THE HUT'S INTERIOR was filled with smoke. From both herb and burned incent.

  "Zan. Company. This is our leader, Strong-Arm," Molly-Holly said, introducing the group.

  Strong-Arm was a man heavy with indolence. His belly attested to many an hour working, not in the fields, but in the home. And by 'working' Zan meant 'not working.' Like Molly-Holly, Strong-Arm's wrinkles placed him among the older stratum of society.

  "Greetings, wise mayor. My crew and I would like to purchase property near to your village. My name is Zan. His is Jiehong. She is Whiskey. We are part of a Martial Order," Zan said, introducing themselves.

  "Well met!" the mayor boomed. "Purchasing property? At your ages? A lot of people of my age and stature would say 'no' and kick you moppets to the curve. Me? I'm a forward thinker. Just what are you hoping on getting?"

  "They want that big boulder near the puddle outside of the village," Molly-Holly said before Zan had a chance to answer.

  "That old thing? What, you guys have a dwarf with you?" Strong-Arm said, rearing himself into a booming laugh which led, in turn, into a coughing fit.

  "It is part of our Order, sir," Jiehong said. "Or used to be. A long time ago."

  "Ah, Order shenanigans. Martial Order, I assume?" Strong-Arm emphasized.

  "Yes, sir," Jiehong confirmed.

  Strong-Arm took a moment of silence. To think about the sale, Zan assumed.

  "Alright. I will sell it to ye. Now we just need to think of a price. Before that, we need to think of much community service you younglings will be doing. Uh, let's see..." Strong-Arm said, doing some calculations in the air, his finger swirling the shapes of numbers.

  "Wait. Sorry, sir, but what do you mean? Community service?" Zan asked.

  Strong-Arm chuckled. "You kids don't know? Ye're in the market for property -- during a war no less! -- and ye don't know about Service?!" Strong-Arm smiled widely. "Let me teach ya."

  Taking rich drinks from a fermented beverage while explaining the concept of 'community service' prior to purchasing, Molly-Holly had to step in more than once to clarify a point ill-made by the intoxicated mayor. "Yeah. As... she said. Help out... public works. Then, buy." Strong-Arm hiccupped.

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  "Fine," Whiskey said. "We are here to help our fellow countrymen anyway. Our Order is about self-defense and physical mastery. Our participation in this war has helped cement this in our minds. Now, with generous people like yourself, we can help everyone further Thank you, Strong-Arm, we won't forget this!"

  "I will help them with the rest," Molly-Holly stepped in to say before Strong-Arm could babble another response.

  "Fine! Leave me be," the mayor spoke, biding the conversation over. Not caring for Whiskey's overly polite tone, Zan wondered why she felt the need to be so nice to him. As far as he was concerned, Strong-Arm deserved no respect. Feigned or otherwise.

  Leaving the mayoral hut, the heroes breathed easier, being away from the smoke and booze, and being with the fresh air and open spaces.

  "Is he always like that?" Zan asked.

  "Nowadays? Yeah. He's always like that. Hasn't been the same since his children left to make something of themselves," Molly-Holly spoke.

  "That's sad," Jiehong said, somberly.

  "Is it? He is hard-- on second thought, never mind," Zan spoke, then pivoted, suddenly thinking better of it, and seeing the glares of Jiehong and Whiskey.

  "So, this volunteer work," asked Zan. "What is it? Anything in mind?"

  Whiskey supported her Order leader by saying, "Yes. What shall we do? We are eager to complete this transaction. We have many more places to visit."

  "The fast lanes, I know, ye lads and lass. I know... all you Order affiliates are the same. Living before you even know what you see and--" Molly-Holly then went on a ten-minute rant. By the end of it, Zan felt dizzy. She spoke on what they should do, but the information was between rantings, and he became confused on exactly she wanted them to do.

  Thankfully, to ease his confusion, Whiskey recapped the productive parts of the rant, saying, "Molly, can I call you by your first name? Thanks. All of this sounds lovely. If you would give my friends and I a moment to discuss matters amongst ourselves, we will divvy up our responsibilities momentarily."

  "Aye- aye, come and find me when you're ready," Molly-Holly said, walking off to the village, muttering to herself slightly less.

  The group removed themselves several paces from the village. Away from the community center, Zan spoke first. "That sack of crap aggravated me so fecking much..."

  "I wanted to punch him, if I'm being honest with myself," Whiskey said, which forced Zan to laugh.

  "Yeah. Not the most upstanding representative for his village. Right?" Jiehong asked Zan. To which, he said, "Yeah. But why didn't you say that, though?"

  "Because it is better to remain docile and get our way then hostile and true to ourselves but not get our way?" Jiehong replied, his tone clearly stating he thought Zan's comment was absurd.

  "I guess?" he said. "People like that get on my nerves. I feel like I have to blow up at them!"

  "Why do you feel that way? You've always seemed very calm to me, Zan," Whiskey asked.

  "I am a calm person. As this war settles itself into our land, and as the days tick by, I feel more and more drained by those people who aren't doing everything they can. I feel like people like this mayor are slouching off and if this country falls, it will be because of men and women like them!"

  Calming Zan by rubbing his back, Whiskey cooed as though he were a child. Paradoxically, this did calm him down, yet it also made him uptight. Mentally speaking.

  "Please stop, Whiskey. Now, let's figure this land plot out..."