There was only one thing of note in the village of Stratha; the Wall. Stratha was about average in size and population. It was circular in shape, maybe five square miles in size with a population of about two hundred fifty people. And, like all other villages, it had a Wall.
The Wall wasn’t fancy in any way. It was made of chipped, cracked, graffitied, and weathered bricks of miscellaneous substances; buying only one mineral would have been too expensive. In my village, we took what we could get. The Wall wasn’t particularly tall or thick or sturdy, but it served it’s purpose. It kept everything out.
Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. We couldn’t survive if we were completely cut off from the rest of the world, but we only admitted traders, who were celebrated when they arrived, hunters, who didn’t always come back, and messengers who were about as rare as harmless dragons.
In fact, today was the one day every month that a merchant would arrive with food and news of the outside world. I was gathered with most of the townspeople at the gate in anticipation of Hudson’s arrival at noon, but people showed up before then anyway. We waited. The sun reached it’s zenith and kept moving. After three o’clock, nervous whispers spread through the crowd. Why was Hudson late? Had something happened to him? What were we going to do without him? By four, the crowd had started to disperse many people muttering their thoughts of doom and predicted that everyone in Stratha would starve to death.
Finally, at five the gate swung open long enough for a grizzled man to enter. He was missing most of his teeth, looked like he’d skipped his annual bath, and had one eye that was a milky white. Behind him, an old mule tugged an overstuffed wagon through the portcullis. My face split into a grin. In the space of a few seconds, the entire town was buzzing with the news that Hudson had arrived, barely escaping from the clutches of a cruel warlord intent on conquering Stratha.
“Ye all better settle down or yer not gonna get food this month,” Hudson called, immediately silencing the entire village. “Yer all over reactin’. I got in a fix with some bandits is all.”
The buzz of chatter returned. This wasn’t particularly surprising, bandits were everywhere and an unarmed trader like Hudson could easily get waylaid. This was the third time this year he’d been attacked during his travels, and each time, the village got more on edge.
“I was one o’ the lucky ones,” Hudson was telling David. “Last week, three traders gone missin’. Wurms, I hear.”
Once the flurry of excitement had been quelled, I pulled Hudson aside. He squinted at me before recognition fell across his face.
“Ah, it’s young Corso,” he said. “How are things in Stratha these days?”
“Same as last time,” I replied. “What’s it like out there?” This prompted the monthly story, regaling me of Hudson’s adventures in the outside world.
Hudson’s eyes disconnected, like he was looking at something far away. “I went to the dwarves this time,” he said. “Ther city was underground. All o’ it. A city fifty times the size of Stratha under a mountain…” Hudson’s tale continued, about how he had been presented with an orb of solid gold by the dwarf king, and how it was dotted with countless tiny diamonds. He had, he said, trekked across a desert inhabited with gargantuan scorpions and wurms burrowing under the sand. He continued to say how he had escaped from under the noses of three trolls by uttering the phrase “Look behind ya!” and charging into the underbrush. These trolls, he said, had tusks as long as I was tall.
I listened in awe to the trader’s tales, and could have continued for hours if Hudson hadn’t stopped. “Best get back to me booth,” he said. “Or someone’ll swindle me.”
After this, market day continued as usual, with people excited to buy Hudson’s wares. At the end of the day, Hudson bought a room at the Sunny Inn and returned to his endless travels the next day.
What was far more important than what the wall admitted was what the wall kept out. Everything else. Alaran was a harsh, ruthless, and lawless place. There were so many things that would kill you in the outside world.
Only imbeciles ventured outside, and they seldom returned. It was possible that they found a good life there and never felt a need to return to this tiny village, but that wasn’t likely.
So life went on. Everyone woke up to do their various crafts; bookbinding, shoemaking, weaving, selling rare or magical items. Business was never good. In a village of two hundred fifty, everyone knew everyone else and had already bought all the furniture, books, silverware, and shelves they would need for the rest of their lives by the age of eighteen. The only profitable job was selling food and food came in monthly deliveries like clockwork. No one sold it, at least, no one from Stratha. After nightfall, everyone retreated to their thatch-roofed houses, hoping that nothing with wings and teeth sucked their blood.
I had lived in the village ever since I was born, so I knew everyone’s name, job, where they lived and who they were married to. Nothing changed. The biggest excitement the village had had for months was when Bellamy’s chicken was born with three legs, and it had died within the day. Everything was so repetitive. Nothing changed, nothing happened, and no one seemed to mind. No one ever thought about what was outside the wall. No one but me. I knew that was insane, of course, but that fact never seemed to crush my desire to see what was outside.
“Corso, we have to go,” Estra called, jerking me out of my thoughts. “I have to be at the Wall in twenty minutes and it’ll take us ten minutes to get back to the house.”
My sister tried to act like a nagging parent, but I could see she was buzzing with excitement. She was eighteen, four years older than me (gods forbid I should forget), and had joined the Nightshroud two weeks ago. In so many ways she was responsible for me, but even after the fifth time she’d gone out to the Wall, she was brimming with excitement.
I rolled my eyes. “You do realize that I can function in public without you, right?”
Estra gave me a look of mock distress. “And come back to see the village in ruins? I think not!”
“I’m fourteen,” I said, stressing the number. “I won’t accidentally destroy the village.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she agreed. She was laying it on thick. “You’d do it on purpose.” We laughed or, more accurately, Estra laughed while I tried not to smile. Estra’s exuberance was infectious and I was finding it hard not to join in with her laughter. “But we really should go,” she said after her giggles had subsided. “It’s getting dark and you’ll want to be inside anyway.
I shot Estra a withering look, knowing she was too stubborn to let me do anything else.
“Fine,” I grimly acquiesced. “Let’s go.” We began the short jog back to the house.
A few minutes later, my mother, Estra, and I stood outside our hut. Estra was dressed in the snug grey uniform of the night guard, her hair in a braid down her back. There was no emblem or symbol signifying any allegiance, and it looked to me like the grey color was from being used too many times without a wash. The uniform was patched, too small, and probably older than our house. Estra was unarmed and without armor, she’d pick up a breastplate and crossbow when she reached the wall. Estra didn’t look like one of the Nightshroud, she looked like my sister wearing a costume. Still, a wide smile was lighting up her face.
“How do I look?” she asked, excitement brimming in her voice.
“You’re all professional and grown up!” my mother said, standing on her toes to plant a kiss on Estra’s cheek.
“Mom!” she complained. “You’re smothering me!” I could tell she didn’t mind.
“You look like you could use a bath this month,” I teased, to which my mother pursed her lips and Estra playfully batted at my head.
“I’ll be back before midnight!” she called as she began to make her way towards the Wall. “Save some dinner for me.”
I waved one last time before turning to come inside. Before I entered the hut, though, I had a strange feeling of being watched. It’s nothing, I thought. No need to turn around. I turned around. For a few moments, I frantically scanned the surroundings, probing every shadow. No one was there. Of course no one was their. I was being crazy. I turned around again and thought I heard a swish of fabric as though someone had quickly scuttled past me, but I bolted inside before I could think anything of it.
I'm on a train for the next two hours so you'll either get this really late because the internet gives out or you may get a couple more if the internet holds 
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