In a distant kingdom far far away there was a peasant that lived in an old wooden house beside a dry dusty windmill.
The man was old and had no wife or children. He lived completely alone, with nobody except his lazy cat that slept most of the day.
"Still sleeping, Jack?" The old peasant said, as he dragged a linen sack of grain across the creaking wooden floor of the windmill.
"Today was a great day, friend!" The peasant proclaimed,
"Those folks brought many grains to the mill, and I got to keep my fair share of goods and coin!"
The man spoke and picked up a flagon of ale from a nearby wooden barrel.
"Praised be the golden fields of Vikeron!"
He cheered before drinking deep, getting more and more intoxicated with every sip,
And as the day slowly turned into night, the man found his way to bed and as soon as he stretched his back after a day of hard work, he fell deeply asleep, snoring with his empty wooden mug beside him.
But while the frogs sang in the distance and the sound of the crickets filled the misty fields, a couple of quick steps sounded against the wooden boards of the old peasant's home, and the sound of an old broom swabbing could barely be heard, muffled by the silent creeking of windmill in the night.
"Rilly!" A raspy squeaking voice whispered in the empty kitchen, seemingly out of thin air.
"Shhh! You will awake the master!"
A skinny household Brownie replied while anxiously clenching the broom.
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