Up on top of the fourth bleacher, Stone and Carol chatted.

“The thing about mercenaries, is you don’t tell them everything. I mean sure you pay them to do the work, but you don’t pay them to think. They stay on contract and they stick to the contract, so long as they’re good mercenaries, that is. The riverfolk I don’t understand? The merchants. See you can trust a mercenary to be honest, you can, but merchants are always trying to get a few more clams out of a deal. A few more clams to grease their palms makes a merchant happy. A mercenary? He just wants to go home.” Stone said, gesticulating mildly.

“He or she.” Carol said.

“Right? There are plenty of female mercenaries, why I fought with a few back when.”

“Stone, you never fought any females. The most you did was to exchange insults.”

“That’s not the point Carol.”

“Yes, and Brit would back me up on this. The company trusts you to make a decision, but the client? They just want you to do your job and when you’re done to forget whatever or whoever you were guarding.”

“I’m sure if you lobbied hard enough, you could change the way that we do things, but a lot of otters and beavers are happy with the way things are going. Or is this one of those time you don’t want a fix and just want to vent?”

Stone nodded enthusiastically as the small crowd on the boat roared. The judges were about to be announced.

“Selling food at this crowd? Now there is an idea!”

“Good. Tell Chip after the contest. I want him to focus, not be thinking about business plans.”