Three days later, on a windy November late afternoon, Thaddeus and Priestess Thera sat behind a bench on the first floor of the Town Hall. Inside, light had begun to fade, filling the room with a soft glow that seemed to signify the end of an era and the beginning of a new chapter. Outside the Town Hall doors, the residents of Woodhaerst Town patiently waited in line to cast their votes.

On the table sat a big wooden crate, next to the create were the ballots. Since most townsfolk couldn’t read, the ballet had two pictures. The top picture was a tractor, which represented a vote in favor of industrialization and modernization. The bottom picture was a windmill, which was a vote in favor of the status quo.

But, what no one expected was the corporations’ hiring lobbyists. The day after Thaddeus decided to hold a vote, lobbyists began popping up, knocking on doors, polling residents, and bribing residents. Even now, there was a group of petitioners handing out free stew and hot cider to voters encouraging them to vote ‘tractor.’

Thaddeus looked out of the Town Hall windows and couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The cozy, closely-knit community he had helped nurture was now suddenly entangled in a complex web of modern politics and corporate interests. Lobbyists mingling among his townsfolk, swaying opinions with the smell of hot stew and cider, seemed like a stark contrast to the world he had envisioned for Woodhaerst.

Priestess Thera noticed his expression. "You're troubled," she said softly, observing the scene outside.

"Am I that obvious?" he sighed. "I just never expected to see Woodhaerst go through something like this.” Campaigners? In a fantasy setting? It's just so surreal. Dr. McElvaney was right, these corporations ruined the fun and immersion.

Thera nodded, her eyes narrowing as she watched the activists interact with the town's people. "Modernity for modern sake,” they say. But I worry that we might be solving today's problems at the cost of tomorrow's integrity."

Thaddeus agreed. "That's exactly what's bothering me. But at the same time, what do we lose by missing an opportunity for growth?"

"Yes," Priestess Thera said, "It's a double-edged sword. Unfortunately, Demeter has not divined which path to take.”

At 10 a.m. Thaddeus told the town guards to open the doors and let the voters in. Quickly, the voters made two lines. Thaddeus and Priestess Thera had them sign or put an ‘x’ by the name on a list before they could check the icon they voted for. After checking the icon, people dropped their votes into the crate.

The residents began trickling in, one by one, to cast their votes. Some looked confident, some looked torn. The lobbyists outside continued their campaigning, unabated. Thaddeus could feel the weight of the moment as each resident dropped their ballot into the crate.

By noon, the voting was done. The crate was moved to the center of the room, and Thaddeus and Priestess Thera prepared to count the votes.

"Regardless of the outcome," Priestess Thera said softly, "know that you did your best to give the people a voice. Sometimes, that's the best we can do."

Thaddeus nodded, taking a deep breath as he lifted the lid of the crate. Inside lay tiny pieces of paper marked with tractors and watermills. It was time to see what path his people had chosen.

As they began to count, Thaddeus felt a mixture of anticipation and dread. The first few votes seemed evenly split, but then a pattern started to emerge. Tractors. More tractors than watermills. Despite the lobbyists, despite the potential loss of their town's unique character, the people spoke. They wanted progress, they wanted modernization.

Priestess Thera looked at Thaddeus, her eyes filled with both pride and sadness. "The people have chosen. Now it's up to you to guide them on this new path."

Thaddeus looked out at his people, gathered in the Town Hall. The tension was palpable as Thaddeus stepped up to announce the results.

"By a narrow margin," he began, "the town has voted for progress."

A mixed reaction filled the room—some cheered, others sighed, but all seemed to accept the democratic outcome.

"Despite this vote, Woodhaerst will remain true to its roots, but let's also continue to find ways to grow and prosper, as a community,” Thaddues declared.

"I suppose this is a new chapter for Woodhaerst," he said quietly.

"One of many," Priestess Thera assured him.

"After the harvest, I’ll begin negotiations," Thaddeus continued.

True to his word, Thaddeus sat down with Sawyer to review the contract.

Thaddeus held the contract in his hands, glancing over its pages filled with legalese and complicated clauses. Before they met, Thaddeus made sure his uncle approved the contract Sawyer, the corporate representative, sat across the table, watching him intently.

Thaddeus had insisted they meet in his manor’s library, surrounded by ancient texts and manuscripts that had guided Woodhaerst for generations. It felt like a symbolic setting, a reminder of what they should strive to preserve even as they moved towards modernity.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Before we proceed," Thaddeus began, "I'd like to make a few things clear. Any change we introduce will be gradual, and it will be respectful of our customs, traditions, and environment."

Sawyer nodded. "Understood. Our goal is to be partners with Woodhaerst, not to overrun it."

Thaddeus wasn't so sure, but he decided to give Sawyer the benefit of the doubt—for now. "Then let's go through this contract clause by clause. And know that I'll be consulting with experts to ensure the well-being of this settlement."

As they settled into the room, the weight of the task ahead hung in the air. Thaddeus spread the contract out in front of him, his Uncle Mike had already parsed through the dense paragraphs filled with legalese and subclauses.

Sawyer sat across, a slightly impatient look on his face, as though accustomed to quicker, less thorough negotiations. But Thaddeus was undeterred; he had a community to protect, and he wasn't about to rush through the most important document Woodhaerst would sign for decades to come.

The first issue Thaddeus tackled was job training for the residents. "We'll need a clear commitment from your company," he began, looking Sawyer squarely in the eyes, "that local talent will not be pushed aside in favor of outsiders. We want courses, training, and apprenticeships to help our people fit into whatever changes come."

Sawyer looked somewhat surprised but nodded slowly. "Alright, I suppose that's a fair request. We can allocate funds for a local job training center and commit to hiring a certain percentage from within Woodhaerst."

Pleased, Thaddeus moved to the next issue—sustainable farming techniques. "Our land is fertile but delicate. Whatever machinery or methods you bring in must conform to sustainable farming practices. I'm talking about soil health, water conservation, and minimal use of synthetic fertilizers and pesticides."

This time Sawyer seemed more prepared. "We had anticipated that. Our agronomists can work with local farmers to implement practices that are both modern and sustainable. It's in our interest too, you know. Ruining the land would be bad for business."

With each point covered, Thaddeus made sure to carefully mark revisions on the contract, initialing the margins and having Sawyer do the same. He was adamant that the oral commitments they were making be legally binding.

When it came to natural habitats, Thaddeus was particularly unyielding. "Our forests, rivers, and wildlife are sacred—not just to our people but as part of Demeter's creation. Any encroachment or environmental damage would be unacceptable."

Sawyer sighed but ultimately capitulated, agreeing to conduct comprehensive environmental impact assessments and avoid any development in designated conservation areas. It was clear that Thaddeus was not going to budge on this point.

The most delicate clause came last. Thaddeus knew the history and character of Woodhaerst lay embedded in its Old Town—the cobblestone streets, the small shops, the quaint houses that had belonged to the same families for generations.

"I want Old Town to be off-limits for your large retailers," Thaddeus asserted. "We have shopkeepers who've been in business longer than we've been alive. They’re the heart and soul of this community, and I won't have them pushed out."

Sawyer looked conflicted. "That'll be hard to sell to our investors."

Thaddeus leaned in closer, his eyes hardening. "Then perhaps Woodhaerst is the wrong investment for them. This is non-negotiable."

After a protracted silence, Sawyer picked up his pen and annotated the contract. "Fine. Old Town remains untouched."

Sensing that they were nearing the conclusion of their negotiations, Thaddeus took a moment to collect his thoughts before raising one final crucial issue. "There’s but there's one more thing that's non-negotiable—employee safety. My people are our most valuable asset, and their well-being is not up for discussion."

Sawyer looked up from the paper, meeting Thaddeus's unwavering gaze. "You're talking about workplace safety measures, it’s already in the contract?"

"The machinery and technology your companies bring into Woodhaerst have the potential to be hazardous. I want guarantees—in writing—that rigorous safety protocols will be put in place. Regular inspections, safety training for employees, proper protective gear, emergency response measures—you name it."

For the first time in the negotiations, Sawyer seemed upset. Despite the rumors you’ve heard, we take employee safety seriously. As the contract already stipulates, the highest standards of safety will be maintained."

"It's not enough, I demand third-party audits and community oversight to make sure those safety standards are being met, and penalties for any lapses."

Sawyer paused, before shaking his head, "Let me tell you friend, the higher-ups will never agree to that unless it’s an imperial law. It’s out of our heads, what’s next.”

"Fine," Thaddeus finally said, leaning back in his chair with a sigh of disappointment. "I guess these protections will do for now."

“If it’s any consideration, the companies are committed to Woodhaerst.”

While Thaddeus was gratified that the contract now included strong safety provisions, something else caught his eye as he scanned the final read-through. To his surprise, Sawyer added a paragraph, he hadn't requested or even anticipated—a significant bump in his salary and an agreement from the corporation's marketing team to boost his livestream subscribers.

Sawyer noted Thaddeus' expression as he read through this part. "In my experience, it’s usually the first thing that people bring up. Honestly, you surprised me by not mentioning it. They want you to know you're valued. As for the livestream, it’s good advertisement and PR.”

"So, we have a deal?" Sawyer asked, extending his hand across the table.

Thaddeus looked at Sawyer's hand, then up into his eyes, searching for a sign of sincerity. With a cautious nod, he shook the man's hand. "We have a deal.”

After Sawyer left, Thaddeus sat alone for a moment, in his library. By the time they finished, it was late in the afternoon. The sun was descending, casting long shadows across the room.

Sabrina entered the library, her footsteps soft. "How did it go?" she asked.

Thaddeus looked up, managing a tired but hopeful smile. "Everything finished.”

Looking thoughtfully at him, she suggested, “I think, you need a break. Why don’t we travel in real life to the beach this weekend?”

Thaddeus looked up at Sabrina, his eyes meeting hers, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he felt the tension melt away. " Yeah, that sounds nice. A vacation for the two of us sounds like the perfect escape."

Sabrina smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling. "Well, you've been shouldering a lot of responsibilities. You defended against an invasion, expanded Woodhaerst, fought with your family, and started a business. You also negotiated new contracts with Odin and your sponsors. I think you deserve a break."

Standing up to look at her, Thaddeus gently hugged her. “Well, you've been my rock through all of this. I appreciate your support."

Hugging him back, Sabrina took his hand in hers. "We make a good.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and as their lips met, the weight of the recent events seemed to vanish, if only for a moment. The contract, the vote, the future of Woodhaerst—all of it faded into the background, overtaken by the simple joy of being with the person he loved.

Hand in hand, they left the library and logged out, for a well-deserved break.