In one of the highest rooms of his personal residence was the Phoenix king himself, who was currently busy with replying to his correspondences. The Accipitradian in his golden and red pajamas was the most famous of all Grafters and leader of the Alliance, but even he too, needed to stay up late sometimes and catch up on paperwork. His avian eyes could be seen to droop and flicker in the dim candlelight as he grew more and more tired the longer he worked on the table that sat in the corner of his luxurious bedroom.

Suddenly out of thin air, appeared an old squat dwarf whose every inch of exposed skin was covered in runic blue tattoos. He appeared facing the door before mumbling to himself and then turning round to face the surprised Phoenix King.

The King was one of the most powerful individuals on the whole of Delmathar, but it was still surprising to him to be intruded upon in his private bedchambers at an hour so late. Plus the Accipit knew for a fact that his room was warded by some of the best Wardsmiths and Barrier-mages he knew and also boasted the defenses of a dungeon as it was personally deployed by his wife, Isaldra the Queen of dungeons.

The King was also slightly shocked that his wife did not warn him of the intruder that teleported into his bedchamber. For his Residence, the Phoenix Tower, was actually an extension of her dungeon above ground and was part of her Domain that disabled and protected against such teleporting acts in the first place. But upon seeing the face of the old Dwarf, the tension he felt melted away before he slooped down onto the table before him.

“You know you could’ve called?” grumbled the King in a beautiful voice that resonated like chiming glass, before noticing with annoyance that he had stained his pajama sleeves upon some drying ink when he had slouched forwards.

The old dwarf cracked a small smile even as his tattoos begun to fade away with the smell of burnt ozone dispersing through the room. Then he mumbled unintelligible words in reply before cracking off a short laugh that sounded like a boulder crashing through a set of wooden stairs.

“What if I was busy with Isaldra when you had rudely barged in like that Master?” asked the Phoenix King in his chiming voice and annoyance as he flicked out his arm with the dirty sleeve in a lightning fast blur. The small droplets of ink where then forceable ejected by the inertia created by the movement, before hanging in the air in a blue glow and then slowly returning to the inkwell that housed them just previously.

The old dwarf mumbled in reply even as a small tattoo faded away from on of his fingertips as he walked over towards the window.

“Well that’s awfully rude even from you, so what do I owe the pleasure of this auspicious visit from my Master, whom if I recall correctly, had chosen to live so far away from his only student in the middle of nowhere and didn’t even visit on my wedding?” grumbled the King as he lifted up one long, whiskery and white eyebrow on his predatory face as he placed his quill back into the inkpot.

The dwarf then crossed his arms before turning back and mumbling under his breath pointedly at the Phoenix King, he then began to wildly gesticulate before he ended up spluttering some spittle onto the fine red carpeting.

Instead of being offended, the Phoenix King had a look of concern on his face with furrowed brows. He sat there for a few moments before tapping a taloned finger on his desk.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, I have explicitly warned her and all my top Swallows to never conduct any missions near your…. Retirement home,” apologized the King. “I’ll talk to her once you leave, because you know… I’m sure she’s still mad about the whole wedding thing.”

The dwarf in turn only opened his mouth a tiny fraction under his beard, before he mumbled apologetically and disappearing in a flash of blue.

“Hundreds of years or not, you still upset her Master,” spoke the King to himself before returning to his work. A faint “and me,” could be heard coming from the King before he sighed as he finished up on his work before retiring to bed after some time had passed.

………

Lem had in his opinion, made commendable progress with his work having scythed through half of the impressively large field, even as hungover as he was. But considering it was already lunchtime and the Twins were unbearably scorching down upon him with their midday shine, he decided to retire to the house for a midday siesta. Plus his scythe had blunted from him expending too much of his strength and accidentally cropping too close to the base of the weeds.

Maybe I’ll bring this old gal over to Lok’s smith this afternoon when I go pick up my son, so I can see that hungover bastard sweating when he has to grind it for a few coppers, Lem thought in glee before snorting to himself. The Capyban man slowly lumbered back with his own back absolutely covered in sweat along with his furs and suspenders all tangled up with blades of grass. But the Capyban was too tired to care about washing up or changing his cloths at that very moment, for he still planned to carry out some more of his work once he returned from the village. He needn’t care for his appearance going into Pancreedy , for he was still working and not on official business. Plus I’m hungover beyond the Realms and my sweat is probably enough to infuse my nice set of cloths with a whole pint’s worth of alcohol.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Once the Capyban reached the end of the field, he rested on the fence after he had deposited his tool on the other side before resting before he was to jump across. Lem wasn’t actually that tired and all tapped out on his Stamina reserves, he just wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable hangover-headache that would accompany such an jolting action as jumping over the short fence.

As he waited, Lem was able to spot the huge and shaggy orange figure of Joantack the Minotaur as he pulled along broad-bedded handcart behind him down the path that lead to the Ranch. As usual the Mino was shirtless, for he was too hairy for the summer heat.

He’s here for the dung as usual, HA! but look at that miserable look on his face! Lem happily noted as he watched the hungover Minotaur slowly walking closer towards him.

“How you doing there Joan?!” he greeted with a musk of joy as he watched the Minotaur flinch at some drink-induced headache. For Lem remembered that the Mino and Hoarast, when he eventually was woken up, were both just as drunk as he and Lok-Tars were by the end of the night. But at least the Capyban had the benefit of having invested many of his free points into Vit during his Caravan guard days, like the Defenders of the Village guards, with the stat having the nifty benefit of helping an individual mitigate the horrid side-effects of alcohol.

“Mooooo!.... I’m good Brownwhisker, can you not shout?” complained the Mino as he walked up to Lem before parking his cart.

“Here for the dung?” Lem asked before tilting his head.

“Aye the usual, here you go,” answered the Minotaur with a small smile as he begun to fish around his trouser-pocket. The farmer then threw a small sack of coins towards Lem, which the Rancher deftly caught out of the air with a small jolting headache before it quickly disappeared into his front pocket.

Joantack then grabbed onto the handles of his handcart before he continued along his way, down the road towards the Kaholin stables. But after a few long hoof-stomps the Mino then turned back towards Lem who was now fishing out some strands of grass from his fur to chew on.

“Actually Lem seeing as you’re the only monster expert around here and how there’s no Pest-Tamer due for a while, I’ve got a wee problem back on my farm that I’m needing some help with,” rumbled Joantack as he parked his hand-cart down once more before turning around to ask Lem his request.

“Oh is that so? I’m no too sure I can help you there, my class only helps in rearing Monsters with the kinda stuff your looking for more for my wife…. when she was still about,” replied the Capyban before trailing off as he chewed on a stalk of grass. Lem was also wondering why he had not taken his hat out with him to work today, as its wide brim could’ve helped him to avoid showing his sad expression to Joantack right in this very moment.

“MOO-OH, I didn’t mean ta.. you know,” lamely apologized the Minotaur as he fidgeted and rolled his shaggy shoulders. “It’s just that some pesky Burrowers have moved in on the corner of my Jellant-bud patch, which took me ages to grow and I’m kind of in desperate in need of help here Lem. It’s not like I can ask for the boys and girls in the Guard to come along and stab and poke at the ground on my farm can I?”

“Well Kano’s a Tamer so he might be able to do something,” Lem suggested as he tried to help the crestfallen Joantack. He was well aware of how Jellant-buds were so fickle to grow, having failed repeatedly himself.

“But isn’t your boy really low leveled?” countered Joantack before his face scrunched up at another passing wave of his hangover headaches.

“Wait a sec,” Lem asked with his hand up as an idea occurred to him. Nosal can speak to beasties so he can definitely help Kano out… especially if I borrowed a Beak-hound from one of the hunters… maybe I can ask Sarking-Tars to help me loan the Beak-hound from her apprentice! That way I can also play it off as if he’s there for healing as a beastie-doctor and my boys both earn some coins whilst leveling!

“How’ bout this Joan. I’m sure that Kano would be able to give you a hand if his wee brother comes along, considering he just classed as a Healer for beasties,” Lem tried suggesting with a smile before slightly tilting his head back to look up into the eyes of the Minotaur that loomed over him.

“Hmm that could work, and congratulations on your youngest classing and all, but how long do you think the boys will take Lem? I can’t be having all my buds gone before they figure out what they are doing,” countered the farmer.

“Well let’s talk about the coin and we can work it out, I promise you they will be done within a few days at most,” replied Lem with a twinkle in his eye. For he knew that if the boys started to falter in this task, then he could just use Nosal to request help from Da’Nittan who could just easily use her ground-spells to demolish these pests and earn the boys some coins anyways.

“Alright then, how about half the usual fare for a Pest-Tamer considering your boys are still green?” Joantack fired off with a small shrug.

“Ok that sounds fair in all, but what’s the usual fare,” asked the Capyban rancher as he got up from leaning on the fence.

“Fifty silvers and more depending on the scale of the infestation and what type of pests the Tamer has to deal with usually,” answered the Joantack as he begun to dig into the dirt with one of his hooves absentmindedly.

“Wait aren’t Pest-Tamers normally also hunters in adventuring teams?” asked Lem in surprise at the surprisingly lucrative job. He never remembered his wife going into specifics or telling him how much she made, just that she made a lot. Plus she had never taken on the side-gig of Pest Taming anyhow, being a true and true adventurer.

“Aye they make a decent living alright, wish my boy was a Tamer like yours instead of his silly day-dreams of joining the army as a Defender,” complained Joantack before snorting out a hot breath from his nostrils that stunk of ale and beer.

“Ok let’s just call it fifteen silvers with how many drinks you’ve bought me and Tars over the years, but how about you go talk to Kano who’s somewhere in the Kaholin fields and try to haggle it with him, so you can give my boy a wee taste of earning some coin?” asked Lem as a small pained smile crept onto his face. For at the back of his mind, the heavy price of the amulet of Confiscution he still needed for his son weighed upon his conscious. But Lem was a Capyban who would never let his monetary woes change the way he treat his neighbours and friends, so he had chosen to ask for the cheaper price instead.

“Oh aye that’s a smart idea Lem,” snorted back the Farmer before walking back to his cart.

“Be seeing you Joan,” spoke Lem as he bid the Minotaur goodbye.

“You too Brownwhisker,” replied Joantack before he continued to trundled down the road towards the Ranch proper.

Now I guess I’ve got to vault this Divine-kissed fenced, Lem thought glumly to himself with a musk of sadness.