"So, you need cleaners," Velin said, picking up the starleaf paper from the floor and looking over the terms.
"More than just cleaners."
Marquis Golden Rice picked up a glass of water from the table and took an elegant sip.
"I need consumables. The kind willing to jump into waist-deep, rotting swamps and dig out stinking roots with their bare hands. The kind of labor force willing to crawl into a Magical Beast's lair and shovel out mountains of dung, one scoop at a time."
He looked at Velin. "Goblins are too stupid; they slack off. Dwarves are too stubborn, and far too expensive. Only you humans..."
The Marquis let out a soft chuckle.
"You breed quickly, and you'll do anything to survive. Like earthworms, you're born to grovel in the dirt."
"This is your only bargaining chip, humans. I want your people to shovel dung for me. For every ton of waste you clear, I'll give you one sack of wheat. It's quite fair, isn't it?"
