Lem walked down the well-trodden dirt path into Pancreedy with the morning song of the birds; no matter if the bird is a beast or monster, they love to declare their territory to start their day. He took long loping strides to quickly get his urgent message sent and be on his way back. Who knows if that Chopeck is being a bastard again, he thought as he brewed over the issue of his son’s precarious class.

After half an hour of walking, a large silhouette appeared around one of the thickets that lined the path like buoys in an ocean of well portioned farmland. As Lem and the figure slowly closed the gap between each other, it became clear that it was a large insectoid monster.

Lem was quite happy to see the creature approaching him, for it was one of his Kaholins he had recently rented out. The Kaholin was backtracking it’s way home to the ranch as its kind were known for the strong homing instincts. Preventing a rented Kaholin from returning home or tampering with its brand was punishable by a fine of at least fifty silvers, one that didn’t prevent Lem from worrying for his animals nevertheless.

“Hey there Poly,” Lem softly spoke as the creature stopped next to its master and waved its long armored whisker over him. The Kaholin quickly nodded its head up and down to create a hissing noise by rubbing its head with its thorax.

“Good to see you too girl,” replied Lem at the happy greeting he received as he quickly inspected the saddle for marks or scuffs, in case he had to charge Mr.Fendle extra. Noting that the saddle was in the same condition he last saw it six days ago on morning of Kohlim, he was satisfied. With that Lem gave a gentle pat on the end of Poly’s spiky abdomen and the giant monster gave a parting hiss with a furious head nod before they parted ways.

Lem continued on his journey that he has made many times and soon enough he reached the village. The smoke billowing from multiple chimneys and foretold the beginning of the day for the villagers. There wasn’t many villagers out and about from their wooden domiciles yet, wuth the only sound that accompanied the birdsong was of the ringing of a hammer in the smithy.

Lok-Tar must have a few orders if he’s up this early, I better drop by and say hello to kill some time before visiting the headman, thought Lem as he took a right turn as he entered the edge of village. After passing by multiple homes the ringing sound increased in volume as Lem approached his friend’s home.

Walking around the back of the local pub The Scimitar’s Glint that still smelled of cheap ale even as it was currently quiet and not open to patrons, Lem saw his friend.

In an open air smithy that was just a wooden shed without walls was a large dark grey muscular orc who was only wearing a pair of dirty trousers and a blacksmiths apron working away. The orc paused in his act of using a small hammer to taper a thin metal rod on his anvil as he spied the approaching arrival.

“Well if ishnt my friend, Lem the hairy mushhk rat!” Exclaimed Lok-Tars in a gravelly voice through huge silver cap tusks and a large smile in his eyes above his scarred bulbous nose.

“Well hello there you muscle bound apple,” Lem replied with his booming voice along with a small musk of joy and a smile to echo his friend’s expression. “Working so hard and early and on a Paltim at that, what your wife left you and took all your money?” He joked as he approached the orc was standing up.

“Nhaot a chancssh, with howff she lovesh this body of mine,” replied the orc with a leery expression as the two clasped hands in greeting.

“Haha good joke, what body? All I see is a strength build idiot with no endurance,” joked back Lem with his musk of joy as he pulled up a spare stool to sit beside his friend.

“Hoho you shtill got a bite insht you, but cut the shit why isht youst here so early inst the morning? We still onsht for tomorrow?” Questioned Lok-Tars as he sat down before he continued with his work of hammering nails.

“It’s Nosal you see, he’s up and about and healthy again so I’m sending a letter to my dad,” spoke Lem in a quiet tone that was drowned out by the hammering.

“Huwhat? Why that isht some great newsh!” Exclaimed the Orc as he stopped hammering to look at Lem with joy creasing the corner of his eyes like cracks in a boulder.

“SHHHT!” Hushed Lem with one large hairy hand on his friend’s shoulder and one to his lips conspiratorially.

“Huuwhat?” Whispered back his friend with a worried expression.

“Be quiet you idiot, that’s the problem, hes got a unsung class,” whispered Lem with his eyes darting around the quiet village.

“Hoo fucking divinesht,” hissed the large orc as his eyes seem to bulge out of his sockets.

“Yeah so don’t say a fruitflied of a word you hear? I don’t want no nobles or greedy merchants chaining up my son,” whispered Lem with a scalding look at his closest friend.

“You andsht me both my friensht, I swear on my famiry’s tusks that nosht one will hearsht this from me or minesht,” solemnly swore the orc as he tapped his left tusk with the index finger of his gloved hand. Lem was aware of what a tuskless orc meant in their society, an honorless cur that none of Orchish races would associate with.

“That’s why I’m so early, so I can send a falcon for help to my dad,” spoke Lem with his musk of fear and a sigh at the enormity of the situation that befell his family.

“Andsht here I thought isht ish what about the refugee placemenshts,” spoke Lok-Tars with a shake of his head.

“What refugees and what placements?” Asked Lem in confusion.

“The headmansht has sensht his sonsht arounsht with word hhat we have to make placemenshts for the refugees that got displraced by the war last year, from the nshtorthernsht borders of the unionsht, they will be here by springg,” answered Lok-Tars as he placed down his tools to face his friend.

“ha-what are you goinsht to do about little Noshtsalsht?” Asked Lok-Tars with concern heavy in his voice like treacle mixed into gravel.

“I don’t have a clue, I just hope we can keep it quiet until he grows strong enough to defend himself or at least run away when he’s in trouble,” honestly answered Lem with defeat and his musk of sadness.

“That could take years,” added his friend.

“Yeah I honestly don’t know, if Gowin was still around then maybe she would be able to come up with a better plan, I’m no good with all this danger and drama,” sadly spoke Lem with his musk of sadness as he admitted his own failures and inability to protect his son.

“Enousht of those stinkiesht farts of yours, you forget my wife is quite the advenshturer back insht her dayss, and she would never let anything happen to Gowinsht’s younshtgest, noorh me friensht,” growled the Orc with spittle flying all over Lem, with his fangs bared as is the orc custom to show bravery.

“Euughh Tars! Enough of your rotten breath and you got spit all over my fur!.... anyways what’s this refugee nonsense and why have we got to put up with them?” Asked Lem as he tried to change the subject, for he was deeply touched but also embarrassed at his friend’s Orchish bravado.

“All I heard, isht that the whole village will be receiving a tax cut of up to a whole leg if we take onsht these refugees, and I for onesht thinksht it’s a good cause to help onshts in needsht,” declared the orc as he picked up his tools to begin work again.

“Well your definitely right on that, but I for one can’t be having strangers about the place with my situation at home as it is,” quipped back Lem as he stood up.

“Oh aye your right onsht the noseht on that one, see you tomorrow ratface!” Said the orc with a wave from his hammer wielding hand.

“Yeah I’l see you tomorrow, and bring the good stuff aye?” Asked Lem as he walked away from the smithy.

“Haha-how could I forget? Your companysht would be terrible without the it!” Joked Lok-Tars with a booming laugh that sounded like cracking rocks at his own joke.

“Haha you fucking fruitfly,” replied Lem as his spirits was slightly lifted by the visit to his friend.

Lem left the smithy and continued on his way towards the center of the village where his destination lay, the Headman’s house. As he passed through the main throughway he was about to walk by the storefront of the only general store in Pancreedy, the Firefly.

Outside was the store owner and general clerk, Mister Shivalteek the Firekin. Shivalteek was dressed in his usual creamy butter coloured traditional desert robe that was adorned by the bright silky red sash he wore, with the whole attire served to contrast beautifully with his smooth obsidian skin that shined with an inner lustre from the morning dawn light.

“Greetings Lem, and may the twin stars shine on your accomplishments and the moon salutes your wake,” the Firekin started to greet, even as he turned from his act of arranging his fruit display.

“Hello Mister.Shival,” Lem greeted back at the usual flowery words of the Firekin with a nod but hiding his awe at the ex-mages canny ability to discern people just based on their mana. He had been explained many times how it worked by the man himself, over multiple drinks in The Glint, but knowing how things worked didn’t necessarily take away from the grandiose of seeing it in action.

“Are you perhaps in need of my services this esteemed day?” Shivalteek asked with a wonderful smile of pristine white teeth that looked like a white crescent moon to the night that was his face.

“No no, Shival I’m just on my way to send a Slyph to my father,” replied Lem in his deep voice but also a musk of joy. The Firekin was his vendor for Chitpulka eggs and broker for Koholin rentals but he never cheated or undercut his prices since they worked together for the last four years. He was a honest Firekin with a funny way with words, but one that Lem genuinely liked.

The Firekin was all gentle words and a soft spoken until he had a drink in him. After which he would proudly display some horrific pyromancy spells into the sky outside the local pub to entertain his drunken friends and enraptured the children of the village with their own fireworks display. The Firekin would fling spells with his skin cracking and with whorls of fire dancing underneath until his wife’s sharp tongue would cut the fire show short as per usual. He was a well-liked member of the community whom clearly was wasting his time as a war mage in his past, and Lem cherished his partnership for the Firekin saved him an awful lot of haggling and having to find customers himself.

“Oh my consternations for you is very high if you require a sylph-hawk to send a message of utmost emphasis, tell me is your fledgling successful in his endeavours concerning his class?” Asked the man with worry, for he was aware from last week’s pickup that Nosal was high in fever with his Calling.

“Yes he’s fine now, he’s just woke up with a class we aren’t sure about so I’m calling my dad over to celebrate and ask him if he knows,” lied Lem after working his way through the Firekin’s wording. Lem then quickly made his excuses and left before the Firekin was able to press the issue further.

-----

Shivalteek stood next to his shop waving at the retreating figure of Lem until he was out of sight. Then small whorls of fire flared behind his neck briefly as he rushed into his shop. Inside was his wife behind the counter working on the accounts ledger, whom was dressed in the same way as him.

“What is it my moonless night?” Asked Deantharla without looking up as her face was surrounded by a small curtain of her platinum white hair.

“Work,” Replied Shivalteek without his usual eloquence as paused halfway into the store.

His wife looked up immediately from her accounting and stared at her husband with her emerald green eyes before quickly nodding in understanding. Shivalteek had a serious expression on his naturally smiling face as he nodded back before he secluded himself in their living quarters at the back of the store.

The man headed straight to a small innocuous dresser by the sofa and turned the small piece of furniture around. He then kneeled down on the carpet beside the dresser. With one hand at the bottom of the dresser and the other depressing a seemingly indifferent part of the back panel a small click was heard. From the bottom a fruit sized gem feel out into his waiting hand. The small object was surrounded by a network of engravings and a webwork of silver webbing. It was ten times larger than the gem that was used to power the cleaning spell in the Sowigan cleaning artifact.

Shivalteek cusped the large gemstone in both of his hands as he began to inject his mana into the artifact. Under the skin of his hands then crawling up arms, a whirlpool of fire flared up and raged just beneath the surface. But it quickly died away as he finished filling up the artifact as it glowed with a red lustre, the cracks sealed up on his arms and the inferno died away.

“Yes?” Came a voice form the artifact.

“He’s on his way to send you a message,” Spoke Shvalteek into his hands.

“So what, I’m busy,” asked back the gemstone.

“He’s using a sylph hawk and not the caravan sir,” Shivalteek went straight to the matter.

A moment passed as whomever was on the other end of the line deliberated on this news.

“Is Nosal ok?” Asked the gemstone.

“I’m not sure because I haven’t visited since last Paek, and Lem lied to me about Nosal,” Spoke Shivalteek quickly.

“Lie about what?” Quickly asked the voice.

“He said Nosal was ok but he’s got a weird class and is asking for you to come round to celebrate or needs your advice,” Shivalteek delivered the words spoken to him just a few minutes prior.

“Hrmmm, that does sound quite worrying. My Son’s not really one for cloak and daggers so something must be up if he’s willing to ask for my help, alright thank you for the message, I’ll wrap up my business and take the first gryphon over to Paulfint.” Spoke the gem before the red glow faded away.

Job done, Shivalteek secreted the device away and got up and dusted his knees. He then made his way back through the store and continued to arrange his display as if he had never left.

---

Reaching a the centre of the village, Lem headed straight for a squat blue building. The structure was one of the few in town with brickwork but was shorter than most others in the village and was painted a gaudy blue. The roof was covered in a layer of loam and thick lawn of grass rather than the usual wooden logs or the few tiled roofs here and there around the village. It was the house of the village headman.

Lem knocked on the small blue door and waited before he heard a answer on the other side to come in. The large Capyban then bent his neck down and crouched into the door. Inside was a tiny living room that was furnished in wooden furniture, that was of smaller than usual sizes and the Headman himself. The Gnorkling Headman was currently sitting in a small cushioned chair with many pillows supporting his large head as he went over some papers in his hand.

“Good Paltims Lem, it’s great that you are here! I was about to send Dalm over to your Ranch this lunchtime,” spoke the Headman in his small nasally voice with a smile as he sat down his current work.

“Is it about the refugees Delm?” Asked Lem as he sat down in a overly large chair that was reserved for guests. The Capyban in his chair looked like a giant inside a toy house but it was scene that many who visit the headman are used to.

“Exactly Lem, your one of the few families that can host and provide work for the refugee families along with Joantack, Gneeples, Fendle, the Tars and a few others,” listed off the Headman as he poured himself a cup of tea from a small porcelain teapot.

“Oh where are my manners! Would you also like a cup Lem?” Asked Delm as he finished pouring for himself with his hands still on the teapot.

“What kind is it?” Asked Lem for small pleasantries with a musk of joy for he already knew the answer with his sharp nose.

“Why its my favourite, Faithfallridge greens of course,” answered the Gnorkling with pride.

“Oh aye I’ll have a cup,” eagerly grunted Lem at the prospect of drinking some expensive and exquisite tea.

The headman made a few grunts as he lifted his head and bent down under the table where he kept the rest of the tea set on a small shelf and procured one more teacup. He then set in down on the table before he rested back amongst his cushions.

“You’re gonna have to pour some for yourself, I’m knackered now with all this moving about,” huffed out the headman.

“You have to go out more or at least put some points into strength Delm, it’s not healthy to be inside all day,” Spoke Lem as he poured himself a cup of the fine tea.

“Nevermind my health, anyways on the matter of the refugees, there’s a Lepor family of farmers who’s willing to subclass as Ranchers and work with you,” the Headman fired out his request whilst Lem was preoccupied with the smell of the tea.

“I can’t Delm, I’ve got the boys already and there’s no space on the farm,” Lied Lem as the issue of his son swam to the forefront of his mind.

“Cut the Kaholin shit Lem, you’re what, ten levels away from hitting gold in your Rancher class? I know you get to pick a new passive for a monster species and that you’ve been saving up for just that, you should have roughly twenty odd gold coins saved up just for this matter?” Shot out the Headman with his eyebrows creased as he recalled Lem’s finances.

Damnit that’s what you get for lying to your own book keeper, thought Lem with a musk of annoyance.

“Look I’m gonna be straight with you here, the village gets a whole two legs of tax cuts for taking them in, whilst everyone else gets a reprieve of only a leg because I have to use the rest and the village funds to build all the homes, I’m willing to give you a leg and a half off for next year if you take the Lepor family and that’s not negotiable because they are the largest refugee family and you’re the only one with a big enough operation to provide them with reasonable livelihood,” the Headman hammered out his point before sipping some tea.

“You make roughly fifteen silvers a year on a bad one with the eggs, roughly seventy on the Kaholins and two whole gold coins every two years on the Sowigans, by that I’d say you’ve been saving up for expansion for at least the last fifteen years after you’ve paid the taxes just for this expansion.” Concluded Delm before he took one final sip of his tea and placed the cup down with a flourish of his wrinkled brown hand.

“Your right Delm I have been saving up for a while since before Kano was born, I was looking to get into Tricorns, specifically for the milk not the breeding,” Said Lem after he finally gave up. “I was thinking of purchasing more land and expanding the four rotational hay fields into a large unified grazing lot for three cows and a bull, but I have issues at home that means I cant take on extra hands right now.” He added with defeat and a musk of fear.

“That sounds fantastic! I would love for Pancreedy to have Tricorn Dairy as part of its produce, we would even be able to get one of the families to take a loan and Cheesemaker subclass or one of the children can get it and it would be fantastic for our economy! It would probably take a few years before we can have our first decent bath of cheese but I look forward to that day! Oh just imagine Lem! I absolutely love having cheese whilst doing some tax forms for—wait what issues Lem?” The headman abruptly asked after he went on an animated tirade.

“I cannot tell you the details Delm it’s a personal matter,” Lem sternly spoke with his musk of fear.

“Are you in any kind of trouble? We can get the village guards to help if you need it, why that’s what their there for,” asked the headman in all seriousness as he pour himself another cup.

“Look Delm I can’t tell you anything because it’s personal and it regards the safety of my family,” was all the Lem was able to divulge to the headman.

“Hrmm well this is a bit of a pickle, how about I use my class to draft a soul binding confidentiality agreement as rural village elder to you as a law abiding civilian village member and you can pay me, what one bronze? And then you can tell me whatever is the issue without fear of me passing on the information with or without my knowledge and then we can resolve this issue?” Delm spoke as he got up with a huff and went towards a small table in the corner of the living room.

“Wait you can do that? Isn’t soul binding banned in the union and only practiced in Fantimal’s Theocracy?” Asked Lem with concern and a musk of fear at the forbidden holy magic.

“Pffft of course it is if its to be used for servitude and slavery by those so called “holy priests” on the poor and weak, but it also comes with Bureaucratic classes like mines and is a by-product of the olden days when we needed some sure way to get the serfs to do things without resorting to whipping, what I’m going to use it for here is so you can share your secret with me, without fear of repercussion or me sharing it to another party, lets say like when I take my readings from the sundered when we pay our taxes next spring.” Concluded the Headman as he furiously scribbled at some parchment before bringing the quill and contract back to living room table and reclining back in his chair.

“You can do that?” Asked Lem in surprise and a musk of fear at the inclinations of soul binding serfs.

“Yeah, read over it and make sure you pay me the bronze coin or else it won’t work properly, and don’t be stingy because the paper alone costs more than that, I’m only doing this so we can conclude our issue and you can agree to take on the refugee family,” Said the headman as he sipped his now cold tea whilst trying to hide his eagerness for the future of readily available cheese. With a distasteful expression he sat the teacup back down instead of drinking anymore as he waited for Lem to finish reading the basic contract he drafted using his skills.

Lem was at an impasse; for he knew that by sharing his family’s secret he was only serving to create more danger, but he trusted the headman and he knew that the eccentric Gnorkling has always done right by the village and his family. He choose to trust his gut and with a musk of fear he signed his name and fished out a bronze coin.

The Gnorkling smiled as he reached his tiny hand and accepted the coin, and the contract burned in a blue fire. The piece of parchment turned into fine ash that surged into the two contractees to the amazement of Lem and disinterest from the headman.

“Now tell me why you can’t help some poor people out whilst getting a tax cut and let me have some cheese?” Asked the headman.

“You sure there’s no one else here Delm?” Asked Lem nervously.

“Of course my wife and son are baking some pies right now at the bakery,” replied the Headman as he started to get impatient with all the secrecy.

Lem told him.

“Oh divines,” swore the Headman.