Chapter 9.1 - Quest Board Chaos

The commotion around the quest board had just started to die down when Mira stormed out of the guild hall to the quest board outside—wooden spoon tucked like a dagger into her belt, and a dangerous gleam in her eye.

She slapped a fresh parchment onto the board with enough force to make a rookie adventurer flinch and drop his satchel.

URGENT REQUEST :

One full basket (minimum 20 stalks) of fresh Breezevale basil, ten stalks of wild leeks, two baskets (at least 50 plums total) of ripe Blackthorn plums, and someone brave—or stupid enough—to milk Buttercup the mountain goat (warning: she bites).

Payment: 5 silver per task completed, bonus 3 silver if all items delivered together without bruising.

—Mira, Tavern Queen

Elena peered over Mira’s shoulder, eyebrows raised in appreciation.

"Ooh, that's the spirit!"

Mira didn't even spare her a glance. "If the alchemist can get the town minions to help with procurement, so does the cook."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

A low clanking noise echoed from across the guild, growing steadily louder.

Dorrim Steelbrand appeared, scowling as usual, a stack of iron ingots tucked under one arm and a half-chewed quill behind one ear.

Now it was he turn to stomp up to the board, shoved aside a wolf-tracking notice without ceremony, and hammered up his own posting using a blacksmith's spike as a tack.

FORGE PROCUREMENT ORDERS:

Raw iron ore, per satchel: 2 silver (high quality), 1 silver (questionable quality)

Iron ingots, each: 5 silver (high quality), don’t insult me with questionable ones

I’ll forge weapons if you supply materials. Barter accepted for rare beast parts.

NO chicken.

—Dorrim Steelbrand, Master Smith (semi-retired)

Elena gave a low whistle. "Didn’t think you’d go full quest board magnate."

Dorrim grunted. "You’re not the only one who knows how to run an operation, girl. Just see how fast your potion hunters stop when they realize they can haul ore for better coin."

Mira snorted. "Please. You’re competing against swamp lilies and frog spleens. I’ll have ‘em back before lunch."

Elena just grinned, hands on her hips. "Competition builds character."

Dorrim grunted. “If you’re dragging greenhorns into the wilds for weeds and monster toenails, I might as well get my anvils’ worth.”

Mira crossed her arms beside him. “We’re building the economy.”

“I’m building a stockpile,” Dorrim said.

Elena beamed. “We’re building chaos.”

Arlen peeked out of the windowsill with a steaming mug of tea—the quest board once again crowded, drowning in chaotic commotion.

He let out a long, resigned sigh.

“I should’ve opened a bakery.”