Gazing outside the window at the incessant autumn rain, the rough and ferocious Half-Beastman sat in the grand hall with a look of worry on his face. The lavish home was a place once out of his reach, where he never dared to dream he'd reside, but now seated here, he realized it was not as comfortable and peaceful as he had imagined.
"To put it in his own words, sitting here listening to the endless complaints and threats from those below all day long, he would rather choose to fight or toil," Komer said.
Finally, footsteps could be heard outside the hall. Woodhardt had grown somewhat afraid of facing his subordinates. Unable to meet their needs, let alone their minimal requirements for subsistence, not to mention winter clothing, the Half-Beastmen, although physically far stronger than mortals, needed food and clothing just the same. Now with nothing at all, how would he get through this winter?
