May 25th Daily Writing prompt

When they decided to add peasant dwellings to all the maps the whole department groaned. I mean, peasant dwellings. "They're just mud and sticks," said Carcasan, and grimaces across the studio showed agreement.

But we had no choice. "Might as well make the best of it," I told them. "Tell your families it's a critical Government mission, and make ready for a long holiday and a lot of rustic food on expenses." That cheered them up, at any rate.

The project started in the worst possible place: Mendiz. Caracasan and I drew the short straw and were dropped off by the caravan at the head of the massive valley which was home to our traditional enemy. Our current map showed the stronghold, the home farm and the river which wound its way through the bottom. It didn't show the several thousand small huts and cottages strewn throughout the valley, each one holding a Mendiz who would no doubt resist all opportunities to help and remain embittered by their centuries-old defeat through the whole map making process.

"Could be worse," I said, trying to think how, as we stood there with our rolled up tents and measuring poles. And then the toll takers rode up behind us.