On the outskirts of Northern Draconi Forest, there rests a series of farms surrounding one extremely small little town with nothing more than a Mill, a Tavern, a Smithy, and the Mayors Office. This was a place where people worked hard, living wages were won on the backs of men. The drought had been hard on everyone. The unseasonably long dry spell had gone of for two whole growing seasons and showed no signs of stopping. Thankfully, the river running through the town had not even shrunk. This was a great benefit to the farm who's land the river also flowed through. MacAllister farm was as productive as ever.
The owner, Jackson, has a sixth sense about these things. As soon as the drought settled in, he hired young men from the other farms to work for him as Field hands. This increased his own farm's production, but also kept the town profitable. He provided grain to the Mill and flour to less fortunate farms, this he did at no cost. He knew that if the town went, the farms would also go. Unknown to everyone but the mayor, Jackson kept very little money himself. He paid taxes on the Taker's farm, whose meager crops has been eaten by pests, he paid his field hands well, enough that they could provide for their family until the next season set in.
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Jackson sat next to the river, two dark glass bottles sat next on him, both filled with wine. The cool of dusk was setting in, the day had been a hard one. Dry heat that stole the moisture from you mouth and quickly drove a man to stroke. They had their first case of heat stroke of the season that afternoon. He'd have to order the younger boys to make more frequent trips to the river to refill water barrels.
The giant of a man uncorked one of the bottles, A dark and rich tasting scutton, though it was relatively weak, an man could drown in it before becoming drunk. He upended the bottle into his mouth before opening the next. This was Metheglin, true, high quality mead normally only bought by nobility. He stood and slowly poured the contents of the bottle into the river, a libation to the river spirit. "Thank you for flowing as strong as ever, Tethys. You are keeping this town alive."
Once emptied, he recapped the bottle and took a few steps back, "When next I come, I will be a married man. It's about time that I had a son or daughter of my own." It was interesting how it happened, he made a comment a comment to one of his field hands in jest that he'd better follow the example of the rest of the young men and get married while he still had some claim to youth. Two days later, one of his neighbors came to him with an offer and a dowry. The wedding was tomorrow, a small little thing in the tavern, but many would be in attendance.
Jackson took up the scutton bottle and walked back to his home, tomorrow was going to be a long day.
