Native Sakura trees had gone extinct for many centuries as a result of the deforestation campaign perpetrated by the original colonists, the ones who built their beautiful farms and log cabins out of the finest cherry wood in the continent. Many of these original buildings had been destroyed in the great war or simply reclaimed by the planet, but some rare cherry wood homesteads still remain. However, on the continent of Freydenn, in a small, self-contained valley lies the genetic descendants of the original Sakura trees.

           For many centuries it was known simply as the Sakura valley, and it was one of the last native Sakura populations in the globe before genetic sciences made extinction a thing of the past. Aside from being distinctly point-shaped on any map, the land served as a waypoint between four distinctive ecosystems comprising Freydenn territory, the western evergreen forests, the eastern grasslands, the southern seas, the snowy northern mountains. Presumably, this is where Sakura Point gets its namesake.

          Legend has it that this land was first named by the ancient progenitors of the land of Xi, who came to this land and built it into one of the world’s original nation states, shaping the land into the pinnacle of a truly great society. It is a mystery then how such a great society could vanish without a trace before recorded history could barely account for them, leaving nothing in their wake. Only a single flag of the original Sakura Point still survives in the public archives, along with an original 16th century pamphlet for the citadel of nations which can be found on display at the World History Museum of Corsica, a terrible acronym.    

          Over the years, many people have taken advantage of the land’s gifts, the fertile soil, the protection of the mountains on all sides, and the plentiful cherry wood. None would survive past the winter.
For many decades the land remained largely unpopulated aside from a collection of ruins which accumulated over the years of failed colonization efforts. That is until one day when the old glass fairy arrived from off the coastline of Xi with her business partner by her side, parking their wagon just outside the mountainous perimeter beyond which no terrestrial creature could pass without professional equipment, or wings.

           Once city living became too unaffordable, the two decided to pile their resources and share this fabled piece of the world together and build their lives upon it. The city practically gave them the land in hopes they would build more sustainable infrastructure than all the rich real estate developers who failed miserably, and nobody who signed the deed on that land lived much longer than a year

           For many years she knew her partner well, her name was Enya and she had hair like the golden sun. The two had met when the glass fairy was an adjunct at Columbia Arts University, Enya had been taking classes at the university and decided to join a coven with her professor the fairy, who named herself Maude. Many years later the two would decide to purchase this land, along with the construction of a bakery, a glass shop, and a community center which Maude built as an office to send telegrams and letters to the neighbors from around the territory. It also served as a storage hub within which they could store their shared resources, they operated their independent practices in a co-operative manner. Enya ran the Foxtrot bakery while Maude built her practice at The Glass Fairy Glassworks Studio. In their spare time between gardening, cooking, cleaning, or looking at the ripples in the water, the witches would meditate together in Enya’s bakery.

           Occasionally, the two of them would interact with the outside zoo whether they needed to stop by the mailman’s home to deliver packages for their clients abroad, or simply to borrow a cup of sugar for some peach cobbler. It was always a fantasy of Enya’s to bake peach cobbler and set out a couple rocking chairs on the front porch and welcome anyone who got a whiff to take a slice home. They had a strong relationship with their neighbors despite how little they spoke with them, often they caught up through tea parties and movie nights that the glass fairy would hold at her home every fortnight to discuss the latest concerns of the neighborhood. For many months the “town” largely operated like a rural archipelago of independent homes and farmsteads which scattered the valley, everyone knew everyone because they knew one day they would need help.

           So it wasn’t a terrible surprise when the witches awoke one morning to discover a log cabin had been built off the snowy downslope of a mountain which overlooked their farmstead in the central pit of the valley. The glass fairy had considered that she could fly up there and perch herself on one of those trees to say hello to her neighbor, respecting the person’s property line. Enya thought this was a tremendous way to get blown away by a shotgun, and so the glass fairy decided to write a letter instead and stamp it with a wax butterfly seal.

           The glass fairy dipped her feathered pen in a glassy ink well, signing her name before placing it back into the well and admiring her fancy penmanship. She handed the letter off to Enya who told her she’d hand it off to Phil the mailman on her way to Artos the blacksmith.

           When she arrived at the mailman’s home, she was surprised to find he had installed a windmill on the left facade. She knocked at his door and greeted him with a friendly smile. He slid open a window in the door and hunched slightly below the top of the door frame, the shape of his pale face poking out of the shadowy interior of his living room where he had hoarded stacks of books and manuscripts alongside other people’s mail. He scratched his patchy chin with a haze in his eyes.

          “Morning, it’s Enya.”She waved a letter at the little window, “I’m here to drop off mail and some packages for me and Ms. Orchid”

           He opened the door and wafted out the dusty smell into the atmosphere, holding it open for her “come inside” he beckoned lazily. She stepped inside the mailman’s dark abode as he lit a set of candles atop a large, crudely built mahogany desk. The man scratched his side burns and the witch was sure she saw a fruitfly and a few fleas fly out of his scalp. He scratched his nose and grabbed a knife which he used to slice open an envelope and grab a series of postage stamps. She handed him a satchel containing several silver and nickel coins of various denominations. He opened the drawstring bag and counted each of them intimately, pausing slowly before each addition while Enya waited. He took her packages and notarized them each with stamps.

           “What’s the windmill for?” the witch asked. He looked up at her-

           “That’s just a way of generating extra power. My home used to be gas powered but it made the place smell rancid and that stuff gives me a terrible cough. I don’t think it’s very good for the air either.” He applied an adhesive and sloppily licked an envelope sealed.

           “I use a wood burning stove for electricity. Suppose it isn’t so good for the air” she pondered, remarking on the unexpected thoughtfulness of his answer.

           “’Scuse me, I’m having a hard time understanding this address,” he pointed to the envelope with Maude’s lavender butterfly seal on the front.

           “Oh yea that’s something you can deliver to the log cabin that’s just south of our little farmstead” she pointed to their left which extended into the southern end of the valley.

           “I’m not familiar with the place but I can do my best. Do you know the guy who lives there?” he asked.

           “No but you know Maude insists on making friends with all the neighbors, and I’d prefer to deliver her letters than recommend she endeavor to waltz onto someone else’s property.”

          “So you think I should endeavor to do that instead,” he remarked.

           “Well sort of, that is your job isn’t it. You must represent some larger company, or at least an employee of the town,” she questioned.

           “I work for the thrill of the game. I’m just the guy who delivers people’s mail,” he lied, placing all their mail into a large bag which he swung over his shoulder and carried on his side. “So if you think about it, I have just as much authority to walk onto that guy’s property as you or the other old lady does,” he meant to simply call her a lady but forgot to listen to his manners.

           “Great, then there’s no reason you should feel any apprehension about delivering our mail,” she snarked, walking out of his home as he made his way down his mail route as the sun just began to creep over the mountains.

❖❖❖

          As a child, the mailman had always hated waking up early, he wanted to sleep in every day and crawl out of his hibernation den into the hazy afternoon. As an adult with a paper route, he learned to find happiness in his morning constitution when a man could find himself all alone in the waking world, made anonymous by the dark haze of the setting moon.

           In the Sakura valley he hardly found anyone awake at this hour besides the witches who typically kept to themselves in the center of the valley, moving between their workshops and the community center where they pooled their shared resources. Occasionally he would find some activity at the abandoned church on the north east side of town where one could find the remains of a mid century ghost town which has little recorded history. Passing through the ruins, he uncovered several records and manuscripts from some of the original architects, nary a trace of human life.

           Admiring the evergreen trees in the mountains above, he scaled the mountain side with a long stride and arrived at the porch of the log cabin where he was surprised to see a sheepish looking old man smoking his pipe in a rocking chair, teetering back and forth, watching the sun rise to his right, oblivious to the mailman on his left. His hairiness was the most striking thing about him, but Phil quickly realized that he was covered with a thick coat of sheep’s wool. “G’morning sir!” Phil shouted up at the old man who quickly darted his head in his direction. He grabbed something on his right hand side that looked like a shotgun and Phil quickly ducked his head. The man grabbed his cane and hunched over to see the lanky creature perched outside his cabin.

           “Who goes there?” the old sheep bleated.

           “Just your local mailman.” Phil gave a friendly thumbs up but it didn’t seem to shake the scornful look on the man’s face. 

           The mailman approached the front porch that overlooked the town and noticed the long, rickety staircase cobbled together which jutted out the side where it was hidden by a sakura tree.

           “Mind the property line” he politely requested “thank you.”

           “I have a few packages for you here and a handful of letters” he sifted through the material. “Say, you got a lot of mail here mister!”

           “I’m terribly popular don’t you know,” he grumbled sarcastically.

           “Looks like it,” Phil chuckled, “although it doesn’t seem to me that you’re from around here.”

           “You’d be correct in that assumption,” the man tugged up his belt and tucked his shirt. “I hail from Addax Country, in the land of Xi. Where do you come from, son?”

          “Me? I hail from Gingrich county in upstate Utica,” he found it hard to match his esoteric vocabulary. “I worked there for the PSGCU until I got assigned by the post workers association to service this area.”

          “The post workers association you say?” the old man raised his eyebrows.

          “Yea, you know the PWA?”

          “My mentor had worked for the PWA for a brief stint, but I had gotten my first job as a kid there by his recommendation. I serviced my local village and ran the paper route, it was marginally profitable but much too erm- Too cardiovascular for me.”

          “Yea it is a lot of walking. But this place is a cakewalk compared to Utica, no PEO boxes, no driving, no dogs, just a couple small town villages and the ladies next door,” he said plainly. The old sheep carefully descended the stairs, intending not to fall on his snout before he shook Phil’s hand. “Good to meet you sir, got a name?”

          “Aphelios Hartshorn. Phil?” Aphelios asked, gesturing towards the mailman’s name tag.

          “Yes,” he chuckled, handing the mail to the old man. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out!”

          The old sheep smiled gently and used his pocketknife to open the first letter which was sealed in wax.

   From the desk of Ms. Maude Orchid,

           I hope this letter finds you well and that you are in good spirits and health. I welcome you to this valley which you’ve stumbled upon, however I would like to inform you that the Corsica bureau of land management has entrusted dual ownership of this land to me and my partner Enya Mauve. We have enjoyed life in this land for many months and while  it has made a home for several others, we’d love to get to know you before we welcome you as part of our neighborhood.
           If you’d like to get to know about me, I am a retired liberal arts professor and a practicing witch who specializes in the magical art of glassblowing. I spent many years living in the big city of Corsica in the land of Xi, working several adjunct contracts at a time while organizing my coven. The girls have since reorganized the coven into more of a co-op metaphysical supplies store (subsidized by the taxpayer) but I didn’t bother to sign on with those quislings. The government had been subsidizing my rent and one day they decided to raise it beyond what I was able to pay at my salary, which was not very much honestly. After thirty years of building my adult life there I was distraught, but who cares, so what. Me and another girl from the coven, Enya Mauve, we’ve started our own enterprise down here in the valley, and we got the land for so cheap in this market, they were practically throwing it away. We’re still adjusting to the rural life but if you’re like us and you’re accustomed to community, then feel free to visit us and always ask for help when you need it. We territory folks have got to stick together.
In a couple days we’ll be hosting our bi-weekly neighborhood meeting in the new commons hall which I and the local blacksmith have been working on restoring. If you plan on staying in this land then I hope to see you there!

          Sincerely, Ms. Maude

          “So if you worked for the post office, what’s your career now?” The young man asked, but Aphelios wouldn’t reply, only continued reading

          “The audacity,” he muttered under his breath.

          “Hm? What’s it say? If you don’t mind me asking.”

          “It says they own all the land around here, the whole thing, and now they expect me to join their coven or else.” The old man waved the letter around furiously, passing it off to Phil. He took the paper and carefully studied it, trying not to think about the pace of his reading.

          “I mean it seems mostly harmless, and they don’t really seem like the type to quibble over a property dispute. Although I get what you mean they’re kind of assuming a lot, and I wasn’t made aware of any sale, my post office has been in this valley months before they arrived.”

          “Really? They transplanted themselves into a territory town like they own the place without any documentation and then they expect us to comply with their takeover? That’s ridiculous, these people clearly don’t know where they are or who they’re talking to.” He steamed and stomped his hoof into the ground.

          “Now hold on, this could all just be a misunderstanding. I’ve spoken with Maude before briefly and honestly she doesn’t seem like that kind of person. I could go talk to her now and try to clear things up,” the mailman gestured toward the glass shop around the center of the valley.

          “Nonsense my boy, I’ll go with you. I’d like to speak to this woman in person.” Aphelios walked straight past Phil and so the two boys went along down the mountain facade, through the ruins, into the center of the valley where they confronted the glasshop, sieging its wide open doors. But alas, no one was to be found in the workshop but a bunch of armory, a kitchenette, and a little hammock with a squeaky clean bong next to it and a couple of tea lights which had already burnt out. They walked up the porch and checked the parlor upstairs but no one was to be found.

          “Fine,” the old carpenter huffed, storming out of the glasshop before he took a tumble down the stairs, landing into the grass below. Phil rushed to his aid, but Aphelios dismissed him with a wave of his hand “if she thinks she can push old Hartshorn around, she’s got another thing coming.” He rose from his feet as if it took no effort at all, and then he turned to Phil “Come, my boy, we have much work to do.” The old sheep stumbled back up the hill, turning towards his friend who was still standing in his dust.

          “Wait up! What are we doing? I still have a mail route,”  Phil strode towards him, catching up quickly.

          “Forget your mail route, son. We have more important matters to attend to,” he had a giddy tone in his voice, “how would you like to be Lord Mayor of The Valley?” Phil did a double take, and fell behind the sheep before he had a chance to respond.

          They returned to his carpentry shop, Aphelios inviting him up the stairs. Stepping onto the porch he could see the whole of the valley, looking down at the buildings which appeared so little, and looking up at the mountains looming overhead. He had noticed the dark tower in the northeast corner of the mountains for quite some time, it blocked out the sun.  Beside the tower, on the northern-most enclave of the mountain ring resided a few buildings separated by two mountain peaks, and a sprawling bridge which connected the two halves of the compound. “No time to dilly dally, come in my boy!” The sheep beaconed from the other side of the cabin door. Phil entered the cabin, and there the two would reside for the rest of the afternoon.

❖❖❖

           Early next morning, around three in the morning, Maude awoke face down on a round wooden dinner table. Scanning her surroundings, she observed the dreamcatchers hanging from the cobblestone ceiling and knew she was home in Enya’s basement. On the table was a half eaten pizza with a singed crust on a greasy platter from the oven she could hear roaring in the other room, the playing cards sprawled across the table in random order. The glass fairy laid claim on the elegant glass piece which was stained black with resin residue, she knew it desperately needed cleaning but she was terribly lazy about it. She looked at the fish in the aquarium that the two had been hypnotically staring at the evening prior, and she waved to say good morning. Noticing her partner’s absence, she excused herself from the table and went to go looking for her. She approached the bookshelf parallel to the basement stairs, fiddling through books randomly, tipping them at a forty five degree angle one by one. Finally she found the one, a yellow book near the centre right which she tipped on its side, triggering a mechanical latch which unlocked the bookshelf’s hinges and allowed her to swing it open like a door, revealing Enya’s inner sanctum. There she sat cross legged with her feet facing a small pool of water, supported by four pillars of amethyst and statues of armored folk heros.

          “You want any coffee?” Maude asked. Enya’s eyes suddenly opened, filled with a warm white light which slowly dissipated when exposed to the environment.

          “You’re too late,” she held up her mug sitting right beside her on the black stone “there’s still some on the pot if you want any.” Maude climbed the ladder, arising from Enya’s basement and into the bakery kitchenette where she set up her checkout station. There she grabbed a mug and a coffee pot, pouring herself a cup as she looked out the window at all the beauty of nature.

          It was then that the light of the sun began to creep over the mountain range, bleeding out from the side of the dark tower which formed a tall shadow which reached over the center of the town. What the shadow didn’t block out were the many signs placed on the south side of town, and one backlit by the sun just outside Enya’s door. With her cup of coffee in hand, the glass fairy went exploring and stepped outside the bakery to get a better look. The sign read:

What’s she done for us? Don’t let our town become her vanity project!

          Initially she was confused, taking a sip of her coffee before moving on, making her way down the sloping path and finding the next sign in front of the new commons building which read:

Who is this old witch anyways? Is she dangerous?

          She took another sip of coffee, understanding the message. She turned around to see her community center decorated with a large banner and a campaign sign below it:

          Why trust some old crone to be your mayor? Trust your neighborhood mailman!

          Looking up she could read the text of the banner plain as day, “Phillip A. Julius for Mayor!” Drinking the rest of her coffee and scalding the back of her throat, she kicked the campaign sign and smashed it into the ground, tearing down the banner along with it. Looking around, she saw she had her work cut out for her as the entire valley was covered with these signs.

           “Who would do this,” she said to herself, and her questions were quickly answered when she saw the mailman appear over the hill, walking away from the church.

           “Hey you!” Her wings picked her up and carried her over to the mailman who stepped back a couple feet as if he were about to get hit. She flew just past him and caught herself on her two feet, floating into the air to meet his gaze. “What’s this all about?” She gestured around the valley, waving around a piece of broken sign.

          “Hey Maude what’s up?” He asked casually, trying to cut the tension.

          “What’s up? I think you know what’s up, what are all these disparaging signs for?”

          “Oh those?” He said aloofly, “my campaign manager made those, don’t they look good?”

          “They’re horrible. We hardly know each other, why would you say such things about me?” She held up the sign for him, it took only a second for him to pretend to read it.

          “He might’ve gotten a bit carried away,” Phil chuckled, “but it’s all in good fun, just jokes. Hey I know a good sign guy if you wanna make some of your own.”

          “But what’s all this about running for mayor?” She stammered.

          “Well… I don’t mean to be rude but it does seem pretty self explanatory. I assume you’re running too right?”

          “I’m not running for anything” she struggled to find the words “I’m not the mayor, I’m not a governor, I’m just like a community organizer, a spiritual leader.”

          “I don’t mean to be rude but did anyone actually ask you to do that job? Besides, it must be hard renovating all these old buildings on your own nickel and dime.” He argued politely.

          “I guess you’re right,” she conceded, thinking the idea over once more. “Look, tomorrow at eight I’m planning a community meeting in the new commons house, how about we discuss this issue on a public forum and let the people of the town decide who they want.”

          “Like a debate?” His confidence suddenly diminished.

          “Yes! Like a debate, exactly.” Fire ignited in her eyes, remembering her old days in secondary school when she played model Citadel and moderated debate club. She saw a sign just a few feet behind him and plucked it out of the ground. “but if you want to do my job, first of all you can’t place these signs everywhere disparaging my name.”

          “Well it’s a little too late for that,” he stopped to look around, “but I’ll do what I can ma’am.” Maude extended her hand and he gave it a good hard squeeze, pumping up and down repeatedly.

          “That’s alright, that’s enough,” her arm became tired from the prolonged handshake, “you’ll need to work on that.”

          “Well I’ll have plenty of practice once I’m mayor,” he grinned confidently. “Tomorrow, eight in the evening?”

          “You got it Philly.” She rolled her eyes and the two parted ways, the little lady picking up signs along the way before incinerating them in the furnace.

Author’s Notes

Don’t have a lot to say about this one, what I’m mostly trying to do is set up the town and give a sense of what the valley looks like, as we’ll be spending the majority of our time here in Sakura Point. In this chapter I got to introduce a couple of my favorite characters Aphelios and Phil, and I got to play out some dynamics which kind of formed in and out of lore as we were getting used to playing our characters. I also got to introduce my own character who you saw as a child in the previous chapter, Maude. She was based off a joke character I created in 2021 called “the glass fairy” who threw glass at people from the sky, in reality she was just my god character (Wally) in a bad disguise playing tricks. 
Maude and Enya were natural friends from the beginning of the SMP, although we didn’t get to do as many scenes with them as I think I should have in retrospect, so I’m trying to correct that.

Building(s) of the Week

1. The first building ever constructed in the world before the SMP officially began, it served as the central building of the town where people could get what they needed whether it be resources, government services, or just the utilities

2. Foxtrot bakery was the social hub of Sakura Point where people would conduct interpersonal meetings or just come to have a coffee and chit chat.

3. Phil’s home which he runs his mailing service out of. This was originally built after the official post office was already constructed, but I thought Phil would’ve been chilly without a home.

4. The dark tower that looms over Sakura Point from the northeast mountains. What could be lurking in there?

5. This is the distant base which Phil sees as he looks upon the valley. Much like the base in the book, this building seemed to appear almost overnight, as did many things that Artos’ character built. You’ll find a lot of things in Sakura Point were constructed by our local blacksmith.

6. This is the cabin where Aphelios spends most of his waking hours, looking upon the valley as if it were his kingdom. From here you can see just about every part of the valley, except for a couple buildings that would be constructed much later on.