"What's this?"
"Corn."
"What elf does corn have?"
"Mickey."
On the stones marking the boundaries between the fields, a group of serfs in patched clothes gathered together, drinking water, eating bread, and dipping it in peanut butter.
Mark, a clerical runner whose clothes bore no patches, held a stick and pointed at the Grain Corn seeds on the ground as he questioned the serfs.
This was field-side lesson time.
Since most of the new serfs came from the Eagle Kingdom and only knew Wind Speech, not Snake Script, the lord had decreed Snake Script to be the territory's official language in order to foster a sense of belonging and facilitate communication. Everyone had to learn enough Snake Script for everyday conversation—only the knightly class needed to study both Snake Script and Wind Speech.
Mark's Wind Speech was poor. He knew only a few words, all learned from Mr. Grandet.
In truth, his Snake Script was not much better either. He could only read and speak it, not write it. Still, if all he needed to do was teach the serfs everyday phrases, his limited ability was barely enough.
It was the season of spring plowing.
The serfs could not possibly set aside fixed hours to study Snake Script, so Mr. Grandet had suggested to the lord that lessons be sensibly arranged during their breaks. The lord had agreed, and the clerical runners responsible for teaching now had to travel daily between the fields, working the land alongside the serfs.
Many clerical runners sighed and grumbled. They had finally managed to get jobs in the administrative offices, only to find they still could not escape the muddy fields.
But Mark did not complain.
Because he had ambition.
"You must remember this—Mickey is the lord's third little elf, the Corn Little Elf!"