Once upon a time, there lived a humble peanut farmer in the rolling plains of Westershire. His name was Gregory Farmer, and he served the noble Lord Chipper Tame. Greg occupied a pleasant wooden cottage on the edge of a three acre plot, within whose borders he felt safe; he delivered a small, discrete velvet sack of golden coins to Lord Tame on the third of each tenday.
Now, not thirty minutes away by oxen-driven cart, a modestly sized shop stood. On a sunny Fourthsday afternoon, Mr. Gaelor Breckerstone might be found there behind a finely crafted wooden counter, tallying marks on a piece of parchment and waiting to be noticed. This was one such Fourthsday, and Greg Farmer was just stepping off his cart. He fed each of his two oxen a single sugar cube. They were a little pricey, but these were study and hard-working oxen. Gaelor looked up as he heard the pleasant lowing that resulted from this treatment.
Gregory walked into the shop, and he said, "Blessings of Tymora upon you, Mr. Breckerstone. How are the wife and kids?"
Gaelor smiled amiably, "Oh you know how it is, Greg. The wife always wants a new dress, and my daughter needs that popular adventurer toy."
Everyone knew everyone in Westershire. Greg's mind filled with nostalgic thoughts about his own daughter, Lizzy, her face covered in dirt, running into the cottage, followed closely by Fran, Gaelor's pretty little girl. That was a rainy Sixthsday, some months ago, and his wife had been horribly upset about needing to mop up all that mud. Covertly, Gaelor enjoyed the commotion.
"Oh, yes, of course she does. I think I heard a rumor or two about those whittled masterpieces. Ranjan the Carpenter started making those at his shop, isn't that right? And Julius the Tailor now sells little vials of dye and feather paintbrushes so the kids can personalize those things. I haven't seen either character in ages. Anyway, let's get down to business."
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