You walk closer to the priest, who backs up instinctively.
“The first thing I would do is approach them, like this, and remind them not merely of the illegality of darkwood, but of the dangers it poses,” you reply. “No formal application of authority is necessary at this point. Only a reminder that certain actions have consequences.”
“And if they didn’t back down?” the priest asks, sounding much less sure of himself.
“I’ve faced things much more dangerous than darkwood,” you reply. “I would have no qualms about physically seizing it. It’s necessary to keep them from endangering others.”
“Is that a form of guidance, then?” asks the priest.
“It’s a failure of guidance. Ideally, we would teach the people enough about the dangers of darkwood that they would not take the risk,” you insist. “If they are openly wielding it in full view of city officials, then that is a consequence of our warnings failing to persuade them, and I believe it is our responsibility to fix. The use of actual force would be a last resort. And if a situation is so serious that it requires mobilizing the town guard, then we failed somewhere along the line well before any guard, let alone any officer, makes any actual decisions.”
The priest looks to be considering your words, but still seems tense. Perhaps you overdid it a bit with your performance. You might just be too used to dealing with people who are too ruthless to hold back on at all.
Of course, that’s not to say you don’t have your methods for de-escalating when that approach starts going wrong.