Administer Punishment

You do not demand an explanation from the two and you give none in return. If they will not fear the Fey, they shall fear the whip. They complain, of course, with some others speaking up in solidarity.

You offer the expected choice, and the chastened backers slink back into the crowd.

The two would-be hunters stand alone, removing their shirts at your command. You have them splashed with seawater by the bucket, telling them to scrub away any dirt. Salt will burn, but the treatment is necessary.

Then comes the whip.

Just five lashes, barely enough to break the skin. But they scream as if you flayed the living soul from their mortal bodies. The others look shocked, pale and afraid. A warning and an admonition. But for now, they fear you enough to survive the Sea of Mists.