-Brann’s POV- 

The striking memory of the past and the present’s peaceful sight overlapped in my mind. Completely distinct situations, but those eyes were still the same. 

Such a warm color that felt paradoxically cold. 

I gulped and started talking. 

“cough, my apologizes, I thought you wouldn’t come since today is your usual day off. But, as you can see, the village’s financial records were finished and there is nothing out of place. Our harvest of the Blueleaf Herb and the Queen’s Flower were better than predicted and our alchemists are optimists regarding the results.” 

Miss Mary just nodded and I continued. 

“There were some rumors about an imp assault in a near village, but as expected, there wasn’t a single case in Doveshire.”

The girl in front of me, although with her habitual indifferent and aloof expression, seemed to be pretty satisfied. Others may not notice those subtle changes, but my insight of Miss Mary’s state of mind is continuously improving. After all, understanding your Boss’ moods is essential when you are below in the food chain.

And her satisfaction is understandable. She is, in the end, the one who came with a way to protect the village against those little devils.

Imps. Together with Goblins, they are the most common species of the widely varied group known as Demons. Of course, they are also undoubtedly the weakest ones of the demoniac races, classified as Lesser Demons. Compared with a High Demon, the difference is like earth and heaven.

Or so the legends says. It’s not like we had contact with anything stronger than a Lesser Demon in a long time.

Goblins were once a bothersome problem. Around half a man’s height, with greenish skin and sharp teeth, they posses relative brute force. Their Earth Elemental Magic that qualifies them as Demons is so weak that barely counts as something useful. They usually live in small groups and had the more-than-baffling hobby of attacking human settlements. Summing it up, goblins are battle maniac fools, that, without an inch of intelligence, will charge against anything on the way.

They also eat human meat. 

Because of this disturbing eating habit, goblins were hunted down by both the Kingdom’s Knight Brigade and the Adventure Guild. Nowadays, they are sort of demoniac endangered species in our Saran Kingdom. 

Imps, however, aren’t stupid like their green skinned cousins. Actually, they are irritably clever. Smaller and thinner than the goblins, they would look just like humans in miniature if not for the slightly pointed ears, disproportionate long fingers and two small horns on their foreheads. They don’t rely on brute strength, but high speed and some Phantom Magic. Malicious and ill-intended, they are responsible for some harmful pranks across the these lands, but these creatures are most known for their habit of stealing. Have you ever heard the saying ‘greedy like an imp’? There are truths embedded in popular knowledge. After all, anything that might be slightly valuable are potential targets for those small thieves.

But, again, even if greedy, they are nowhere near being idiots. Smart and fast learners, imps know that some places are ‘untouchable’. There aren’t news of a noble or a rich merchant being robbed by imps. After all, they know they might be caught and those little devils are incredibly cautions, dispite of their appearance of recklessness. 

And that’s why they come to villages like Doveshire.

There’s nothing we can do. The higher-ups claim that it isn’t worthy to mobilize the knights' precious resources to hunt small thieves ‘who just take away one or two gold coins’. They aren’t life-threatening anyway. So we villagers should just... cope with it. 

Of course, it’s not like those pompous nobles will ever know just how important ‘one or two gold coins’ are for a poor family in the countryside.

But we cope with it. We have to, since they come every year. Just one at a time, because imps are selfish and not likely to share their gold, but one of them always comes as certainly as the annual tax.

I mean, it did. But then Miss Mary showed up.

It was a winter day, some years ago. I was happily enjoying the warmth of my bed when there was a sudden light and abrupt sound. Not so surprisingly, there was a girl at the doorsteps. After properly waking up, I found her at my house’s backyard.

With a dead imp.

Okay, by that time I should have already got used to the girl’s abnormality, but I just couldn’t understand why -and how- she had it. Imps arrive quietly at night and vanish early at dawn before anyone notices, and that’s why it was so difficult to catch one.

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So I asked her. It was one of the many times I was ignored. (What does it say about me, the fact that being ignored is just an ordinary part of my everyday life?)

There was no way Miss Mary would talk if she wasn’t willing to. I may have aquired some understanding of this complicated human being, but most of the times I’m still pretty lost regarding her actions. Since I didn’t know what to think, rather unsual thoughts began sprouting in my head, like how my little boss looked like a cold and unapproachable kitten, bringing its dead prey for the owner...

“Take its blood.” She said.

...Hmm?

Was it because I pictured myself as the owner? My apologizes, I shall never do that again. 

However, there was no way of retreat. Have you ever dried something out of its blood? Let me tell you, it’s not pretty. The aftermath of this event was so traumatic, that after that day, I lost all the love I had for blood sausages.

Oh, and I also pledged my unconditional loyalty to Miss Mary.

That’s what you should do when your boss can accurately slice a corpse’s throat, just the right way so the blood could flow quicker.

Almost one year later, and I still had no idea of what had really happened - and more importantly, why. My paranoia was added to the hours when I should be working but was instead doing something unrelated and unimportant, and the results were muddy. My mind began wandering to weird, dark places, as I pondered... maybe an unspeakable fetish or some forbidden ritual? 

One way or another, I still didn’t get an answer.

This lasted until a disaster happened, when a ferocious storm ravaged Doveshire. Most of our villagers are farmers, and the fierce wind and intense rain destroyed nearly all of their crops. We were at mid-way autumn, chances of recuperation were minimal and the fast coming winter seemed bleak. 

People were extremely worried and stressed. Because the crops were basically destroyed, they would have to buy even more provision for winter than usual, like basic nourishment. However, buying it would require selling what originate the whole problem, the ruined farming products.

The tension was about to erupt, but Miss Mary was steady and fast to think of a solution. Thanks to her, we had already changed our tax collection system, instead of once a year with full taxation, it’s now twice a year in which the tribute is parted in half, thus, reaching the same amount.

But regarding the situation, the thing is, different crops have different growing periods and also different preferences regarding the climate. That’s why we have two harvest seasons, at spring and at autumn. The last spring harvest had profitable results, and it also affects the taxation. Before, we would just collect the money at the end of the year, but Miss Mary’s new system ensured us some early credit. 

That’s why, even if the villagers had huge losses, the Doveshire’s prefecture didn’t have an immediate problem. And so, Miss Mary took the farmers and paid them to work for the prefecture. In other words, the Village had the money so by giving a job for the farmers, they could have some income before winter.

The fence surrounding all of Doveshire was highly damaged by the storm, so the job consisted in fixing that fence. At the end, one more detail was added. When everything was fixed, they also painted the fence with Enchinata’s sap. In short, Enchinata is a type of tree found rather easily in Saran, and its sap gives the wood more resistance against the climate. Just as a curiosity, but the sap has a reddish color. 

I wonder if anyone noticed that it was slightly more red than it should be.

Of course, hiring so many extra workers had a price, and we couldn’t pay all our taxes to the Silverhold’s Landlord, the big oversee of Doveshire. Because of it, on the following year, there were some interests to settle.

However, that winter, not a single villager starved.

This episode made me realize once more how unfathomable Miss Mary really is. Not only she solved almost smoothly a somewhat catastrophic situation, but she also made sure no other imp would assault our village. It was all thanks to the suspiciously red paint...

Hey, did you know that an imp can smell another imp’s blood from miles away? It’s a sort of scene that only their race can notice. And since they are so cautious, they will surely avoid it. It’s like an internal device to avoid danger. 

I didn’t know that before. It’s always nice learning something new, isn’t it?

~•~

-Mary’s POV- 

I left Brann’s house satisfied. Hehe, isn’t it good when two parts can have a conversation? 

Even if one would mainly do the talking while the other basically nods. But! At least they can understand each other. And that’s what matters when it comes to communication. 

Of course, it would be nice to have a real real talk. You know, just like me and Brann had, way back when we were still getting to know each other. I was still a little child and Brann was just a half-witted youth. Alle, those old days, it seems so far. 

I remember when Brann came to me, flustered, asking why I had given the records under his name. I knew I had to expose my thoughts to him sooner or later. Brann is, after all, the village’s chief, and he ought to know what was really happening. Too bad that every time I opened my mouth to speak, it was like my tongue had suddenly turned into sand, and I ended up saying nothing. 

That specific day, however, looking at his confused eyes, I was able to say it. Gathering all my efforts, I explained to him the situation. About how he was a bad chief, but I was good and would teach him. He just had to look, learn and then act like a decent leader.

I was so proud of myself! From that moment I knew me and him would work well together! And then, seven years passed and things are still fine.

Lost in thoughts, I made my way home, basket in hands. Grandma said she would cook a delicious meal today, so I have to deliver these goods safely, for the sake of my stomach. 

Crossing the market, something suddenly caught my attention. Two village women, gossiping loud enough for me to hear it.

 “...Dak, yeah, I’ve already told my son to avoid any contacts. It’ll just bring problems.”

 “Right? But with that father of his, what could you expect? And have you seen? The scar.”

 “Yes! I heard he got in a fight with someone. At the end, he just got that scar on his face, but the other person...”

 “So scary...”

Hmm? Scar on his face? Could it be... that the novel’s very first cannon fodder just appeared?