Arthur brushed a bit of ash off his sleeve and stood up in a fresh, identical field. He reached for his spectral deck and pulled three new cards.
Arthur adjusted his spectacles and looked down at the clip-board. He wasn't a wizard, a knight, or even a particularly brave tavern keep. He was the Regional Manager of the Adventurers Guild, and his current project, was already thirty minutes behind schedule. Fantasy.Town.Regional.Manager.v28.11.2021.rar
Suddenly, the sky turned a deep, bruised purple. The "Threat Meter" at the edge of his vision began to pulse rhythmically. Arthur brushed a bit of ash off his
Arthur checked his watch. It was 2:58 PM. He looked at the town—the beautiful inns, the strategically placed watchtowers, and the adventurers currently looting each other’s pockets. It was a masterpiece of corporate fantasy planning. He wasn't a wizard, a knight, or even
Arthur sighed, marking a checkbox for Guild Conflict . This was the twenty-eighth iteration of this town since November. Every time they built a bustling hub, something went wrong. If it wasn't a dragon, it was a "threat spike" caused by a princess who decided to raise an army of vengeful squirrels because her favorite bakery ran out of scones. He pulled a card from his spectral deck:
"Place it next to the Fighting Pit," Arthur ordered, waving his hand as the building materialized out of thin air. "The brawlers need shiny things to hit or they’ll start eyeing the town hall again."