Heavy rain was pouring down the stones of the streets. It was raining persistently, mercilessly like it wouldn't want to stop till the end of time. The water gathered in big puddles and after some time only a few spots of coveting stones reminded the people, that this is indeed the main street of Belmaris and not some doomed village on a sinking island. In the middle of the road, a tall, coated figure was standing, thinking about how unlucky he was to be here. Not because of the rain, no. As a true Belmarian, this weather was like spring to him and in fact, he wanted to go for some casual fishing with his friends today, before duty found him.

His irritation was pointing to the struggling fat-ass and his escorts who seemed to find challenge in walking the street uphill in the rain. As the Envoy from the Kingdom, Sir Rocas was a man of wits, morals, and righteous thinking. Unfortunately, his body wasn't as sharp as his mind and two of his soldiers had to support him on the slippery road. As the water was washing his ankles 15 centimeters above the ground he was cursing his own father in himself. '"Take this envoy mission from the King, Rocas, you will win His Majesty's favor and raise our family's standing." What a horseshit. I'm so stupid. It's not a coincidence, that the Kingdom only sends a tax Envoy every 5-6 years here. What idiot in his right mind would come here, to this godless land?' While he was cursing internally, the entourage slowly reached the youngster.

'Hey boy, how far is that Hall of yours? You said it's only 5 minutes, but it feels like an hour already' grumbled Sir Rocas in a bad mood.

'As if it would be my fault, that you move like 4 years old kids with broken legs' thought the youngster and then turned to the Envoy 'My Lord, it's only 4 houses from here. There you can see that 2 stories stone house after the corner. That's the Town Hall of Belmaris.'

The Envoy looked in the pointed direction and sighed out loud. 'Finally, I can finish my mission, and then I can go back to the civilization' he thought. 'Good boy. Let's hurry then, I want to meet with your Elder.'

***

'So, what do you think about my offer, Elder Zoria?'

As the question was asked, silence filled the room. In the small reception hall, one could only hear the crackling sounds of the fireplace and the quite rumbling noise of the rain from outside. In the light sphere of the fire, two people were sitting in wooden armchairs. In the one closer to the fire, Sir Rocas' shivering figure was trying to dry and warm-up, with a little help of some warm berry wine. In the other chair an old, white-haired woman was sitting, caressing an old, white-furred dog with her right. Opposite to the expectations, her eyes and body seemed to be brimming with energy. People in her age usually rather think about what to put on their gravestones, but Elder Zoria, grown and raised in Belmar didn't let age wear her down easily. The last questions of the Envoy, however pressured him more, than the decades she spent on this world.

'Sir Envoy, as both of us know, Belmar is not part of Corin. Not only we are completely separated geographically by the Shior mountains, but also Kingdom has never shown any interest in annexing Belmar to its territory.' the Elder raised her right hand from the dog and put it on her lap 'When King Petras gave us the Royal Decree 85 years ago, we agreed to pay tax to the Kingdom. In exchange, King Petras promised us that the Kingdom will protect us from the direction of the Shior, which is a funny thing itself since Belmar is only bordered by Corin from the other side of the mountains. The only enemy he promised to protect us from was himself. Now you want to draft our young men into your war as if we would be under your jurisdiction. I find it somewhat difficult to call this an offer instead of a threat!'

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'No no no, please do not take it like that Elder Zoria' said Sir Rocas 'You're talking about the Royal Decree. The Decree says that Belmar should provide recruits to the Kingdom as a tax, but Belmar has the option to pay in materials and goods instead. When I ask you to give us soldiers, it is all within the document's legal binding.' the Envoy made a warm smile as he found his reasoning very appropriate.

'You know, that Belmar is a harsh place!' raised the Elder her voice, even forgetting about addressing the Envoy properly 'In the last 85 years we've always paid the tax in goods, because we cannot let our strongest young men leave the town. We barely have over 3.000 people in Belmar. If we let them join your war, who will hunt for the meat and the pelts? Who will fish on the icy Bel-Yon lake in wintertime? Who will be fathers to the next generations? Your offer would push our people to the worst position we ever had in the last 100 years!' As she stopped Elder Zoria realized that she was already shouting and standing in front of the Envoy. She was mad that she lost her composure, but she was ever angrier about the shameless offer of the Kingdom.

Sir Rocas turned his smile to a serious expression, but inside he was even happier. He knew that in a negotiation if your opponent loses her calm, that means she's out of reasonable arguments. 'Why do you say this, Elder? Look, the Kingdom has not sent here a tax collector envoy for 7 years. I know that the last 2 years provided terrible yields for you and paying 7 years of tax in one sum would endanger your whole community. I have just said, if you let me recruit 200 new soldiers from Belmar, we will consider the last 7 years and the next 3 years' worth of tax paid. Your town can flourish and develop and you do not have to be afraid of starvation or people freezing to death.'

'No, I just have to be afraid of my people being slaughtered in a war they have no relation to!' said Zoria in a calmed down voice 'We are persistent people. We can hunt more, gather more, and fish more. We can ration our food in bleak times and we will survive no matter what. I will not pay with the blood of our children.'

Sir Rocas looked at her with a shocked face. 'This is it. This is why these people are still here. Instead of migrating to the inner parts of the continent, where life is easier, they're suffering here. These are the most thickheaded people I've ever seen'. Realizing that his own reasoning won't be enough here, he decided it was time to play with open cards. He slowly sink his arm into the dept of his coat and pulled out an elegant-looking letter, with blue ribbons. After pondering for a second, he offered the letter to the old woman. 'Please, first read this. I believe it will change your mind.'

Elder Zoria wrinkled her eyebrows and reached for the letter confused by the meaning of the Envoy's words. After taking the nicely folded letter, made out of high-quality parchment, she slowly turned it to the other side, deep inside knowing what will she see. As she has seen the red wax seal with the shield and the wolf head, she knew that the decision was not in her hands anymore. The Elder carefully broke the seal, unfolded the letter, and started to read it. While reading Sir Rocas was observing the face of Zoria. 'It must be tough. Failing your ancestors and failing to protect your people. Unfortunate, but this was for them too. They have to understand it.' As he was thinking this way he saw the woman's face turning paler and paler, till the point she was almost shaking. He wanted to say something, but then he decided to just simply wait.

The cracking from the fireplace sounded even louder than, before while the silence felt heavier. After twenty-some minutes, Elder Zoria, the leader of the Belmarian people looked up to the Envoy, feeling weak and fragile. 'Are these all true?' she asked in a soft voice.

Sir Rocas decided this was time for the final push. 'Not only it's true, but besides me probably dozens of other envoys carried this letter to other leaders, nobles, orders, and organizations. It couldn't be even more real, Elder Zoria. It's your decision how you want to pay your taxes, but I think you already know what is the right answer for my offer.'

The old woman slowly stood up and walk to the fire. The old dog stood up as well. Feeling that her owner's mood was changing for the worse, he poked his nose into the leg of the woman while she was staring at the fire. Time seemed to be stopped as she peaked at the beautifully written lines again and again. Finally, she took another deep breath and throw the letter into the fire while turning to the Envoy with determination on her face.

'So, how do you want to do this?'