Halfling Colony.

Clive stretched and groaned as he slid himself off his cot and tried to get dressed with his aching back and side. While he should consider himself lucky that he wasn't buried because of that elf, he sure didn't feel like it. Especially since he was still nursing his wounds in a tent on a cot, neither of which were quite big enough for him.

He crawled out his tent and grunted as he tried to stand with his wounds still sore. He looked around as he worked his muscles and bones out of whatever kinks and soreness they had. Not like it'd do much, he thought as he made his way over to the feasting tent for breakfast. Passing by the halflings as they've probably been up for a few hours more than him by the looks of it. He could see them coming and going about their business. Especially as he made his way to the area near the main tents where they all made an unofficial market.

Wood from the forest nearby was sold along side rabbit furs from a halfling dressed a bit more ruggedly than the rest, an older halfling woman sold wild flowers and berries gathered nearby, as well as hand-stitched clothes and blankets from wool, hide, and feathers and little charms made from whatever was found nearby. Stones with carvings in them, dolls made from wicker or dried straw. Most were selling and bartering wares of milk, meat, wool, eggs, fat, feathers, and leather depending on what their livestock situation was. It seemed since Clive and Hamish purchased them, they've been sold and bartered off. Pretty much everyone in the colony had at least a single goat or chicken it seemed. Exchanges didn't seem to be resolved in solely coin though as Clive heard some offering up hands for work along side just plain bartering.

"A day's work 'nd eight farthin's fer four chickens!"

"Five pounds fer them rack o' hares!"

"A tanned rabbit's pelt, four bird feathers, 'nd three shillin's fer tha' bucket o' pig lard!"

Clive had no clue what the currency exchange was and if they were the same as the British pound, farthing, and shilling. But at least the halflings weren't letting the cold and violence put a stop to their daily lives, even at their own expenses it seemed. Many continued to work even after the fighting with the gang left some pretty messed up. Some with broken arms or legs insisted on tending to their herds or flocks of livestock, others wanted to continue to work with the humans at the construction sites, he saw a halfling that looked like his guts were about ready to spill out of his bandages adamantly declare that he was going to tend to his tomatoes. That was just how they worked.

Not like you'll be seeing him fighting to run the mini-ex in his state, Clive thought as he hobbled his way into the tent that permanently smelled of food and beer and was warmed by burning fires and ovens. A welcome warm feeling from the cold stiffness.

He went to take a seat at his usual spot at the bar when a warm plate of crispy bacon, mashed potatoes, and colored greens was placed immediately before him with a stiff drink of ale. The cook nodded his head and smiled.

"Got it all ready fer you Mr. Mayor!"

At first Clive was confused as he looked down at his food as the halfling cook returned to his duties, then it came back to him like a hangover. He was the mayor now. He groaned into his hands. Which means that he'll need to get started at some point. At least until the election and he could hopefully convince enough that he wasn't right to lead the halflings.

But he would at least make an effort in trying until then, Clive thought as he dug into his hot meal and warm ale. After having the warm breakfast, he made his way over to where the Big Family Heads and Fallmeadow would gather to discuss the running of the colony. It wasn't as big as the bath and feasting tents were, but it was decorated a bit more. Some banners were planted beside the tent flap that had the pumpkin and scythes of the Fallmeadow Confederacy on them.

Clive groaned as he had to bow to get into the tent and beheld the decision making center of the entire colony! While the tent wasn't large compared to the other two main tents, it was spacious enough for him to stand upright. All around the tent were various desks and cupboards that held anything and everything from plates of partially eaten food and mugs of drink, to papers and inkwells, to pouches of tobacco and nick-knacks.

In the center of this mess was a table of fine oak wood table. All around the table sat the various heads of the Big Families that ate, talked, smoked, and drank. There were plenty of paper scattered around that Clive could see from a glance here and there were various grievances and proposals. But the heads didn't seem to care and used the stacks of paper as coasters or napkins or were otherwise just neglected and stained from the food and drink.

One of them looked up and welcomed Clive.

"Ah! There's tha new mayor! Get a fine sleep did you?"

"Sorry if I'm late." Clive apologized as he moved to the only open seat available. The one Fallmeadow apparently used and was big enough for Clive to sit in.

"Is Fallmeadow not coming?"

"Why would 'e? 'E's not tha mayor no more, you are." One of the heads said with a bit of snark.

"Yeah about that, why did he-"

"Anyway, we 'ave tea at nine. Then brunch at ten. Followed by a light luncheon at ten thirty then tea at eleven. Then we break for lunch at eleven thirty-five before comin' back fer a bit o' light snackin' befer 'eadin' inta afternoon tea. After tha'-" One of the heads rattled off as a plate of sausage and potatoes was placed in front of Clive.

"Oh, I already had breakfast." Clive said as he scooted the plate away.

"You've 'ad one yes, but wha' 'bout 2nd breakfast?" Another of the heads asked as the one halfling continued to rattle off the schedule for the day. Which seemed to Clive to be nothing but having tea, food, tea, and more food.

"I'm sorry, but shouldn't we be going over proposals? Legislation? You know, actually running the place?"

"Hear tha' lads? 'E want's ta go o'er proposals!" One of the heads said with a laugh.

"'Nd legislation!" Another laughed as did the other heads.

"Well... yeah. I do. That's what being a mayor and governing body is supposed to do. You know, actually govern?"

"Oh there's plenty o' time fer tha' lad. Why dinae you eat yer food 'nd let thin's just sort themselves out aye?"

Clive made to protest when a clock chimed from somewhere amidst the mess.

"Oh! Tea time!"

With that the various heads supped from cups of tea or had their cups emptied and refilled. Some threw cups full of still warm tea just so they could have a fresh cup. Some cups had meat bones and soggy papers in them before being cast aside for fresh cups!

Holy shit they're worse than our politicians, Clive thought as he watched as mounds of papers full of proposals and other legislation be readily discarded and tossed aside so the heads could have a bit more elbow room for their tea times. Stacks of them were toppled over if they were deemed to be in the way between two of the heads talking about whatever asinine thing they chatted about.

"So Marge is chatterin' 'bout tha cold again."

"Dennis was whingin' 'bout tha Duffy boy gettin' inta 'is larder."

"Frank tossed o'er someone's tent in a drunken stupor. Again."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The response to all these issues?

"Marge is always chatterin' 'bout tha cold."

"Dennis is always whingin'."

"Tha feller can fix 'is tent."

Even if these were just petty issues, the few times something that actually sounded serious came up it got the same response. It'll sort itself out. The cooks want better larders to keep food fresh? They'll figure it out. Disputes over land? They'll settle it. Spousal abuse? They'll work it out.

At least their politicians ACTED like they cared! The halflings aren't even doing that much, Clive thought as he watched as legislation that were probably weeks old be pushed aside for biscuits and tea.

Eventually Clive had enough.

"Wait wait wait!"

The heads all turned to him, some still sipping on their tea or munching loudly on their snacks.

"Most of these things shouldn't be left to sort themselves out! Some of these are serious enough that they need to be at least addressed!"

"Relax lad! Most o' those 'serious' thin's will work themselves out!"

"Potentially losing food? Land claim disputes? Someone beating their spouse will work themselves out?!"

"Aye! They're cooks! They'll come up with a way ta better store food! Land disputes 'appen all tha time 'nd you'll drive yerself mad tryin' ta fix 'em yerself! 'Nd wha's this 'bout abuse?!"

"One of you just said that someone beat their spouse!"

"Course she does! If she didnae then he would just lay 'bout all day!" One of the heads declared to the others laughing along with him.

"But that doesn't-"

DING!

"Oh! Tha's brunch!" One of the heads declared and the assembly got up and began to leave the tent.

"Wait?! We still have stuff to actually do!"

"It'll sort itself out lad! Dinnae worry!" One of them said as the group laughed and left Clive alone in the tent.

So that was how Clive found himself sitting alone looking over cups of still steaming tea and food while overlooking stacks and mounds of paper. He sighed and reached for a single piece that resulted in a mix of papers and cups toppling over in the process. He looked down at the paper and sighed as most of it was too stained by tea, booze, or food grease to be legible anymore. He threw the paper away and looked around and saw that many of the papers were in little better condition.

"Fuck me." Clive said as put his head in his hands.

-----

Kilpa limped about the colony as she made her way around to do her daily routine. Which wasn't much since she had given up her daggers to the kobold and was wounded from the fighting that said daggers would've been VERY handy to have in! But that was neither here nor there, she thought as she sat down in her spot at the bar and received a warm ale and food.

As she ate she could hear a commotion nearby and turned her eyes to see the heads of the Big Families wander in as they laughed about something. They wandered over to their private table in the feasting tent and sat down as plates and mugs were hauled over to them. She didn't have to try too hard to hear what they were talking about as they all but shouted it to one another.

"I give 'im by week's end befer 'e calls it quits!"

"Bah! I'll bet till sundown!"

"I'll bet 'e runs ta Fallmeadow by tha time we finish brunch!"

The heads all laughed as they stuffed their faces while Kilpa watched with a cocked brow as to who they might be talking about. But then she recalled that Clive was now mayor of the colony. Which would explain why he wasn't at his tent when she looked and why he wasn't here anymore. Though she thought that perhaps he had gone to work despite his injuries. But if they were talking about Clive then he must be over at the assembly tent.

So Kilpa scarfed down her meal and ale before limping away and off towards where Clive must be at. Most halflings barely gave her a wave or even a nod as she did. Despite her aid against the gang, most were still held in their belief that she had abandoned them when she left to be an adventurer. Though at least most would look at her now. Before, they pretty much shunned her when they could get away with it without appearing rude.

Eventually she arrived at the assembly tent and could hear sounds of smashing and something breaking within. She tensed up and quietly pulled the flap aside and peered in only to breath in relief as she saw Clive was fighting against stacks of paper and trash instead of with someone.

She limped over to Clive as he tried to gently push aside some books and plates. Only to jump when he noticed her.

"JESUS!"

"Who?" Kilpa asked after the stack came tumbling down.

"Doesn't matter. I thought you were resting?"

"I thought you were too."

"As if I can rest in that damn cot." Clive grumbled as he rubbed his back.

"So what are you doin'?"

"Trying to sort through this mountain of shit so I can actually do my mayoral duties!" Clive exclaimed as he pulled out a piece of paper that was dripping with something.

"Know what this is?"

"A soiled paper?"

"Yes! It's also a dispute over ownership of some pigs. Covered in bacon grease!"

Clive held up another paper stained black.

"This one? A petition about a tobacco field. Covered in so much tobacco ash that I'm surprised it hasn't combusted!"

He pushed aside a mountain of dishes and squinted over another paper.

"This one is a trade agreement with a Pishton, Poshton-"

"Pickton?"

"Yeah! Where the hell even is that?"

"'Bout four days north by north west o' our former town."

"This thing is months old?! Is this other stuff that old too?! How the fuck is anything still running?!" Clive asked in exasperation as he threw aside more papers that were doubtless months perhaps years old.

Kilpa shrugged her shoulders, and winced when she pulled on one of her wounds.

"Most thin's just tend ta-"

"Don't you dare say sort themselves out."

".... sort themselves out."

Clive groaned. Kilpa rolled her eyes and limped over.

"Halflin's love ta complain. Tha weather, a fence bein' too far o'er or not far enough between holdin's, who's got tha bigger melons. Most o' these really will, or 'ave already, sorted themselves out."

"But there was something here about better larders for the cooks! With winter coming we'll need something better than some wooden icebox to keep things preserved and I don't know about you, but I don't want to just leave it to sort itself out!"

"Aye there is tha'. 'Nd as much as I hate those limp dicks, you'll run yerself ragged tryin' ta meet 'nd deal with E'ERY complaint 'nd issue there is. Why dinnae you start by sortin' tha important issues away from tha complaints. Ifin they're complaints? Throw 'em out! If they're important? Then deal with 'em." Kilpa suggested as she rubbed Clive's thigh.

Clive sighed and looked around at the mess.

"But where to start?"

Kilpa yanked out a paper from between plates of pancakes and peered at it through the syrup stains.

"This one's recent enough. It's 'bout trappin' rights ta tha woods nearby."

"I thought I told them to leave the woods alone!"

"There are ALOT o' woods 'round 'ere Clive. You cannae claim it all fer Sloth. I'm not e'en sure 'ow much o' it he actually uses anyway." Kilpa argued.

Clive grumbled.

"Fine. Who sent it?"

"Dinnae ken."

"What?"

Kilpa turned the paper to Clive to reveal that the petitioner's name has been lost to globs of thick syrup. Clive groaned.

"Great. So someone's probably hunting in the woods and we don't even know who it is."

"Clive. They're halflin's. It ain't tha' 'ard ta find one o' us tha' ISN'T a farmer or shepherd."

"Alright then. Guess I'll get to work then."

"WE'LL get ta work!" Kilpa added as she limped after Clive, who wasn't admittedly much faster than she was in his current state.

"You should-"

"Be restin'? Aye, so should you! This way, you get done faster 'nd we both get ta do somethin' productive!" Kilpa cheered as she more led than followed Clive over to the market where a group of halflings were hawking furs and game meat.

"Mornin'! Can I offer you two a brace o' conies?" The rugged halfling asked as Kilpa and Clive hobbled their way over.

"Not today. We were wonderin' if you might be tha one tha' sent a petition fer huntin'?" Kilpa asked.

"O' course it's me! See anyone else sellin' game 'nd fur?!" The hunterling declared and gestured to the other stalls and peddlers.

"Great. So you have a license for that?"

"A loisence?! Fer wha'?!"

"For hunting in the woods."

"Who says I can 'nd cannae hunt?!"

"Says the mayor of your colony, and the US government that will come down here and haul you away to federal prison if you hunt something you're not supposed to." Clive explained.

The hunterling eyed Clive and Kilpa warily.

"So I gets this loisence 'nd you'll bugger off?"

"That's right."

"'Nd you'll 'and me tha loisence then?"

"No. You'll have to go to town to City Hall and go through a questionnaire and training course so you are familiar with-"

"BAH! All tha' fer catchin' some rabbits?! Piss off!" The hunterling declared.

"You need to know-"

"I dinnae need ta know nothin'! I know where tha rabbits are 'nd I'll hunt 'em as I like! Dinnae care ifin yer tha mayor or no-" The huntling stopped as he found an arrow tip pressed against his throat by Kilpa.

"Best watch yerself less you want this arrer shoved where tha sun dinnae shine ya ken?" Kilpa hissed.

Clive sighed tiredly as he watched.

"Look, how about this. You come by the assembly tent and we'll go over what you are and aren't allowed to hunt. After that, I'll write you up a license and you can go on your way."

The hunterling looked between the arrow at his throat and Clive.

"Aye, I can do tha'."

"Smart choice." Kilpa said as she withdrew the arrow.

The huntling rubbed his throat before packing up his stuff and following Clive and Kilpa back to the assembly tent. A space was cleared and the Clive and the huntling sat down while Kilpa hovered nearby.

"So wha's this 'bout can 'nd cannae hunt somethin'?"

"Certain animals in our country have been overhunted, both in the past and recently. So the government, and us, are doing what we can to get their populations back up to normal levels. Keep hunting them and then there isn't anything left to hunt, get it?"

"Got it."

"Good. On the other hand, there are certain animals that we DON'T want around, or have overpopulated the area and threaten the ecosystem. If you take care of THOSE animals, then we'll compensate you."

The huntling cocked his brow at that.

"Compensation? Wha' kind o' compensation?"

"Money. To start."

The hunterling nodded at the sound of money.

"Fine. Hunt certain animals, dinnae hunt others. Tha' all?"

"Well, we should go over EXACTLY what it is that you can and can't hunt. But I'll need to get some books and guides from town to go over that. But you get the gist of it."

"So a loisence then?"

"Sure, a TEMPORARY license." Clive stated and looked around for something to write on.

He found a clean(ish) paper and retrieved an inkwell and quill.

"By the authority invested in me as mayor, I hereby grant-" Clive peeked up at the halfling who's name he didn't get yet.

"Thomas Harlow." The hunterling stated with a nod of his unkempt head.

"Thomas Harlow, the privilege of hunting rabbit, gopher, mole, and squirrel. And declare you eligible for turning in bounties on boar and coyote in return for monetary compensation." Clive read aloud as he wrote on the piece of paper. Listing rabbit and the few others he knew off the top of his head.

"Aren't you supposed ta 'ave a seal? Make it official like?" The huntling asked as he eyed the piece of paper.

Clive looked around but couldn't dream of finding it among the piles of food and trash, maybe he can get it from Fallmeadow, among other things he would like to chat with the girthling about.

"It's a temporary license. We'll get you an official one later on."

The hunterling nodded and took the paper license before leaving to continue his business unhindered by bureaucracy, leaving Clive and Kilpa to sit there.

"Well, tha' went well!"

"Yeah. Aside from you threatening to shank someone with an arrow."

"Oh? 'Nd wha' were you gonna do ifin he didnae listen ta you?"

"Well, call the cops?" Clive said uncertainly as he couldn't recall if the colony actually had cops or not.

"Cops?"

"Law enforcement. Don't you guys have that?"

"Oh you mean tha constables?"

"Yeah them, where are they?"

"Probably where they always are. Sitin' 'round eatin' 'nd drinkin'."

Clive sighed.

"Great. So on top of a mountain of work that's potentially months if not years old, we now have to get an actual police force to enforce laws now."

"Yup."

"Fuck me." Clive decried.

"After we get done healin'. In the mean time. I 'ave a few ideas o' where tha town's constabulary are at." Kilpa declared and pulled Clive down by the shirt and gave him a peck on the lips.