“[Mayors], [Aides], [Councilwomen]—you know the sort. We didn’t have a [Mayor] in our village, just a [Headwoman] and she was alright. But a lot of the places that fled the Goblins had people whose class was in leadership. People of importance.”
The half-Elf [Headwoman] was a curious mix of things. She was spry, lively. But she acted…old. Motherly. Because she’d married three times and had over a dozen children and grandchildren. She made Ceria uncomfortable. She was the exact opposite of the half-Elves who lived in their timeless villages in Terandria.
The [Headwoman] gave Ceria a smile as if she could read the younger half-Elf’s every thought. But again—they had talked. And this was the end of their battle against the Golems who’d haunted this village’s mines, attacking anyone who got too near.
The [Headwoman] smiled. She waited. And Ceria saw an old smile, filled with nearly a century’s worth of life. But she had to wonder—how easy was it to be Disabella?
