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“Alright, alright, settle down the both of you !” You fix up the sternest voice you can manage to. All day today has been nothing but arguments and shouting. “Now, who laid the claim first ?”
“I did !” Both men before you shout out at the same time. You feel like you might get a headache soon.
“I already talked about wanting this particular piece of land for years now, and suddenly this guy comes up and tries to lay claim to it !” The first man begins.
“Oh yea ? I wasn’t seeing you do anything about it, if even what you are telling is true to begin with !” The second man responds.
“Are you calling me a lair ?!” The first one, insulted, raises his fist in the air in a threatening gesture.
The second responds with his own fist, and with an inappropriate gesture.
Luckily, you hear a loud chime go off, indicating the end of the work day, or more specifically, the end of first shift.
<span class="mu-b">Thank you, God.</span> This whole thing is not your work to begin with, only such disputes that have no clear resolution or precedent being thrown to you by your overworked council. “Okay, you two either disperse and resume your fighting tomorrow, if you cannot make amends in the meantime, or I am going to make a ruling here and right now !”
Both men hold their tongues, simply exchanging glares with one another, neither sure they made sufficient arguments to earn your favour.
“Then we are done for today.” You state, after having allowed silence to take hold for about a minute or two.
And with that, with complaints, murmurs, groans and other annoyances, the gathered petitioners start departing the bunker you had turned into a makeshift office, with the warehouses being full and all, your only other option would be your own apartment, and you are not particularly fond of the idea of a bunch of people turning your home into a wreck based on the sheer number of fistfights that had broken out.
As you sit in your chair for a moment and light up a cigarette, your eyes are opened by the noise of something gently impacting your table – a beer bottle.
“Another hard day, sir.” Reinhart states having a bottle of his own.
“Hard indeed.” You state as with a grunt you move to the table and take the bottle. “What’s the situation like with Vergilius ?”
“Swamped. If it is this bad here, sir, it is ten times worse over there.”
“I can imagine.” You nod, take sip of the beer, before puffing on your cigarette. “Did you get a piece of you own ?”
“That I did, sir. A piece of land up closer to the mountain.”
“Any plans for it ?”
“Depends on how things will look. Would like a log cabin, one made by my own hands, though I know that is not possible at the moment, but maybe a bit of hunting might be feasible in a decade or two.”
“Knowing Madman, I would be happy if it was a decade or two and that it wouldn’t hunt us.”
