Note: “NARRATION” is semi-diegetic, as Arlo records his thoughts on events after they occur. This is intercut with those events.

 

Chapter One

 

[The ramping up of some kind of analogue recorder. Rustling. Distant nature sounds. Arlo clears his throat.]

 

NARRATION:

 

This is the first formal recording of myself, Arlo Harker, in my new role as Chronicler of the Road. I’m replacing Zoran, the previous Chronicler of the Road, who has departed from the caravan and from the life to settle down in our current stop- the town of Prosperous. He probably mentioned this in his final Chronicle, the one just before this, but protocol is that the transition should be clarified in the new Chronicler’s first Chronicle. Zoran’s decided that the life isn’t for him anymore, he wants to be able to settle down somewhere, raise a family, feel the light on his face. He’s liked this town on our previous visits. He could have chosen any other place along the Road, and in our previous visits he’s taken a shine to Prosperous. We’re here now, and he’s staying. That’s it. The caravan wishes him well, and we look forward to seeing how the light has changed him the next time the Road unites our paths.

 

As the new Chronicler I swear to faithfully maintain this account of our caravan and the Road upon which it travels. The way it changes, and the way stays the same. Today we depart from the town of Prosperous, returning to the Night, to the Road, and so I’ll give my assessment of its state here. Zoran likely already gave one, but… he always liked to talk about how his records had a different “voice” to those of his predecessors. Not just because he spoke them aloud into this recorder, but the ways he saw things were different. He used to say he would listen back to old accounts of settlements the caravan was visiting, and wonder if it was really true that the place had changed so much since the account was given, or if it was just a different set of eyes seeing different things. If this is being listened to by someone down the line, well, listen to this account of the town of Prosperous and Zoran’s in succession. See where they differ, where they align. That can be your guide to our different sensibilities. Zoran was… I guess you’d call him an optimist. Was- is, he’s not dead just because he’s given up the life. I wouldn’t say I’m an optimist. I don’t really know what you’d call me. If you’re listening to this, however far down the road, you’ll have my subsequent recordings to listen to as well, so you’ll likely get a better picture of me than I’ll ever get for myself. 

 

Got off track there. The town of Prosperous. Primary export is lumber, seeing as how it’s in a forest. The light extends well past the town wall, ending a short way into the treeline. The area within the light is clearcut, but there’s great care given to letting the trees regrow in the light so that they can be harvested again when they’re tall enough. One big cycle of harvest and regrowth. It’s a mixed blessing: they can regrow the trees in the lit area, but the folks that live here don’t ever want to go out into the Night. Not like a mining town where they can just dig straight down. If that’s how mining works, not like I’d know really.

 

Prosperous is a decent enough name for this place. It’s not the most well-off place I’ve visited on my travels along the Night Road but it’s far from the worst. I say it’s a fitting name because every time the Road brings us here… dozens of times since I was born, it’s been in a better state than the last. I suppose that’s what you want from a town, or a society. You know, the way I tend to judge how well a place is doing is by how they react when our wagons roll up to the gate. Some places it’s children who run up to us cheering and begging for sweets and toys. I prefer those places. Places where children can have childhoods. A lot of places, it’s grim. Men with hard eyes, driving hard bargains, children looking sad- when the children are even allowed out to see us. Sacha and their performers do their best to cheer them up, but it’s… infectious, the misery. The desperation. It’s obvious, to me at least, when they have to try harder. It gets to them. And they do usually bring some smiles to faces, but then we leave and… Sasha said to me, once… it’s hard knowing that the people in the poorer settlements need us more, but looking forward to those settlements least. Anyway, Prosperous isn’t one of those settlements. It’s nice enough. The Caravanserai is inside the town walls, which isn’t always the case. Appreciated, even if it’s just as much for the town’s benefit as for ours. The people here are pleasant enough, there’s smiling children. I-

 

Melody:
[Calling from outside the wagon]

Dad! Daaad!

 

Arlo:
Ha. Speaking of. Yes, sweetie?

 

Melody:
The town’s- Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to- you’re doing the Chronicle! Sorry-

 

Arlo:
No, no. It’s fine. I was… rambling. Kept getting in the way of my own thoughts. This Chronicler thing isn’t as easy as Zoran made it look. 

 

Melody:
You’ll get better at it!

 

Arlo:
Well, thank you. What is it, girl? I thought you were helping Old Bess with her work?

Melody:
I was, but Herschel told me to tell you that the… man in charge here, he’s been looking to talk to you.

 

Arlo:

And Herschel couldn’t come tell me himself because…?

 

Melody:
He seemed busy, I don’t know.

Arlo:
Yeah, I can imagine what he’s busy with right before we leave town.

 

Melody:
What?

Arlo:
Nothing, uh, don’t worry your head. Prosperous calls their man in charge the Reeve. This one’s name is… uhh… Stone. Bill Stone. I’ll go see him now, the Chronicle can wait. I wasn’t exactly… Might start over. 

 

Melody:

Good, should I return to Old Bess now?

 

Arlo:

Yes, I- no, actually, go to Mister Worthy’s wagon and fetch a loaf of hard bread and a bowl of salt for me. Bring it to the Reeve’s house right away, I’ll be there.

 

Melody:
Why?

 

Arlo:
If you do it for me, you’ll get to find out, that good enough?

 

Melody:
Okay. Which one is the… Reeve’s home?

Arlo:
The biggest one. The title changes from town to town, but you can always tell who’s in charge by the size of their home. Even if they’re not the one in charge, strictly speaking.

 

Melody:
What do you mean, strictly speaking?

 

Arlo:
Child, you’ve been given a task. Attend to it.

 

Melody:
Ugh. Yes, Dad.

 

[She leaves]

 

Arlo:
[Sigh] I’ll pay for that later. Is this thing still recording?

 

[Arlo trudges through the street, crunching through snow. Distant laughter, music. Some people greet him, and he greets them in return. Over all this, the Chronicle continues]

 

NARRATION:
[Sigh] Okay. Picking this up where I left off. We’re almost ready to depart the town of Prosperous. Just waiting for the… preparations to be done. Light, I… I suppose I have to do this. Can’t hardly avoid my duties on my first day as Chronicler, even if… I suppose I left off when I headed to the Reeve’s house. It was a bright cold day. Snow on the ground. People were happy enough, though. Visits from a Caravan mean more in winter, after all. Folks were happy for supplies and such. They didn’t know… Anyway. I arrived at the Reeve’s house. Nice big place. Warm inside.

 

[A knock at a door. The recording sounds fade away]

 

The Reeve of Prosperous:

Ah! Arlo. Good to see you. I am correct that it’s you in charge of things with your caravan now, yes?

 

Arlo:
It’s… not quite in those words, but I am the one you want to talk to, most likely. Should I come in?

 

Reeve:
Yes! Of course, yes, get out of the cold. Harsh season, isn’t it! Can’t imagine what it’s like in the dark out there, at least we’ve got the Light on our side here. Imagine you make the most of it while you can, eh?

 

Arlo:
We make do, sir. It’s what we’re best at, and… we’re used to it, anyway.

 

Reeve:
Bah, no need for the “sirs” now, come. I’m leader of the town, you’re leader of your caravan. I say we should talk as equals. I tended to with your predecessor.

 

Arlo:
Very well, Bill, although I will say again that I’m not exactly the leader of my caravan.

 

Reeve:
How’s that?

Arlo:

I’m the Chronicler, like Zoran was before me. I-

 

Reeve:

Zoran, yes. He’s settling in well, I hope? Getting some rest from his hard years on the road?

 

Arlo:

I hope so. None of us have seen where he’s staying, but he was so eager to get away most of us assume he’s found a woman here, is why he’s keen to leave. 

 

Reeve:
Ahh, of course. So, not likely he’s getting any rest at all, am I correct? 

 

Arlo:
We should all be so lucky, sir. 

 

Reeve:
He’s not as young as he used to be, of course, I hope he paces himself. But to die in a younger woman’s bed… there are worse ways to go!

 

Arlo:

Yes, sir. Anyway, as I was saying. I’m Chronicler, now. Not leader. That said, while the role of Chronicler is not technically that of caravan leader, it is through the Chronicle that future generations will learn of their history. So there’s a tendency for Chroniclers to be considered the leader nonetheless. I intend for my time as Chronicler to be one of democracy. We are all equal in this caravan, each just a small part of the larger whole. 

 

Reeve:
So.. are you not whom I should speak to, if I have something of importance to discuss?

 

Arlo:
That’s… It’s my first town in the role, of course. I haven’t had much time to establish my way of doing things, or discuss things with the other members of my caravan. That said, I have a duty to be present at important moments and meetings so I can attest to them in the Chronicle. So whomever you would end up speaking to, I’d be there too. 

 

Reeve:

I see. So we can speak?

 

Arlo:
We can speak. Just, one thing. 

 

Reeve:
What’s that?

Arlo:

Well, I was hoping-

 

[A knocking at the door]

 

Reeve:
Well who can that be.

 

Arlo:
That will be my daughter, sir. I asked her to bring us something- may I let her in? 

 

Reeve:
Of course!

 

[Melody enters]

 

Arlo:
Introduce yourself, girl.

 

Melody:

[Shyly] Hello, sir. I’m Melody.

 

Reeve:
A pleasure to meet you, young lady. My name is William. I’m the Reeve of this town.

 

Melody:
Yes sir, my father’s told me.

 

Reeve:
What’s this you’ve brought now? 

 

Melody:
A loaf of bread and a bowl of salt, sir. 

 

Reeve:
I thank you, but surely I should be the one to offer food, as the host.

 

Arlo:
Not merely food, sir. The bread and salt is a tradition of… hospitality. A pact between men. 

 

Reeve:

I’m familiar, of course. I do believe, though, that it is for the host to provide the food that the guest may partake.

 

Arlo:

Yes, but… Well, I figure we’re the ones who bring salt to the town, and take the town’s bread away with us on the Night Road. It seems apt to bring the two together here to symbolise the mutual benefit of our bonds.

 

Reeve:
I see… It’s not something that Zoran ever did.

 

Arlo:
We’re different men.

 

Reeve:
Of course. A fine idea! Shall I break the bread? 

 

Arlo:
I would be honoured if you would. 

 

[The bread is torn, and passed between the pair]

 

Reeve:
Would your daughter like some?

 

Melody:
May I?
 

Arlo:
Go on then.

 

Melody:
Thank you, sir.

 

Reeve:
You’ve raised a lovely young lady, Arlo. Her mother must be proud.

 

[A pause]

 

Arlo:

Head on back to the caravanserai now, girl. See what Old Bess has for you to do.

 

Melody:
But-

 

Arlo:
Go on, now.

 

[Melody leaves]

 

Arlo:
Her mother isn’t with us. 

 

Reeve:
Oh. I see, I’m sorry to hear that.

 

Arlo:
…Yes. Shall we get to it, then? What you wanted to discuss?

 

Reeve:
Yes! Of course. To business. I’m afraid it’s rather serious.

 

Arlo:
I thought it might be.

 

Reeve:
Yes. You know, Prosperous is a good town. I understand that we have things better off than many, and we are grateful to the Light that that is the case. 

 

Arlo:
Mm.

 

Reeve:
But things aren’t perfect here, of course! We have our share of problems. In fact, just a few days ago, a fellow went missing. You’ve probably already heard, he’s a Farrier.

 

Arlo:
Yes, sadly I can’t say that I know anything about his whereabouts. I do hope he turns up.

 

Reeve:
No, of course- your sympathies are appreciated.

 

Arlo:
Is that what you wanted to ask about?

 

Reeve:
Ah… Not as such. There’s another matter, though not as serious. You see… there have been some reports of… thefts, in town. 

 

Arlo:

That’s terrible, I’m sorry to hear that.

 

Reeve:
Yes, just small things here and there, jewellery and the like. Earrings left on windowsills, fine wines all the way from a town called Groveston- have you heard of it?

 

Arlo:
We pass through every year, of course.

 

Reeve:
Of course! Of course, you may have even sold some here this visit. Yes. So, yes. Things have been going missing.

 

Arlo:
[Resigned, knows where this is going] 

That’s quite terrible. When did all this start?

 

Reeve:
Well, that’s the thing. It seems that it’s begun since your wagon has come to town.

 

Arlo:
Oh dear. I’m appalled by the implication, of course. Do you mean to say you think someone from our caravan could be responsible? 

 

Reeve:
I would never speculate, of course! I would never want to harm our town’s relationship with your- or any caravan. You travel through the Night that we might prosper, and without you we would be alone.

 

Arlo:
Mm.

 

Reeve:

But… you live hard lives out there. You live hard lives, away from the comforts that you provide to us.

 

[Beat. Arlo is letting the moment become awkward.]

 

Reeve:
And of course, some say you allow Darklings join your caravan.

 

Arlo:
Really? They say that?

 

Reeve:
Some do, yes. Though it pains me to say it.

 

Arlo:
And you think that these Darklings, with whom we… consort, these Darklings have come into the town of Prosperous with us and robbed your people. 

 

Reeve:
I… well, I suppose you’ve cut to the heart of it! 

 

Arlo:
Hmm.

 

Reeve:
Of course, these are just rumours! Speculation, that sort of thing. 

 

Arlo:
Of course.

 

Reeve:
I have a duty to protect my people, and-

 

Arlo:
And their valuables.

 

Reeve:
Hm? Ah. Yes, quite. Well, I promised my people that I would have a word with you about this issue. Uncomfortable as it may be.

 

Arlo:
Well naturally I’m appalled to hear about this. 

 

Reeve:
It’s a sorry business.

 

Arlo:
While I do not believe that we have any Darklings among the members of our caravan, I will have a stern word to my fellow travellers about this issue before we depart.

 

Reeve:
I do appreciate it, as do all the people of Prosperous.

 

Arlo:
Yes. Was there anything else you wanted to speak with me about?

 

Reeve:
Hm? Oh. I suppose not. It was just that-

 

Arlo:
Very well. Here, you can keep the bread and salt. Have it with your supper if you like.

 

Reeve:
That’s… that’s quite generous, but…

 

Arlo:
Was there something else?

 

Reeve:
Ahem. I suppose not. 

 

Arlo:
Good. The caravan will be departing in a little while. If I don’t see you beforehand.

 

Reeve:
I’ll… I will be there to see you off, as is my duty.

 

Arlo:
Good. [beat] You know, one almost has to respect the Darklings, hm?

 

Reeve:
I… how do you mean?

Arlo:
Well, it’s just that we’ve only been in town for two sleeps, and their pilfering has become such an issue that word of it has managed to reach the ear of the Reeve. They must be causing quite an issue, and in such a short span of time.

 

Reeve:
I’m not sure… Well. Yes. Quite, ah, efficient, as you say.

 

Arlo:
Yes. I’ll see you as the caravan departs, Bill.

 

Reeve:
Yes, you too, ah… Arlo.

 

[Arlo departs the Reeve’s home. He pauses outside, sighs]

 

Arlo:
Melody, come out now. 

 

Melody:
I was just heading back to the wagons, as you said!

 

Arlo:
You must have been taking some very slow steps. And perhaps a detour to lurk below the windowsill where the Reeve and I were talking?

 

Melody:
No! I was-

 

Arlo:
Mel. It’s been snowing. I can see your footprints. 

 

Melody:
Oh.

 

Arlo:
Come on, let’s head to the caravan. Bad enough you’ve been lurking outside the Reeve’s house when there’s been talk of theft, even worse if I lurk with you.

 

Melody:
Is it true? What the Reeve said?

Arlo:
Oh I imagine there’s been pilfering, though I’m sure it began before we arrived and will continue long after we’ve gone. 

 

Melody:
No, about the Darklings!

 

Arlo:
Ah. Look, that’s… we can talk about that later. 

 

Melody:
But-

 

Arlo:
Promise. There’s just something else I want to ask you, okay?

 

Melody:
What is it?

 

Arlo:
What do you think happened in there?

 

Melody:
Where?

Arlo:
In the Reeve’s house. My meeting with him. What was that about?

 

Melody:
Well… He thought that Darklings had been stealing things. And that they were part of our caravan. 

 

Arlo:
Did he?

 

Melody:
That’s… That’s what he said.

 

Arlo:
A very important lesson here, girl: what people say, and what they mean, are often not quite the same thing.

 

Melody:
He was lying?

 

Arlo:
Eh. Not quite that, either. I believe things have been going missing. 

 

Melody:

… but it’s not Darklings doing it.

 

Arlo:
Ha. Smart girl. No, it’s not Darklings. It’s people. With many of the world’s ills, what people blame on the things that live in the Night are actually just… people. People being people.

 

Melody:
So there’s a thief in Prosperous?

Arlo:
A thief, more likely it’s thieves. Not that they’d call themselves that. Just some people taking an opportunity to make their own lives a little easier.

 

Melody:
People in Prosperous have such good lives, though. Compared to my town, or even more compared to some of the others we’ve passed through.

 

Arlo:
It’s all perspective, Mel. When you’re on the bottom rung of the ladder, you don’t really care how nice the ladder is. You see how the people a few rungs up have it, and you want what they have. And it goes the other way, of course. Even people in a nicer place like this can have problems, real ones. Things are tough all over.

 

Melody:

…but… So why did the Reeve think it was us? Or, the Darklings he thinks travel with us?

Arlo:
Ah. See, that’s the thing- he probably doesn’t.

 

Melody:
What? Why would he ask about it, then?

Arlo:
It’s a thing that Zoran warned me about, when he passed this job on to me. He used to call it “The Bullshit”.

 

Melody:
Oh!

 

Arlo:
Some problems are… What’s it called, when a tree is always leafy even in the winter?

 

Melody:
Evergreen.

 

Arlo:
So you have been listening to Magritte’s lectures. 

 

Melody:
Actually, Old Bess taught me that. She was showing me some special herbs that last year round.

 

Arlo:
Oh. Right. Well, some problems are like that, too. Evergreen. They never really go away, but like a plant you can prune them a bit. Or not… they’re more like weeds. You can pull them up, but they keep coming back. Am I making sense?

 

Melody:
Sort of.

 

Arlo:
Agh. I’ve lived on a wagon my whole life, how am I to know about gardening. The point is, what the Reeve back there was doing, he was doing some… social weeding, I guess? He has a problem, wealthy ladies’ jewels going missing. It’s not a problem that ever goes away, because even if he could somehow catch every thief and throw them out of the town into the Night, there’s always more people looking to steal. But he can’t exactly say that to the ladies and their husbands, can he? “Sorry, you just have to tough it out”, no?

 

Melody:
I don’t think they’d like that.

 

Arlo:
No, not at all. So instead, he makes a show of it.

 

Melody:
You think he made up the part about the Darklings? He’s pretending it was Darklings to make the ladies feel better?

Arlo:
No, not quite. Blaming things on Darklings is evergreen too. Easier to blame things on the things that live outside the town walls than the person who lives next door. But he did choose to blame the Darklings in particular with me. Probably he’s been helping that rumour spread before we arrived, even.

 

Melody:
Why?

Arlo:
Well, because it’s not a problem he can solve, but it is one he can make a big show of looking like he’s working on it. And he can pass the blame for why he can’t solve it fully on us. People from outside. 

 

Melody:
But we’re not Darklings.

 

Arlo:
No. But by the time the people of Prosperous go to bed we’ll be out on the Night Road and they won’t have to see us again ‘til next year’s visit. So what the Reeve’s done, is he’s gone to his… what do you call them, constituents? He’s gone to them and said “I know who’s been stealing your things. It’s the Darklings.” And he doesn’t want to make it look like the town’s defences are poor and they’re letting Darklings in, so he says they’re sneaking in with us. He tells his people “Don’t you worry. I’ll have a proper word with Arlo-” or Zoran, he probably said, if they even keep track of which Caravan is next to arrive. “I’ll have a proper word with those people about all the Darklings they’re letting in, and it’ll all be sorted.”

 

Melody:
That’s not fair! We didn’t do anything!

 

Arlo:
Yes, well. That’s “The Bullshit” for you. Make your problems someone else’s problems, make it look like you’re doing all you can- because, perhaps you really are- and in most cases, for towns like this, the “someone else” is going to be the next Caravan that rolls into the Caravanserai. Zoran warned me about things like this, I just didn’t imagine it would crop up so soon.

 

Melody:
That’s why you brought the bread and salt, isn’t it?

 

Arlo:
Oh? Is it now?

 

Melody:
Yes! You had me bring that in to make him remember that we’re guests. That he’s not being a very good host to us by getting us caught in his trouble.

 

Arlo:
Have I ever told you how clever you are?

Melody:
Mostly you say I’m “too clever for my own good”.

 

Arlo:
Yes, well, I stand by that. Anyway, yes, I did what I could to help our side of things. No way of knowing if it helped, but at the very least he didn’t impose fines or tariffs or whatever you’d call it on us. He gets to tell his people that he gave me a stern talking to about all our Darkling friends, that’ll have to do.

 

Melody:
That doesn’t seem fair. That he gets to say bad things about us and we can’t do anything.

 

Arlo:
Well of course it’s not fair. Whoever told you life was fair? A few more months on the Night Road will rid you of that notion.

 

Melody:
I’m not a little kid.

 

Arlo:
Of course not, my apologies. Go on now and help Old Bess pack up for departure.

 

Melody:
Really? But I helped you, and then you gave me this whole boring lesson, isn’t that enough?

 

Arlo:
You seemed interested! You don’t get to turn around and say it was a boring lesson when you wanted to know about it in the first place. I ought to be punishing you for loitering under windows anyway, never mind the lesson in The Bullshit.

 

Melody:
Mother always said people who curse are as uncivilised as The Darklings.

 

[An uncomfortable, loaded pause.]

 

Arlo:
Alright, go on and see what those local boys you were playing with are up to now. But don’t stray too far from the Caravanserai. 

 

Melody:
Yes sir!

 

Arlo:
I mean it! We depart after the next meal, with or without stragglers. 

 

Melody:
Yes sir.

 

Arlo:
Alright. Enjoy yourself while you can. 

 

[Arlo trudges through the streets once more. The recording effect returns.]

 

NARRATION:
Hadn’t really intended to visit Zoran until I found my feet heading his way. Ought to have left him to his peace- we all said our goodbyes when he moved his things out of his wagon. 

 

[He knocks on a door. It opens.]

 

Zoran:
Hm. Thought you’d already be out in the Night.

 

Arlo:
Soon. Can I come in?

 

Zoran:
If you like.

 

NARRATION:

Zoran’s new home was nice enough. Nothing like the Reeve’s, but few others in Prosperous are. It was bigger than any of our wagons, that’s for sure. Too big, honestly. Wouldn’t know what to do with all that space. Of course, he has a girlfriend to share it with, and perhaps more company to come. It’s nice. I’m happy for him.

 

Zoran:
Come to kidnap me back to the caravan, or just to see how the other half live one more time before the Night takes you?

 

Arlo:
We don’t all have such ulterior motives, Zoran. Just wanted to stop by and fill you in. Had a meeting with the Reeve just now.

 

Zoran:

Ah. And so what did Bill have to say?

 

Arlo:
Well, you were right about The Bullshit. 

 

Zoran:
Ha! Already?

Arlo:
Apparently we’ve been letting Darklings in. They’ve been pilfering. 

 

Zoran:
Pfft. Hardly the worst you’ll see leading this lot.

 

Arlo:
I’m not their leader, Zoran. You know that, better than anyone. 

 

Zoran:
Yes, you are. I know that better than anyone. Chronicler isn’t just the person who writes the story, they’re the one who tells it.

 

Arlo:
I’m not having this argument again, Zoran. I just thought you’d find it funny that Bill didn’t even give me one trip around the road before he started putting his problems on my back. Might be that he’ll try to put some of them on you, as you’re the newest resident.

 

Zoran:
Appreciated. Tabitha’s just out fetching… something, we’ll be having supper once she gets back if you’d like to join us?

 

Arlo:
No, thank you. I’m not… I don’t have much of an appetite. 

 

Zoran:
Nervous?

Arlo:
Just… anticipating the road ahead. First departure from a settlement with me as Chronicler. Feels… something.

 

Zoran:
You’ll do fine.

Arlo:
Why did you pick me? As Chronicler?

 

Zoran:
Because you’re the one I trained to do the job.

 

Arlo:
Yes, yes. But why did you train me? There’s a dozen or so other options in the Caravan. Why me?

Zoran:
Thought you’d be good at it, at first. Then, when you’d learned the ropes enough to start critiquing my way of doing things, I kept training you so that I could see you coming back here year on year and find out if your way of doing things really is so much better than mine. 

 

Arlo:
Yes, pride and spite really are the best motivators for choosing our Caravan’s future.

 

Zoran:
Ah! The Caravan’s future, is it? So you admit that the Chronicler’s role is more important than just telling stories?

Arlo:
“The Caravan’s Future” is what the Chronicle is. It’s how this period in the Caravan’s existence will be known to others down the road. And, if The Road should take us, it’ll be the only way anyone will find out how. 

 

Zoran:
Indeed. 

 

Arlo:
That’s responsibility enough. I don’t believe it’s also my role to dictate the path the Caravan takes. That duty falls to all of us in the Caravan to choose together, as the Road allows.

 

Zoran:
And I look forward to seeing how that attitude fares when next you darken my door, Arlo. I truly do. 

 

NARRATION:

It was mostly just chatter like that for a little while. Cup of tea.Talk about the old days. That sort of thing. Nothing of substance, really, just talking for the sake of it, talking about nothing so we wouldn’t have to say what we really wanted to. Ha. Now that’s the real bullshit. Anyway, it went on like that for a little while, until…

 

[A voice from some distance calls]

 

Sacha:
Arlo! You round here?

 

Zoran:
Ah! More bullshit, hot and fresh?

Sacha:
Melody! Come on out, now!

 

Arlo:
What in the Light… [He gets up, opens the door] Sacha! Over here.

 

Sacha:
Ah, finally. Someone said you’d headed to the Mayor’s place.

 

Arlo:

It’s the Reeve here. What did you need from me, Sacha?

 

Sacha:
Well, I was really- oh, hello Zoran. Settling in alright?

 

Zoran:
So far it hardly feels like I’ve left the Caravan.

 

Sacha:
Ha. Sorry to add to your woes.

 

Arlo:
Sacha. What did you want? You looking for Melody?

 

Sacha:
Yeah, well. Ah. Just wanted to make sure she was safe.

 

Arlo:
Safe?

 

Sacha:

Our sciencey friend was out doing… something, I don’t know. Said he saw some young ones sneaking out past the walls. 

 

Zoran:
Out?

 

Arlo:
They’ve gone out in the Night?

 

Sacha:
That’s just what Magritte said, wasn’t exactly polite about it but he doesn’t usually deign speak to-

 

Arlo:
Was Melody with them?

 

Sacha:
Well I thought she was with you, s’why I came and checked. Is she not here?

Arlo:
Light, come on. I sent her off to play, for all I know she’s- come on!

 

Zoran:
Did you tell anyone about this? The town guard?

 

Sacha:
Why’d I tell them, they hardly care about a Caravaner girl heading into the dark.

 

Zoran:
Damn you Sacha. I’ll fetch some help. 

 

Sacha:
What? Melody can take care of herself, anyway. She’s been with the Caravan for months-

 

Arlo:
It’s not her I’m worried about- come on.

 

NARRATION:

Moments like that a town as small as Prosperous feels like it goes on forever. We ran for the town gate, fast as we could- caught a few looks along the way. If people got the impression that something was wrong, well, good. Something was wrong. I’ve been scared before plenty of times; I’ve spent almost my entire life out in the dark, after all. But that kind of fear… I’ve only started feeling it since… well. Since Melody.

 

We saw Herschel coming out of some… reputable establishment on the way to the wall.

 

Herschel:

‘Lo there, where you off to all in a hurry?

 

Arlo:
We’re after Melody, don’t imagine you’ve seen her?

 

Herschel:

Nah, don’t reckon I have. Why, what’s she up to?

 

Sacha:
Same thing as you no doubt, out chasing boys.

 

Herschel:

You make the art of romance sound so crass-

 

Arlo:
Can you both take something seriously for once, please? Melody and some local boys have snuck out of town.

 

Herschel: 

Into the Night?

 

Arlo:
Where else?

 

Herschel:

Shit. Okay. I’ll go roundup some people, get the guns loaded. 

 

Arlo:
And get some pants on while you’re at it.

 

Herschel:
Yes boss.

 

Arlo:
Good man. 

 

NARRATION:
The edge of the town’s pretty stark. Some towns, poorer towns, it’s more gradual. The town kind of peters out toward the edge of the light. Nobody wants to live right up to the point where the shadows lengthen, but you make do with what space you’ve got and not everyone can afford a defensive wall. Prosperous has a big palisade, old strong tree trunks set deep into the dirt, with platforms set against the inner side so patrols can see over the edge. The gate is kept most of the way shut, except for when Caravans come by, but rarely fully closed unless something big is prowling nearby. Fifty paces or so from the wall to just about the edge of the light is all clear-cut: a good clean view all the way from the wall to the edge of the light. The forest begins right around the same spot that the shadows do. A bit before, really. The lumberjacks don’t care to get too close to the Night. The area around the gate is clear, but they cultivate new growth around the other sides of town for lumber. It’s all very neat, well-maintained. Nothing can approach the town without being seen well in advance by the guard, and the gate secured. Not that that’s even necessary, much of the time. There’s a wide variety of intellect among things that go bump in the Night, but most care for the light about as much as townsfolk care for the dark. Both sides leave each other well enough alone. So, apparently, things in Prosperous have gotten a bit lax of late. The safety of the wall, the guards, the good view of the area. It all makes people feel safe- or at least, safe enough to let their guard down a little. Not enough, hopefully not enough, to let anything nasty sneak into town. But just enough that some kids might be able to sneak out.

 

Arlo:
You! Guard! We need help.

 

Guard:
What is it, Caravanner?

 

Arlo:
Some children have run off into the Night. We need to make sure they’re safe.

 

Guard:
Eh? Light’s name would they do that for?

 

Sacha:
Because they’re kids?

 

Guard:
Not my job to go wandering into the Night after missing Caravan brats. 

 

Sacha:
What?

 

Arlo:

It’s not just ours, we think it’s a couple of town boys out there too.

 

Guard:
Well that’s a shame, but still not my job.

 

Sacha:
Well then what is, prick?

 

Guard:
I keep things out. I don’t go fetch them. Feel free to go out there yourselves. I might even let you back in if you’re polite.

 

Sacha:
You know what-

 

Arlo:
Look, can you at least pass the word along? In case the parents or someone are looking for them?

 

Guard:
Fine. Be surprised if they want to go out there either, though.

 

Arlo:
Yeah. Do you see anything, Sacha?

 

Sacha:
It’s all quiet. Do you reckon Melody’s with them?

Arlo:
…It was probably her idea.

 

Sacha:
I’m sorry, I wasn’t… Been with the Caravan all my life, didn’t think much of it except to make sure Melody’s safe. Should have made more of a fuss.

 

Arlo:
You’re fine, Sacha. 

 

Sacha:

…She’s fine, too, Arlo. I’d bet anything.

 

Arlo:
I know you would. [Beat] The hell is Herschel with the guns?!

 

Sacha:
He’ll be here soon, let’s just try to-

 

Arlo:
Screw this.

 

[A brief scuffle, then Arlo’s footsteps]

 

Guard:
Oi, what are you- hey! HEY! Stop him!

 

Sacha:
Arlo! The hell are you doing, stop!

 

Arlo:

My apologies, sir. Sacha, when Herschel gets here with the guns… use your best judgement. Wish me luck.

 

Sacha:
Arlo!

 

NARRATION:

Stealing a gun from some asshole guardsman isn’t the dumbest thing I’ve done, that’s for certain. Probably done far dumber even than going out into the Night with some local boys on a lark. Still, I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t regret it now, obviously, but… Maybe not the sort of thing I should be doing as Chronicler. I’m rather supposed to preserve my life, see. 

 

I reached the treeline, and with it the Night. It never fails to put a chill down your spine, no matter how many dozens of times you do it. Couldn’t see a damn thing. Should have brought a light. Again, I wasn’t thinking. Just ran headlong into the trees, into the darkness. Trees that have never been touched by the light, they’re different. Even though they’re the main kind I’ve seen on the Road, there’s always something… unsettling about them. Gnarled, twisting, incoherent. They seem desperate. Like a… neglected child, reaching for love that isn’t there. Hm. Might be putting my own damage on them there. Anyway, by the time I realised I had no idea where I was going I was well and truly lost. Stopped. Looked around at all those horrible trees, just about pitch black. So stupid. One of the earliest things I remember being taught is to never ever lose your way in the Night. Because when you lose your way out there in the darkness…

 

OUTSIDER:

Hello there…

 

NARRATION:
That’s when… other things tend to find you.

 

[The sounds of the forest vanish. Too quiet. Like someone is standing right behind you…]

 

OUTSIDER:
Are you lost?

 

Arlo:
Just… Out for a stroll.

 

NARRATION:
I looked around at the darkened trees, trying to find the source of the voice… But I already knew that I wouldn’t see anything. Most of the things out here that are smart enough to talk are smart enough not to show themselves. And besides… I’m pretty sure the voice was coming from inside my head.

 

Arlo:
Apologies if I’ve disturbed you. I’ll just be on my way. 

 

OUTSIDER:
Oh, I don’t think you will be?

 

Arlo:
And why is that?

 

OUTSIDER:
Because you are lost. 

 

Arlo:
Right. And I’m not likely to get any less lost by just wandering off.

 

OUTSIDER:

Precisely.

 

Arlo:
Well then. Do you have any riddles you’d like to ask me?

 

OUTSIDER:
Pardon?

 

Arlo:
Never mind. Just an old wives tale, I guess. What do you want, then?

 

OUTSIDER:
You are… afraid.

 

Arlo:
I am. 

 

OUTSIDER:
Yes… I knew this already, of course.

 

Arlo:
Because you’re inside my head?

 

OUTSIDER:

No, though I can sense such things.

 

Arlo:
Well I reckon it’s probably just pouring out of me. Have your fill. 

 

OUTSIDER:
A brave one, aren’t you? To speak so flippantly in a situation such as this? Does the weapon you hold give you this confidence, or simply a deep well of courage held within your chest?

 

Arlo:
I’m just realistic. The rifle only has one shot. I stole it, you see. Didn’t think to grab the bloke’s cartridge box in the hurry. So unless you’re likely to go down in one shot…

 

OUTSIDER:
Unlikely.

 

Arlo:
Yes, I thought as much. Although, I will say- if you’d care to show yourself, I’d be more than happy to give it a try!

 

OUTSIDER:
[Echoing laughter]

Oh I like you. 

 

Arlo:
Thank you. Would you say you like me enough to let me go?

 

OUTSIDER:

Hmm… Unlikely. Although, perhaps…

 

Arlo:
Yes?

 

OUTSIDER:
If you would answer me these questions three…

 

Arlo:
Yeah, there it is.

 

OUTSIDER:

Aha. Quite. Well?

 

Arlo:
Absolutely. Be my guest.

 

OUTSIDER:

Thank you. Firstly… What is your name?

 

Arlo:
Ha. And here I thought you somehow already knew.

 

OUTSIDER:
Perhaps I do and am merely toying with you.

 

Arlo:
If I tell you my name, does that give you power over me? Or is that just a story.

 

OUTSIDER:
Come now, this isn’t some silly little tale for children. Although, a name does have a certain power to it. Binds people together. Harder to kill a man if you know his name, eh?

 

Arlo:
If it’ll make it harder for you to kill me, my name is Arlo.

 

OUTSIDER:

Wonderful. A pleasure to meet you, Arlo.

 

Arlo:
Likewise. And your name?

 

OUTSIDER:
Question two: Why are you out here?

 

Arlo:
I believe that… some local children are lost out here. I’m trying to make sure they get home safe.

 

OUTSIDER:
My, your bravery truly is something, Arlo! I must commend you. 

 

Arlo:
Look, playing with your food is undignified, if you’re going to-

 

OUTSIDER:

Just one more question! Just one.

 

Arlo:
Fine. Finish this.

 

OUTSIDER:

Very well. My final question is this: Do you really think you can protect your daughter from what she is?

 

Arlo:
…What? 

 

[The sounds of the forest return. Arlo is more, and less, alone.]

 

Arlo:
Hey! What the- what do you mean by that?

 

Melody:

[Distant]

Dad?

 

Arlo:
Melody! Where are you, Mel?

 

Melody:
Dad, it’s…

 

Arlo:
I’m coming, girl. Just… keep talking, I’ll follow your voice!

 

[The sound of a boy softly crying grows louder as Arlo charges through the undergrowth.]

 

Melody:
I’m sorry, I- I shouldn’t have- I-

 

Arlo:
You’re gonna be okay, just keep talking. I’m gonna find you, and it’ll be… Oh Light…

 

[Arlo stops running. The boy continues sobbing nearby. Melody rushes into his arms, sobbing too.]

 

Arlo:
It’s okay, girl, it’s okay. Don’t look, don’t look at it. We’ll get you back to the town sure enough. 

 

Melody:
We- we were just playing a game- and the others, they were talking about how I go out into the Night with the Caravan, and I said it wasn’t even that scary, so we- we-

 

Arlo:
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. 

 

Herschel:

[Distant]

Arlo? Melody, is that you?

 

Arlo:
Believe I told you to wait in the light- never mind, we’re over here! 

 

Melody:
I’m sorry, Dad-

 

Arlo:
Shh, don’t be, it’s alright. We’ll be back in the light soon.

 

Sacha:
[Approaching]

Thank Light they’re okay, what’s- Oh. Shit.

 

Herschel:
Ah, Light. That’s no good.

 

Arlo:
Yeah. Get them back to town. Get them a hot drink, a blanket, that sort of thing. Oh, and- can you give me your knife?

 

Sacha:
Yeah. Uh. What are you…

 

Arlo:
Someone needs to cut this fellow down. Bring him back to town.

 

Sacha:
Shit. Yeah, I… Yeah.

 

Arlo:
Take the rifle, too. Give it, and my apologies, to that guardsman.

 

Sacha:
You sure? Worry he might shoot you with it-

 

Arlo:
Just- go.

 

Sacha:

Right. Come on, Melody. Uh. Boys. Let’s go. 

 

Arlo:
Gimme a boost, Hersh.

 

Herschel:
Yep. Up we go.

 

[The sound of a knife cutting rope slowly fades away as the Narration returns.]

 

NARRATION:
The Reeve mentioned a missing man. Hadn’t put much thought to it. Turns out his name was Erwin. I suppose it’s good for his loved ones to… put that to rest. Just wish the young ones hadn't had to see that. I suppose that’s why he did it out in the Night, where odds were nobody would ever find him. Wasn’t meant to be that way. It’s… funny? That’s the wrong word, obviously, but…In his mind, whatever was going through his mind that made him kill himself, out there in the Night- that’s where you go to do that, but whatever made him want to… I don’t… It just feels like there’s something more to be said about the situation than I can put to words.

 

We’re staying in Prosperous a few more hours. Give the family time to say their goodbyes, give Old Bess time to do some quick work on the body. Then we’ll take it- him- with us. We have a few bodies in the Charnel Cart already, we were on the way to the Brightrest a couple of towns away. We won’t stay long enough for a full embalming but Bess’ll do enough to make sure the body doesn’t stink too much on the journey. Ah, shouldn’t talk like that in the Chronicle. 

 

The kids were lucky. Just shaken, not worse. Lucky they found a dead body instead of something worse finding them. Whatever it was that found me. Maybe it was Erwin’s ghost, or something drawn to the death? I don’t know about that sort of thing. Maybe I imagined it. Seemed like it was inside my head, after all. What it said about Melody, I don’t… I’ll ask around, see if anyone knows anything about that kind of Darkling. In the meantime-

 

[A tentative knock at the door]

 

Melody:
Dad?

 

Arlo:
Come on in, Melody. You doing alright? 

 

Melody:
Yeah. I just wanted to say sorry.

 

Arlo:
Ah, don’t be. Just glad you’re okay. And I know you won’t be doing anything like that again, yes?

Melody:
Mm. 

 

Arlo:
That’s my girl. 

 

Melody:
Why did he… What happened to him, Dad?

 

Arlo:
The man in the tree?

 

Melody:
Yeah.

 

Arlo:
I don’t know, sweetie. Probably a lot of things, but none of them are for us to know.

 

Melody:
He did that to himself?

Arlo:
Yeah. Most likely. 

 

Melody:
How do you know? How do you know it wasn’t a… a Darkling?

Arlo:
Because that’s just not… Look, it’s just… there are things out there in the Night that want to hurt you. Us, people. Strange things, maybe even evil things. But there’s also lots of things that just want to be let be. They’re not like us, most of them, in most ways, but they are like us in that if we leave them alone they’ll leave us alone. Some of them even are like us- there’s humans that live in the Night, just like those who live in the light.

 

Melody:
Really?

 

Arlo:
Yes, of course! You ever had mushrooms with your dinner? Probably they were grown in the Night by people who live out there. A lot of light… dwellers, they don’t want to know about that. They want it to all be simple- the light is good, the Night is bad. But nothing’s that simple.

 

Melody:
I don’t like mushrooms.

 

Arlo:
[Laughing] Okay, well, then that probably won’t change your opinion of Darklings much. But my point is… Whatever happened to that man happened in the light. Even if he chose to die in the Night. I guess that’s what I was trying to get at in the Chronicle, just before you got here.

 

Melody:
There are bad things in the Night though, right?

 

Arlo:
Yes. Yes, there absolutely are. You may see worse than you did today, travelling with us. It’s important to know that. You saw your first dead person, but you might-

 

Melody:
It wasn’t my first. 

 

Arlo:
You- Fuck. Right. I’m sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean-

 

Melody:
It’s okay. I don’t want to talk about it.

 

Arlo:
Okay. Well if you ever do…

 

Melody:
I know.

 

Arlo:
Okay.

 

Melody:
I think I’m going to go help Old Bess with the body.

​

Arlo:
Oh. Okay. I’ll- sure. I’ll come by and pay my respects, too. 

 

Melody:
Okay.

 

[She leaves]

 

Arlo:
[Sigh]

So ends my first day as Chronicler of the Road. What a day.