May we grow so that the wind no longer rules us.
Pericoft had seen the wind at its worst. He created the town’s first storm alarm, as the winds were supposedly worse in those days. Of course, that was back before they had any real tools for measuring the strength of the wind, so there’s no real way to know.
“We have grown as a city, and the ants no longer need a direct ruler,” you reply. “Be it the wind, or the city government. All they need is guidance.”
“Odd words coming from you,” the priest notes. “If they only need guidance, why do we have a town guard?”
“Sometimes I think we might as well not,” you grumble. “Tonight, we barely have one.”
“And yet, if one of those workers were to produce a block of darkwood, what would you do?”
Well. You’ve certainly heard plenty of critiques of your policy towards darkwood, especially about how you’ve claimed it under the purview of your office. So you’re not without some idea of how to answer this.