Zeke was not sure how things had ended up this way, but he wasn’t upset.

  Ever since the war between dungeon cores had started, food demand had been at a premium. That was what had led to the current situation. He and his team were hauling back the body of a fully mature brontosaur for the guild to process. They didn’t just take the meat—every part had value.

  So they were dragging one back to town.

  “I’m glad we only need to hunt one of these a week,” Ryan complained. The bear?kin was the same class as Zeke. “Even with our higher?level physiques, this is heavy.”

  “Even with the casters using magic to negate some of the weight, it’s heavy,” Zeke panted.

  “Even with the custom?built cart,” Hector the gator?man groaned. “At least we’re almost there.”

  It only took them another fifteen minutes to reach the building that had been set up outside of town to process such large creatures.

  “I see you’re all back at it again,” one of the receptionists greeted.

  “Yeah, hunting pays really well, and we don’t need to go as deep into the dungeon,” Zeke replied as he caught his breath.

  “We’re here to fulfill our usual contract,” Alice, the rabbit?kin cryomancer, stated plainly.

  “Oh, no one told you?” the receptionist asked, a hint of concern in her tone. “Certain contracts can’t be filled at the moment. The crown has sworn to match the pay of any contracts that needed to be canceled. So I’ll need you to fill out new paperwork. Two sets, actually—one for the substitution and one for the new crown contract.”

  The mages and party leaders groaned. As the party leaders, paperwork was their duty alone.

  “Can we at least get a conference room to go over it before we fill it out?” Rala, the red?fox pyromancer, asked.

  The receptionist nodded and led them off.

  “What do you think that was about?” Zeke asked.

  “War,” one of the other receptionists replied. “With the Legion taking heavy losses against the Demon Queen, many nations have started pressuring the Empire’s borders. They didn’t even have the good grace to issue a proper declaration of war first.”

  “How do you know that?” Ryan asked.

  “My parents were in one of the evacuated villages,” she sighed. “It was a good call to have the outer villages retreat. My parents live here with me while they adapt.”

  “That sounds rough,” Zeke said quietly.

  “It could be worse,” she replied with another sigh. “You can take that to one of the sheds. The processing team will start on it soon. Freshness matters, after all.”

  Zeke nodded and headed toward the shed where they normally dropped off their catch.

  “How come we haven’t heard about any war?” Hector asked.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Probably because it has nothing to do with us,” Zeke said. “We hunt. There’s always demand for food. Sometimes the recipient changes, but the fact that people need food never does.”

  “I don’t know,” Garren, the coyote?kin Legion sniper, mused. “With how much food this place is providing, everyone might just move here. Food is cheaper at the source.”

  “People won’t abandon legacy,” Zeke countered. “Old cities and territories have history. Pride and tradition can make people do terrible things.”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Be that as it may, this town is about to get much bigger,” Ryan said. “Now that I’ve lived here, where the air is clean and the sun isn’t baking the ground, I don’t know how I survived the barrens before this.”

  “It’s what our kind knew,” Zeke replied. “I don’t think anyone was ready for this dungeon.”

  There was another round of nodding.

  “You boys dropping off more work? And here I thought we’d caught up,” Trelgen, the elven foreman, teased. “I see you got us a big one. And you took my advice—much less damage to the hide this time.”

  “Well, you know how hard it is to teach mages new tricks,” Zeke teased back.

  “Don’t I ever,” Trelgen laughed. “Too bad you sacrificed the heart to preserve the hide, but I guess something had to give.”

  “These really are healthy bastards,” Hector said. “We have to do traumatic damage fast, or they’ll either run or retaliate. They can take hours to bleed out from even lethal wounds.”

  “Not to mention how hard it is to land a decisive blow to the head,” Ryan grumbled.

  “I really don’t want to block another tail strike if I can help it,” Zeke added.

  “I can only imagine,” Trelgen sighed. “We’ll get this processed for you. No need to stay and watch the grisly work.”

  They left the experts to it.

  “Do you think we should learn to process some of the bodies ourselves?” Ryan asked as they walked away.

  “Eh,” Garren said, gesturing. “You can, but it won’t change what we have to drag back. And butchering in the field attracts predators.”

  “And the meat has so much fat before processing,” Zeke added. “Separating fat and meat is messy—and it reeks. Has your family ever boiled fat to make candles?”

  “No,” came the unanimous reply.

  Zeke shuddered. “It smells like the time we accidentally perforated its bowels.”

  “Never mind,” Ryan sighed. “I’m good.”

  “Can you imagine how many candles they can make from that thing?” Hector mused.

  “Probably oils, soap, or balms,” Zeke said.

  “You seem to know a lot about processing animals,” Ryan noted.

  Zeke shrugged. “My family has a few hunters. You pick things up, even if you don’t want to.”

  “So are we going to keep hunting like this?” Hector asked. “If there are fewer contracts, there’ll be more competition.”

  ““I’m sure the demand won’t drop for long,” Zeke said calmly.

  They fell into an easy silence as they made their way back toward the guild proper. The distant sounds of saws, chanting, and heavy machinery carried through the air from the processing sheds, a reminder that even monsters became resources once they were dead.

  Zeke watched a group of apprentices hurry past with clipboards, their expressions caught somewhere between excitement and anxiety. They had the look of people who knew they were living through something important but hadn’t yet figured out whether it would end well for them.

  “You ever think about how strange this all is?” Ryan asked suddenly. “A year ago, I was fighting over dried rations and water rights. Now we’re hauling walking mountains of meat so the kingdom doesn’t starve.”

  “All the time,” Zeke admitted. “But I don’t think strange means bad. Just… different.”

  Garren snorted softly. “Spoken like someone who hasn’t been shot at by three different factions in the same week.”

  “That’s just politics,” Zeke replied. “Food’s simpler. Either you have it, or people get desperate.”

  They passed a notice board crowded with fresh postings. Zeke slowed long enough to skim them. Escort contracts, supply runs, monster culls farther from the dungeon’s influence. More than a few bore the crown’s seal.

  “See?” he said, tapping the board. “They’re already redirecting work. Same danger, different paperwork.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Rala groaned from behind them. “I swear the crown invents new forms just to see if we’ll snap.”

  They continued to chat as they resumed walking. The town itself was changing by the day—new buildings going up, wider streets being marked out, temporary housing slowly becoming permanent. Zeke caught the scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery and felt a quiet sense of satisfaction.

  Whatever wars were brewing beyond the horizon, whatever monsters still lurked in the depths, this place was alive. People were fed. Work was steady. Next week, they would hunt again.

  For now, that was enough.