Now of course Hickory would have to wait - that he wasn't disappointed, not yet...and yet what had he been hopin' for - of course he'd gone past an empty flea market before and there wasn't anything there...

That his Market was just a bunch of poles in the ground, it had been a big space he'd picked, that it'd taken up a good ole piece of the park and that was the good bit about country living, that there was plenty of space.

A man needs space -

The book had a picture, there'd been flags up, tents and cloth flapping in the wind, a bunch of people walking around holding balloons and cook fire smoke...but this place had nothing, he felt ripped off.

Besides the poles that had gone up, there was nothing but a small table in the middle, it had a book on it - another book, more reading. He opened it, the first page had a map, a compass drawing, and a bunch of squares with numbers on them. Each page after that just had a number, a square -

Lot - Number 8

Available - Quarter Cycle Lease - 1 ^

Improvements Available:

Table - 10^ Deposit

Chairs - 2^ Deposit

Carpet - 5^ Deposit

Sign - 12^ Deposit

Prohibited Merchandise: None

Hickory ripped the page out, and now one of the spaces glowed. Space number eight and he heard a small splash, the sound of say a marble dropping into a pond, a ^ - he walked over to his space, space number eight, and why eight?

That's what page he'd been on when he'd gotten tired of turning pages, and there at space eight was another book in the middle.

Too many books -

Hickory opened it up and saw there were pictures just like his own book and thankfully not very long stories, that you didn't need to really read a story about a chair or a table? Hickory pulled out the table page. Heard the splashes for the deposit.

He tossed it and there was a table now, right there on his market space where he wanted it - now the only issue was he didn't have anything to sell - and that he really hadn't thought that out so he sat his gun down just to ponder on what he could offer?

A keypad appeared, like a calculator or telephone - right on the table, just simple, and a price - a 1^

And there were arrows, too, he pushed the up button and the number changed - 2^

Now he wasn't gonna sell his gun, certainly not for marbles, but -

"Why you sucker, you done tricked me again!" Hickory said - because he looked all over and there was no $ signs. He pulled out his book -

Market (Level One)

Cost: 500 Upkeep: 50

A demarcated location separated into leasable lots and designed to facilitate the purveyance of goods within a settlement. The Market is a basic hub of commerce and offers upgrade options designated to the lessor upon agreement. Rents collected by the market can be adjusted; converted to Build Points, deposited in the Fontiff's bank account, or kept within the market to earn upgrades.

Hickory of course had chosen to put the marbles back into the market after he'd chosen to build it cause he wanted as good of a market as could be, he already had plenty of marbles, probably over 100 -

Not that it did him any good, that maybe he needed a break from all this crazy, maybe it was time for just some plain ole fishin' and hadn't he earned it?

Hickory picked up the gun and took it back, walking off he heard four tiny splashes, two marbles leaving, and a different two sounds for two marbles coming back to his bank bucket -

"Now I've gone and bought my own gun from myself!" Hickory said, blowing air out his nose, shaking his head at how silly it all seemed to be.

Weston had investigated the Market - another building? When the other towns nearby had nothing...

Weston had searched all day for Hickory, short of camping outside the kid's house he realized he was going to have to use the Font. He'd hesitated because it seemed to cause the Font owner distress - he needed to bargain with Hickory, he needed answers.

Not to piss him off.

He'd waited until it was empty, during the day it was like a tourist location where people came to just stare, some drank. Weston saw that most drank just out of curiosity - that here, nobody grouped up outside and tried to convince them to drink...

Did that matter? Was May correct that more people would drink because of this difference? It seemed likely from what he'd seen...

Weston walked forward to the trickling water, took a deep breath - and then stuck in his finger, the water boiled a moment after and he waited, impatient - how long would it take him to get here, he lived miles away.

Then something changed -

Resistance? Was there something pushing him back all of a sudden?

It wasn't like before, wasn't like the other two Fonts that just bubbled, though he'd only tried for seconds...it was a strange feeling, stranger still because it felt like it pushed against him, not just his finger, it also pushed against his mind...

Weston didn't remove his finger and instead pushed back, he had to speak to Hickory, had to know - tried to push his whole hand in and because the water was clear he noticed the next change that occurred, that from his finger a whiteness appeared to be leaking.

What?

It was even more then that because at the same time Weston had felt something beneath his finger, that it was solid, not like the water at all and looking down he could hardly believe his eyes - there was a Book.

That it appeared, a brown outline, but where his finger made contact with the cover, the part he could feel, there was an obvious white mark, more then that, the entire fountain seemed to be turning white, the barest outline of feathers as though penciled on...

And he realized - You could take the Book.

You could fight for it, but not like any fight he'd every been in, this was...mental? That didn't seem right, it felt like he was using something in him. Something deeper even then his thoughts, it was -

It was a duel...

Weston had only meant to call Hickory but it was suddenly a challenge, a match - it was their fight interrupted, now resumed and he focused, searched himself for a way to fight, for a weapon.

And the prize? Wasn't it the same, wasn't it May? That if Weston had the book he'd not have to back away out of fear of causing Bad Blood between Hickory and his Family, he would have it all - his families respect, the Book, and May -

Weston was a being of pride - that wasn't it his birthright, as a Covanger - to lead this town? To have this book, certainly he was better, more deserving then Hickory -

But it wasn't pride that he felt his mental fingers catch on like he had expected, it was there, but a different instinct was stronger now, he'd felt it before, tried to understand the emotion, the sensation in his chest, where pride rested on the top of his head, that he wore it - this was closer to his sternum, this was -

Confidence?

Yes - yes, that was it! That was the feeling, the white sweetness was confidence, that was it's strength, the Font, that was him - even if it didn't feel solid like his pride had...

Weston had the confidence that he would win.

He was going to do it. He imagined Hickory screaming, running like that woman had as he felt Weston's unstoppable power, now he knew why they were so panicked and Weston didn't stop, he pushed harder -

It was near midnight, was Hickory even awake? Could he even make it in time? Could he stop Weston even if he did?

Weston grinned, watching the fountain turn white, feeling his confidence grow, his ambitions but moments from fulfillment...

It had been a good day, that Hickory had taken a break from all the nonsense for a bit of fishing, that he'd caught up on his chores first, checked his traps and put a mangy coyote to rest and reset the ones picked over. The chickens were doing good and he'd spent time talking to each one so they weren't lonely.

Then he tended to his garden, taking the worm leavings from his worm bed and sprinkling them over the plants, grabbing some worms, too, you can't fish proper without good worms - that he didn't put a thought into that Book at all, didn't so much as peak...not until the day was done, not until the fish were gutted and soaking in milk and he was grinning that the whole world was right again -

He'd already built everything good - that it was obvious the church would be next...

That he knew who he'd have to talk to about that church, he'd be talking to May's dad, the Preacher, and that man was serious, it had his stomach kicking - and not just that -

That Hickory'd been thinking bout May? That he was wondering if she was back to regular, he didn't want to see if she still had them crazy eyes? What would he do if she was like that?

That it wasn't til late that he even opened that book just to see if somebody had rented one of them market stalls, just to check, and he saw something new - something that hadn't been there before.

There was a fish hatchery.

In fact there was a whole bunch of choices

Hickory's hands were shaking, 1500 Points, he didn't have 1500 points - A whole bunch of things had appeared that took 1500 points?

It wasn't just the picture, it was the name, too, it wasn't a trick, the book said Fish Hatchery, had a picture of a bunch of boulders, little ponds - and certainly the book wouldn't joke about something so important as fishing...

He was naked, bout to sleep, already in bed -

What else was there?

Seed Bank, Insecterrariam, Forestry Environment Generator, Wildlife Preservation and Proliferation Area?

There was more - Skill Store (700), Crafting Store (600) - those were less, he had that much when he'd built the market, why hadn't they been a page in the book! They sold things!

"Now why you go and tell me all this right now?" It was cruel -

That he hadn't fought all day, that he'd been goofin' off, and he didn't have the points for these wonderful things, he couldn't build them, he'd have to wait -

That he wanted that Fish Hatchery right now -

He could imagine exactly where to put it. There was a spot with three big oak trees, a little washed out bend and a dryin bolder you could sit on that would warm you right up when you were done swimmin. The water was still near there and shady, weeded and deep and a great home for them fish -

Just imagine - that the fish needed to feel welcome so they stayed just close, Hickory didn't want them swimming too far off. The fish needed to poke right out of that hatchery and say, 'home sweet home.'

This was a serious matter, there was a nice sunk tree, it was damn near perfect - and he had been dressed and with his boots on, a flash light out and his shotgun knowing he wasn't gonna get no sleep tonight, that he'd been laying in bed awake but dreaming - when it hit - it was like a slap that pulled him from his thoughts.

Sweet water, Hickory remembered it, could almost taste and smell that milky water as it chilled him - that was what hit him, and there was a wrongness coming from his book.

On the cover was a white spot! Like somebody stuck their finger in paint and then touched it - he stared and saw it spreading, at the same time the book seemed to fade - like it was getting lighter...

What if it faded away completely?

He'd lose it - it'd vanish, he was just sure of it, and just moments ago maybe he'd thought that was a good thing, that he didn't give two shits about the book...that the swimming pool had been a nasty trick, the marble bank was useless, the market empty - all that was before - there was a picture in that book of a buildin that was gonna fill his whole river with fish!

He was frozen and staring at the book, trying to understand what was wrong, what he should do and of course the first thing he thought of was that he'd not been doing as he was supposed to -

What if he was being punished? For not choosing the church, what if that was it?

Would Mama want a church in the front yard? Would she mind? He was about to run ask her but before he did - he felt something inside him, it was that honesty again, that armor that came when he was fightin - not for his body, this time cause it wasn't him being attacked, it acted like a shield for the book - His Book -

It wrapped that white stealing poison right up, it caught it and it stopped growing, the worry, the bad feeling passed and Hickory took a deep breath knowing the book wouldn't be taken away - but he could still feel it there, like a frog in his hand bouncing around, trying to escape - it felt strong, and then suddenly stronger - was it growing again?

Because how honest was he? That he was never gonna lie again? Just please don't take the book before that fish house gets built, and he wouldn't tell another fib - He didn't have to worry - cause he was more then just honest.

He was Brave. Da's and his, that other place within, it felt stronger than the honesty since he'd been fighting, he was a brave man, facing all them demons alone, killing them good and dead, and it'd kept growing, so had his sword - the blade had got a bit wider, a bit longer, not that he was braggin bout how big his sword was -

It didn't try to catch the white, it didn't try to slow it from spreading - it attacked, punched out of him without a thought - or maybe he had a thought, maybe he'd been a tad sour something was after his fishing book, that the white spot got knocked off faster then a baseball with Chase at the plate?

Hickory took a deep breath.

The book was whole again - safe.

Hickory was sweating, shaking like he'd run miles but he didn't care - his prayers had been answered.

Fish Hatchery

Cost: 1500 | Upkeep: 150.

A structure that adapts to the present aquatic environment with a purpose of disbursing species adapted for niche fulfillment. Species improved through the resource enhancement process are additionally imprinted to remain local, however offspring may deviate.

Weston was waking up, his head throbbing, his hands shaking - he'd been attacked. Hit from behind? No - no, he remembered what he'd been doing, remembered the feeling...Not a physical attack - he was alone, but he'd been destroyed.

He felt for the wound, not with his hands, it was inside - mentally he probed at the pain. A gaping soreness filled his chest as though he'd been stabbed, it was where his confidence had been, now shattered. He felt at the broken remnants -

He was empty - that power, that sensation, it was gone...like he'd never drank at all.

It was awful - he felt weak - he could remember the sweetness, that ambergris, imperceptibly foul, yet felt right, it suited him - that hidden flavor of confidence that had throbbed within but now he saw it for what it really was ...

Knew it because he was so sure he was better, he'd win - That the Font was already his -

Arrogance.

Was that what he had used to fight with - or were they the same? He wasn't sure, wasn't confident or arrogant now...just broken. He couldn't explain the feeling, it was beyond awful, how people would describe heartbreak...

That he also felt victorious? Accomplished? Celebrating even as he felt the painful defeat - for hadn't he truly won his prize?

Knowledge - a secret, nobody in his family had known yet, which meant almost nobody in the world knew, or at least weren't sharing...

You could change a Font - if you were strong enough. You could wrest control of the book. That Hickory was somehow strong, too strong, had knocked him out and left him feeling broken?

There was more to this all then just buildings...

Getting woozily, leaning over, once more Weston drank, on his knees he slurped from the fountain. And this time he felt the difference, the broken glass of his shattered confidence was washed away. Purged. The water of the Font refreshed him, filled him -

Weston focused on that feeling as it disbursed within his body, as it became normal like before, hardly perceptible. There was a power to it, a resonance, but it wasn't as easily detectable, it truly had no flavor -

It wasn't until Weston's mind wandered, that he contemplated the pride he remembered before, that he felt it, the pressure - at the crown of his head, that he had taken originally as the pressure to contribute to the family...it was more than that...

Weston cleared his mind, forcing himself to relax, just as he would at the gym when preparing to lift a new record, a new - no, that was similar, that was also pride.

His strength, his body - it had tingled in anticipation, but still he felt it strongest on top, resting on his head, he'd been trying to find another emotion, to test if it worked for anything...

How much of who he was was tied to pride? His family name?

All his other emotions gravitated there, that he'd never felt grief, or fury, or anything with such a complete comprehension - he'd never tried to think in such a way, tried to understand the inner workings of his psyche, those pieces -

What drove him -

Even love - certainly he felt something for May? She was perfect, a jewel - for his crown - his pride...

What didn't happen was a reckoning, a need to change, because Weston realized, when he finally stopped trying to force some fake emotion, when he let that pride solidify once more, to rest upon his brow - he embraced what he already knew -

His pride was his strength - and just how powerful was it? That if he was certain of one thing it was that he couldn't imagine anything stronger, his family - him.

They built this town. They owned it - they always had. They always would.

That this fight had only just begun -