Dungeon Master (Karma System)

Mayor Dalen held the hunting hearing in a room that still smelled of onions.

Mossbank’s meeting hall hosted village meals, winter storage, public votes, contract discussions, and anything else requiring more chairs than the mayor owned. Two long tables had been pushed together beneath the district seal. The Copper Hounds sat on one side. The local hunting cooperative occupied the other.

A gnome clerk stood near the rear wall with the copied map and the map seller’s written statement. She answered questions about where the map was purchased, what the advertisement promised, and whether the seller had been warned. She did not tell Mayor Dalen how to apply Corathian law.

The mayor began with the boundary.

The blue cords were legal claim markers. Their placement matched the district registry. The Copper Hounds had crossed them. The fact that the adventurers did not understand the markers did not make the claim disappear.

The ridgebacks complicated the decision.

The animals attacked near a public road after following a bait trail maintained by Mossbank’s cooperative. The trail was supposed to pull them away from farms. Recent storms shifted part of the herd closer to the road, and the cooperative had not moved the marked route quickly enough.

”You entered claimed ground.” Mayor Dalen told the Copper Hounds. ”You also encountered dangerous animals where travelers had reason to be. Both statements can be true.”

The Copper Hounds’ leader looked toward the tagged plates on the evidence table. ”Do we owe for the animals?”

”No. The cooperative failed to keep its managed herd away from the road. You acted in defense once they charged.”

The local hunters did not like that answer.

The mayor continued before they could object. ”You do not own the carcasses. The seasonal claim includes harvesting rights. You will be paid the district rate for killing a dangerous animal near a public road and reimbursed for the two potions documented by the warden. Mossbank keeps the plates, meat, and remaining materials.”

That answer pleased neither side completely.

It also gave each side something it could defend as fair.

The second adventuring party received no payment. They had not fought the ridgebacks and had entered after the dispute began. Their purchased map did not grant hunting rights.

Mayor Dalen fined the hunting cooperative for failing to move the bait trail and ordered new markers placed along the road. The cooperative would pay for the wood and labor.

Then the mayor addressed the problem that would not disappear with one hearing.

”More visitors will come.” He said. ”The price offered for ridgeback plates has doubled. Closing the hollow to everyone except Mossbank will encourage people to enter without asking. Pretending the new demand does not exist will not protect the herd.”

The cooperative’s leader folded her arms. ”It is our claim.”

”It remains your claim. You will administer outside licenses on behalf of the district.”

The proposal required visitors to purchase a hunting permit in Mossbank. The first permit required a local guide. Later permits could be issued without one after the hunters proved they understood claim markers, protected areas, and the difference between tagged breeding animals and legal targets.

The village would set a weekly limit based on the herd count.

Part of each fee paid the guide and cooperative. Part supported the wardens and roads. The district retained a small portion for disputes and wildlife damage. Materials belonged to the licensed party after the registered share was offered to Mossbank’s workshops at the posted local rate.

No one received unlimited access.

No one outside the village took control of the claim.

The village prepared for the change with its own resources. Carpenters divided one side of the meeting hall into a permit counter and record space. The hunting cooperative moved a weighing frame from its storage shed and painted legal target markings on a board beside the road. Two older hunters who no longer enjoyed chasing ridgebacks volunteered for guide work after learning what visitors were willing to pay.

The work was not free. Mayor Dalen authorized a short loan from the district road fund. Permit revenue would repay it before the remaining shares were distributed. If the licenses failed, Mossbank would still own a counter, a scale, and several signs.

No request for a new building reached Max’s construction menu.

The Copper Hounds purchased the first five permits.

Their leader studied the page before signing. ”We just paid a fine to people who paid a fine.”

Mayor Dalen shook his head. ”Neither payment was a fine against you. The district is paying you for stopping a road threat. The cooperative is paying for creating that threat. Now you are paying for permission to hunt somewhere you came to hunt anyway.”

”It feels more complicated when you say it slowly.”

”That is why we wrote it down. This way you can understand.”

The gnome clerk sent Anna a completed summary after the hearing ended.

It reached her as a Tier One notice.

Max and Anna had spent most of the previous day building the new system. They kept it simple because a complicated warning structure would fail when frightened people needed it.

Tier One covered local or routine matters. A Corathian town handled its own trade complaints. Ketta handled ordinary Deepvein contract penalties. Gnome managers handled missing property, schedule disputes, and attraction closures. The event was recorded. Repeated reports were grouped. Max and Anna received summaries instead of interruptions.

Tier Two covered problems that crossed boundaries or affected dungeon operations. A portal failure, a pattern of visitors ignoring Corathian law, a shortage affecting several Sanctuary districts, or a dispute involving dungeon staff required prompt review. It did not sound every alarm. It reached the people capable of making the relevant decision.

Tier Three meant immediate danger.

An attack on a public entrance, a failing resurrection route, a large fire, an uncontrolled creature in a safe zone, or any direct threat to the dungeon core bypassed summaries and meetings. Gnomes used emergency portals. Anna’s clipboard displayed the report above everything else. Max received it through the dungeon interface even if he was asleep.

The tiers controlled notifications, not importance. A Tier One report could affect someone’s entire life. It remained Tier One if a local authority had the power and information to resolve it. A Tier Three alert did not mean Max personally needed to fight whatever caused it. It meant delay could make the damage worse.

Their first test exposed a problem within an hour.

A gnome at the Skyyard marked a damaged practice vessel as Tier Three because it might crash. The vessel was already sitting empty in a repair cradle.

Anna lowered it to Tier One.

A second clerk marked a delayed caravan as Tier One because delayed wagons were common. The caravan carried medicine toward a Corathian town experiencing an outbreak.

That became Tier Two. The delay was not an immediate disaster, but someone needed to determine whether another route or shipment was required.

The third test involved smoke in a Sanctuary apartment.

It began as Tier Three. Local gnomes confirmed everyone had left the building and contained a cooking fire before it spread. The active alert ended. The damage report and argument over the ruined stove returned as Tier One.

”The same event can change tiers.” Anna said.

”Good. Otherwise every burned dinner remains an emergency forever.”

Max approved the final rules.

The system did not make Corathen answer to Sanctuary clerks. Local officials continued using their own reports, messengers, laws, and emergency signals. The tiers decided when information crossed into dungeon administration.

That distinction mattered when Mossbank issued its first licenses.

The village did not ask Max to approve the fee. It did not send its hunting limit to Anna for permission. The district wildlife officer counted the ridgebacks. The cooperative identified the breeding groups. Mayor Dalen signed the temporary rules.

Max received the result in the evening summary.

”Five permits sold,” Anna read. ”One guide assigned. New road markers will be finished tomorrow. The copied-map seller has refunded twelve customers after three local governments rejected his listings.”

”Any fighting?”

”One argument over who received permit number six. The village only issued five.”

”Tier One.”

”Already resolved. They are taking turns insulting each other at the inn.”

The Copper Hounds’ licensed hunt began the next morning.

Their guide made them stop at every blue cord and explain what it marked. She showed them how to recognize brass tags without standing close enough to be charged. The party’s tracker learned that bent reeds marked bait trails and white stones marked safe firing lanes maintained by the cooperative.

They found an untagged male near the eastern slope.

The guide did not attack it for them. She confirmed the target, warned them about a hidden drop behind the brush, and watched the party work.

The Copper Hounds killed the animal without endangering the breeding herd.

They returned to Mossbank with one complete plate, meat, and several smaller materials. The cooperative purchased its registered share. A local craftsman offered more for the jaw than the Sanctuary merchant had promised. The guide collected her fee and wrote that the party qualified to hunt without supervision on its next permit.

By afternoon, the second party no longer wanted to sneak into the hollow.

They wanted permit number six.

The district refused to issue it until the following week’s count.

The result interested Max more than the argument that caused it. Visitors brought money and pressure into Corathen. Local governments could turn both into roads, work, enforcement, and controlled access without asking the Dungeon Master to spend DP or solve every disagreement.

They would also make mistakes.

”What happens when a mayor is the problem?” Max asked.

Anna had already traced the answer through Corathen’s laws. District inspectors could review licensing decisions that restricted a public road or violated a royal charter. Local courts heard claims involving property or contracts. Larger appeals moved to regional judges. The Crown could remove an official who used public authority for private theft.

”And if the entire structure fails?” Max asked.

”Then it may eventually become our problem,” Anna said. ”The point is not that you never act. The point is that you do not act first merely because you can.”

Max accepted the distinction. He could overrule every official in Corathen through dungeon authority. Doing so whenever someone complained would teach residents that their laws mattered only until a visitor found the Dungeon Master.

The notification tiers gave him a way to see failures without making himself the first court for every disagreement.

When that happened, Corathen contained courts, district offices, and higher authorities capable of reviewing them. Max remained the ruler of the entire dungeon. He did not need to become the mayor of Mossbank too.

[Champion Establishment Period Remaining: 6 Days.]

The countdown appeared while he read the first grouped Tier One report.

Forty-nine ordinary issues had become seven summaries. Two repeated complaints moved to Tier Two. Neither was part of the unknown challenge.

Max closed the report and looked across the Sanctuary office.

Anna had cleared enough of her clipboard to see the wood beneath it.

”Worth it?” He asked.

”Ask me after a week.”

”We might be busy after a week.”

Anna glanced at the colorless number visible only through their dungeon connection.

”Then it was worth doing now.”

The First Challenge could still arrive as an enemy army, a test, or something neither of them had imagined.

Whatever happened, a lost pack would no longer receive the same warning as the end of the world.