{Third Person POV}
Oakmere
******
"Hmm... so the harvest projection for the fields should be around forty bushels per acre, accounting for the rain damage from last month..."
Chief Zen sat at the head of his large work table, papers and ledgers spread out before him. His hands moved between documents, making notes with a quill.
Two village elders sat on either side, the grey-bearded man who'd been at the engagement dinner, and an elderly woman with sharp eyes who served as the village's agricultural coordinator.
Sira sat to Zen's right, her recovered health evident in the way she sat upright and alert. She leaned forward at one point, tapping a calculation near the bottom of a ledger.
"This column's off by two," she said quietly. "Someone counted the Millford plot twice."
Zen glanced at it, grunted.
"Mm. Good catch."
