Two figures sat still, engrossed in a comfortable silence that filled the air like a gentle, familiar perfume. The tranquility was nearly palpable, whispering of unsaid words.

The secluded, intimately small chamber they found themselves in was sheathed in a deep shade of navy blue, almost indistinguishable from black. The color was reminiscent of a moonless midnight sky, a blanket of darkness that swallowed the room whole, imbuing it with an air of mystery.

Their only beacon in this ocean of darkness was a petite, ornate brass lamp. It was perched precariously on the edge of a sturdy, time-worn oak table that commanded the center of the room. Its dancing flame was the only defense against the encompassing darkness, its soft glow casting long, grotesque shadows on the walls. The otherwise lifeless room seemed to awaken under this flickering illumination.

In this waltz of shadows and light, two figures faced each other across the age-scarred table, each ensconced within the confines of a high-backed leather chair. The chairs creaked softly beneath their weight. Their faces, however, were hidden beneath a veil of darkness, revealing only the faintest hints of their countenance in the meager candlelight.

“Get on with the debrief,” commanded the figure to the right. The voice was strong, resonant, betraying a history of leadership and decisiveness. It belonged to a man whose fiery red hair seemed to come alive in the glow of the flickering candlelight. The short, unruly locks, much like the untamed flame, lent him an aura of raw, untamed spirit.

His face was sharp and chiseled, with cheekbones that cut through the shadows like twin daggers. His eyes, a striking shade of green, seemed to hold a fire within, a light that shone with intense determination and ambition. His body was wrapped in a doublet of burgundy, its rich hue a stark contrast against his fiery hair. Silver buttons studded the front of the doublet, each gleaming like distant stars trapped in a night sky. His lower body was encased in supple leather breeches that traced the lines of his powerful legs, revealing the muscles underneath that hinted at his strength.

The doublet was artfully unfastened at the front, revealing a bare chest that bore the signs of countless battles. A collection of jagged scars crisscrossed his torso. Pride of place, just above his heart, was the village’s sword insignia with Rank 3 etched on the side. A badge of prestige worn proudly against the backdrop of scarred skin.

“I have high, medium, and low-priority information from the week. Which one would you like to start with, village chief?” inquired the figure on the left. This man was slightly smaller in stature than his counterpart, a contrast to the fiery village chief.

His short, ebony hair was neatly styled, combed to one side, embodying discipline and order. A sense of natural pensiveness was etched into his eyebrows, which were furrowed even in their relaxed state. A singular scar ran jaggedly through one of his eyebrows. His attire was simple and unadorned, a stark contrast to his counterpart's flamboyant garb. It was bereft of embellishment, save for the Rank 2 insignia proudly displayed on his doublet, a symbol of his status within the village.

“I say this once again, again and again. Let's always start with high priority,” the village chief decreed, his countenance twisted into a furrowed frown.

“And how else am I supposed to confirm that a malevolent entity hasn't cleverly absconded with you and supplanted you with an astoundingly convincing double?” riposted Leif, the serious expression on his face a stark juxtaposition against the frivolity of his question.

“I am not that weak, and you are not that gullible,” the village chief retorted, his voice gravelly and stern.

“But it is always prudent to anticipate the worst, Chief,” Leif said, his tone still deathly serious.

“Leif, there are moments when I regret making you the tactician of the village. Your ceaseless cogitation is advantageous for the village, but, by the gods, you make more work for me.” the village chief replied, his words dancing on the fine line between complaint and jest.

“Indulge me with a chuckle, at the very least," the village chief prodded, his tone mild.

“You've recycled that joke exactly 187 times. That’s nearly three full cycles of the seasons of the same, repeated comedy," Leif responded, his tone flat and matter-of-fact, almost as if he were reporting an inventory.

“And it keeps getting funnier each week, again and again. Like fine wine aging in a cellar,” the village chief retorted,

With a sigh that suggested he was all too familiar with this exchange, Leif turned his attention to the tasks at hand, effectively steering the conversation back on track.

The chief’s laughter, deep and resonant, filled the room, warm as the glow of the brass lamp and just as infectious. After a moment, he settled back in his chair, adding a single word, getting to the topic at hand, “High it is.”

“Our spies have been maintaining a watchful eye over other villages, their reports suggesting an unusual quietness in the regional activities—no suspicious or alarming movement. The only noteworthy observation is that Laverton has already conducted their awakening ceremony, and they have reported an unusually large number of awakened individuals in this year's batch. Among them, notably, two individuals possess grade A aptitude.”

“The number of awakened soars higher and higher each year. The ominous news from the capital becomes more and more credible. The world is inevitably plunging into chaos soon,” the village chief murmured with a heavy heart, the heaviness of his words sinking deep into the silent room.

“We have also identified a new infected area near our village and Dilrind, regrettably closer to us than them. It appears to be a small-scale infestation, and our initial estimates suggest that it will take approximately six months to dissipate, assuming it naturally takes its course.”

“Lastly, there still have been observations of unrest among the beast groups near the mountains. Our seasoned hunters report less prey found. They keep having to go deeper in the forest to find any. I have raised this priority because I believe we should investigate this issue, lest we get caught off guard like last time,” Lief stated, solemnity evident in his voice.

The village chief drummed his fingers on the substantial oak table, the rhythmic thumping breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. “Adding on to the debrief from last week, we now have 8 high-priority concerns for me to worry about, right? If my memory serves me correctly?"

The village tactician nodded in agreement.

“Continue the surveillance of other villages. Tell our spies to exercise even greater caution during these volatile times. Instruct them to keep a low profile and not to seek the initiative to gather more information. We'll learn about the notable individuals through the regular channels, anyway,” directed the village chief. His words were laced with authority and experience. “Assemble a capable team under the leadership of a Rank 2 Stonewalker to explore the mountain range and have them create a detailed report on their findings regarding any unusual movements. As for the infected area, if it's deemed safe enough, take the newly awakened from the upcoming ceremony for a closer look and eradicate the threat with them. It should provide valuable experience for them,” he further elaborated.

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As the village chief spoke, Leif's quill danced across the parchment, capturing the orders with dutiful precision.

"Now, to transition to matters of medium urgency: The Veteran Association and Elder Markus have still been at odds, fiercely conflicting with each other," Leif proceeded to outline. "Markus persistently keeps acquiring real estate, especially of those who perished in the last beast wave, to gift to upcoming talents in order to bolster them into his faction. This aggressive expansionism is encroaching upon the interests of the Veterans Association, generating undercurrents of discontent and potential conflict."

"Additionally, we are facing a significant supply issue with Moonwine Vines, a vital component of the Rank 1 advancement potion in many of our rituals," Leif continued, his voice steady amidst the soft, flickering shadows cast by the solitary lamp. "The vine's stocks have suffered a steep decline due to an infestation of Aray Scorpions. Given its pivotal role in potion making, this setback is likely to cause substantial ripples in the market prices.”

“Lastly, we have been receiving reports of minor border disputes and sporadic clashes with Laverton. The Agriculture Association is seeking additional reinforcements in response to these disruptions," Leif reported.

"Taking these into account, our medium-priority concerns now tally up to 25, marking a slight decrease from last week's count."

The village chief took a moment to process the information before laying out the plan forwards. "We will not meddle in the power tussle between Markus and Garnier; let them deal with it on their own terms. Unless their conflict threatens the stability of our village, I will remain a neutral party in this conflict," the village chief pronounced with a note of finality. "Dispatch a team headed by a Rank 1 Verminkin to counteract the pest problem. Regarding the call for reinforcements, inform the Agriculture Association to seek assistance through the usual channels. We are already grappling with stretched resources, and I will only authorize deployment if a significant altercation ensues," the chief instructed, his decision coming in decisively.

"I think that while the problem of Moonwine Vines is being addressed, we retrieve some Bloodbrew Termites from the village's storage.” Lief suggested, “They can be used as a substitute for the vines to stabilize the fluctuating prices and maintain the steady market.”

"Take the necessary steps as per your judgment. However, make sure to abide by the village’s standard and leave 30% of the termites in reserve," the village chief instructed, his tone acknowledging Leif's thoughtful suggestion.

As their conversation wound down, Leif returned to his diligent notetaking, ensuring every directive and decision was carefully recorded for further action. He diligently noted down all the village chief's orders, his quill gliding across the parchment with a graceful rhythm.

"Moving on to low-priority matters," Leif segued seamlessly, his pen poised above the parchment. "First, there have been multiple sightings of a peculiar bird, one that none of the villagers can identify. It's been causing quite a stir, with some even claiming it to be a bad omen."

“Why is this even on my briefing?” the chief groaned “Regarding the bird, seek counsel from Elder Elara, if she is not busy, to identify this creature. If it is a bad omen, she would be the one to know,”

"We also have the bet involving Markus's son and Osric, the son of Valven, one of the council members who tragically perished during the last beast wave. Due to the substantial amount of money involved in the bet, it has been the talk of the village this week. This is yet again Markus trying to acquire properties of those who died in the last beast wave to support his own faction," Lief continued. "Moving on, Elder Livia is still occupied with last week's mission, so she won't be able to attend the awakening ceremony this year. She should return from the mission next month. Lastly, various factions have inquired about the betting rules for the awakening ceremony."

“Now, we have a total of 187 low-priority issues, an increase from last week,” Leif concluded. “Tensions have been escalating as the awakening ceremony approaches. I have only included the relevant ones; the rest were given to the council."

Mulling over the information once again, the village chief gave his command, "No action is needed concerning the bet. We still aim to maintain neutrality between the factions. Send Elder Livia the information about the results of the awakening ceremony after it's over, and ensure the information doesn't leak," the village chief continued. "And, regarding the betting rules, they remain the same as last year; no differences."

Lief's hands remained still for a moment, the quill poised above the parchment as he chewed over his next words. A frown tugged at his brows, the creases deepening as he finally looked up to meet the village chief's gaze. "The issue between the Veteran Association and Elder Markus remains unresolved," he stated with a caution that suggested the delicacy of the situation. "Markus's persistent attempts to acquire and redistribute the estates of those fallen in the last beast wave to his own faction... well, it's leading to increasing discontentment among the villagers. People are growing increasingly uneasy with the freedom we are granting them to do so. Our laissez-faire approach is being perceived as a silent endorsement of his actions."

His words hung in the air, the silence in the room seeming to hold its breath as the village chief considered his words. Then, with a deep resonating timbre that spoke of countless years of leadership, the chief began.

“Just as the ancient trees in our forest shed their leaves to nourish the young saplings, so too must the old blood make way for the vibrant new life that courses through our village. It is through the actions of those like Markus that the next generation is able to flourish. The resources of the dead must be given to the most capable, not the ones who happen to be in the family. It is a heavy burden that we must bear to resolve. Only by cultivating the strength and resilience of our young can we secure our village's future. Our resources are limited, and it's this necessity that sometimes dictates our actions, no matter how harsh they may seem.”

"But what's the worth of new life, new hope, if it's born of resentment?" Lief shot back, his voice laced with a quiet worry. "If the young ones grow up despising us for taking away what their parents gave their lives to protect?"

The village chief leaned back into his chair, his form almost merging with the shadows. A sigh escaped his lips, and for a moment, the weight of his duties seemed to etch deeper lines into his face, aging him further. His gaze, once piercing and intense, now softened, becoming an amalgamation of flickering firelight and deep thought.

"It's a necessary evil we must accept, a bitter pill we must swallow," the village chief stated, his voice resonating with an unwavering resolution. "If they yearn for their inherited homes and resources, they must strive to earn them. Let them cultivate their skills, sharpen their strength, and rise to demand their due. In this world, strength is the only language universally understood." His voice reverberated through the room, emphasizing the brutal importance of power.

“Lief,”

“Yes?”

“Do you recall Chapter 3 from [Dances of Life]?" the village chief asked, his tone softer, reminiscent of an elder sharing lore with a younger one.

"I do, indeed.” Lief replied, “As the wolf and the lamb set forth on their quest to understand the profound mystery of life, and along their path, they encountered the boulder of Reality," his recollection of the story vivid.

The village chief nodded, his face adorned by a small, thoughtful smile. "Reality, much like the relentless force of an untamed river or the weight of an immovable mountain, presses down upon us. We stand against its formidable might, weathering its unyielding pressure, ever aware of the crushing consequences of weakness or naivety," he intoned, his voice insightful. "There are moments when we are called upon to make hard decisions, decisions that may cast us with burdens. Nevertheless, they are decisions that must be made for the greater good, for the survival and prosperity of our village and its people. It is a heavy responsibility, one we bear as the stewards of this village, to ensure its survival amidst the world's ruthlessness. Lest the boulder of reality crush us."

“Lest the boulder of reality crush us,” Lief replied in understanding.