Midday sunlight penetrated through glass windows, casting mottled columns of light across the mayor's office.
"A misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding." Jacob Tulip, Bree's mayor known as "Moneybags," sat on the other side of the desk. His face was slightly plump—not ugly, even somewhat handsome—with an expression perpetually smiling, easily generating goodwill. He wore a dark brown robe, and apart from a silver necklace embedded with rubies around his neck, he had no other decorations.
He placed the letters back into their envelopes, his face beaming. "I will definitely handle this matter properly!" Turning to the guard captain beside him, he ordered, "Harville! Arrange for your men to lock up all those ruffians causing trouble in the marketplace. Until they pay sufficient fines, not a drop of water, grain of rice, or breadcrumb for them!"
"Yes!" Guard Captain Harville raised his right hand, lightly thumping the steel breastplate he wore, glancing sideways at the two outsiders before turning and leaving with his hand on his sword. His mood seemed far from pleasant.
"Aedric, thank you for showing restraint and not causing deaths in town." Jacob cheerfully handed back both letters.
Theoretically, Bree, the Shire, and Buckland were three different powers with no governing relationship. Jacob didn't need to be so polite to Aedric just because of two letters of introduction. However, the positions of Shire Thain and Buckland Master were mostly held through succession or inheritance systems.
For example, the original Shire Thain belonged to the Oldbuck family. After they relocated to Buckland and renamed themselves Brandybuck, the Thain position passed to the Took family, continuing to the present. The Buckland Master was hereditary—always belonging to the Brandybuck family.
But the Bree region was completely different. The highest administrative official here was elected. Every five years, the four main settlements—Bree, Archet, Combe, and Staddle—plus scattered family estates, would send representatives for elections.
With family support, Jacob had served three consecutive terms as Bree's mayor for over a decade. Of course, this also related to his diplomatic skills. Through deliberate cultivation, Jacob maintained excellent relationships with both Took and Brandybuck.
Trade among the three regions was very frequent. The Shire's abundant seasonings, honey, handicrafts, porcelain, and finest pipe-weed Old Toby were popuar lin Bree due to reasonable prices and quality. Buckland's herbs and various woods were also urgently needed goods. Whose household didn't need furniture? Farmers, miners, small traders—who could guarantee they'd never get injured?
Moreover, many Bree residents' livelihoods depended on this commerce, and he profited handsomely from it. Naturally, he couldn't offend important business partners over a few local thugs. It would affect his financial prospects and career.
"Don't jest, Mayor. The town guards were very dutiful and arrived quickly. I had no opportunity." Aedric smiled as he accepted the letters, casually offering flattery.
From the nickname "Moneybags," he'd completely predicted this outcome, which is why he'd struck without hesitation. Let Bree's ruffians remember: in fists, they were no match for him. In status and background, he had that too! Incidentally, he'd also vented for his companion.
Unfortunately, that fellow called Bill hadn't appeared.
"Don't be modest." Jacob waved his hand. "According to Took and Brandybuck's introductions, killing those fellows would be easier than flipping your palm. David and Dean are just for show—they couldn't possibly stop you."
He wasn't annoyed by the conflict. Instead, he leaned forward, enthusiastically inviting, "By the way, the letters say you plan to stay in Bree for a while. Any interest in serving as Bree's sheriff?"
"As you saw, the guards have no interest in maintaining town peace, letting those thugs run wild. So I plan to separate these duties and create a new position. Rest assured, the salary and benefits will be generous."
Anyone who could rescue children from Barrow-downs and solve Buckland's strange willow troubles had excellent skills and insight. News from the Shire had trickled over. Only today did Jacob see the real person.
Aedric was caught off guard. He'd come to open a restaurant. How did this turn into a government job? But the sheriff position...
He frowned slightly, his index finger tapping the table as he pondered the pros and cons. The benefits were obvious. Beyond the inevitable salary and real enforcement authority, having an official status meant better ways to strengthen relationships with the Dúnedain. He could also form a small sheriff's squad—direct forces under his command.
Of course, there were problems. One was actively participating in human conflicts. "Moneybags" clearly disapproved of the guard's behavior, wanting to weaken Captain Harville's power and use this "outside dragon" against him. The reason? Perhaps the guard captain wasn't obedient enough, or maybe they had disagreements over profit-sharing.
Aedric didn't care about this and wasn't afraid of conflict. In these chaotic times, with sufficient strength, reliable allies, and a heart upholding justice and mercy, one could establish a foothold in Bree.
The other issue: having specific work and position meant less freedom and following others' commands. The sheriff and guards were different organizations, most likely not controlled by Harville. But he'd still have to follow the mayor's orders.
Perhaps? Aedric looked up at Jacob, a glint in his eyes. He could run for mayor after "Moneybags" retired! After serving ten or even dozens of years as Bree's sheriff, he might gain townspeople's recognition. Then somehow establish commercial cooperation with dwarves, the Shire, and elves. With effort to unite and organize, maybe he could create a military force with some combat capability.
Bree's population wasn't huge, but according to Glóin, the four main settlements plus scattered farms had at least three thousand people. Based on this, supporting a small military should be feasible. The imminent Quest for Erebor—Aedric probably couldn't participate. That required befriending Thorin. But the War of the Ring decades later definitely needed an army. Individual power would be too insignificant then. Not everyone could be Frodo and Sam.
Thinking this, Aedric's eyes grew much more fervent, making Jacob somewhat uneasy. "So? Aedric, any interest in staying in Bree?"
Aedric's mouth curved up. "Thank you for the mayor's recognition and regard. However, I currently have an important matter to complete. Can I have some time to consider?"
There was still an unfinished journal entry to settle first.
"Of course." Jacob waved enthusiastically. "I'll wait for your definite answer."
This position was something he'd just improvised to use the other's powerful individual strength to suppress Harville. That fellow had become increasingly disobedient, even inciting some townspeople to support Staddle's Violet family to compete for mayor. Those tobacco-farming peasants thought they were worthy! Also to strengthen relationships with Took and Brandybuck. Mutual respect went both ways.
"All right, thanks again." After securing the letters, Aedric prepared to rise and take his leave. "Won't disturb the mayor's business further."
"Take care." Jacob smiled. "As for housing, rest assured. I'll arrange for people to inquire around town to see if anyone's willing to sell or rent. These next few days, you can find an inn to stay at. I recommend the Butterbur family's Prancing Pony Inn. Their beer is excellent—have a few extra cups."
"Thanks again, I will." Aedric nodded respectfully and left the mayor's office with Morgan.
Just outside the door, Harville, who'd been waiting, followed them. "Outsider." He stared at Aedric with icy eyes, his tone unquestionable. "Whatever relationship you have with Jacob, whatever you came to Bree for, I advise you to pack up quickly and leave. Might as well tell you—Harry Honeysuckle is Big Bill's man, and Big Bill follows my orders. You should understand what this means."
He pointed his chin at Morgan. "If you don't understand, you can ask the Hobbit beside you."
Aedric didn't get angry, standing there assessing him. Bree's humans seemed quite stocky with solid muscles, just shorter. This guard captain was the same. Only he seemed to value his status greatly. High summer, midday, yet wearing bright steel plate armor on his upper body. The craftsmanship looked mediocre—probably a local blacksmith's work. Wasn't he hot? His lower half wore dark brown fine linen trousers and sturdy leather boots.
"What are you looking at? What's there to see?" Harville impatiently shouted, leaning forward while raising both arms to shove Aedric hard. Clearly accustomed to being domineering, unable to tolerate doubt or disrespect.
Aedric merely sidestepped lightly to avoid it. Watching Harville stumble forward from the missed attack, he said contemptuously, "Seems they've protected Bree too well, breeding fellows like you who only bully the weak."
He walked down the hillside. The guard captain actually colluded with thugs to extort outsiders. How arrogant! Given the chance, Harville and his men should experience orcs' ferocity and trolls' sharp teeth. Let him understand—not just anyone can be guard captain!
Morgan quietly extended his left leg, feigning innocence while looking up at the sky. After feeling the collision on his shin, he immediately retracted his leg, leading the horse to follow Aedric. A heavy thud sounded behind them, followed by Harville's painful wail and threats of retaliation.
Morgan shrugged, completely ignoring it. If the boss truly became sheriff, he could at least get a team member position. Would he still fear this guard captain's threats?
After descending the hillside, Morgan pulled out cheap parchment from his breast. "Boss, this is for you."
It showed sun, roads, mountains, settlements, and text he couldn't read. It was Harry Honeysuckle's map.
Aedric accepted it casually, smiling. "How did you get this?"
The authenticity was questionable, and he didn't understand Quenya. But he could ask Luna. She was a proper Noldor elf.
"Earlier, I saw you looking at it very seriously." Morgan scratched his head, somewhat nervously. "So during the chaos, I took it back from Harry, plus this." A money pouch appeared in his hand. Shaking it produced jingling sounds. "Only one silver coin inside. The rest are all copper."
"You know this trick?" Aedric's expression was genuinely surprised.
"When wandering the wilderness before, I learned from a thief." Morgan's voice grew quieter. "Boss, Harry showed you no respect. His accomplices caused us trouble. Taking some compensation is reasonable, right?" He paused, carefully watching Aedric's expression. "Of course, if you think it inappropriate, I'll return it immediately."
After all, it was theft. He didn't know if the boss could accept such behavior.
"No need." Aedric reopened the map, glanced twice, finding it the same as before, and casually stuffed it in his breast. The authenticity remained uncertain. After settling down, he could ask Luna. She was a proper Noldor elf—surely she understood Quenya.
"You're right. They came looking for trouble. Of course they must pay the price." Aedric took Radish's reins from Morgan, smiling. "Perfect—use his money for a few beers and a big meal."
"Exactly right." Morgan relaxed.
They continued walking, soon leaving the slope and turning south. After several minutes, they arrived before a three-story building with many windows. The spacious entrance was quite lively, with a signboard above showing a fat white pony standing on its hind legs, with Common Speech lettering below: The Prancing Pony Inn.
Luna, her face covered by a hood, approached. She'd been waiting here quite a while.
"Three guests staying at the inn?" A black-haired girl with a round face and simple features emerged from the inn, dressed as a server. She greeted them warmly.
"Yes." Aedric nodded. "Three rooms for us, and stabling for Radish."
"No problem, please follow me."