This Beast Tamer Has So Many Questions

Elias straightened and formally introduced himself.

He gave his name, his credentials, the shape of what he’d come to present—and then, with a small nod, asked his father to summon Floria.

The moment she appeared, drifting into the room in a slow shimmer of green and gold, Maeve’s composure shifted.

It was only for an instant, but Elias caught it clearly: her eyes lit up, sharp and curious, fixing on the queen with an interest that no amount of practiced calm could fully smooth over. It wasn’t awe at Floria’s strength—the queen’s rank, after all, was hardly the loftiest Maeve had ever laid eyes on. It was something simpler and more telling than that. Before she was a head of the Association, before any title or office, Maeve was a breeder first and foremost—and a breeder’s heart never stopped quickening at the sight of a spirit beast it had never seen before. A wholly new species was the one temptation her profession could never quite resist, and her gaze drank Floria in with the unguarded fascination of someone meeting a brand-new page in a book they’d devoted their whole life to reading.

Floria, for her part, regarded Maeve with cool wariness—but held her regal pose all the same, dignified and unbothered, settling onto Damien’s offered arm with the poise of a queen receiving a guest she had not yet decided to trust.

Then Elias began to explain.

He laid it out plainly: Floria was a Lifebloom Bee Queen, the result of an entirely new evolution path he had discovered for the common Amberwing Bee. He described her race, her rank, her potential, her abilities—Life Absorption and Storage, the refining of Life Amplification, the passive nourishment of Verdant Blessing, the healing channel of Symbiotic Bond.

And then he set out the products.

One by one, he placed them on the table: a jar of honey, a block of beeswax, a small quantity of propolis, and a tiny, precious jar of royal jelly. Between his research and the fine detail his Insight talent could read, he could speak to each with confidence.

The honey, he explained, was richer and more nourishing than ordinary Amberwing honey, and carried genuine restorative properties—good for replenishing energy and soothing old wounds. The beeswax was more remarkable still: anything sealed or made with it would have its vitality preserved, kept fresh and potent far longer than nature should allow. The propolis served as a powerful natural antiseptic and purifier, excellent against infection.

And the royal jelly—he set it down with care—was the crown of them all. It significantly accelerated recovery from injury and exhaustion, and, consumed steadily over time, it showed signs of permanently strengthening both the body and the life force of whoever took it.

“These,” Elias said quietly, “are what I value most. More than the queen’s own strength, even.” He met Maeve’s eyes. “Floria is one queen. However powerful she becomes, there is only so much a single beast can do. But her products—these can be made in quantity, again and again, for as long as the hives endure. One queen can help a household. Her honey, her jelly, her wax—those could help millions.”

He slid the full data and records across the table for her to examine.

Maeve went through it quickly at first, then slower, her trained eyes catching on detail after detail. Before she let herself sink into the deeper study, she paused and—courteously, sincerely—asked both Damien and Floria for their consent to examine the queen and her records more closely.

Only once they granted it did she truly begin.

For a good ten minutes she said nothing at all, lost entirely in the data, the products, the impossible reality of the creature before her. When at last she surfaced and gathered her composure back around herself, she looked up at Elias with new and undisguised respect.

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“And so,” she said, “we come to it. Why did you wish to meet me? What is it you want, Breeder Arkwright?”

“I’d like your help,” Elias said, “to make this evolution method public. And to do it anonymously.”

Maeve’s brows rose a fraction.

It was, he knew, an unusual request—because there were three things a breeder could do with a newly discovered creation or evolution method, and most who found something this valuable did not choose the path he was choosing.

The first was to keep it private: the method held close, passed down within a family or used solely by its discoverer and their own breeder shop. This was how the truly powerful secrets were guarded, hoarded jealously across generations. The second was semi-public: other breeders could pay a sum to access the method for research, or a far larger sum to license the right to use it themselves. And the third was fully public—open to anyone, free to access and use, with only a copyright fee owed to the discoverer over the following fifty years.

It was the last that Elias wanted, and the public path carried a particular reward. When a method was released to everyone, the Breeder Association and the government both granted the discoverer a generous sum of Contribution Points, scaled to the value of what they’d shared.

Contribution Points were cousins to the Scholarly Points he’d earned in college, but broader by far in what they could do—and, like a tiered membership, they conferred passive benefits that grew with the total one had accumulated. The more points to one’s name, the greater the standing and the privileges that came with it.

The reasons Elias wanted it made public were, in truth, simple.

His goal had never been wealth or exclusivity. From the very beginning—from the first morning he’d pointed his questions not at the rare and the grand but at the most common, most numerous beasts in the world—his aim had been to help as many people as he possibly could. It would be absurd, now, to turn around and hoard the very knowledge he’d gone looking for precisely because it could reach so many. A Lifebloom Bee in every farm and household, healing honey on every shelf—that was the whole point.

And there was a practical reason, too. He needed help hiding his identity. A discovery of this magnitude would bring a tidal wave of fame and scrutiny crashing down on whoever was named as its source—and for someone with a secret like his talent to protect, that kind of attention would do far more harm than good. Anonymity wasn’t modesty. It was safety.

Maeve agreed readily.

“Consider it done,” she said. “Your name will stay out of it entirely; you have my word, and the Association’s. No one will learn who stands behind this.” Then she smiled. “And in light of what you’ve accomplished, you’ll be very well rewarded for it. The Association does not forget those who give the world something of true value.”

She wasn’t exaggerating. Beyond the generous Contribution Points the public release would earn him, there was the quieter currency of standing—the recognition and goodwill of the Breeder Association itself, the doors that opened and the resources that became available to a breeder it had reason to favor. For someone like Elias, who fully intended one day to open a breeder shop of his own, that kind of standing would be worth a great deal indeed, anonymous or not.

Then came the contract.

Maeve produced the formal documents, explaining as she went. The Association would need some time—first to verify the authenticity of the evolution method, confirming that it truly worked as described and could be reliably reproduced, and then to prepare for the sheer scale of influence its release would bring. A discovery like this couldn’t simply be dropped on the world overnight; the ripples had to be readied for.

They worked through the paperwork together, clause by clause—the terms of anonymity, the copyright arrangement, the verification process, the timeline. It was slow, careful work, and Elias attended to every line of it with the same patience he gave his research.

At last, the final document signed, Maeve set down her pen and regarded him with a thoughtful, knowing look.

“One more question,” she said. “The Contribution Points you’ll be earning from this—and there will be a great many. Though the Lifebloom Bee Queen isn’t especially high in rank, its Life attribute alone guarantees a far larger reward than rank alone would suggest; the world will pay dearly for healing.” She folded her hands. “So tell me, Breeder Arkwright. What is it you intend to do with them all?”

She had read him well. The look in her eyes said she already suspected the answer would not be a small one—that a young man who had done all this was hardly finished, and surely had plans for far more to come.

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