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Arc 8-115
🕑 Added 2025-11-27 10:23:38 +0000 UTCThe room is tense enough to pickle vegetables. Honestly, I don’t blame them. Given our history, it isn’t unreasonable for them to fear for the future. I just hope the fear doesn’t cloud their judgement.
“You can relax.”
My attempt at comfort lands like a dropped anvil. A few flinches. A cough. No one actually relaxes. “Today is about solutions, not making more problems. Allow me to make my position clear, without any hidden threats or schemes. I don’t like the guilds. Don’t ask me out for tea or expect me to do favors for you. But! I also don’t bear a grudge. Our problems have already been settled—messily, I might add—with blood. There’s a clean slate between us. Don’t do anything stupid to mess that up.”
A ripple of incredulity moves through the crowd, like they’re debating whether “clean slate” might be some obscure euphemism for “looming execution.” I don’t wait for them to decide.
“Hunters are citizens, same as any other,” I continue, pacing slowly, deliberately. “That means no more special treatment, no more hiding behind your guilds. However, that also means you’ll be protected by the same laws. Your futures are in your own hands.”
I direct the line squarely at Grayskin, who bears the weight placed on his shoulders with stoicism.
“That being said, hunters and monster hunting must be addressed.” I click my tongue, surveying the group. Saints, they look like a class of unruly children who’ve just been told they can’t set things on fire anymore. “A closer look at your operations brought up… all kinds of problems. You’ve made a mess of things.”
I raise a finger for emphasis. “You’ve hunted the lands around Quest to exhaustion. Seriously—there’s nothing out there but resentful squirrels.” My finger wags disapprovingly. “And I hear you’ve been hunting normal game. Taking work away from regular gamesmen.”
“We don’t just throw newbies at monsters,” one hunter blurts out, puffing up like a threatened rooster. “They learn to track and work together against simple threats before contending with fireballs to the face.”
I swivel and point directly at him. “Don’t interrupt again.”
My voice dips low, the kind of quiet that implies impending doom. His bravado deflates instantly and he looks away, cheeks blazing. “Did I say you didn’t have a reason? No. But your good reasons don’t solve the problem.
“So. We’ll be putting a ban on that. And before you panic about monster populations exploding, the city will hand out official hunting contracts—as it deems fit—on the recommendation of the Temple.”
A little incentive never hurt anyone. This gives them a very good reason not to make trouble, in case the unspoken threat to their lives isn’t enough. Which, history has proven it isn’t.
“The guilds were created to combat threats to the kingdom. Failing that, to procure valuable reagents.” I shrug. “Those things only exist in two places: the disgusting wetlands to the south, and the frozen hellscape past the Bleak Peaks. I’m not stupid—I know expeditions to either place are miserable experiences for a myriad of reasons. However—” I lean forward slightly “—I’m not interested in seeing hunters sharpen their swords just to decapitate deer and trap rabbits.”
A few hunters bristle, but I cut them off with a hand
“Don’t. Interrupt.”
Another would-be protester snaps his jaw shut so quickly I hear his teeth click.
“You’re bored without challenges,” I say. “And boredom leads to terrible decisions. Like secret clubs. And coups. And undermining your Lady.”
They don’t laugh. Good. They shouldn’t.
“I don’t want your excuses. I’m telling you what’s going to happen. No freelance hunting in my territory. Guilds in good standing can accept city contracts to monitor monster populations. If culling is needed, it will be done after a report is submitted and approved by someone I will put in charge.”
They scowl, but jaws tighten to hold in their reactive commentary. Thank the saints, they can learn.
“But!” I say brightly. “I’m not unreasonable enough to wave a stick without offering a carrot.”
The mood shifts—just slightly. Hope flickers. Good. Manipulation is about balance.
“For those brave souls who want to do something real with your rancid traditions, the city will arrange an expedition to the south. That means transportation. A dedicated hunting camp. Hot—if basic—dinners. And a guaranteed fair price for whatever you bring in.”
The crowd murmurs. Several hunters exchange glances, calculating futures. Maybe for the first time since a purple behemoth shattered the city, the path forward doesn’t look like a blood-soaked dead end.
Could they ask for more? Of course. Their homes. Their livelihood. Their families. My head. Unfortunately, I can’t resurrect loved ones or undo the past, so they’ll have to settle for stability.
“How does it feel,” I ask sweetly, “having a noble on your side? A Lady who’s actually interested in your health and prosperity?” I gesture dramatically. “Come on. Someone underneath all that hate and helplessness has to be praising the saints.”
They do not praise. Not even a little.
I imagine they do.
“Let me reiterate. Independent hunting is allowed—so long as you follow the laws. The support, however, is only for guilds recognized by the city. In good standing.” I give them my best dangerous smile. “I’m being so very generous, starting everyone off on my good side. Let’s not ruin that. Follow the rules. It’ll be easier on everyone.
“I know your obvious question: what are these rules? You’ve heard the biggest one—no unsanctioned hunts. After that… licenses. Proof that you aren’t oafs swinging swords. Proof you know your trade. Proof you have common sense. Guilds are practically mercenary bands. I’m sure everyone can understand that I want some guarantee that the people accumulating that kind of power aren’t, ah, people of bad character.” The last thing I want is a bunch of prideful idiots running things again.
“This won’t be a written test,” I reassure them. “It will be a test of what matters to hunters. Can you fight? Sure. But do you know your monsters? The terrain? Do you know which pieces to extract and how to preserve them?” I adopt a wounded tone. “Imagine how upset I’d be if I poured hundreds of gold into an expedition only for half the product to be ruined by clumsy hands.”
The hunters mutter unhappily. Someone whispers, “She’s insane.” As he at least tried to go unnoticed, I don’t call him out.
“Licenses for guild leaders will require more. Mainly, proof you are aware of laws pertaining to hunting, the creation or understanding of a functional guild charter to control your subordinates, and proof that you understand your obligations to the city to remain in good standing. The bare minimum for someone that wants to command the fates of dozens of people.
“You don’t need to be able to do everything,” I assure. “There will be licenses for all aspects of hunting, from scouting to butchering. Having these individual licenses will let you understand what people are capable of before a hunt. That means better teams and better cooperation. Better cooperation means better hunts. Better hunts mean better products. Better products mean more money,, for everyone. If you want a future, you will comply.”
I sweep the room with a look sharp enough to skin a monster. “To make things easier, I’m offering classes. Taught by veteran hunters, paid for by the city. Anyone can learn. Bring the wife. Bring the kids. Bring your grandmothers. Learn. Improve. I can rebuild the buildings and roads, but you—” I point at them “—will rebuild the city’s reputation.”
Silence. Heavy, simmering silence. They’re trying—truly trying—to see a future here.
“Questions,” I announce.
A hunter explodes immediately. “Do we get a say in these rules? Or do we just open our mouths and swallow?!”
The room freezes. He freezes. I raise a brow.
“Didn’t I already tell you?” I ask calmly. “The judiciary council will be granted authority over the guilds. They’ll work within my laws, but you will make the rules. You will hold yourselves accountable. Because no one wants history repeating itself—right?”
The reminder of power calms them. Collective tension drops from murderous to merely unhappy.
Marcella speaks, voice cutting through the silent tension. “Will the city be taking over all trade of magical reagents?”
“No. I’m here to get things back on track, not run everything. No one has to sell to the city. I offer fair deals, but I’ll also have to handle the expenses of processing, transporting, hiring alchemists—saints know the costs never end. Sell to me or don’t. These expeditions are opportunities, not chains. And if you want to buy from the city? You’ll get a good price.”
She nods, still looking like she swallowed a thorn.
“Can someone hold a position on more than one council?” she adds.
“No. You wouldn’t want to anyway.”
Not with the tedium I plan on attaching to these vaunted positions, heh.
Maxine speaks next—soft but clear. “Would you consider sending an expedition to Graywatch?”
“Absolutely not. Unless someone guarantees they won’t be robbed or killed in their sleep.”
“You’d be a deterrent,” she tries.
“This can’t depend on me. If the only thing keeping you safe is the threat of me leveling another city, we’re doing something very wrong. Also, people who wrestle sea monsters probably won’t care.”
Rey certainly wouldn’t.
I take a few more questions—mostly predictable, mostly boring—before clapping my hands sharply.
“Thank you for your time. Enjoy the hospitality, but not too long. You all have work to do.”
I stride toward the exit without waiting for their gratitude, navigating hastily delivered bows and awkward steps out of my way. As I pass Butterfly, catching her strange, unreadable gaze, I jerk my head toward the hall.
“Come on,” I tell her. “We’re not done yet.”
I catch traces of their relief as I leave the room. I, no, we’re building something good here. A foundation that can be built into a city even better than what was there before. So long as everyone follows the plan. I’m planning for as many obstacles as I can imagine, but even I can’t save them from the greatest threat looming over the future of New Quest.
Themselves.
