"My lords, there's been another incident between the refugees and the city residents at the distribution tents," Hans dutifully reported. "Nothing that the guards couldn't break up, but I thought you might wish to know as these scuffles keep occurring."

  "We very much do," Teodor told and gave a thankful nod. The captain of the guard excused himself from the office afterwards, allowing the two vampire nobles to discuss their latest troubles. "Father, it's proving more difficult than expected for our city to take in all these refugees. Not that I wish to turn them away, but we must start considering ways of easing tensions."

  "I concur," Gregori agreed, pressing his lips together into a thin line. "I suppose it was too much to expect such a surge of manpower to come without complications in itself. Food is one thing we can at least predict and move to address, but I hadn't imagined there to be other sources of significant trouble."

  "It can't be helped, father. From what the guards are saying, a lot of our citizens are very distrustful of outsiders." He reached over and picked up a report from them, one containing various testimonials and confessions about their source of unease. "Having recently suffered at the hands of mercenaries from outside alongside an invasion of our neighbors, some feel that this might just be another form of takeover. That since they couldn't take the city through conventional means, then they'll do so via exodus."

  "A silly notion, but us mortals are far from rational," huffed the duke. "It's not like all the refugees come from Viszal anyhow. They come too from Fuzier and other neighbors, fleeing from war. And they won't be staying, most of them will likely be the first settlers for our new settlement beyond the wall. Haven't we made that clear?'

  "We have, but it is only a fix that will come spring. Right now, when these individuals line the streets and are a common sight everyday, it is hard to reconcile with that foreknowledge."

  "Hmph. We can only ask for patience there. Are there any other sorts of complaints?'

  His son nodded and went down the list. "Another relates to what I just mentioned. As most refugees were forced to flee their homes with little possessions, they naturally don't have coin to participate in the local economy and need the food distribution system setup by House Cordis to be fed until it is time for them to set out. Yet meanwhile, the residents of the city still buy their own food from bakeries who bought from our stockpiles in lieu of many farms being pillaged by bandits.

  "This then leads to a growing rift between those who earn and spend money to live, versus those who receive the handouts we provide. No matter how much we stressed that the good bread and beer our people purchased with their hard work is better than the plain porridge and water we give out, there still is the perception of us giving people who seem to sit in the streets all day food while others work."

  "That's not even true. Haven't some of the refugees even already taken fulfilled some of the jobs that have been left unfulfilled for a long time?" Gregori growled. "Undesirable tasks like cleaning the streets or handling the trash have often been a trouble of ours and, with our limited workforce before, we hadn't the luxury of prioritizing them."

  "Given that the influx of refugees also unfortunately contributes to the general state of dirtiness of the city, people don't quite see it the same way."

  Ugh. The vampire lord sourly recalled how he'd taken basic hygiene and cleaning for granted living as a noble- then the luxurious yet convenient facilities that Puppet Atelier had. A bathroom, with hot water powered by combination of water and fire crystals, and without any of the hard labor needed to draw or heat it! He could understand why Noel had been so sour on the stigma crystals had developed in the present, if the people of their time had lived with such amenities available.

  If only he could offer the same to not just the refugees, but to all his people too, would that make the city healthier?

  Gregori shook his head and refocused on the topic at hand. "Very well. I've noticed that seems then that the issue from the residents primarily revolves around perception of these refugees then. So we need to address that to ease worries on that side."

  His son blinked, then reexamined the report. "Father, I hadn't realized it could be that...simple," he confessed, shaking his head. "I thought it would be something like broadening perceptions, making allowances for the variety of individual traditions."

  "That isn't so an awful way to do things, but I think that might take too long for our purposes. No, we should instead look to ease worries now, and then fret about assimilation later. Now then," he said while linking his fingers together, "we ought to also consider the troubles from the opposite side of the argument."

  "Understood, my lord." Teodor reached out and picked up another report. "Very well, let's see. At the top of this list are the feelings hostility many of these refugees are greeted with, something that I realize now ties into the perceptions from both sides."

  "Very good, you're learning," the duke praised, earning a brief blush from his heir. "But surely there's another large reason, like before?"

  "Yes, father. This one stresses that there's simply nothing most refugees do most days, which is apparently a large source of discontent and unease." The younger vampire frowned for a brief moment before figuring out the root cause of this too, before his father could tell. "Ah, I see. Most of these displaced people are farmers, laborers, people who work all day at hard jobs and are used to it even. The type who aren't afraid to work hard, but are afraid of dying pointlessly in a battle, hence why they left."

  "When they fled and we welcomed them into Gabion, they likely enjoyed a few days of break, but now their hands ache to do something, anything to occupy their attention," Gregori continued, nodding along at the reasoning. "Unfortunately, it seems that it seems to unfortunately result in getting into trouble. Wandering hands without purpose in a foreign setting often can offend, intentional or not."

  Good. He was getting there. "Then my son, do you know how best we address all these issues from both sides?" Gregori put out there and watched Teodor wrestle over the question. It seemed that unfortunately, he couldn't quite yet connect the dots with such an easy answer- a fault of his teachings, which had stressed military matters over civil for so long.

  Something that the duke would have to instruct before his son led the expedition to found a new settlement in the west.

  "I was thinking of something like trying to find long-term work, something that would help them settle in and grow to be part of the community over time," Teodor finally confessed and shook his head. "But I sense, my lord, you have a different and likely more fitting answer."

  "Indeed, and for what it's worth, you were close. But what I have in mind is a more immediate answer that takes advantage of the surge in manpower, along with the consideration of availability in space due to the destruction: public works."

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  Mordred let out a yawn while she sauntered down one of the streets in Gabion, shivering and pulling her cloak more tightly around her. Even though most people were already content with just longer sleeves in this chill, she was already putting on more layers. Most dragons just really didn't do well in winter, far preferring to hibernate in a cave somewhere until the air warmed once again. She thought she at least was a bit better, mustering up enough energy to venture out from the cozy castle room given to the adventurers to stay in.

  Though maybe it was because she was extraordinarily bored and didn't feel like waiting for Kuch to finish trying out whatever they were doing with the castle kitchens.

  She blinked and realized that unconsciously, what was supposed to be random wanderings had taken down a familiar street. She found herself standing in front of that small shrine she had fought that night, slaying all those mercenaries in the act that earned the adventurer her current moniker. Mordred glanced about the clean streets around the place of worship and still recalled how she'd left bodies skewered everywhere, lifeless as crimson fluid dyed the bricks-

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  "Oh? Well now, that's a familiar face I haven't seen for some time!" The adventurer blinked and turned to see a figure striding up with a wave. She instantly returned both the gesture and smile, glad that at least one other emerged that night, alive. "How's it been?" Gunther asked, that friendly mercenary, sporting a few more scars that somehow only added to his looks.

  "Busy, we've been working a lot with House Cordis to help retake their farms."

  "So I've heard from Hans. Can't believe you've already climbed the ladder that quickly into working with House Cordis itself," he mentioned, shaking his head. "But I suppose I knew you had it in you. Lot of mercenaries would kill for that sort of reputation with nobles, it's a ticket to maybe getting knighted and becoming direct retainers."

  "Ah, we're not exactly retainers though. It's a complicated relationship," Mordred admitted. "Not sure you'd understand."

  "Well, so long as they're paying you some way, then that's all fine."

  "Does free board and lodging count?"

  Gunther groaned and slapped at his face. "Still not taking payment for most stuff? Really, every mercenary band out there is going to start getting upset if you really undercut them that way."

  "I don't care. Most of them deserve it." She paused for a moment. "The Eber Marauders don't."

  "Ah." His face fell and he scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Guess you haven't heard, but we're disbanded. Too few of us survived that night, and everybody who did except me wants to just take their earnings and cash out. I obliged, paying what was left owed, and they returned to their homes, a little bit richer than when they left. And some carrying bodies with them."

  Mordred exhaled softly and closed her eyes, recalling her brief travels alongside them. "I figured that would be the case after seeing how the fires burned parts of the entire city to the ground," she finally said, opening them and glanced down the street. Her eyebrows raised up at the sight of the site where the destroyed inn was. The space now seemingly packed and bustling with refugees in rough canvas tents. "Oh? What's going on there?"

  "Oh, the innkeeper mentioned that just because he doesn't have a building anymore doesn't mean he can't at least help out folks who need a place to stay. I've actually been helping with being onsite security there, figured that it's better to help out a friend than just sitting around all day." He tapped the hilt of his sheathed sword, the same one gifted to him by Noel. "Thankfully hadn't had to use this one so many times, but well, sometimes it gets a little rowdy. Nothing too serious though."

  "Looks like though that there's guards coming through. Oh, that's Hans," recognized Mordred. "What's he doing here?"

  "I don't know, but looks pretty important. I'm curious too, why don't we have a listen?"

  Hans caught sight of the two moving to join the gathered listeners and gave a small nod their way, but otherwise remained focused on the assembly. Once he appeared to be sure most of the refugees were gathered alongside some city citizens, he gestured and his guards slammed their shields against the ground to drown out all other conversations. The speculative wondering died out and the captain of the guard loudly cleared his throat stepping up to reveal a scroll. "By order of House Cordis, the Duke of Gabion hereby commands a new system be implemented regarding the distribution of food to individuals whom have sought safety and protection from war in the city of Gabion.

  "Firstly, he declares that effective immediately, the free handout of food to such individuals is now over. However in his wisdom, he declares that he shall not allow you to starve pointlessly- only that you shall now work for your daily allowance of porridge. Which then now leads into the following principle.

  "He next recognizes and thanks prominent individuals in these communities whom have since stepped up to help contribute to the welcoming of these refugees. To them now, he awards them the position of 'supervisor,' reporting directly to a retainer so appointed by House Cordis, and charges them with the task of overseeing the work of these refugees. I will now read a direct message from the duke to all involved in this newly established system:

  'The autumn season will soon be over, and the harsh winter shall descend upon us. Unprepared as we are to handle this sudden influx of refugees, we must address the lack of suitable housing in Gabion before the cold begins to take our loved ones away. To that end, I hereby announce the commencement of public works to better utilize the hands given to us. Work hard, eat well, and survive until the spring- that is my command!'

  "Supervisors, should you seek guidance or instruction in your new role, you need only contact the guard for further details. However, given the duke's stress on construction labor, I imagine that the focus ought to be clear. Help us rebuild our city, and we'll feed you well." Hans slipped into a more casual and lackadaisical tone at the end there, a bit of his real personality coming through. But he sobered up just as quickly and clasped his hand to his chest. "Glory to House Cordis, and to the Kerezim Empire!"

  The guards repeated the chant, then began to follow their commander when he departed. Once they were all gone, a buzz overtook the refugees and citizens, all of them talking about this latest development. Mordred listen in on a few of the conversations in passing, curious to see how this decree was being received.

  "No more food if we don't work? That's cruel."

  "What about people who aren't strong enough to work or help? Or children, babes? Are they going to starve?"

  "I'm glad the duke's finally putting these outsiders to work. I was tired of seeing them slack off all day. But how do we know they won't mess things up?"

  "I don't trust them. They might just build bad things that collapse right after they leave. Just expel them from the city already."

  "We're going to be building homes that we'll not live in when we go west. What's the point?"

  "I don't owe them anything, I'm planning on going back home after things die down. I just need a bit more time, that's all!"

  "That's set the fox among the chickens," Gunther remarked, rubbing at his stubble with a frown. He noticed how the arguments were getting louder and more heated, tempers maybe starting to fray. But thankfully before he had to step in and get involved, the dwarf innkeeper stepped up. It sounded like he had been appointed as one of the supervisors, and already had a plan: rebuilding the burned down inn.

  "I'm not expecting or asking you to build the insides just yet," he gruffly told. "But the building by itself with just a few communal rooms should be more than enough to house you during the winter. Whether or not you're leaving come spring, I can finish the job myself afterwards. But the hard bit's going to be laying the new foundations and structure- I'm counting you on this! And I promise, you'll earn a hot bowl of porridge, guaranteed every day, if you put your back into things.

  "If that's not something you're willing to do or want some other job, come and chat with me. There's a bunch of other jobs, more building projects or some other tasks that you can still earn your keep with. More than enough to keep you busy, rest assured, so come on and pitch in! Any questions?"

  It seemed that the assurance this wasn't going to be forced labor and more like something that they would sign up for themselves helped calm some, so the discontent settled for the moment. Though Gunther could see some still disgruntled by this whole thing, maybe people who really were taking advantage of the free food to just laze about all day. He'd have to keep an eye on them, lest they decide to stir up trouble-

  Mordred abruptly raised her hand next to the mercenary, surprising him and his friend who clearly recognized the adventurer. "What is it lass?"

  "Can I help out?" she asked, earning gazes her way from refugees and citizens alike. A few jerked back and whispered to others, no doubt revealing her identity as the Blood Lance, now seemingly volunteering for something so menial. "I want to try building a house. It really sounds interesting."

  The dwarf stared bewildered and scratched at his beard before shrugging. "I guess so? But you'll just get a bowl of soup though for payment, can't pay you with coin. Are you sure that's okay?"

  "No worries. I'm an adventurer- helping others comes first."

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