In the life of a magic knight, it was fairly safe to say that there was never a whole lot of free time to go around. Not being like most magic knights in the sense that he didn’t just go out when ordered, but actively sought out work and places that might require aid, one could make a case for him being busy at all times. Whether it was truly the healthy thing to do was up for debate, though the simple fact being that he had nothing else made his lifestyle into the only thing he knew, and grew to enjoy. After all, not everyone got to enjoy the praise over a job well done or the kind words of someone who had been saved from danger or impending disaster as often as he did. At times, it made him wonder as to how many gold stars the magic squads lost in a general sense due to him doing the work before it got commissioned.

But that wasn’t the kind of thing he really wanted to have to take into consideration whenever he went about doing his work, as it meant having to let people suffer needlessly before he could do anything about it and receive the kind of praise most magic knights were after in the royal capital. Helping those that needed it was something that had become rather ingrained into his personality, though something about that had started to shift. For the longest time, he had been working as hard as he had in the forsaken region because he had felt the need to repay the people that lived there for allowing him a second chance at life. But by spending almost every waking moment trying to help those same people, as well as a great deal of people he had never seen before, part of him felt like he had more or less repaid the favor.

That said, his goal of founding a farm with the money he earned as a magic knight had remained unchanged, and seemed closer than ever. Having already put his eyes on a plot of land that was close to a river and near to rolling green hills with woods not too far from it, Griswold had put the money aside and put in his inquiries as to how he could buy the land. Hopefully he would hear back from it soon, as having a home of his own meant he no longer had to be a bum and sleep at the Black Bulls Headquarters all the time, or spend his nights in taverns and inns. But having a roof of his own over his head was but one of many reasons why he wanted this farm, actually being the smallest and most insignificant reason of all. The real goal was to create a place that would be able to provide stable jobs to the men and women of the region.

While his understanding of commerce was not great, he knew that if he had the kind of things people might want, requests would come soon enough. Looking forward to the day where he might have orchards, gardens and farm animals to look after, his thoughts quickly shifted away from it. That was because of the fact that he was not the only one that did not have a home of their own, as the creatures they had aided roughly six months ago were still in a state of limbo. When last he heard, the imps had been put up somewhere while someone else put in the effort of finding a true home for them. However, when he had been posted with the news that the Silva of all people had made it so the imps had more or less been transported out of town, it had made him somewhat angry. Not so much because it was unexpected, not at all.

He was angry because he had quite recently aided them in cleansing a graveyard of theirs by defeating a powerful being, only for them to repay him this way. Once again, these types of self-centered nobles proved themselves to be more or less incapable of changing, or remotely behaving like good people. In truth, there were times where he felt like all of the good things he had done for this country were constantly overshadowed by the acts of these vile nobles that only looked after their own best interests, and were likely never going to change until they were forced to by the king and queen, or until they were culled. And since the former was never going to happen, and the latter led up to some dark thoughts and potentially darker actions, Griswold instead focused on what needed to be done with the imps. One thing seemed clear, they did not seem to be the kind of creatures that thrived in a house.

Riding his horse into Aries Garse, the black knight considered a bunch of the nearby forests, with one in particular coming to mind. Though it was ruled over by a powerful nature spirit, the fact that he had aided the being in getting to keep its forests green and not fall prey to the expensive thirst of a former noble turned farmer, he likely had some sway with it. That was, if Griswold could get it to show itself and agree to a parlay, as not every ancient being believed themselves to be privy to the dealings of mortals, or to be even remotely susceptible to the idea of owing someone for a good deed. Regardless, it was likely going to be the only place where he could take them and give them a chance to build up something of their own while being protected from outside influences, primarily people. Riding his horse up to the stable he knew was now being used as shelter for the creatures, the elven man descended from the black stallion and put his boots onto the ground.

Allowing his horse to roam freely, as it was known to do even when put inside of a stable, a quick whistle usually being all it took to call it to him, he made his way over to the entrance. Finding that Magnus had already arrived and decided to speak up to the imps, Griswold merely joined in without saying a word. Addressing the imps with a simple hello, it didn’t take long before several puffs of smoke formed, followed by the appearance of a whole squad of the imps, which could apparently speak their language now. Wondering if maybe they had learned it from the one that had addressed him in broken cloverian at the time, he just waited for them to respond to Magnus.