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Like any other cat, Ximi rose late, never stirring from sleep until the sun stood high in the sky. Only then would it slowly awaken, little paws blossoming open, back arching in a great stretch, and at last the cat would sway its head and rise to its feet. Unlike other cats, Ximi would wash its furry face with its front paws, and with that, its daily leisure would come to an end. Years ago, the young Guild Leader, with a keen eye for cats, picked this one right out of a litter of newborn kittens tucked in a corner of the warehouse, and named it Ximi. Cats grow quickly, and after a few months of careful feeding by the young Guild Leader, it became the warehouse's very own "Little Steward." With so many people coming and going through the granary, each minding their own affairs, disputes and frictions never ceased, one quarrel settling only for another to rise. Ximi, ever the worrier, would leap between quarreling people whenever it saw them arguing, tail held high, mewing a few times before rubbing against the hems on either side. Ximi could never understand why people quarreled so. After all, there was already barely enough time to finish the day's work. This clever little cat, of course, was also busy with its own affairs; the title of "Little Steward" was no idle boast. With eyes sharp as embers and paws swift as lightning, not a single mouse could ever escape its little claws.