Sherry-By-The-Bend.

"No." Clive declared.

"Come now, lad! Tha' land is ripe 'nd requires experienced 'ands ta properly care fer it!" One of the heads of the Big Families stated.

"The answer is still no. That land will be given out to those that can prove that they can tend it or have yet to receive a parcel of land for their home." Clive explained.

"Well, they dinnae call us Tha Big Families fer nothin'! We've been doin' this sort o' work fer many years 'nd many generations! 'Nd, plenty o' our family always need more room ta grow!" The speaker continued.

"And I'll tell you again. No. Everyone is going to get a chance at that land, regardless of who you think would be better to own it or not." Clive said firmly.

"Well, tha week is still young. 'Nd so are you. So we'll revisit this topic at a later date when you 'ave a wee bit more wisdom in yer 'ead." The speaker said and the heads of the Big Families departed for tea, or brunch, or whatever other food related break they had invented just to shirk their duties.

"Can you believe that?! They sit around twiddling their thumbs while we do all the work and now they come back to get a piece of the pie?!" Clive ranted as Kilpa stood nearby.

He turned and looked at her and saw a bitter look on her face.

"No."

"Clive."

"No!"

"As much as I 'ate ta say this. But this is one fight you shouldn'y be fightin'." Kilpa said with a tired look on her face.

"I'm not just going to GIVE those worthless shitasses the land! Everyone deserves a chance at it! Hell, most of them deserve it MORE than they do!" Clive said heatedly.

"Aye, they do. 'Nd I 'ate them as much as you do. But right now they're just pests. They might not 'ave any actual power with 'ow lil land they 'ave. But they 'ave enough ta turn inta real problems if you dinnae appease 'em."

"So instead of them having influence, they'll have that AND actual power?" Clive asked.

"I 'ate it. Believe me. But they can be ALOT worse."

"Why? Because they're related to everyone?"

"Dinnae underestimate tha power o' blood, Clive! Halflin's will live 'nd die fer their family, no matter 'ow distantly related they are."

"Are you saying this because you're related to them?"

"No. I'm sayin this because there are plenty in tha colony tha' value bein' related to 'em 'nd keepin' tha' connection strong. Most halflin's aren'y like me. I might not care if I keep my ties ta my family. But most every halflin' would rather die than be shunned by kith 'nd kin!" Kilpa explained.

"But by giving them the land, we're just giving them more power! And we're ceding ground!" Clive countered.

"Aye. We are. But we cannae fight every battle they throw at us, Clive. 'Nd yer changes are already causin' enough o' a fuss tha' we cannae really afford ta 'ave more thrown at us." Kilpa said.

"What fuss? No-one is using the lake except for the turtle people."

"Tha' caused some folk ta grumble but tha' ain'y it. It's those halflin's tha' came from town."

"What about them? Aren't they doing their jobs?" Clive asked as Kilpa handed him a report that was only marginally covered in grease and oil.

"No. They are. 'Nd tha's tha problem." Kilpa explained as Clive looked at the semi-soiled report.

"Rude behavior unfitting for proper and decent halflings. Gruff and rude attitude towards folks. Scaring the pigs." Clive read the list of "complaints" out loud and cocked a brow at the last one.

"They threw Frank inta tha pigsty since they dinnae 'ave a jail er prison ta 'old 'im in." Kilpa explained.

"Sure we don't have a place to really hold him is a problem. But why scaring the pigs?"

"Tha hogmeister dinnae want 'im gettin' a thin' fer pigs next." Kilpa explained.

"Don't suppose we can just throw him into the lake to sober him up?"

"Oh aye, then tha Big Families can come back with a drowned drunk 'nd an angry mob. Brilliant." Kilpa said sarcastically.

Clive groaned as he threw aside the paper of complaints. He wasn't sure being Mayor of a halfling colony made him respect or loath politicians. Maybe some weird mix of the two, Clive decided as Kilpa walked over and placed a hand on his thigh.

"I'm not sayin' ta give 'em tha cream o' tha crop. But just outright snubbin' 'em is goin' ta do is make a already 'ard job e'en 'arder."

"But we'd just be giving them actual power."

"Tha's politics. Or so I've been told my Astrala. She was more in tune with politickin' than tha rest o' us. E'en Moira 'nd she's a princess!"

"Really? You travelled with a princess?" Clive asked.

"Aye. Ne'er know it by lookin' at 'er. Then again, she's a dwarf."

"Wanna tell me about her?"

"Why? So you can 'ave a reason ta delay bein' responsible?"

"Maybe?"

Kilpa sighed.

"Just give 'em some o' it, Clive. As bitter as it might be, this'll make tha job a lil easier."

"But-" Clive started before Kilpa held up a hand.

"I 'ate 'ow halflin' society is as well. But you cannae change it o'er night. Doin' too much too soon will just see folk circle tha wagons 'nd undo wha' lil you managed ta get done."

Clive sighed.

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

"I'm starting to see why politicians drink."

"Makes doin' thin's like this go down easier I'll bet." Kilpa said.

Clive rubbed his face and looked over at the map of the area, including the swaths of land he bought. As much as he was tempted to give them the smallest bits of land possible. If he didn't want the town makeup to look like some child's attempt at redrawing the internal HRE borders then he was going to have to at least put in an effort to make it somewhat coherent.

It would still look like that unless he can do some grade A politicking with individual members of the Big Families to relocate. Which wasn't a half bad idea, Clive thought. Though he doubt he had anything to actually offer them that would have them consider moving their homes to a more consistent place.

He also doubt he could turn them against one another, they might have some rivalries among themselves, but if Kilpa was right about their blood is thicker than water stances than he, as a human outsider, wouldn't be able to leverage anything to get between them that they wouldn't work out behind closed doors, if they haven't already.

On one hand he was glad to actually be a force of change among the halflings. On the other, he was really starting to miss just being by himself and not having to deal with this mess. He looked back down at the map. Most of it would be for farming he knew that already. Even the places that were a little more hilly or forested would more than likely be cut down an repurposed into farmland.

What few halflings that have an inclination towards being woodsmen/hunters have already set up shop at the edges of the woods nearby. Nothing has happened between them and Sloth, yet, he thought. But he knew that there would be some sort of encroachment eventually.

Then there was the fact that he now had to deal with the National Guard showing up as well. Even out a ways he could see the helicopters circling the town and surrounding area. He wanted to go and see him, but dealing with politics was keeping him here for the time being. So he just had to hope that Sloth was alright in the meantime.

So far there hasn't been any tanks, helicopters, or biplanes moving towards the woods. So perhaps Sloth was in the clear for the time being. Clive doubt that would hold up. But he didn't really have any way to help him. His only option for Sloth was to try and get him to leave. But moving a giant would be about as subtle as moving an orca or a whale if not more so.

Then there was the Feds in the colony. They've kept to themselves as of late, but he's still gotten complaints from the halflings about being "asked" to come by and having blood taken or injected with something they had no clue what it was.

Again, not like he could do anything about that though. Here he was in a position of power and he still felt next to useless. His giant friend was at risk of being gunned down by an Apache any moment now. The halflings were either fighting against him for any little reform he was trying to do or coming to him for assistance against his own people.

As if that wasn't enough. He still needed to get ready to go see Jeb for Thanksgiving. Which would be a headache just to be able to go let alone what might happen when they get there. He's going. He was sure of that politics be damned. But he wasn't just about to leave the place in the "experienced" hands of the Big Families when he did. But he didn't really have an alternative unless he asked Fallmeadow to step back in as mayor at least temporarily.

But from what he's read from the various ledgers and accounts in here, him coming back would be about as well as asking the Big Families to take over again. It seems Fallmeadow really was a figurehead mayor, Clive thought. Though he was increasingly wondering why Fallmeadow had given him the office of mayor to begin with.

He still hasn't been by to see him. He really should for several reasons. Professional and personal. But politics really were getting in the way of getting anything done for any reason. What he's managed to do before now was mainly because the Big Families seemed to not consider him being able to actually do anything. But now they were paying more attention and were acting to keep him more in check. They've been taking their breaks still, but most of the time they'll take them while still in the tent so that they can keep an eye on him and give their "experienced" two cents on anything and everything.

As much as it made his stomach roil to consider it, maybe Kilpa was right. Give them some of the land and hopefully they'll back off enough so that he can do things without their constant presence and half-obvious threats of unrest to keep him from being completely handicapped.

Speaking of handicapped. He still needed to see about getting Sherry's local militia better outfitted. Morty and his ogres strolling past the guards at the entrance just proved that if they had a real threat on their hands that they weren't prepared for it. They REALLY needed something other than spears and potato slings. Which he could do, if the Big Families weren't kneecapping him.

Then again, not like he had any real solutions to that either. He could go see Skeeter and see if he was willing to make the halflings some guns. But he recalled that he worked for the dwarves now. So either he wouldn't be able to, or Clive'll have to go to the dwarves and strike a deal with them. The former would be a shame, but the latter might be more than he wanted to deal with, Clive thought as he glanced over at the increasingly growing stack of complaints thrown at him since the arrival of the Artificers Guild.

Odd sounds coming from their assigned tent. Gnomish peculiarities. Strange Gnomish smells. Bothersome Gnomish things. Clive picked up the report.

"Why do halflings have an issue with gnomes?"

"Where do you want me ta start?" Kilpa asked with an annoyed tone.

"Didn't you work with a gnome?"

"Aye. 'Nd he was 'bout as insufferable as tha rest o' 'em!"

"But shouldn't you be more, I don't know, understanding?"

"Oh aye, I understand 'em alright. I understand tha' they think they're better than anyone 'nd aren'y afraid ta tell ya! Dinnae e'en matter ifin yer right, a gnome will tell you yer wrong just ta show they're smarter than you!" Kilpa ranted.

"But Dylan isn't like that."

"Maybe not. But tha rest o' 'em are. E'ery job we went on, Sprog made damned sure ta voice his opinion 'nd 'ow tha reason tha' tha job succeeded was 'cause o' him er failed 'cause we dinnae listen!"

"Was he really that bad?"

"WORSE! Ifin his attitude weren'y bad enough, tha' nasally voice they all 'ave makes you wanna punch 'em somethin' fierce! E'en when they say somethin' as simple as a hello makes you 'ave ta fight an urge ta smack 'em!"

"Jesus, where does this all come from?" Clive asked as Kilpa looked ready to strangle something.

She took a couple of deep breaths.

"We're not sure. Some folk say we come from tha same ancestor 'nd tha reason we split was because o' one o' us. Others say it's just a natural divide 'nd tha' e'en humans 'ave similar sentiments between those that live more rurally 'nd those tha' live more urbanely."

"Either way. Tha rivalry between gnomes 'nd halflin's is old 'nd will ne'er go away. E'en if we did come from a single ancestor, tha would only make it so we 'ad somethin' else ta argue 'nd throw into each other's faces when we could."

"So Dylan's presence won't suddenly mend the divide?"

"I doubt it. If anythin' it'll get ta tha point tha' he'll say er do somethin' gnomish tha' will result in folk bayin' fer his blood. If they aren'y already."

Clive groaned.

"Why are things so difficult?"

"Welcome to politics." Kilpa sighed from nearby.

-----

Ulrin Mercantile Hub.

The dwarvan patriarch sat within his office as he counted out the wealth of his clan. It was dropping, steadily, but it was dropping none the less. What they were gaining from the humans in black was only making the decline more steady. He had hoped that they would find some mineral wealth already while they were digging. Even a decent vein of iron would be worth it.

But all they've managed to find was large quantities of fyrestone, or coal as the humans of this world call it. At least they won't freeze, the dwarf thought as he picked up a lump of black stone and tossed it into the nearby stove. They should be able to at least make some coin selling this stuff for warmth to the town. But most of the denizens, locals or those from Daele, either had little wealth to give, or stubbornly refused to switch to their more reliable method of currency.

No matter, Ulrin thought as he went over the accounts. It was only a matter of time until humans prove themselves in capable of handling their finances and they'll flock to the stone sure way of the dwarves. It may take a year or two or a hundred or a thousand. But they'll come crawling to what is tried and true.

He returned his thoughts back to his own assets, leaving thoughts of the fragile nature of humans aside as he went over progress of the hub. The runery was near completion, he noted with a satisfied huff. Now the rune priests can quit bothering him and return to their rune crafting and sermons.

Which meant that he can turn resources and labor to other matters. Like building more workshops and smithies. Just because they've yet to find a vein of iron doesn't mean that it doesn't exist within these hills, he thought as he looked over some plans for the expansion of the hub. When they find it he'll want those forges and bellows going day and night. Equipment needed repairing and they needed more resources to begin fixing up much of the human infrastructure.

He grumbled as he thought of his recent, and possibly the most lucrative, of purchases. The railway. The possibility was there, he knew that and could see it every night when the humans in black slid silently into his station with crates of precious wealth and resources. Both of which he himself could acquire for his clan's coffers if they can find a decent vein of iron to fix up the rails and trains to their superior dwarven standards.

He stroked his gilded golden beard in thought though. He's had a desire to leave the hub and travel to this 'Pittsburgh' for sometime. It was said to be a large center of human industry and he wanted to take a competitive eye at what else the humans have accomplished in this world. But whenever he's tried to, the trains have failed before they even managed to leave the station.

An annoyance to be sure, but not a problem they couldn't over come, he thought. But when he sent one of his sons up the road he was turned away by the men dressed in black! Told they didn't have the authority to leave!

"Bah!" Ulrin spat. A manling telling a dwarf where he was and was not allowed to go! Preposterous! If not for the fact the humans were many and carried with them the advanced thundersticks he would've had his men kill them for such a slight!

But then more and more humans showed up. Riding within large carriages of metal and artillery mounted to their frames and carrying many more men with even more thundersticks. Then the metal beasts flew in and disgorged more humans as well.

No. As much as his honor demanded of him to correct such a slight. He was no fool. If he tried to correct it now he and his clan would suffer greatly for it. But he could wait. Like the Stone Father himself, he had centuries to wait for a better moment to right this grudge against him and his clan.

While progress with manufacturing their own advanced thundersticks was slow, it was still steady as well. The human Skeeter has been passing on his teachings to his clan artisans and gnomish busybodies. The making of a thunderstick was already a complicated process, but the ones that the human told them about required more technical work and resources they didn't have access to.

When asked to make something the newer humans showed up with, he stated that he couldn't. When pressed he said that it would be breaking the laws of the land for him to make the same thundersticks that they used, though he could make something similar but not an exact replica. He also said that he needed more of something called 'carbon steel' to make many of the components. When Ulrin had Quintin inquire with the scrying box. Much of the information gleamed from it was confusing even for the more technical minded gnome, but Ulrin understood enough of it to know that if he wanted to be independent and able to manufacture much more of the advanced thundersticks that he would need better facilities and more miners.

Another reason he desired to go to 'Pittsburgh', he thought. But he needed a way to bypass the obvious sabotage. But how? Ulrin wasn't sure as he stroked his beard in thought. On top of seeing what the humans worked with to forge this 'carbon steel', he also had a desire to speak with the rail barons over purchase of their rail system. As low as his wealth was, the state the rails were in showed that it would be plenty to purchase most if not all of the surrounding rail lines. If they asked for more than they were mad! His offer would be more than fair but he would not destitute his clan for an enterprise in desperate need of maintenance!

Hmm, much to do. Much to do indeed, Ulrin thought as he turned back towards the accounts and reports. So much potential was here, he just needed to get a hold of it and his clan could be the wealthiest and potentially most powerful of any dwarven clan in history!

But first he had to actually find said wealth, and he couldn't do that while being held up within the hub. He had heard from his sons that the new humans had a desire to use the rail to transport goods and supplies in. Without upfront pay at that! But perhaps that could be leveraged into a possible way for him to be able to leave. A trade of sorts?

He had much to think about as he glanced down at the map that denoted the borders between the town and his clan's possessions. It wouldn't happen tomorrow, but this place was well on its way to being a good sturdy dwarven town. If they could just find the wealth within the mountains and secure proper transport, they could own this town and perhaps much more!