Side Story 1.3: Andreus The First Chief of Maya Village
A hundred years ago or so...
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The Hidden Enclave
During the height of the Empire wars, a band of survivors fled their devastated villages, escaping the ravages of conflict that consumed the realm. These refugees—twenty-one families in all—would become the First Generation of Maya Village, the founders of what would grow into a thriving hidden community.
They traveled ceaselessly, day and night, until they discovered a secluded enclave nestled between two mountain cliffs. The mountain itself bore no glorious name in the annals of the Empire; those few who knew of its existence referred only to the ancient woodland that carpeted its lower slopes: The Lonelywood Forest.
Between the mountain cliffs lay a small plateau, its front edge sloping gently down to the forest floor below. The location seemed crafted by divine hands for their purpose—neither too expansive nor too confined, offering just enough space for their small community. Its natural defenses made access difficult for potential enemies, while the abundance of resources and a nearby spring promised sustainability. Here, they vowed to establish a sanctuary where future generations could thrive far from the wars that had stolen their former homes.
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A Problem of Leadership: The First Assembly
Yet the challenge of coexistence soon emerged. Without established authority, discord spread as various individuals attempted to assert leadership. Arguments erupted over priorities, methods, and responsibilities. The community reached an impasse until one voice rose above the clamor, addressing the fundamental issue: they lacked unified leadership to guide their nascent village.
The twenty-one families convened their first assembly beneath the open sky. Their inaugural vote would determine who among them would lead. Thomas's father, respected for his wisdom despite his age, nominated his friend Andreus for the position. When the votes were tallied, Andreus—younger than most at merely thirty-five—was chosen as the First Village Chief.
His relative youth proved a decisive factor in his selection. While most founders were in their fifties or older, the community recognized the need for leadership that could endure long enough to establish traditions and guide multiple generations. Andreus carried the weight of their collectives future on his shoulders with quiet dignity.
Under his guidance, the village took shape. Stone by stone, beam by beam, houses rose from the earth. Their combined knowledge of farming, hunting, and crafts ensured survival through the difficult first years. Gardens flourished on terraced plots cut into the finite flat lands. They established orchards whose saplings would one day become towering fruit trees. Within the protection of their mountain sanctuary, they remained untouched by the conflicts that continued to ravage the world below.
They maintained their isolation deliberately, neither sending messengers to neighboring regions nor establishing trade routes that might reveal their location. Only occasionally would they welcome lost travelers who stumbled upon their hidden community, offering shelter and sometimes a permanent home to those who shared their desire for peace.
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The Passing of Time
A century passed. The founders, one by one, returned to the earth they had cultivated. Only Andreus remained, his once-vigorous frame now bent with age, his dark hair turned silver, his hands gnarled like the roots of an ancient oak. Yet his eyes remained sharp as he watched the second-generation of children who were born in this village, as they joyfully played in the village center—they were the grandchildren of his old comrades, children that he had helped raise.
On this particular sunny morning, as golden sunlight bathed the village in amber hues, Andreus sat on a stone bench overlooking the central square. Young August—named for the fiery month that he was born—led a group of children in a game invented by their grandparents decades earlier. Their laughter echoed against the cliff walls, a sound more precious to Andreus than any treasure.
He felt the absence of his companions most keenly in such moments of celebration. Thomas, Elena, Marcus, and all the others who had shared that dangerous journey and those difficult first years—they existed now only in his memories and in the features of their descendants.
"My friends," he whispered in the wind, his voice carried away by the gentle mountain breeze, "look at what we have accomplished. I stand as witness to your labor and sacrifice. The seeds you planted have grown into a mighty forest of lives and traditions."
"Though it grieves me that you cannot see this beautiful sight with your own eyes, I will safeguard these memories until I join you. Your legacy lives in every stone of these buildings, every tradition we maintain, and in the laughter of these children who never knew war."
As twilight descended upon Maya Village, Andreus remained on his bench, a living bridge between past and future, the last guardian of their founding vision as another peaceful day came to its end in the sanctuary they had built together.