“You want free grain?” the large, charcoal-feathered griffon asked across the counter. The street bustled with life behind Handy as he stood there bargaining for the food he had promised to supply his serfs and tenants for the winter. “Go to the granary stores in the middle of town and get your daily rations like everygriffon else. Me? I run a private enterprise. I buy other griffons’ surplus, then I sell at a profit.”