and wet for free. The smith told him about an old traveler’s shack on the outskirts of town. He warned him that it was rumored to be haunted, but John said he would take his chances and thanked the smith.
He made his way to the shack and found an old blanket and some straw for a pillow. After some startling encounters with rats, he fell asleep without incident. The next day, he began wandering the town, stopping at every home and business he saw, offering to cut wood for them for a bit of coin and food. The townsfolk pitied him and took him up on his offers. After putting in a 12-hour day, he was able to afford a night in the Inn’s cheapest room and still had money leftover for his savings.
John passed several months this way, becoming the town’s unofficial woodcutter. He had come to learn that the town was called Greenhill and learned the town and local area’s geography. He also familiarized himself with all 150 or so of the town’s inhabitants.
Eventually John decided he was tired of living in the inn and needed his own space, he had checked out a small, abandoned cottage on the outskirts of town and asked the mayor if he could purchase it from the town.
The mayor, a portly man with a booming voice, listened to John’s request and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Well, John,” he said slowly. “That cottage has been abandoned for years, and no one has shown any interest in buying it until now. I suppose we could sell it to you for a fair price.”
John nodded eagerly. “Thank you, sir. I’ll take good care of it, I promise.”
The mayor smiled, revealing a row of yellowed teeth. “I have no doubt you will, John. You’re a hard worker, and the people of this town have grown to trust you.”
They shook hands, and John handed over the agreed-upon amount of coins. He practically skipped back to the abandoned cottage, excited at the prospect of having a place to call his own.
He spent the next few days cleaning and fixing up the cottage, using his woodworking skills and some borrowed tools to fashion a crude table and chairs. He even managed to scrounge up some old blankets and a pillow, making himself a makeshift bed.
As he settled into his new home, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. He might not know who he was or where he came from, but he had a purpose now, and a place to call his own.
The next morning, he woke up early and headed to the town square, where he saw a group of people gathered around a man with a loud voice. The man was dressed in fine clothing, and his hands were adorned with expensive rings.
John approached the crowd, curious. “What’s going on?” he asked a woman standing next to him.
“The lord has come to collect taxes,” the woman replied, rolling her eyes. “As if we have anything left to give him.”
John frowned, watching as the lord’s men went from house to house, collecting coins and valuables from the townsfolk.
As the group dispersed, John made a decision. He couldn’t stand by and watch these people be taken advantage of any longer. He resolved to do something about it.
When it came to be John’s turn to pay his taxes, he handed over everything in his pocket, explaining that until a week ago he’d been a homeless woodcutter and only had recently been able to afford to move into the old shack by the river on the outskirts. The lord’s man laughed at him and said “this amount is fine” and still chuckling “if you ever end up making more though, we’ll expect a bigger sum.” And with that he patted John on the shoulder and walked away chuckling.
John was annoyed but kept his annoyance in check. After a couple more weeks of his woodcutting, he had earned enough money to buy his own set of carpentry and woodworking tools. He was very excited when he entered the smithy.
—-
When John entered the blacksmith’s shop, he immediately gravitated to the tools on display. “What can I get you John?”, Patrick the blacksmith asked in his typical jovial tone. Patrick had been the town blacksmith since he was a teenager after inheriting the shop from his father. He was a large man, with arms like tree trunks, and a pot belly betraying his love of ale and potatoes.
“I want to start wood working” said John, “really woodworking. I just bought the old cottage and managed to get it passably livable with some borrowed tools, but I want my own and I want to make it great.”
Patrick laughed “That’s great John. I’ll give you the best deal I can on all the gear you’ll need. We don’t have a carpenter or woodworker in town anymore, so you might even find yourself some business in that regard, if you’re up to it”. John smiled and nodded.
After their transaction, John headed home and got to work.
He rounded up any wood he could find around the town, asking for donations and offering to purchase from all his clients. He also began to scout the forest and teach himself about the trees and the different types of wood from them. He began work on proper wooden shingles and, with some advice gleaned from Patrick, and Nathan, who owned the general store and caravan, began making his own pitch by commissioning the distillery. With his handmade shingles and pitch he was able to replace the roof properly with one that would last for years.
Time passed and his skills and builds at woodworking grew. Eventually the townsfolk began commissioning him to make them things or build them outbuildings, barns, and house extensions. John had enough money coming in that he hired a boy from the village to take over his wood cutting and when the boy was confident and skilled at the job, John gave him the business to focus full-time on his woodworking and carpentry.
Finally, the demand for John’s work grew so much through Nathan’s caravan, that he had to expand. He got permission from the mayor to build his own outbuilding next to his cottage and make it a wood shop. Once it was completed, he bought some more tools from Patrick and some doubles of his other ones and hired 3 young men from the village to be his apprentices. They were all eager to learn and worked hard. He had agreed to pay them profit sharing on every commission and project in addition to their wages and they were very happy with that.
With all the money coming in now, John needed some help with tracking orders, cash flow, and paperwork. He needed an accountant. Nobody in the town had such skills or ever needed them before. So the next time Nathan’s caravan headed out, John climbed aboard and made his way to the city for the first time.
The trip took 3 solid weeks of travel, 12 hours a day, but the caravan was long and wide, even bigger now that much of it was occupied with commissions for John’s customers. John and Nathan made it to the city at Dusk and made camp on the outskirts for the night. The next day John got his first look at the city.
Port Saltmarsh, so named because it was an ocean port that backed into a marsh. “The town founders were creative” John thought with a sarcastic smile. Once in the port city, he knew exactly where to go.
Elias and Sons Banking was the largest banking company on the continent and one of the only ones in most towns. John entered and spoke to a clerk, a short overweight man with curly brown hair.
“Hi. I’m looking for someone to manage my money for my woodworking and carpentry business. Take care of orders, paying my apprentices, managing the money, and paying my taxes to the local lord.”
“Where are you from?” The man asked, giving John a strange look. “Greenhill” said John. “Well,” said the clerk “it sounds like you need an accountant for larger, longer-term things, but a book keeper for your day to day, unless you want to do that yourself.” “I do not.” said John bluntly. “I didn’t think so” said the man. “The problem is, Greenhill isn’t big enough to justify us opening a branch there, you’re the very first business from there that’s actually grown to this size, but even you aren’t enough to justify the expense of opening a branch and then running a messenger route.”
John couldn’t hide his disappointment. The man continued “Unless you can figure out some way to move the information faster than messenger, I can’t help you. You’ll have to keep doing the books yourself and then bringing them to us every quarter for deposits and managing your taxes.”
John thanked the man and left. He and Nathan spent a few days in Saltmarsh, meeting some of his clients and helping to deliver their commissions himself, they were all so friendly and grateful. Eventually after 3 days, it was time to head home.
The ride back was largely uneventful, until one day John asked Nathan about the birds. “What kinds of birds are those Nathan?” “You mean the tidewalkers? They’re all over the continent. Terrible to eat, no fat, stringy meat.” “Do they always fly back and forth like that?” “Oh yeah, that’s how they live. They eat this type of ocean minnow, but they nest inland near freshwater. They go in and out like the tide, hence the name.” John smiled. “you’re a genius Nathan” he said. “I know” said Nathan with a smile.
John began to plan.
——–
The next 3 weeks were like slow torture for John to get back and enact his plans, but it gave him plenty of time to come up with scenarios, traps, and training methods.
When he got back to Greenhill, it was 6 weeks later. His apprentices were thrilled to see him and he was thrilled to see his house and shop still intact. After catching up with them over dinner and ales he explained his plan. He was leaving them in charge while he began a new project, capturing tidewalkers.
All 3 of them laughed until they could see John didn’t smile. “You’re serious?” said Axl, the oldest of the three. “Deadly” said John. He spent the next week or so making various traps and asking Jacob, the town hunter, for tips. Once he was confident enough in his trap designs he went scouting in the forest near still waters for tidewalkers. He found some easily and began trying to bait them with salted local fish. To his surprise it worked, they loved the fish. “It must be the salt content” John thought to himself.
Upon his realization it didn’t take him long to trap a bunch of the tidewalkers. He would leave the traps near their nests for a few days while they were gone and leave food behind. After he got them comfortable with taking the food over the course of a few days, he snapped the traps shut and took home his new pets.
He kept the tidewalkers outside his house, and they squawked and pooped and generally did not love to be caged up. He fed them salted fish and fresh water though and they all ate and seemed healthy. They were hardy birds. Eventually after a few days of just seeing if he could keep them alive, the meat farmer showed up at John’s house and suggest he build them a coop.
Coop build, he did.