Jerimiah returned with good news the following morning, just as the sun finally peered over the vast horizon beyond the untouched bay. “Aye, the farmers are over the moon with the land they’ve been given. Fertile soil, easy to till and plant in, they think we’ll be ready for the coming season with little trouble.”

“Good, but can people pay?” I asked, echoing the conversation we had the previous evening.

Jerimiah stroked his beard, “Hm. Everyone has brought all the coinage they can, but it’s true – having the farmers suck up all of our combined wealth so early would be problematic. Without a way to mint our own or get it from outside trade, we might need to make a compromise for the time being.”

“They have enough supplies to survive for the moment, don’t they? We need to be forward facing and anticipate the next problems before they arrive.” I splashed a small amount of clean water onto my face and dried it with a towel I had borrowed.

He nodded, “I was sceptical of you at first, but that plot laying was some damn fine work; this place is perfect for a new town.”

I turned to Jerimiah and explain my rationale, “Towns are only as good as the planning that goes into them though. Letting people build whatever they want wherever they want is easy, but it might cause serious trouble later. What if someone builds their house on top of an important aquifer? Do we demolish it to get to the water? Or let them stay because they got there first?”

“That’s a tough question.”

“I’m not really an optimist, but someone has to think about those things.”

“All the farmers agree that an eye like yours is good for settling things,” Jerimiah explained, “I think people would be happy to let you square things out like you did for them. Fair, quick, accurate. I can picture it now. It’s going to be a fine farming community; and if we get a lot of folks living next to the coast, there’s going to be enough trade to share.”

“We’d need to build a dock.”

Jerimiah nodded, “The shipping lanes around here are some of the best, that’s why they built that old outpost out here before all the turmoil started. Easy connections to Lunarmar and the Black Cove.”

“The Black Cove huh?”

“You ever visited?”

I sat down on one of the logs and tightened my shoes, “No. What’s it like?”

“It’s… a pretty grim place. Big, pitch-black cliffs hanging over like giants. But when the fog rolls in there’s no sight quite like it. Seeing that whole city illuminated by lantern-light is something I’ll never forget, no sir. The food’s great, worth visiting for that alone.”

With my morning preparations done, I follow him deeper into the camp. Emmerich was organizing a group of woodcutters when we stumbled across him. “Good morning fellas! A fine morning to share in the bounty, eh?”

“Morning Emmerich.”

He gave me a gap filled smile, “I was just whipping our intrepid foresters into shape. If we want to turn this place into a proper home, we’re going to need more timber than what we carried here.” They looked every bit the team of lumberjacks that he described, with thick bushy beards and biceps that were the size of my head.

“Were you going to clear this forest?”

Emmerich shook his head, “For the time being, we’re going to pick out areas we believe won’t be of much use. The hunters in our caravan have already insisted of preserving some of this forest for the future so that animals can breed.”

“I don’t like it when they tell us what to chop Emmerich,” one of the men complained. I wasn’t so blind to imagine that these kinds of tensions would go away in hard times, because hard times tended to bring out the worst in people. It was a miracle that they hadn’t already broken down and gone their separate ways. A dearth of leadership would only allow these things to fester, someone had to have the last word – and relying on seniors to command people through respect and social contract wasn’t good enough.

“For the time being, we all have to listen to each other,” he replied, “I trust that they know what they’re doing. I’d rather have meat on the table for the foreseeable future than an easier time hauling logs today.”

“Shame we had to leave all our animals behind,” Jerimiah sighed, “I could go for some steak right about now.”

“Emmerich, Jerimiah, can I have a word?” The two older men followed me away from the huddle. I ensured that we were out of earshot before I pitched my next inquiry, “Who is in charge around here?”

“Nobody,” Jerimiah answered.

“Yep, we left those meddling nobles behind for a reason.”

“I get that,” I responded, “But when hard choices need to be made, someone needs to have the final say. People are going to start arguing over who gets what or how we build this town. I know that a lot of folks in the convoy respect your opinion Emmerich, but would they be willing to take a hit if you told them to?”

Emmerich saw my point, “Ah. Maybe not.”

“This some kinda’ secret plan you’re hatching?” Jerimiah asked.

“No. I mean, has anyone in the convoy talked about appointing a leader, even temporarily.” Both men shook their heads. “If we asked everyone who they wanted to be put in charge, we might have a proper answer.”

“Ask everyone?”

“You ever heard of an election before?” The two men’s bewildered stares spoke a silent answer, “You get a list of names, from people who’re interested in doing the job – and then everyone gets a vote. The person with the most votes wins.”

Jerimiah’s eyes lit up, “Oh! One of those things. The merchant guilds love that kinda’ stuff.”

“Nobody in their right mind is going to vote for me anyway,” I explained, “Nobody here even knows who I am. But a guy like you, Jerimiah or Emmerich, people know you – they trust you. They’ll listen if you tell them to do something with backing from the rest of the camp.”

“I don’t have much interest in being in charge,” Jerimiah admitted, “I just like farming.”

Emmerich didn’t seem much enthused either, “Me neither. I’m getting too old to worry about the big picture.”

I approached the nearby campfire and grabbed an empty wooden bucket, “Somebody must be interested. Alright, I have an idea – let’s get people to put their names forward. Then in a few days people can raise their hands and elect someone to make some choices.”

Unbeknownst to me at the time, an idea had already hatched in the minds of both men who I was speaking with. Emmerich left to start working on cutting logs and planks. Jerimiah agreed to rustle up as many people as possible to put their names onto the list. And so, it was that our fledgling town would hold its first election, and I’d be thrust into the first of many complicated conflicts.

My plan had gotten people talking. It seemed that there was a collective agreement that picking someone from amongst the group to be in charge was a reasonable decision. Better that than some noble swooping in like a vulture and staking a claim. Despite the buzz though, the bucket remained light of pieces of inked parchment. By my count only three had been thrown in by the end of the day. With the vote going ahead in the evening when everyone was done working, I worried myself over the possibilities.

What if it was someone nobody could agree on? What if they refused to recognize the vote? What if my stupid idea started fights between the refugees about the best way to go? A needed distraction arrived soon after, Jerimiah pulled me aside from my grim musings an hour before the votes were to be taken.

“I just wanted to tell you something, one of the names in that bucket? It’s yours.”

I hadn’t written my name down to be a candidate. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, “You decided to put my name in without asking me?”

He shrugged, “It was your idea. I thought you wanted to do it yourself. And all of the farmers thought it’d be a good idea since you’re so good at planning stuff. We couldn’t agree on a name to put forth between us, so we just chose you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment Jerimiah, but like I said – nobody is going to vote for a stranger to be in charge.”

“Don’t treat me like a darn fool Shane. I know how this is going to pan out. Not one of these folks is going to agree on anything. In the face of that, why not pick someone who makes everyone equally unhappy?”

“I don’t want everyone to be unhappy. A few people getting what they want is better than nobody getting what they want.”

“Well what we wanted was for you to be our candidate,” he assured me, “You’ve got the support of pretty much every farmer and our lot.” That was a significant number of people. Twenty heads of family, their wives, husbands and children. Even so, without someone else splitting the vote they’d surely be outbid by the other candidates and their supporters.

I thought about it for a moment. Did I really have much of a choice? I knew that the eye gave me the power to be an effective leader, but human beings weren’t so easily broken down into stats and resource patches.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to sweep to victory that easily.”

Jerimiah patted me on the back, “I think you’ve got a shot.”

When the hour of the vote finally came, a huge number of people from the convoy turned out to take part. Amongst the crowd were a few familiar faces. I stood atop a wooden crate and cleared my throat, “Thank you for coming everyone!” The hustle quieted down, allowing me to speak without raising my voice. I bent down and collected the bucket from the iron nail it had been hung on for the entire day. Inside were four pieces of parchment, one more than when I had counted a few hours ago.

“In order to effectively manage our resources and plan for the future construction of the town, we are going to hold a vote. I have asked for anyone willing to take the responsibility to come forth and place their names in here.” I pulled out the first paper and was unsurprised to find my own name emblazoned on it in black ink. “I’m going to announce the candidates for the position. I’d like them all to come to the front of the crowd and line up.”

A murmur of ascent was given. “Someone has placed my own name in here, while against the original intention of the process, I accept the nomination.” I pulled out the rest of the papers and read the names aloud, “Emil Hardrada. Glenn Carpenter. Mary Mason. Can you all please come to the fore?”

The three opposing candidates did as I asked and presented themselves to the crowd. From what little I knew of the convoy, each of them represented a different group of people. Emil was a very religious man, seldom seen without a holy book clutched in his left hand and the word of the gods leaving his throat. Glenn was an industrious man associated with the woodcutters and builders, I’d seen him with Emmerich a few times. Mary Mason was a wildcard, the only female candidate. I hadn’t gotten the chance to know her yet.

“Here’s how it will be decided. I’d like all of our candidates’ supporters to line up behind their chosen leader. Emmerich will count heads, and the one with the most votes wins.”

I’d made an intentional error in my formation of the vote. The concept of voting would surely be so novel to the group that I kept things simple. I used first past the post. Whoever got the most votes won, with no chance for realignment or alliance building. It left a great democratic deficit in the proceedings but I knew that this appointment would be temporary at best. That was what I hoped for anyway.

“Does everyone understand?”

“Aye!” the crowd responded.

I stepped down from the box and stood in my designated spot. The battle lines were drawn quickly and without remorse. Jerimiah and most of the farmers made a beeline for me. Mary attracted most of the remaining women. And much to my shock, Emil and Glenn had split the votes evenly between them. Even from a cursory glance I could tell that they were both tied, and lacking the votes needed to overtake me. In my arrogance, I had failed to properly account for the effect of vote splitting. The number of candidates and votes had aligned perfectly to allow me to sneak through as the victor by a majority of three.

“From my count, Shane Blackwood wins with a total of thirty-four votes!” The farmers cheered.

To say this caused a row would be an understatement, as the two men immediately took to blaming each other. “I told you to keep your nose out of it Emil!”

The priest spat at his feet, “Pah, you think you’re so much better than the rest of us.”

“Looks like your first job is to stop those two from killing each other,” Jerimiah commented derisively. I stormed over to the two and put myself between them. Like a pair of peacocks, they squared up with each other and tried to push past me.

“There’s no need to fight! We had the vote and now it’s over with.” With someone there to get angry with them, the masculine dick measuring contest struck them as immensely embarrassing. They both shied away and skulked back into their groups of followers with nary a word shared. I returned to by box and bowed. The crowd intermingled once more and listen to me speak.

“Thank you everyone. I know that emotions may be running high, but I’d like to assure you that I intend to use this authority to create a wonderful town for us all to live in and nothing more. Ideally this is merely a temporary arrangement, and when things have settled down we can hold another vote in the future.”

“I also understand that to many of you I am a stranger. Jerimiah and his flock have surely told you about me, but trust must be earned and not given. We have an opportunity here to build a town, a city, a port, that’s the envy of the world over. A prosperous, safe and fair place for us all to live and work.” Many in the crowd nodded in agreement. “As difficult as starting from scratch is, it’s also a chance to restart. To do things better. To think ahead of days to come with innovative ideas and careful consideration.”

Emmerich scratched the back of his head, “But uh, what are we going to call you? Chief? Lord?”

“Lord? Do I look like a noble to you?”

“That coat’s pretty expensive…”

“No, I’m not. How about Mayor?”

“Mayor?” Emmerich said, the word foreign in his mouth. The intricate vocabulary of democracy and devolution was not well footed in this world. Towns were run by counts and dukes, and many other varieties of equivalent nobility. “I suppose so. Mayor it is. Do we agree to the ascent of Mayor Shane Blackwood?” he said with finality.

“Aye!”

Emmerich shook my hand with a firm grip, “And it is so, congratulations!” The action was echoed by the farmers and their families who now enjoyed plots of land laid by my power. But there were a lot of others who did not. I needed to work hard to earn their trust and their respect. The first step was setting out our vision for the town to come.