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Arc 8-120 (Grayskin)
🕑 Added 2025-12-10 10:57:24 +0000 UTCIf Grayskin was a scholarly man, the following discussion would have been quite satisfying; Arthur was exhaustive in his explanations. He glossed over the laws themselves, as they weren’t so different from what pervaded most of the kingdom, choosing to focus on the official positions, their powers, and what it would take to be selected. What he lacked in personality, he made up for threefold with diligence, displaying an impressive understanding despite having limited access to the charter for days.
However, things derailed once the basics were explained; inevitably, ambition intruded on the academic discussion.
“Forgive me for intruding,” a man said without a hint of apology. Three others stood with him, a red cloth tied over their upper arms. “But I feel the need to speak an evident truth you seem intent on avoiding.”
At the head of the room, Arthur frowned. He had been speaking for over an hour in Grayskin’s estimation; it wasn’t backbreaking labor, but the strain made itself known through the sweat on his brow and the slight hoarseness in his tone. He lacked the energy he started the meeting with, evident from the way he didn’t immediately shout the men down; perhaps they’d waited until they thought they’d face the least resistance.
“There is a crucial part of this discussion that we are leaving out.”
“This is not the time for grandstanding—”
“No, this is exactly the time,” the man snapped, voice hard and uncompromising. “This is not about men bettering themselves or fighting over the scraps this noble sees fit to hand us. This is about doing what’s right. About repaying the debt to the dead.”
“Saints’ blessed asses, shut up with that rebellion talk!” a voice roared, quickly echoed by others.
“This is not a rebellion!” the man shouted. “This is about right and wrong. We are not all the same. Most of us are honest men, struggling to rebuild our lives, but some of us are the bastards that brought this tragedy on us. Bastards who have no right to this mercy, slim as it is.” His eyes swept the room with the tightly coiled violence of a shepherd ready to skin the wolf harassing his flock.
“You, hunters. You guild dregs. Are we supposed to ignore the crimes you’ve committed against us? And what of the rebels? They attack us, steal from us, murder us in the shadow of our loss, and we accept them? The lady might not care to distinguish between us, but the CFQ is not so forgiving. For this city to move forward and to avoid the mistakes of the past, we must throw out the trash rotting under our feet! We—”
“Enough.”
The room turned as Grayskin stood. He wasn’t one to join a spectacle, but he could see that the ridiculous man’s words weren’t being laughed off like they should be. The last thing the city needed was another battle, even if it was one of ideas.
“You’ve made your point. I am Grayskin, a former hunter of the Steelskin guild. One of the ones you despise.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “At least you have the courage to face me. So? Is this the part where you threaten us?”
“No. This is where I submit to your judgment.”
The man, and several others, blinked, nonplussed by the submission. It wasn’t just unexpected, it was unnecessary; what could they do to him, despite their grudge? The CFQ’s demand for justice was empty posturing, as the ordinary men had no recourse to demand anything of the hunters.
But that would only aggravate the wound, so to speak. Besides, Grayskin had experience managing raging tempers. The worst thing to do was to fight fire with fire. Temperamental young men, and temperamental older men, raged and roared expecting a fight. Zealots converted through conflict. Grayskin would deny them their stage.
“What…”
“Is that not what you asked for?” Grayskin questioned. “You wish for the hunters and rebels to pay for their crimes. I submit myself to said punishment.”
“Then you should die!”
“Is that a fitting punishment for my crimes?”
“Damn right it is! You’ve ruined hundreds of lives!”
“I was part of the Traditionalists. That means I fought for the city when the Menace attacked and had no part in the terrorizing of the city afterwards.”
“And we’re supposed to take your word for that?”
“I am an honest man, but you do not. What methods would you like to choose to determine the truth?”
Once again, the man was brought up short. Grayskin didn’t give him time to organize his thoughts.
“You want to punish those you deem responsible for the damage to the city. That is an admirable goal. Certainly, if you are interrupting this meeting, it is because you have devised a method with which to determine the guilt of said parties and to punish them according to their crimes?”
The man gritted his teeth. “Your games will not work.”
“This is not a game. If you may demonstrate that you have a way to assess my guilt and deliver punishment, then I will submit to it, here and now. Something that fairly judges both our fault and our contributions. Surely, you do not mean to summarily execute every hunter?”
The man squared his shoulders. “Perhaps we should. Wash the ground clean.”
“Will you kill the hunters that were not in the city?”
The man hesitated. “I might. Your crimes didn’t start when the lady appeared. You bastards have been poisoning this city long before.”
“Then anyone who helped the guilds is guilty?”
“Yes!”
“Then you’ll be killing mothers and children.”
The man gaped at him as murmurs spread through the room.
“Are you mad?”
“The guilds employed mothers as receptionists and inspectors. Children ran messages and apprenticed themselves to guild-sponsored butchers. They helped the guilds. According to you, they have to die now too.”
“Not them, bastard! They had nothing to do with it.”
“Ah. So you’ll only kill the blacksmiths and tailors who armed hunters?”
“No!”
“Then the alchemists who supplied us with potions and bought our kills.”
“No, dammit!”
“Then just the alchemists who made the explosives used to harass you?”
The man who was about to shout another denial paused, the word balancing on the tip of his tongue as he scrambled to parse his thoughts. Grayskin was sure he had a lot to think about. Too much. With every second the silence stretched, he lost more of his momentum, the crowd he meant to rouse directing their irritation at him.
Arthur broke the stalemate, clearing his throat loud enough to draw the room’s attention back to him.
“This is a difficult question. One we could spend a lifetime arguing, truly. Luckily, we don’t have to.” Once more, he raised the city charter, waving the book with muted enthusiasm. “This contains a legal system by which to assign guilt and dispense judgment. A power the CFQ might wield if they find themselves on the judiciary council of New Quest.”
“The hell is a New Quest?” the man sneered.
“The city that will leave you behind if you do not keep up with it. Something I and everyone else here trying to have a productive conversation couldn’t care less about. If you insist on killing Grayskin, please take your crusade outside. However, if you truly seek justice and the right to dispense it, then shall we get back to the discussion?”
Grayskin couldn’t parse what the man was thinking, but one thing was for certain. The fire he’d tried to spark had been doused with no hope of being revived. Wearing a sour expression, the man sat down, crossing his arms like a child denied his way.
Grayskin also retook his seat, nodding to the man at the front as he began his talk.
“That was handled well.”
He didn’t notice the Drowning Rogue slipping into the seat beside him, or what happened to the man who’d been there prior, but he didn’t startle at her sudden whisper. His eyes remained focused forward as he talked.
“The first of many crises.” He didn’t relish a future wrangling bucking stallions, but they all had to do what they must for the future.
“Would you have let them kill you?”
“They don’t dare.”
“That man would bash your head in if he had the strength.”
“He would falter after the first blow.” The man was no rabid dog, content to rip and tear into the first piece of meat that crossed its path. He was a cornered animal, hissing to drive off the predators surrounding it. “What do you think about this judiciary council?”
“I think we need a voice on it if we don’t want to wake up to a mob one day,” she said drolly. “Want the job?”
“No.” He sighed, rolling his shoulders. It was as if he could feel a phantom of the responsibilities that would settle on them. “I’m not the scholarly type. We’ll need to find someone who is.”
“And us?”
“We focus on rebuilding our reputations, both with the people and our new lady.” He turned to her. “What do you think about these sponsored expeditions?”
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Henry Rybolt
Tftc
