Billy sipped from his flagon of beer as he sat across from Bob in the tavern. By agreement, Lord Alwyn and Baron William were rarely, if ever, in each other's company. It made things much simpler. No one carred about what Billy and Bob did. Alwyn's Fae Glamour made him fade into the background, and Billy was working on a small ability he had bought with Enhancement Points called I just work here. The Hound had noticed that quite a few of the workers in town could easily see through the Baron's skill, and even noticed Lord Alwyn. That seemed appropriate to the Hound. Like Bill and Bob, there was a lot more to these workers than showed on the surface. All of them seemed to like dogs. Lord Hound was pleased with that, accepted their head pats and ear scritches, and kept their secrets to himself

Twitterberry had briefed Billy on the rules a fae lord had to follow. He could talk to Bob about just about anything, and it was just Billy and Bob, two drinking buddies who didn't matter at all in the scheme of things. But anything that the Baron of Gadobhra said to the Summer Lord was binding, and after meeting Billy, Twitterberry had suggested they always talk things out this way first, and then barely speak to each other officially. How ACME employees, especially managers, talked to people had a large chance of sparking wars with the Fae. After the near disaster at the unicorn meadow, each side had taken lessons in dealing with each other.

Today Bob was explaining to Billy an enterprise that would be beneficial to both sides.

"A hunting club? Are we talking about people in formal jackets and funny hats, riding around on pure-bred horses, with dogs chasing little animals through a forest and pretending it's fun?"

"Exactly that! You have taken part in them?" Bob had been worried that explaining hunting to one who was not born to the nobility would be difficult. Billy seemed to know exactly what he was talking about.

Billy remembered one of the few classes on 'Team Building' that he had not skipped out on. They'd done all sorts of stupid things in a virtual world: Hunted foxes, played water polo with seahorses, climbed a giant tree and fell off one by one, toasted wieners around an open fire and then fenced with the sharpened sticks. (Layla had won that event, putting a stick into Vern's eye and killing him. Everyone else gave up.) Billy eventually decided that the theory was if a dozen people did all the stupid stuff together, they bonded in a pact to never again talk about it. What happens in Team Building stays in Team Building.

Bob went on to talk about some of his favorite hunts, describing hundreds of Fae Lords and Ladies dressed in silks and leathers bestride unicorns and horses, while a thousand retainers put up a tent city and prepared feasts for the coming days. Each day a large beast would be hunted to its death, and then cooked and eaten. Less than 10% of the time was spent hunting, and 90% of the event was an expensive party.

"And you want to hold an event like that here? In the Beast Woods? I really like the idea of people paying me to kill things, but we've been hunting pretty hard in the Beast Woods. It needs a good month or long to respawn a lot of the beasts."

Bob shook his head. "No, not the woods, to mundane, we would hunt in the Menagerie, of course. So much more danger! Never knowing what to expect from the hunt and always facing a surprising beast. The first expedition was amazing!"

Rolly, Bob, Twitterberry, Lord Hound, Squirmie, Suzette, and Ben had entered the Dungeon together. Rolly had went first, and came back covered in slime, but declaring it safe. He and Squirmie had killed a nest of giant snails with multi-colored shells that were nesting near the entrance. Squirmie was cracking the shells, and declared the meat to be delicious.

From there, they had explored the ancient zoo. It had seen better days. Huge rusting cages were either broken open, or contained bones or very, very hungry creatures that screamed for release. How they were still alive was a mystery. Rolly said he would deal with releasing them after he had time to get food to them.

Like the Beastwoods, packs of chimera roamed the Menagerie, but these were larger and more aggressive. After dealing with two large packs of them, a larger creature had appeared. The penguin was fifteen feet tall with beautiful silver and black plumage. It also had multi-faceted spider eyes, and six kraken tendrils on each side instead of wings.

Pingo the Ever-Reaching had not gone down easily. The fight had taken a half-hour, and was only won when Lord Hound had bitten the hamstrings behind each leg, causing it to topple over. Bob had insisted on taking the carcass home, and Twitterberry had been forced to deploy a very expensive capture ball to hold the dead creature until Bob could summon a taxidermist. They retreated from the dungeon and had dined on roasted snail, which actually was pretty good. Suzette saved the shells, wondering if they had a use.

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Bob had returned a few days later from his realm in Underhill, very happy with the outcome of the hunt. Pingo had been stuffed and preserved in all its glory. Lord Alwyn had presented the giant creature to the King for his trophy room. Rumors had immediately began circulating on where Lord Alwyn had found such a strange creature. The King had been delighted with the addition to his collection, and Lord Alwyn and his retainers had been moved several tables closer to the head table, with numerous other people moving back. Seating arrangements at feasts were a clear way of showing who was moving up the social ladder and who was moving down.

"When I mentioned that the local Lord might be allowing small teams to hunt on his lands, I had excited nobles sending me messages non-stop. Why, Lord Cyrus Vordinphelt himself came to visit me, bearing gifts. He insisted he simply must be invited to the first hunt."

Billy had only a small grasp of what the Fae were, but it sounded like they had money, and money was something he needed right now. "The event you talked about is a far cry from a rustic camp in the Beast Woods and an unexplored dungeon. Will they still pay?"

Bob's eyes were bright. "Of course, they will. This is a new experience! Brand new. No one but dead mortals knew the place existed and no Fae Lord would stoop to talking to them, so we had no idea at this little gem of a city existed. Fae live a long time, and experience many things. The older ones become quite bored and jaded. A new experience for them is something they will pay quite a lot to attend. "

Billy was liking what he heard. It didn't sound like much work, and was instant cash and possibly a regular event until they all got bored. "What are we talking about here? How does it affect my bottom line? Are we talking flat fee or a seasonal permit? And how much?"

Alwyn looked at Twitterberry. "A bag of gold? That's what I paid for at the last hunt I attended."

The hound barked several times, which sounded strangely like laughter. Twitterberry had been drinking pretty hard that night, and laughed as well. "Well, Bob. You have to remember that you paid the price to "attend", which didn't include the right to even bag a squirrel, and mostly spent the day running around on a horse with a big cow bell, trying to scare the game towards the paying hunters. The Big Boys paid ten times that much to take down a creature of note."

"Now, as The Bar....as Billy points out, this isn't a Fae Realm, and it's an unknown. That will make for some excitement and we'll get people fighting to get in the door. But if you make it too cheap, they'll decide it's not worth it. I'd go higher, charge them ten bags of gold each for the right to hunt for a day, and make them declare that no one will hold the hosts responsible for any deaths, injuries, or losses. That's standard, no one wants a decades long feud because a pony tripped in a gopher hole and some idiot broke his neck. Tell them it's Pay to Play and At Their Own Risk. There's a ton of prestige in being first into a situation like this, so charge through the nose."

Bob nodded. "Your logic is sound, and the Hound's observations are welcome as usual." He turned to Billy. "Expect an offer from Lord Alwyn, the Lord of Summer, to bring half a dozen friends to hunt in your dungeon for a day. Each hunter shall bring no more than two horses and six attendants. Small game may be taken as they will, but each is limited to but one trophy creature. For your kind allowance, we will trade to you the amount of ten bags of gold for each guest hunter. I myself will pay for a beer at this tavern to be given to his excellency as my own fee."

"And how much is a bag of gold? I'd like that variable pinned down." Billy almost choked on his beer as Alwyn replied. "Oh, that is a standard term. Said bags may be any size, but must contain at least 1000 gold coins."

Billy wiped up some spilled beer. "So, the Baron gets 60k in gold for a day’s hunting of the dungeon and taking out 6 of the bosses. Future hunts won't be anything close to that, but I'm fine with the deal. Have your people send it over. But I have to ask, what's in it for Lord Alwyn? Sure, he gets to go hunt, but where does he get his cut."

Bob and Twitterberry got very serious. Bob spoke low, but his voice was serious, and his eyes hard. "He will matter. He will be someone to know. He will not be forgotten when invitations for parties go out. Gold is but one form of wealth, and in the Underhill of the Fae, a lesser one."

Billy understood better now. This was about prestige and clout. Important things, even if he himself preferred gold.

Bob and Billy shook hands, which of course meant nothing at all, as neither was really an important person.