Barth blinked, staring at Ausan as the woman held a conversation with the little girl he had no hopes of ever deciphering.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Show off," </span>he retorted with a smile, and then he noticed that the Plainsman who'd come forward was staring at the two new friends with shock painted across his features. But there was business to attend to.<br/><br/>"We've come from the capital, because there was concern about your people occupying land owned by the farmers here."<br/><br/>The man didn't look very surprised, but for some reason, in spite of how calm Barth's tone was, he started to look very afraid. "We sorry for this. We know it wrong to come here, but… please, Lord," he said, falling to his knees with his long braid swinging wildly around his back, "not make us go back. Not send us to our death. Please."<br/><br/>Barth threw an uncertain look at the others, but it was Olin, ever eager to solve life's mysteries, who spoke up first. "What are you talking about? Send you back to what?"<br/><br/>There was a feverish light in the man's eyes, and his entire body was shaking as they watched him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Whatever this man was fleeing, it was clearly something of horrific proportions.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"It's alright, just tell us what happened, and I will do my best to help you and your people," </span>Barth said with a reassuring nod, as he offered a hand to the Plainsman, who allowed himself to be helped back to his feet after taking a brief moment to collect himself.<br/><br/>"Thank you, Lord. We are come from the Western Plains, where many villages burned and many menfolk killed and scatter. Enemy come from over mountains, kill all they see. Monsters, with fang and tusk and eyes of fire. Tutar."<br/><br/>Barth stared at him for a moment, and then turned to gawk at the others once again. He'd been expecting a number of different responses - drought, bandits and civil war among them - but this was not one of them. This was…<span style="font-style: italic">ridiculous</span>.<br/><br/>"Is this a joke?"<br/><br/>Olin's incredulous question was painstakingly appropriate, and one Barth himself would have voiced given the chance.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Your people are here because of beasts that exist only in tales told to wayward children? The Tutar are not real. Tell me the truth, man, or I will not be able to help you." <br/></span><br/>The man sputtered, and began speaking faster than before, the words intermingling with some from his own language, making the verbal onslaught even harder to comprehend. But Barth was still able to put together what the Plainsman was saying, and it was more of the same. To encroach on Lindenian land was one thing, if one had some kind of reason for it, but to do so while only providing made up lies was another matter entirely.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"If the land owners you are encroaching upon allow it, you will work for them to pay for settling on their property. If they do not agree to this, you will need to move, or go back to where you've come from. And if you won't work, I will return with an army that will send you back, with or without your blessing." <br/></span><br/>The man opened his mouth, but Barth raised a gauntleted hand, cutting him off.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"No more talk. You have tested my hospitality, and now you have your terms. Either agree to them, or leave this place at once." </span><br/><br/>There was a moment's pained hesitation, and then the man nodded. Barth nodded too, with a satisfied but still irritated grunt, and then he was leaving, swinging back into the saddle along with the others. "Waste of a trip," grumbled Olin as they cantered over to where the farmers waited, but Barth shook his head.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"They might be lying about why they've come, but the situation still needed to be resolved. Perhaps this way everyone can get something out of it, at least." <br/></span><br/>"Maybe," came the reply. "I still wonder what really made all these people flee, because it might not have been Tutar, but it has to have been<span style="font-style: italic">something</span>. And I fear whatever it is may well become our problem too, eventually."<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"Always the optimist,"</span>Barth responded drily, as they reached the road again.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"Let's just hope that doesn't come to pass, then." <br/></span><br/>The farmers had been initially disappointed to hear that the savages wouldn't be driven off their land by an army clad in full armor, but when Barth told them his plan they were surprisingly amenable. It shouldn't have been too shocking, though - free labor in exchange for land they weren't necessarily using at the moment was hardly a vexing enterprise, after all.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">"I will suggest that a company of soldiers be sent down here to oversee the situation, and to monitor any more Plainspeople who venture across our border,"</span>he told them, to general sounds of approval.<span style="color: #FFFF00">"I don't believe there are many fighters among the refugees, but it is difficult to be certain. In any case, I'd rather not take the risk. Be well." </span><br/><br/>It wasn't long before they were on the road once again, heading home, all while wondering what really caused the abrupt migration of so many Plainspeople. Whatever the cause, at least the issue seemed to have been resolved.<br/><br/>If only Barth could shake off the sense of foreboding that hit him from the moment they departed.