He appears, for a moment, indifferent before the question. Then vexed. At long last, settled, as if he has resigned himself to the inevitability of this being a truth in want of asking, one that he himself must answer.

"It started before I was born. Before my grandmother's grandmother was born. Grandfather Sanwon would breathe hard, and they'd know, it was time." It is time, by the look of the volcano, sweltering. "And then we'd hear the ravens calling, and you've noticed, haven't you? How they're never here? Only when their House opens. You see them. And you know."

To take the sacrifices to the house. "Then, a few years ago, he came to each village, after the last sacrifice. Now, they call him the Beastmaster. And his... master. He said, we'll keep Sanwon from bursting, but you'll send people to us, and they'll be fewer, but quality. First, we didn't believe him. Wanted to laugh." Did laugh, but that part's not worth telling. "Couple of jesters, fooling around. Only, they weren't."

And his face darkens, his shoulders sag. "They said, they'll keep Sanwon silent for a year, and then they'll want pay. And no one believed them, but... the year passed. And the mountain's been quiet. We've been paying them since. There was some trouble with the tribute last year, I hear he wasn't happy. Something about... I don't know. I think the Hok-Shinn might have shortchanged him. And now Sanwon's breathing hard again."