Day Three-Hundred-Ten: Welcome to...?

We now have two things, diary, two very important things in this town, one of which I'd barely even considered up to this point!

Last night, after meeting with my advisors (Edmund 'n Grylock 'n Harold, while Libby played with Grayson and listened with one ear), I called a town meeting. I wanted everyone to get together, by the golden tree, right after dinner, to discuss a matter of importance. And, because everybody LOVES that damned tree, they all agreed. Even June and little Julius turned out!

Once I'd determined that everyone was there who was likely to show up (Grylock stayed in the wagon 'cause he'd started drinking too early that day), I climbed up on a pile of unused wooden planks and addressed the crowd. Then I fell OFF the planks, cursed a few times, told Edmund and Harold to hold the planks nice 'n straight so they wouldn't fall over again, and ACTUALLY addressed the crowd.

"My fellows!" I cried, turning carefully so I could see everyone without tumbling onto my butt. "We have been divided 'n stuff! That's bad! We need to be brought together or this town's gonna go shit-wise, like King Gok said! You don't want him to be right, do you? He was a prick!"

I threw my fist up at that last word. Most people agreed with me, some because they were genuinely annoyed at King Gok's long imprisonment of us, and others because they liked throwing their fists in the air.

"Right! We're gonna come together as a group and make this town, and we're gonna start that the way we shoulda: by making a single, LARGE building we can all live in! Like that stupid castle, 'cept without traps and shit!"

"Can we have traps eventually?" one noble yelled back. "I rather liked the Neck!"

"Of course!" I answered. "Better traps, even! Ones that are safe for us!"

The crowd cheered. I smirked, half because they were happy, and half because they'd gone along with the plan without realizing it. Most of them were busy thinking about all the awesome traps we'd some day install. I get the feeling the value of a home in this world is based on the number of traps set out around it.

Work began immediately. The workers set to pulling the piss-poor frameworks they'd started on down, pooling all of the wood and nails and tools together in one giant mass. Then, following instructions from Bora, who'd made this suggestion in the first place, they began laying out a new, large, multi-level building on the edge of the river, well within sight of the golden tree.

Work continued the next day, after most of the remaining wagons had been dismantled. Under Libby's undivided supervision, the labourers - who now included a couple nobles, yes, even they pitched in through small gestures - put up a base, and walls, and floors, and stairs, and more floors, and more walls, and some doors, and, eventually, a roof. They also included a long set of counters, and they brought in some rough stones pulled from the river to make a nice spot for Robert to cook.

Why counters? Why a nice spot for Robert to cook? Oh, it's so simple, diary: we made a PUB. A giant, live-in pub, where all of us can get drunk and flop down and sleep after a long day's work. All of the cots are laid out in neat rows throughout the pub, there are some tables and chairs for people to sit in, and we made a few rooms upstairs - contained rooms, LOCKABLE rooms - for, eheh, personal encounters.

If, you know, you're into that sort of thing.

I might be   

This is only a temporary solution, of course. The nobles won't tolerate living in close proximity with peasants for too long, and even the peasants want some privacy. I can relate, 'cause this setup is too communal for my liking. I may have been fine with no door on our old apartment, but by gods, I got USED to personal space. I want it BACK.

For now, though? We're one big, snugly family, tucked together under a single roof, sharing one another's warmth and kindness. Cold isn't a factor in an enclosed space with a roaring fire pit (don't worry, we used some stones on that too, the pub won't go up in flames), and even when the fire's snuffed in the morning, body heat and the warmth of farts will keep us happy.

Well. Warm. Farts don't please many people. Except Miguel the Labourer… he's a weird fella…

You may be asking yourself why we built a pub, diary. Why SPECIFICALLY we built a pub. I did when Bora first mentioned it the other day, and she made an excellent point:

"People are drawn to pubs. It's inevitable. You make a pub, 'n sure as shit you'll get some immigrants floodin' in. What better way t'build a community, eh?"

Her opinion was vindicated when, minutes after the last board was nailed down and the last cot put in place, a fist bounced off the front door of the pub. It was a man and his dog, both carrying shovels, and the man asked if he could get a drink. He also asked what our one-building town was called.

Raising a glass, without any hesitation, I answered. "Pubton, of course. C'mon in."

Salut,

Dragomir the Mayor