The bedding in Penþa's house is a little sparse but it's enough for her to make a magic hammock from. She twists off the magic for that so it'll continue while she's sleeping and does the same for a small perimeter alarm before taking off the necklace and letting herself fall asleep.

In the morning, the sun has just finished rising when Penþa clips the edge of the perimeter alarm setting a plate below the hammock. The plate has a slice of dense bread with garlic-seasoned vegetables resting on it, and a hard-boiled egg.

Maenik stirs, the alarm just triggered in nudge mode not danger mode so it didn't dump adrenaline into her system or any of the other dramatic options. After a couple seconds, Maenik opens her eyes and turns to face Penþa. "Good Morning. Was your sleep restful?"

"Ah! I'm sorry to have woken you," Penþa replies. "My sleep was quite deep. Were the blankets okay?"

Their other hand is holding a mug of water. They try to decide whether to set it with the plate or hand it to her, and settle for the plate.

Maenik doesn't seem noticably tired or groggy. "I have magic that wakes me up when people get close. I don't mind being woken. The blankets were just fine. I'm simply used to the hammock type of bed." A bit of magic moves the blankets around her and she shifts with them to come to a cross legged seat on the ground near the plate.

"It does look comfy," Penþa agrees. "Although I expect it would be a bit chilly in the winters."

They retrieve their own breakfast, and then sit cross-legged against the wall.

"Do you know what you'd like to do today? I'd recommend you hike up the hill and get a view over the lake, but you probably can see views like that whenever you'd like. I'm going to be going around to talk to people about magic in advance of the meeting, and you'd be welcome to come along, but I expect that to be fairly boring."

"I'll probably check in on Ðani and Anþasta otherwise I think I'll just amble around and see who decides to talk to me. I'm not opposed to hiking but it's something I would want to do with company and it seems like hiking is more of a solitary activity in this community."

"Well, people do hike together — especially hunting, you know — but I suppose there is a lot of walking alone," Penþa agrees. "That sounds like a fine plan, in any case. If you need me during the day for some reason, the rock in front of the carvings above my door let you know what area of the village I'm in; waves for the lakeside, wheat for the farms, a flower for the garden, a bar for the smithy, a fish for the cookhouse, or a rock for the western end of the village. Or you can just recruit a child to search for me. Running across the village is good for them."

She laughs gently at the last statement. "I'll keep that in mind." She drinks from the cup and eats the provided food. She isn't particularly slow but she's not rushing either.

Penþa doesn't seem to be rushing either; one might get the sense that meals are a dedicated time out of a busy day that occasionally need to be defended from intruding responsibilities.

"Actually — it occurs to me you probably aren't familiar with organizers, as an institution. Not even all the villages around here operate this way, although it's ... more common than not, I'd guess. Do you want to hear about what I normally do, when we don't have mysterious visitors?" they ask.

"That would be helpfully yes. I've seen many ways villages are run so I can make guesses but there's no substitute for having things actually explained."

"Of course!" They smile.

"Well, broadly, I keep things organized. But what that specifically entails is sort of two different but related parts. For one thing, I'm the lorekeeper — I maintain our records, and write new ones as things happen. So if someone has a question about the law, or who owns a given house, or how often different disasters happen, I can answer that by going through the records. That means that I'm also responsible for educating children on the basic things they need to know about the world that they wouldn't learn otherwise, like nearby geography, history, and that sort of thing. I also teach reading and writing — both knots and glyphs — to children who have an interest and aptitude for it."

"The other part of my job is being the ... designated trusted person, I guess you might call it. When I took up the job of organizer, I swore an oath to serve the village over my own ends, and in that capacity I mediate disputes, lead village meetings, record who owes what to whom, handle our collective finances in dealings with the trade caravans, investigate crimes, assign tasks for putting on the festivals, make sure we have enough food stores to last through the winter, asses taxes, etc. So the most common thing you might need to fetch me for day to day would be to witness a contract or transaction, or perhaps to mediate a dispute before it turns into something larger."

"I know that in the cities they break some of these roles out into different people — the northern city has a king who organizes festivals and other common endeavors separate from an arch-banker who organizes taxes and contracts — but in a village the size of ours, there's just about the right amount of work for one person. And other people would take over if I died, but I do need to find an apprentice to start passing things onto in the next six years or so."

"Interesting that all makes a lot of sense. On a related note, could you tell me more about festivals? I've caught the implication that they involve sex but I'm not sure what specifically that means or whether that's the limit of what happens. I'm guessing not since you'd also want something to keep the children busy."

"Oh! No, no, of course they're not just about sex. Let's see ... we have four, one at each solstice and equinox. The observances are a bit different, though. The fall one is the largest, and will be a day longer than normal this year because the year doesn't actually evenly divide into days, so sometimes a year has an extra one. Generally, everyone is released from their normal work for the festival. We have a day of preparation, where everyone sets things up, and then some days of celebration, and then a day of peace. On the celebration days, there are specific customs, but all festivals have bonfires, mulled cider, singing, dancing, story telling, and so on."

"For the fall festival, it's also the celebration of plenty at the end of the harvest, so we have lots of special foods, and plenty of them. The children always look forward to sweet cakes. This year we'll be roasting two goats, as well. And, unlike normal days, when everyone has to be up in the morning, the festivities continue well into the night. Then everybody sleeps in the next morning. Only, as I mentioned, this year it will be longer, so we may get some adventurous young people trying to stay up all night and the next day and then crashing," Penþa explains.

"And yes, it's a time for having sex as well, with most of the adults rotating through over the course of the day, although some people aren't interested and stay out of it. Having sex at the festivals is not universal, though — lots of places have a fall festival, but some other places distinguish ... ah, sorry, I can't quite recall the Cold Sea word for them ... They distinguish two types of marriage, 'brovinder' and 'kasinder', procreation marriage and life marriage, where people pick their life spouse, but families arrange procreation spouses. The Loka of the Lake — our village's founder — came up from the south, and set us up following the Warm Sea custom instead, where we just have one kind of marriage, but people can have sex outside their marriage at the festivals, so that people who can't conceive with their spouse can still have children. Personally, I think the Cold Sea way is somewhat heartless, but a lot of people who grow up there and come south are uncomfortable with our way, so perhaps its just a matter of what you're familiar with."

"I think you're right about familiarity. Also, magic can help people who wouldn't otherwise be able to have children. It's fairly simple for couples with two wombs but those without any would need to make use of either some very fiddly technology or a purpose designed living thing. Some couples prefer using those options even if they don't have to since even with magic pregnancy can be inconvenient."

"That would be convenient! Although just having fewer babies die would—"

Penþa cuts themself off.

"... please tell me you can safely share magic with babies," they say.

"You can, though generally as their parents get healthier babies do as well. Magic can also make birth gentler for both the mother and the child and that helps a lot. A lot of the time when babies die it's either from the small harmful creatures I mentioned yesterday or from problems during birth or pregnancy."

Penþa lets out a breath.

"Well. Then yes, just having healthier babies might mean that we would need to arrange adoptions, anyway, if parents can't care for them all."

They shake their head.

"I probably shouldn't speculate. Magic is going to change so much, about all this, that we might just have to see what traditions still make sense next year for ourselves."

"I think that's right. I think it will be a positive change or I wouldn't live the life I do but I also acknowledge it's a very disruptive thing."

Penþa nods.

"I'm very glad you came, and I'm sure the rest of the village is as well," they say, leaning forward earnestly. "You shouldn't feel bad about bringing a disruption — things can't change for the better without changing."

They lean back against the wall.

"It's just a lot of work for me personally, is all. So do forgive me if I'm focusing too much on the parts that will need careful thought, and less on the obvious benefits."

"You don't need to apologize at all. It's important to think about these things. The obvious benefits don't need as much thought."

"Yes, exactly."

They look at their emptied plate and sigh, before heaving themself to their feet.

"I should probably go do the work of seeing how people feel about it, though. Would you like me to take your plate?"

"Actually, do you have somewhere you put food scraps? I can clean the plates and save you a bit of work."

"Oh! Sure, if you're willing."

They stand in the door, and point across at the communal kitchen building.

"Okanel is our head cook, although everyone does rotations in the kitchen. If you head over there, they'll show you the dish-washing area. Look for the person in the apron."

"I'll do that then." She collects the plates and cups, then stands up and heads to the door. She turns to say a goodbye. "I hope your work goes well."