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Arc 8-114
🕑 Added 2025-11-16 20:47:03 +0000 UTCI force the room to take a break.
Of course, it’s primarily for my benefit; I haven’t done anything but talk, yet these gazes weigh on me like sacks of wet flour. I’m not a shy woman—saints know I revel in attention—but leadership is a burden. It won’t kill me, but it’s not exactly a comfortable mantle to shoulder. A bit itchy. Heavy around the collar. Heh.
But it’s also for my audience—my friends, my subjects. This is a lot to swallow. Both my position and the changes I’m shoving down their throats. I truly believe everything I’m doing will lead to a better future, but whether change is good or bad, people never take it well. Especially sudden change. Saints know I balked when Father uprooted my life, even if it meant attending the most prestigious school in the kingdom.
Everyone puts the break to good use. Drinks disappear. Snacks vanish. More importantly, conversation blooms—and there is a sudden, very understandable spike in interest surrounding the Templetees. My beastly friends were ignored when this meeting began, but now that the locals realize exactly how much influence they’ll wield, everyone is suddenly eager to cozy up to them. It’s almost endearing, the predictability of self-interest.
Still, I can’t let them chatter too long. There’s work to do. Geneva clears her throat, sharp enough to slice through the noise, and the room falls back into order. I retake my place at the front.
“My first priority is the people; there’s no point in a beautiful city if everyone inside it is suffering. Still, glorious cities need management. That brings us to an unfortunately necessary topic: money. As I understand it, the city has a money problem. Merchants aren’t coming, and those with coin aren’t spending it.”
Probably because there’s nothing worth spending it on. Or perhaps they’re waiting to see if the tragedies will keep coming; some stories insist misfortune never travels alone.
Either way, the solution is simple: restore confidence.
“Don’t worry,” I say, lifting my hands in mock reassurance. “I’m not about to do anything crazy like stamping my face on the crown.” I smile as one hunter snorts a laugh—then winces when his neighbor elbows him. Fear is good, but if they can’t laugh when I’m trying to be funny, something’s broken. “There will be changes to city management. By that, I mean there will, for the first time, be management. As I understand it, the previous lord was…hands-off regarding finances. As long as he got his share for the taxman, everything else was apparently optional.”
Leena—surprisingly—turned out to be very helpful while digging through the city’s financial history. The guilds’ stranglehold was apparently several traditions working together, fumbling their original intentions like a pack of drunk wolves.
They collected “donations” from affiliated shops. Despite how awful that sounds, the shop owners weren’t simply being shaken down. In return, hunters belonging to their guild would prioritize buying their wares. They could put in special requests for manabeasts or reagents. The guilds even handled local disputes—valuable, considering the guards were decorative at best.
Like most systems that offer tangible perks, people happily bought into it. The guildmasters grew fat on coin from shopkeepers looking for favors and shortcuts. Naturally, they didn’t appreciate the lord sniffing around their ledgers. Lord Teppin, lacking both spine and honor, turned a blind eye as long as a “reasonable” amount made it into the treasury.
He should have fought the corruption. He did not. Instead of dismantling the guilds’ self-serving scheme, he grew angry he wasn’t getting his share; usually, it’s the nobles getting paid off for this kind of thing. Teppin retaliated by using city funds to buy property and evict citizens loyal to the guilds. Then he kept doing it when the guilds paid extra to weaponize him against their rivals.
He belonged to someone long before my succubus stuffed him in a dress.
“I won’t be doing the managing personally,” I continue. Besides having no desire to do so, I’m certainly not qualified. “Instead, I will be forming a council to make decisions on money flowing in and out of New Quest. That means trade, but also divvying up the funds needed to run the city. They don’t get to spend it, but they set budgets for those who do. And they’ll hold those people accountable.”
I spread my hands wide, letting the weight of my proclamation fall on them. “This is a lot of power. A lot of responsibility. Leaders have struggled with how to delegate these positions for generations. I’m not fond of noble blood serving as a qualification; nobles, in my experience, can’t be trusted with a loaf of bread, let alone city finances. I prefer competence. So: anyone may volunteer for one of the seven positions. Candidates will be tested to ensure they can perform their duties without abusing them. The top seven get the roles. Runner-ups can be assistants, assuming they don’t stomp away in a sulk.”
“Why should you apply? Well, if the authority isn’t enough to sway you, you’ll make a decent salary and have the right to own land in the Central Ring of the city,” I add with a shrug. “But I’m sure everyone will be motivated solely by selfless devotion to humanity.”
Yeah, no. But motivation is motivation.
“While everyone must be qualified, nothing stops an enterprising soul from gathering talented subordinates and tutoring them until they ace the examinations. In fact, I encourage it. Let me be clear: I fully expect you all to claw as many benefits for yourselves as you can. The only rules are: don’t screw over the city and follow the guidelines. If that results in the entire council being one extended family—fine. Earn your place, then use it to better my city. Questions, go.”
Marcella moves like a blade, her voice slicing through the half-formed questions around her. She raises her chin, eyes sharp. “Does holding a position on this council prevent you from conducting business?”
“Nope.”
“Will that not create conflict? Councilmembers evaluating their own enterprises?”
“Oh, I’m sure it will.” I lean forward, smiling sweetly—dangerously. “And then they’ll die. Because no matter how freely I let you run around, this is my city. I’ll be watching. If I don’t like what I see, I remove the problem.”
It probably sounds careless, but it isn’t. No system can prevent corruption. Well—Geneva proposed a few horrifying systems that could, actually. No system I can stomach will prevent it. So instead, I aim to limit it. A succubus will check in every so often and pull out the idiots who think they’re too clever or too lucky to get caught. They’ll suffer. Maybe the next lot will think twice. Maybe it’ll take two generations instead of one before someone gets ideas.
I measure success not in eradicating corruption, but in making it hard to get away with and quick to shut down. Much more achievable.
“Any more questions?”
Surprisingly, Cloud speaks. “The wolf is born to run, not to climb. You say the positions are open to all, but few are taught. It is not a true competition.”
I clap once, sharply, pointing at her. “Exactly. Which is why the initial version will be a provisional council. Permanent positions won’t be filled for five years—long enough to address that concern of yours, which we’ll discuss later. Any other questions specifically about the council? No? Wonderful.”
If I give them too much time to think, they’ll drown themselves in hypotheticals. Pressure is a marvelous antidote to overthinking.
“Then let’s wrap up with one final point. Hunting.”
