Chicory Village, the only small village in southern Almia, connected the Almia South Sea and the Wind-Circling Forest.
Though far from the bustling port city of Harbor Town, the village had developed its own distinctive rhythm of life over the decades.
There were no towering buildings here, only rows of simple wooden houses and concrete roads. The salty tang of the sea breeze mingled with the fresh scent of forest greenery in the air all year round.
Most of the villagers were ranchers and farmers. Their daily agricultural output not only made them self-sufficient, but also allowed them to ship goods north to Windring Town and Harbor Town.
Old Jack had managed the village as its chief for decades, witnessing Chicory Village's growth from a tiny settlement to its current size.
Every morning, he rode his Mudsdale slowly through the village, checking on the ranches and listening to the villagers chat.
Especially now that he was getting on in years, listening to gossip had become something of an addiction.
That morning, Old Jack rode his Mudsdale along the village paths at a leisurely pace, just as he always did.
"Morning, Village Chief-"
Mr. Da, who was milking a Miltank outside his own Miltank Ranch, looked up and greeted him with a smile.
"Oh, morning."
Old Jack reined in his obedient Mudsdale. "You're no youngster anymore, lad. You're such a big fellow, so why do you still speak so softly?
"If my old ears weren't so sharp, I might not have heard you just now."
"Yes, yes-"
Mr. Da scratched his head awkwardly. Of course he wanted to be a little more manly, if he could.
But with such a fierce wife, it really was hard to stand tall...
"By the way, when are you planning to have children?"
Old Jack