“The [Patrician] is a little weird is all Sheila, you can’t trust a guy like that with something as important as buildings. He spends the day helping plant crops, move lumber and even haul stone. He ain’t doing any of his job properly. That kinda flighty guy will just-” shared Harkness.

“Enough, I know what I’m building. I have a plan. It’s different, yes. But when you see it all come together, you will be happy with what you have contributed to building. Now, get to work.” commanded Sheila, turning back to the plans on her table.

The gathered supervisors, team leaders, and foremen left her tent, appropriately rebuked.

“It’s like herding plancha.” muttered Sheila.

She spent the next few hours reviewing and modifying some of the diagrams and only stopped when she heard a *ding*. [Architect class reaches level 9.] [Skill Unlocked: Build the Dream. Increased efficiency when constructing a building, as long as the envisioned project matches drawn plans.]

Sheila grinned to herself, a class that hadn’t grown since her 60’s was now once again ticking forward as she continued working at the settlement. This was why she had left Monravia, a chance to grow, and now her risky decision was finally paying off.

It also helped that Ozymandias had given her a title. A title that she hadn’t shared with anyone other than Ozymandias. She had been shocked when she had received it, stunned into silence by his proclamation. Even now she *dinged* it mentally, hearing those words once again. [Title: City Planner. Increase experience gain when work is conducted in an assigned city.]

She chuckled to herself, if only her old crew in Shisea could see her now. They would have killed each other to be on the expedition if they knew they could get a title like that.

--

“She just took em’, she just took em’ man. My meat. She took it all.” cried Blackwell into a cup.

“Good god Blackwell, pull yourself together. You got an official commendation from Harkonen. For finding Carugar kits, who gets a commendation for that? I bet he was pissed that the [Patrician] asked him to give you one for something so stupid.” said Corvo.

The two were in Carnegie’s tent, drinking some of his moonshine. Officially Carnegie was a [Tanner], unofficially he was the settlement’s producer of alcohol. He had somehow managed to bring all the necessary parts for a basic still with the expedition and had managed to skim some grain from the food stores to produce a rough batch.

Everyone knew that they really should be saving all available food so that they could make it until the farms started producing food, but there were enough people who needed a stiff drink now and then that they were willing to put on blinders around Carnegie.

“What good is a commendation out here?! That shit is useless. Besides, who even knows if it will hold up once we’re back home?” said Blackwell, morose.

“Well, you could always try to use it for a promotion to Sergeant. Maybe get the actual class [Sergeant]?.” said Corvo, taking another sip of the rancid substance in his cup. “Hey Carnegie, could you make it so the next batch doesn’t turn me blind?” he complained.

“Shove it Corvo. Until the farms start producing something worth tossing in the still this is all you get.” sent back Carnegie, as he crouched down next to the still to check a connection. “Besides, you guys still owe me a pound of meat from the last time you two were here. I can’t even make this crap if I don’t have something to trade with Xerry.”

“Ya ya, Lockheed will come by with what we owe and the meat for this tonight. The [Butchers] are taking apart the carugar as we speak. You might even get some of the skin if you ever get around to doing your actual job.” said Corvo.

Carnegie merely made a rude gesture behind his back to Corvo as he continued tweaking the still.

Corvo turned back to Blackwell who was still in the depths of despair. He had never met a man who pinched a penny as much as Blackwell. Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better if Blackwell had been a [Merchant] rather than a [Corporal].

“Listen, these are wild untamed lands. This was just an unfortunate event, there are plenty of things we’ll come across on our patrols and I’m sure you’ll figure out how to scam someone into taking whatever that is too.” consoled Corvo.

“I guess…” said Blackwell, even as he slumped over onto the ground and started snoring.

“My god, what is this stuff made out of?” asked Corvo, even as he moved to the ground to check and make sure Blackwell was ok.

“Potatoes, it’s the only thing that Xerry would trade me for the extra leather I had. Strong isn’t it?” said Carnegie.

“Must be.” said Corvo, rising up to take a seat on a crate once again.

“So it’s true then? You guys brought back carugars?” asked Carnegie.

“Yup, one’s with the [Patrician] and the rest went to the Hunters.” said Corvo. “Killian claims that he has a [Domesticate] skill that will let the hunters train them but I’m pretty sure he’s bullshitting. Those things are going to stay wild and run away in a couple of weeks, you mark my words.”

“The [Patrician] has one? Is he nuts? Maybe Tomar is right….Hey, wanna start a bet about how long he lasts with it?” asked Carnegie.

“Why not, go tell Harry to start a pool. Barter only, he has that skill right [Valuation]? That should let everyone join in on the fun if they want to.” said Corvo, putting his cup down.

“All right, I should probably get him back to his tent. See ya Carnegie.” said Corvo, before bending down to pick up Blackwell and heading out.

--

“Who’s a cute widdle murder furball. You are, yesh you are.” said Ozzy, scratching his carugar below its jaw as it softly purred in his hands.

He had been raising it for a few months now and he had been surprised by how big it was growing. When he had received it the kit was only the size of his palm. Now its head came up to his waist and it was still growing.

It had lost the soft fur that it had as a child and as it entered its adolescence the fur had become dark grey and harder.

“I can’t believe you. You have to stop treating it like a baby. It should be out hunting not, getting fat from being hand fed Dik Dik meat.” said Caldura as she lounged on a chair while reviewing the latest patrol reports.

Ozzy snorted. “I still can’t believe it’s called a Dik Dik. Fucking unreal.”

“Have you read these reports?” asked Caldura.

“Of course, increased sightings of manaborn monsters and [Private] Waldez getting attacked in the forest by beetles, I know.” said Ozzy, before turning his attention to the other resident of his tent, Pick. Pick was lazily creating a quickly spinning ball of air in his hand and trying to get it to roll up his arm.

“What do you think, Pick? Do I baby him too much?” asked Ozzy.

“Well Master Ozymandias, while I am not well versed on how to raise carugars, I can assure you that Artiom is not fat. As to the efficacy of his hunting skills, I cannot comment. Although I must say that the success of the [Hunters] in associating with the carugars may be directly associated with you babying Artiom. It is also probably why that carugar pack has joined the settlement.” said Pick.

“You hear that Arty. You’re the reason the other carugars fell in line, yes you are. Whose a good boy!” said Ozzy, scratching Artiom behind his ears as Artiom laid on the ground and purred in satisfaction.

“Stop calling him Arty. His name is Artiom. I help you train the murder ball and in exchange I get to name him. That was the deal.” said Caldura.

“Of course his name is Artiom. He knows that. Let me have a pet name, especially when he’s being so cute.” said Ozzy, keeping his babying tone.

Caldura rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the report.

“When I asked if you read the reports, I meant if you had determined what was going on.” said Caldura.

“Of course, it means that our gambit is slowly falling apart. The manaborn monsters are starting to realize that the big bad wolf may be just three little piggies and now they’re coming for our bacon.” said Ozzy. His face somber, even as Artiom rolled on to his back to let him scratch his belly.

“You know we don’t get your references, so why bother making them? You just end up sounding like a halfwit attempting his first shot at poetry.” teased Caldura.

Their banter was interrupted by the sound of Lt.Harkonen at the tent flap.

“Permission to enter, sir.” asked Lt. Harkonen.

“Granted, come on in.” said Ozzy.

Harkonen walked in with a rigid posture, Ozzy stopped playing with Artiom and sat up straight. Whatever this was it had set Harkonen on edge.

“Sir, you’ll want to come with me. There’s a Naga asking for the Settlement Leader.” said Harkonen.

“A what? Here? From where? What?” asked Ozzy in rapid fire. The declaration drew the attention of Pick and Caldura.

“I don’t know sir. She’s refusing to talk to anyone but the leader and she’s waiting outside the palisade. I have a squad moving to the gate just in case, but she wants to talk to you.” said Harkonen.

Ozzy turned to Caldura with a raised eyebrow, who gave him a puzzled look in return. “Well then, I guess we should go see what she wants and try to get some information out of her.”