Rodrigo led the way through town, his colorful silk robes standing out from the gray and brown of the cobblestone road and buildings that rose around them.
The town was just as dreary as it had been from afar. More so, now that Charlie had a better look at things. The timbers used to construct the buildings were rough and unfinished despite being in a town that literally worked wood as a major career path. Even more strange, though, was the lack of variety in the anthros he was seeing.
Charlie the assassin had seen a lot of this world, and as Charlie searched “his” memories, everywhere that this body had gone during its life had been filled with a tremendous variety of different anthros. Sure, some areas had a certain theme to them, but there was still a tremendous variety regardless of where he had been. This town, however, had at most around ten species living in it.
Bears, beavers, stags, wolves, badgers, a peculiarly tough-looking lizard species Charlie hadn’t seen before, raccoons, weasels, porcupines and otters. All of them looked like they lived rough, merciless lives toiling away here in the town. There was one other species, though he only saw one - an old, puma male who was working on repairing the cobblestones in the road while a guard watched over him.
“Who’s that?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, him?” Rodrigo sneered, “Just some malcontent. He and his family tried to burn down the lumbermill, the little arsonists. I put the culprit to death and sentenced his family to community service for life.”
“The whole family?” Charlie asked.
“They needed to be made an example of. I can’t have someone destroying the source of our livelihoods. This way, they understand that just because they are willing to die to do so… their family will pay for it when they are gone.”
“I see,” Gregory nodded, “We have something like that in my… hometown.”
“What?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, if someone betrays us, we enact the ‘nine familial exterminations’.” Gregory replied.
“That’s…”
“Total genetic dynasty eradication.” Gregory explained. “All generations from their family’s branch is extinguished.”
“Well, we weren’t that extreme,” Rodrigo grinned, “Though I’m glad to hear you say you agree, mink.”
“Moving on…” Charlie said with a hint of hesitation in his voice, “what’s with the townsfolk? I’m pretty well travelled and this is the most homogenous place I’ve ever been to.”
“Hmmm. I suppose you could say they are all descendants from the eleven founding families.” Rodrigo replied. “Eventually, everyone who claims this place as their home joins one of the families. It’s how we maintain order in this otherwise lawless frontier town.”
“They’re all related to each other?” Charlie asked.
“Yes and no? Obviously there would be serious inbreeding if that was the case!” Rodrigo chortled. “By family, I mean, loggers are usually beavers and porcupines, lumbermill workers are usually lizards, miners are badgers and weasels, wolves are often guards, bears work smithies, the otters ply the riverboats, raccoons help with cutting gems, and the stags scout the forests for good lumber.”
“I see.”
“It’s a system.” Rodrigo said. “It’s kept this town safe through ten generations.”
They walked through the winding streets and started up a hill. A huge lumbermill was in operation far off to the left, and a path to what looked like a closed off mine wound to the left.
“That’s our temple.” Rodrigo said, pointing to a small stone building.
“And that is our graveyard” he said, pointing at plot of land next to the temple. At first glance it just looked like a large field, enclosed by an old metal fence. But looking more closely at the overgrown foilage that covered the field, Charlie could see a number of small wooden markers just barely poking their way out of the plant life. Perhaps the graveyard’s only feature that was visible from a distance was the strange statue rising up in the middle of it.
“What’s that?” Charlie pointed at the statue.
“A memorial for the Grieving Times.” The wolf paused, staring at the statue, “Seven generations ago, an entire generation of the Founding Family’s children were murdered by a Boogeyman. Diamond Hollow almost lost all hope.”
“What happened?” Geoffrey asked, “How did you manage to overcome something so horrible?”
“They had more children, obviously!” Rodrigo chuckled and continued walking. “Up ahead is our great lumbermill. It runs day and night.”
Charlie noticed the lumbermill had only one lantern burning, “Not very well-lit.”
“Well, sawdust tends to ignite.” Rodrigo shrugged.
“Doesn’t that mean you have a lot of accidents?” Gregory asked.
“Yes. But oil is expensive…” Rodrigo said in a sly tone, “and fingers are cheap.”
“Oh, you must have good healers then.” Gregory nodded sagely.
Rodrigo’s smile faltered, “No.”
“He means people are always eager to get some work around here, even if it means losing fingers.” Charlie whispered.
“Also no,” Rodrigo grinned. “Lizards run the lumbermill. They can regenerate lost limbs.”
“Ah,” Gregory nodded, “smart.”
“I like to think so,” Rodrigo polished his nails on his silk shirt. “Up ahead is my home.”
The Mayor’s home was a sprawling ranch house at the top of the hill. It lay just out of sight of the town save for the tower at the top of the third floor. From the widow’s walk ringing the tower, it was clear that its purpose was to allow Rodrigo to observe the town without leaving the comfort, or perhaps security, of his own home.
“You know, the hour is growing late,” Rodrigo gestured to his house, “Why not have dinner with me and we can discuss the task I want you to do for me?”
Charlie sighed, “Sure. It would be our honor.”