An Inherited Crime

At times when he is not needed in the village, the Chief practically disappears. Not even his trusted advisors know where he goes. His wife has an idea but she knows better than to tell anyone about it. She could not talk about it for a lot of reasons. In a dark room of a certain cellar 3 floors deep below the ground, the village chief is once again meeting with his not-so-popular clients. There is a reason why it was called an underground deal.

“Them wood planks ‘n bricks that y’told us to prepare’s ready,” a short and plump man said,

playing with the large gem on his middle finger ring, “I should tell ya, y’have spent a’lot more’n them improvements over th’year than all of th’previous chiefs had, ‘least as far’as I can remember. And I’ave lived a’long life.”

“The village needs to attract more and more people,” the chief replied without breaking