Treegiraffe2's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

The next morning the square was full and still felt empty. Treegiraffe2's players sat on the bench under the pink beam. But they only sat. The red-haired girl stared at her boots. The flannel boy tossed a pebble and caught it. Nobody had a reason to be here except the light. Treegiraffe2 saw it plain. A pretty floor was not a heart. People needed something to do together, or they would drift back to their doors. "They stopped walking," she told Rarity. "Now they just wait. I built a place, but not a purpose." Rarity leaned on his stack of stone. His green helmet hid his face, but his voice was flat. "So give them one. A place where people trade what they make is a place they come back to." He tapped the empty edge of the square. "Stalls. Right here." Skibble crossed the square then, the way he crossed everything, quick and half-annoyed. He was Treegiraffe2's oldest friend and now the town's defensive trainer, in charge of the weapons hall. He looked at the sitting players and snorted. "You called me from drills for this? They're bored stiff." But he was already dragging a wooden frame toward the beacon. "Fine. Where do you want the first one?" They built through the day. Rarity framed a stall and lined it with potted flowers, blue and yellow and red, hanging plants over the counter. Shroom stacked a second stall with vegetables and fruit in neat crates. A third held blocks of stone, iron, and diamond, sorted and shining. A fourth showed small painted decorations and jars. Treegiraffe2 set each one facing the center, so the beam lit every counter. The change came fast. The red-haired girl carried an armful of wheat to the food stall and traded it for flowers. The flannel boy hauled diamond blocks from his mine and laid them out to sell. Two more players she barely knew drifted in from the cottages, drawn by the noise, and started haggling over pots. The square filled with voices. People stayed because they had reasons now, not just a light to sit under. "Now that," Shroom said, wiping his hands, "is a town." Treegiraffe2 grinned. Her square had turned into a market. People traded, talked, and lingered because they wanted to. But she watched the diamond blocks pile up on the counter, bright and open under the pink beam. Wheat, iron, flowers, gems, all of it out in the square with no walls and no locks. She had given her town a reason to gather. She had also gathered every valuable thing into one bright, unguarded place. Anyone who came to trade could see exactly what Tetra2 was worth.