Chapter 29: The Manticore Problem
Josh Aratat cleared his throat solemnly, and immediately the great Black Dragon Main Hall fell into a heavy hush. Even the ones clinging to windows and tree branches outside leaned in with wide eyes.
"The population of our region stands at approximately 1.2 million," Josh began, his voice steady and serious, "which is about ten percent compared to the other regions. We have fewer people, but proportionally more land — although our overall landmass is smaller on average."
Heads nodded wisely, even if a few in the back were clearly just copying the others.
"I propose," Josh continued, "that we convert our barren lands into farming lands. We go to every region that we access to, to buy as many seeds and seedlings as we can get, also, those who have seeds should bring them forward. I will personally keep inventory of every seed, ensuring that this project will not collapse midway like the Bridge of Fallen Dreams."
The listeners clapped politely.
"We will also need the help of enchanters, mages, those skilled in forest and wood magic. If you know of any, suggest them. Lastly, regarding this first part —"
Josh took a step forward, his cloak sweeping the polished floor.
"As you know, Cloves City, the entrance to our region, was burned to ash by Amiel Racta and his men, before their defeat. I suggest we begin our farming project there — a land now empty and fertile for rebirth."
He elaborated on agricultural extensions across the twelve cities: food, cloth, leather, and more. When he paused, another ripple of respectful applause filled the hall.
Josh gave a small, gracious nod.
"That concludes the first part of my proposal. I invite your contributions and suggestions."
Lola, moderating for him, pointed toward a skinny, sun-baked farmer who had been waving his hand so frantically one might think he was drowning.
The man stood, clutched his chest dramatically, and bellowed:
"My Lord, Black Dragon! You have been the light at the end of this endless dark tunnel that has been the present war among heirs, and regions. With the absence of a true leader, you really are a breathe of fresh air in this stale environment we call Region 32!"
A few people near him snorted, but he carried on, dead serious.
"My name is Usman from El'dan City! I am the district head for a district in El'dan city. I know two fine forest enchanters who can charm the thorns off a rose, but there is one small — well, big — well, terrifying problem!"
He spread his arms wide like a hawker advertising bad news.
"There's a man-eating manticore sitting right in the center of El'dan, like a royal landlord! Every time we try to pass, he either snacks on a cow or gnaws on a cousin! It has captives of Mages, Elves and enchanters my Lord!"
The hall stirred; a few poorly suppressed laughs trickled out.
"We've lived like rats in our own town, my Lord! Rats, I tell you! We've tried everything — spears, arrows at the manticore, and even angry letters to the emperor to seek help but... nothing works!"
Josh nodded with grave understanding. Usman, encouraged, barreled on.
"If you help us remove that flesh-hungry overgrown cat, not only will we bring the mages, elves and enchanters, we'll even throw in a barrel of pickled turnips as a gift!"
Before Josh could reply, another man practically launched himself up from his chair, waving both hands.
"My Lord! My name is Jamey — Chief Hunter of El'dan District!"
He smacked his chest hard enough to echo.
"My brother Cloeska, a level 4 mage, was captured— captured and imprisoned! — by that beast years ago. We've been begging for help since then, but the Emperor — may his underpants forever itch — ignored us!"
The hall erupted into muffled laughter.
Jamey wasn't done.
"Instead of saving lives, the only thing that rascal Emperor does is chase the Chief Priestess around the temple gardens — with no pants on! Waving his royal baton like he's leading a parade!"
This time, the hall exploded — real, raw laughter that shook the rafters.
Even dignified counselors were wheezing into their sleeves.
One noble fell off his chair with a thud.
Josh sat still, composed, his expression neutral as if nothing chaotic was happening around him, though the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
Lola fought back tears of laughter as she quickly called for order, though she was nearly doubled over herself.
Josh, maintaining perfect seriousness, finally said:
"Thank you for your honesty. We will, of course, investigate and address the situation appropriately."
But even as he spoke, another farmer in the back could be heard whispering loudly:
"Maybe we can throw the Emperor at the manticore. Two problems solved at once!"
The hall nearly collapsed from laughter again.
A farmer union district head rose slightly from his seat, his voice calm and firm, slicing through the leftover giggles like a blade through butter.
"My Lord, We will need to dispatch a team to El'dan to rid the city of this manticore menace," he said. "We cannot allow such a beast to choke the life out of one of our most valuable cities."
The hall broke into thunderous applause again, but before order could fully return, another farmer — an old wiry man with a bald head and a thick bushy moustache — leapt up excitedly.
"My Lord!" he called, waving a hand like he was bidding at an auction. "My name is Pali! I have a brilliant plan for catching the beast!"
Josh, ever patient, inclined his head.
Pali beamed proudly.
"We cover a goat in perfume. Not just any perfume — a sexy goat perfume! You know, the kind that makes beasts go crazy!"
The hall broke into muffled chuckles immediately. Josh blinked once, very slowly, before nodding politely for him to continue.
Pali, undeterred, shouted on:
"We tie this fragrant goat to a tree in the middle of the city square — and when the manticore comes sniffing and drooling, BAM! We drop a giant net on him from above!"
A few farmers clapped like it was the finest military strategy ever devised. Others were already debating what brand of perfume would be most seductive to a flesh-eating monster.
Another woman stood up, her apron still dusted with flour.
"My Lord, if I may —" she said, curtsying and nearly losing her balance. "Instead of a goat, we can dress up my useless husband! That way, if the net fails, no great loss!"
The hall howled with laughter. Even some of the stone-faced guards had to turn their heads away, their shoulders shaking.
Josh remained a picture of grace, only folding his hands neatly behind his back as if presiding over a court of wisdom — not a barnyard of lunatics.
Lola, almost gasping for breath between her giggles, pointed next to a brawny young man with a missing front tooth.
"My Lord!" he bellowed. "What if we soak a steak in honey and hang it from a long stick? The manticore will chase it like a drunk uncle after wedding cake! We can lead it right into a trap!"
Another old farmer croaked from the back:
"Or we can just tell it the Emperor is coming to visit and it will flee in shame!"
The hall collapsed into riotous, chest-clutching laughter. Some men were literally wheezing and sliding off benches.
Through it all, Josh Aratat sat calmly, and fully composed, a slight glint of dry amusement in his eyes.