Draco.
“You’ll send thirty bags of grain to First Oalf, twenty to Gazer, and fifty to…” Draco trailed off, looking at Alfos to remind him of the last street name on his list. The beta peered at the scroll in his hand and read out loud.
“Reddins, my lord.”
“Aha! Reddins, Frey,” Draco turned back to the high elder and completed. The older male nodded and wrote it down on his parchment. He was the high elder in charge of the food supply across the streets of Abbator.
Draco watched him note his instructions before turning his eyes back to the shelves stacked with bags of grains and other staples. They were in the granary, trying to put together the supply that would be sent to the people.
“My lord, what about Whitenight?” Frey asked.
“Excluded. Whitenights has more Unbounds living ther
