As he observed the drab, gray swampland around himself, Ronnie pinched his nose closed. In truth, it wasn't as if the Arcavian alchemist would have noticed the stagnant stench of the bog, whether his nose was free or not. Being Arcavian meant that he would be used to odors far worse than whatever the Chawir marshes had to offer; and years of work as an alchemist, without any knowledge of safety precautions, meant that his sense of smell had suffered under the continuous assault of stinging fumes.

Still, he had to keep up appearances. A great, refined man such as Bombasticus had to hold his nose upon the sight of such an uncivilized bog, and upon the small amount of frozen farmland the people of the region had stolen from the everglades. For now, the village behind Ronnie was the first station on their journey.

As instructed, he had split his large team up into five smaller groups, all of whom had taken off on different routes along the north-eastern part of the Chawir marshes. They would go through the villages on their routes, take care of the census and hand them the king's gift and offer. Once the teams reached the end of the bog, they would group up again to march south. After they had crossed the largely lifeless southeast region, they would split into their groups again, to focus work on the south-west on their way back to Saniya.

Considering the long schedule, the alchemist just hoped that their travels would go by smoothly, that he could soon get back to Saniya. There, in a place where they would be needed, he could make use of his true talents. After five years of theory and tiny experiments, hidden from view, the alchemist was more than ready to become the sort of proper chemist Corco had been talking about. At last, it was time to start on the big projects, to write his own name down in the history books.

“Master... Bombasticus, there's a problem.”

Although the soon-to-be chemist continued to stare out into the endless, half-frozen bog, he still answered the voice in his back with a long sigh. Of course things couldn't be this easy, they never were. Once Ronnie had fixed his posture and put on a smile, he turned around at last. With his trademark sardonic smile, Bombasticus looked upon the mercenary who had been so reluctant to use his stage name. He would ignore the rudeness for now, since the man had been made captain of the small unit in charge of their security. Good cooperation meant that they would be done all the sooner, and the sooner they were finished with this chore the sooner he could become a proper chemist.

“I will be along, Nahlen. What seems to be the problem?”

Nahlen frowned while he adjusted his speed to that of Bombasticus. Like everything he did, the great alchemist's steps were truly grand.

“...the villagers are unwilling to accept the census. Their village head is being stubborn too. You know, we could just raze the whole damn place and get on with it-”

“No!” Ronnie interrupted the warrior. Annoyed, he turned to give the man a critical look. A frown and tightened lips spoke of Nahlen's discontent as well as of his frustration. “We have strict instructions from King Corco. There will be no violence against the local population. That is an iron rule you will not break, unless you wish to shoulder the cost of a civil war. This sort of problem requires a delicate touch, so this great alchemist, with the most delicate of touches, will handle the barbarians. Once we require some plundering, I will call upon you and your men within but an instant.”

With his head raised high, Bombasticus marched up ahead, into the heart of the village, as he left the baffled mercenary behind. He knew that the provocation hadn't been, strictly speaking, necessary, but the alchemist would rather deal with any latent issues now, so long as they still had resources to spare. Several weeks in that camp, crowded together with the wolf mercenaries, had given Ronnie a fairly deep impression of their character. At this point, he was much less convinced of their loyalty than their master was. At least parts of the troop had their own ideas, of that he was sure. Maybe this would be a good opportunity to weed out some trash, so Bombasticus had chosen confrontation. By the time Dedrick came back, all the rats would be forced back underground. By then, catching them would be much harder.

In the end, Ronnie reached the central plaza of the village without an incident, to his own chagrin. As expected of a simple village in the middle of nowhere, the houses were constructed in a simple manner. Built entirely without stone, their creators had used the old trees and reeds of the swamp around them instead. Thus, the predominant colors were black, green and dull gray. However, a lot of effort had gone into the various buildings, especially the ones near the village center. Many doors and windows had been decorated with well-worked carvings of all sorts. In addition, the central building on the plaza was downright massive for a village of this size.

Though the manner of construction itself was just as simple as that of all the homes around it, the village chief's domicile looked as if three smaller huts had been stretched in length and then stacked, one on top of the other. Around the strange mansion was an additional fence on top of the outer walls, which the villagers had built to shield themselves from the dangers of the wild, both beast and man. Held within the fence was not only the village chief's lavish hut, it also housed other, smaller constructions, as well as the village's sizable grain storage.

With a frown, Ronnie observed the construction which looked so unassuming in style, but still indicated such wealth. Soon however, he had entered the crowded plaza of trampled earth as well and became preoccupied with the crowd in front of the fence. Over there, Corco's men had brought out a table and a few chairs to fulfill their duties. Berrat, his own colleague from the Fastgrade days, would be in charge of noting everyone's name and occupation for the census, while the beaconer, a local-born helper from Saniya's shrine, sat at the accountant's side to guarantee the smooth cooperation of the king's subjects. However, it seemed like cooperation was the last thing the villagers had in mind.

A large man stood at the front of a mob, his fist raised and head turned towards the mumbling masses behind him as he rallied them against the owners of the disruptive table. Meanwhile, Dedrick's men had taken position closer around the furniture and the wagons behind it. The situation was explosive and could spark a conflict at any moment.

“What is going on here then!?” Ronnie shouted into the crowd, quite unlike himself. However, being refined wouldn't get him heard in this charged atmosphere. At the sound of his voice, the mercenaries calmed somewhat and lowered their weapons. He didn't know if the villagers were surprised by his Yakua pronunciation or simply followed the lead of the census bureau before them, but slowly, one by one, the noise calmed down as well, until all eyes rested on Ronnie alone. Good, Bombasticus had always enjoyed the attention.

“Are you the leader of the bunch?” the fat villager at the head of the masses asked. Hieronymus ignored the rude question marched ahead, past the villagers and whom he presumed to be the village chief, as everyone stared at him in bafflement. The moment the fatty was about to explode at the lack of respect, Hieronymus turned on his heels, now between Corco's men and Corco's people and, filled with energy, began to address the fat villager.

“This master of the great arts is the grand alchemist Hieronymus Bombasticus, currently under direct employ of Corcopaca Titu Pluritac, King of the South. I presume that you would be the local magistrate, sire?”

Still somewhat annoyed, the fatty crossed his arms and answered with a frown.

“That's right. I'm Asto, chief of this village.”

“Hieronymus Bombasticus greets Chief Asto. It is this Master's greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance, sire.”

Displaying a humble attitude completely different from the one he had shown at first, Bombasticus bowed down with great flourish. Although the fat chief didn't wear any precious jewelry, the thick cloth on his body looked expensive, and there was an incredible excess of it. Even with all of his girth, the many folds still flopped around Asto's belly like drawn curtains in the wind. Though he had kept within the rules for Yaku commoners and avoided typical symbols of excess, this man was very eager to show off his wealth in front of others. Deference would make communication much easier.

Just as Ronnie had expected, the humble greeting shown by a warrior under command of a king caused Chief Asto's curtains to shiver in excitement. Even if he might have been unaware of the political news within Medala, the chief would at least understand the difference in status between himself and a king. With a raised head he continued, pride dripping from his voice.

“In that case, Master... Bombastico should consider the lives of the poor farmers in our village. We know that Saniya has a new lord, but until next fall, we really can't give any more taxes. Not only has Lord Sawo forced some crazy levy from us, no, the banditry around these parts has made life harsh as well. I'd advise Master to seek the lord's coin elsewhere.”

Though the words sounded like a plea, Asto's stance, and the attitude of the dozens healthy, well-fed men behind him, made it sound more like a threat. Ronnie looked back towards the large granary built beyond the fence. He doubted that there was nothing else to take here, but luckily for all of them, it wasn't the reason he had come in the first place.

“Not to worry, good man. The census is only meant for King Corcopaca to take note of his new subjects, so as to better care for them. The king is well aware of your plight and has been so benevolent as to not demand any more of his anguished subjects. There will be no taxes demanded until the next harvest.” Since faces around him relaxed somewhat, it would now be time to unleash his secret weapon, the main reason for his visit. “Instead, as a sign of his good will, King Corcopaca brings a gift for the village, as well as an invitation for the chief.”

Under confused murmurs, Ronnie walked over to one of the wagons they had stationed in the back and removed the pelt from its top. Revealed underneath, the shining glint of metal made the men within the plaza marvel. What sat before them was a newly made plowshare, built entirely from iron. Behind Bombasticus, the noise quieted as the men began to understand, one by one, what sort of treasure he had brought to them.

“This... is for us?” the village chief asked, his eyes always focused on the precious instrument which could create him so much wealth.

“It is indeed,” Bombasticus replied with the smile of a salesman. “All you need to do if you wish to receive your very own iron plow is to come to Saniya and listen to the king's generous offer. Not to worry, no matter what, you will not be forced to accept the king's transaction and the plow will not be taken away again, even if you should not accept any further benevolence. However, know that for those who will accept, even more precious tools will await.”

“In that case, Chief Asto will be there, to hear the king's offer.” As the village chief answered, his chest swelled with pride. Though his words sounded earnest, Ronnie could see the glint in the man's eyes. No doubt he must have started to scheme already, trying to find methods how to take more treasures from his new, lenient king. Alto's whole attitude smelled like trouble to Ronnie, but Master Bombasticus understood that there was nothing he could do for now. Thus, he just kept smiling away, until they had left the village and Bombasticus disappeared.

“Is that sort of unruly attitude normal? Do all of these village chiefs look like this?” Ronnie asked the beaconer to his side with a frown.

“Indeed. This mortal has been to many villages over the years. Due to the poor roads in the region, many settlements off the major waterways have developed a high degree of autonomy. Thus, one clan or a small number of them often takes local control.”

Ronnie's frown deepened. This was worse than he had thought.

“This won't do. Nahlen, have your men send a signal. We'll have to group up with the rest before there's a riot at another village. And prepare a runner for the king. We have to move in larger groups from now, unless we want to get mauled by an especially greedy village chief.”

As he looked out onto the endless horizon, nothing but frozen bog in his sight, Ronnie began to dread the rest of their journey. They had only just started, just half a day's march away from Saniya, and already the villagers were this unruly. With trepidation, Ronnie hoped that Bombasticus could deal with whatever they would find beyond the horizon.