Inside the office, the flame of the oil lamp flickered and shrank under an invisible pressure.
"…And that's the situation." Barrett's right fist was clenched so tight that his coarse leather bracer groaned under the strain. "The settlers will only farm their own subsistence plots, and not an ounce more. As for those Hunters from Gray Mist Village, they're a hopeless case. They'd rather wander around the woods than touch a hoe!"
Old Walker's gaunt body was hunched over, his deeply lined face scrunched up. His voice was hoarse. "My lord, my people are used to hunting for one day and resting for three… Making them tend to the land is worse than killing them."
