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Quentyn: Max! I got a bone to pick with you! I got a whole skeleton of bones to pick!

Rillcreek: That's artifactors for you. They'll spend an hour telling you how a bridge was built...when all you wanted to know was how to cross the river.
Irons: Ahahaha. As opposed to wizards, who'll tell you "Cross on the bridge", but won't tell you where it is.

Kestrel: [thinking] I'm an artifactor. I fix things, that's what I do. But even I knew this wasn't a "fix it" thing. You can't heal loss with words and lectures. Sometimes all you can do is let someone hurt...and hurt along with them.

Lawyer: I'm a solicitor, sir. I'm not paid to speculate beyond the limits of the job at hand.
Gilder: That's the funny thing I've discovered about paying people to think. If they're worth spit, they tend to keep thinking, even when they're not on the clock.

Lawyer: Your Questor made a move that they completely failed to prepare for. Unsurprising. I've found schemers and plotters are rarely able to cope with simple things like honor and courage.

Quentyn: What was that for?! I didn't do anything!
Kestrel: Exactly. And I wish you'd remember that once in a while.

Sam: What?! So I stink, huh? Like I'm supposed to take this from someone who smells like...*sniffs Quentyn*...spring lilacs??

Sam: Do all ten-year-old Racconans build [lightning engines]?
Quentyn: They do when they need extra credit in school.

Quentyn: Hearing the steel in his voice, seeing the savage look on his face... Hearing his men cheer him...
That was the first time that I really understood how my ancestors had been so afraid of "mere" humans.

Duke of Fenwyck: Ah, good. I'd hate to think this rising feeling of panic wasn't thoroughly justified...

Quentyn: Argh. Politics. I hate politics.
Duke: Hah. You think you hate the games of dukes and lords? Try having them as a birthright.

Quentyn: You think I'm just going to jump in willy-nilly, without a plan?
Sam: Aw, naaah. Where would I get THAT impression?...she said to the fuzzball who threw a pie in a Fae Lord's face.

Duke of Fenwyck: I've looked over your "itemized bill", and the restitution you ask for slaying the dragon is...quite reasonable, all things considered. Though you accredit many things you have already received from us—"food and lodging", "transport", the deed to Killdevil Hill—as "payment in advance"?
Quentyn: To pad the receipt, yeah. I figured the other lords would be placated a little if it looked like you were paying through the nose.

Max: And to think my sister thought you and I had nothing in common. You and me, running a scam on the guilds...
Arlen: It's all legal, Uncle...
Max: Dear boy, ain't no one told you those are the best kind?

Max: [seeing field of aluminum berries] Oh, heh...it's that dream again. Been a while since I dreamed about money growing on trees...[does double-take]

Pelinor: Are you actually crazy enough to think that if I tried to charge to the rescue it would make any difference?! That I would even survive?!
Ghost Armor: Are you crazy enough to think that you'll be able to live with yourself if you don't?


"There'll be people who want to turn your position into something empty and ceremonial. There'll be people who want to put you under some fool advisory board, "For Your Own Good." There'll even be some fools who'll try to brush you aside, say you're not needed anymore, the world is too "Civilized." Don't you dare let them. So long as this old world turns, I guarantee heroes like you will be needed. And so long as you're there at your post, the Rac Cona Daimh will know that they can be their own heroes, that they are and will be free."
Quentyn of Ridgedale, First Questor and Founder of Freeman Downs[1]

"You want to know who I am? I'll tell you who I am—I'm Quentyn son of Quinn, the Questor of Freeman Downs. The gnomes call me "Hunter of Shadows." The Gragum call me "Little God-Slayer." The gangs of the Tumbledowns call me Sir, if they know what's good for them. I am one of Oberon's Untouched—kissed by the White Stag and blessed by two ladies of the seleighe court. I have slain a gragum priest-king and three of his followers singlehanded. I have waded through an army of shadow-wights to lay low a rat-king. I have pulled a house down around the ears of not one, but two gangs of thieves. I have slain a swamp kraken and run before the Wild Hunt—and won. And before I leave this duchy I will add a dead dragon to that list. I am a Rac Cona Daimh, and I am nothing to be trifled with. Do you have any other questions, your grace?"
Quentyn son of Quinn, who took the position after decades of nobody wanting it[2]

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