They took their time, likely because the mind of a human could only move so quickly. They even whispered briefly to each other before the metal man stopped them.

“You didn’t say he could—” was all that Chef could make out before he clanged his hands together.

“Firstly, it’s been quite rude of us to talk to you as we have. I am Fresk, and you?”

“Call me Chef.”

They appeared to be slightly perplexed at that, looking between each other in a haze of stupidity and confusion. Chef mentally referred to that as “the human condition.”

“Very well. I am the chief of this here village. You may call me Berent. This is my daughter Larese. I have a proposition for you then, sir Chef. We have no great mills here and are slow to produce flour. But, with a bit of focus, we could prepare a suitable windmill to fix just that. If you give us six months to build and then three months to dry the flour, we can make enough for everyone, you included. This much again at that point and every three months after.”

Chef turned to look at Mirri and spoke just loudly enough for everyone to hear him.

“Months?”

A new term for him that got everyone around him spun up for some reason. Apparently, they were trying to con him again, if that reaction were any indication. A happy coincidence if ever there was one. That or Chef was smarter than he thought.

“The three months is necessary to dry the millet, but if we were able to truly focus on it then we might be able to build it faster. We would need to free up farmers and hunters.”

Chef stared at the wrinkly thing for a short while before he came to his conclusion.

“I help you grow. In return I get several things. Big pot and other cook things you have. And this.”

Chef reached out and grabbed the fabric the chief had wrapped himself in. Not quite large enough for the wrinkly thing but more than enough for a goblin. He’d need something to color his skin, but with that he’d be able to pass as human without carting around this stinking wolf hide!

“We will get them for you post haste, if you will just wait here—"

“No,” they flinched again. They seemed to do that fairly often. He’d met goblins braver than them. Well, one brave goblin at least, but he died rather horribly. Oh memories.

“Give this now. Then I meet Dad of Mirri.”

Placing his hand on the small one’s shoulder he explained his reasoning.

“Mirri is my apprentice, now.”

The two faces he could see twisted up into some strange expression that Chef had never seen before. We’re they mad or sad or just plain glad that this small human was going to learn cooking from him? Why were humans so strange?

Well, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Mr. Chef, come this way! I’m sure my dad will be excited to meet you too!”

“Absolutely not!”

The alleged woman yelled out as the other two looked towards her. Chef had to agree with her in this instance. He’d had quite enough of humans for a while and, frankly, needed a break from them.

Not that a human could possibly understand that.

“No, Mirri. I return for rest of deal. Soon. But now, Mirri.”

Chef motioned the small one over away from the others. Leaning in conspiratorially, he whispered.

“What is ‘month’?”

----------------------------------------

“That went even worse than I had expected.”

There were ten of them in the room, everyone else either kept in the dark for now or too exhausted to be of use after a day’s labor. The chief was looking downright depressed by now. Honestly, he should be glad that the creature didn’t pull the cloak off of him right then and there. It had gotten distracted and forgotten the demand, but Fresk knew it would remember when it returned. Seeing how the kid acted around the creature, Mirri just might remind it himself.

Neither his mother or father could get through to Mirri, who had proudly exclaimed that he’d found someone to train him up along with his dad. An exciting prospect for any class that isn’t cook and for any teacher that isn’t a monster reeking of blood.

Fresk had to agree with Mr. Collis. This really did go terribly.

“We were planning to build a mill eventually anyway. The time investment had just never been worth it before, but if the creature could help with harvests or hunting—”

“I wouldn’t trust that monster to look at our crops let alone use its foul magics on them. We can’t seriously be letting this happen!”

A loud and proud opinion from someone that had never swung a sword in their life. Fresk had heard several of those over the past few days, and frankly they were beginning to wear on him. A few more and his inside voice might make it outside.

That or he’d show them how large the gap is between a combat class and a farmer, let alone the gulf between a man and a monster.

“Nobody is happy about making an arrangement, but one way or another we have to deal with it for now. Our best move is to pretend like we cooperating, give in to whatever demands it makes that can be met, and wait for a favorable response from the Adventurer’s Guild. I sent in a request via messenger bird as soon as we got back and promised everything we have.”

It wouldn’t be enough, but Fresk didn’t have it in him to tell Larese that.

“No one will take care of that… thing at the prices we can afford.”

Alas, he wasn’t the only one here. In fact, he wasn’t even the only veteran in the room.

The woman sported a mop of dark red hair cut short to avoid her eyes, leather armor that wasn’t new a decade ago, and a nasty scar in place of her right ear. At every hour of every day he’d ever seen her, defeat had colored her face.

Fresk wished he looked so intact.

“I couldn’t take it, not even with Fresk backing me. Probably not even in my prime. And I’ll be honest, even I was paid better than the silver you offered.”

The room went quiet at that, the exact response Fresk was hoping to avoid. Accepting their situation as reality was one thing, but assuming it to be hopeless or giving up entirely was not valuable. A plan was what they needed, unlikely as it may be to succeed. Annoyed at the silence, he decided to break it himself.

“That’s fine. We can have more than one plan; Larese already started one of them.”

He nodded to her as he stood up for the rest of the room, helmet off. They didn’t expect it and never really got used to it. Well, save for the chief and his daughter. They were made of sterner stuff than the rest for sure.

“If we have enough plans and over three months, then surely one is bound to get somewhere. This isn’t a get together to be sorry for ourselves. This is a meeting to make sure that you all don’t end up like me.”

They couldn’t even look him in the eye as he spoke, nor could they after he finished. His story was a familiar one in this village. Sad as that was, it was the only reason why they let him stay so freely despite how he made them feel.

Pity.

No matter who you are, everyone has pride. Nobody would want to end up like me.

“So, plan one is hiring a monster hunter. That one is as done as we can make it. What’s plan two? I was wondering if the church wouldn’t get involved. That creature does reek of death.”

Someone spoke up and said the first truly productive thing of the night as sounds of agreement filled the room. Finally, they were getting somewhere. This was going to be a long night.