The Slave Guild Has Gone Too Far
"I believe the Slave Guild has gone too far."
The words settled heavily over the Transportation District.
For the first time that morning, the steady rhythm of wagons, ledgers, and shouting foremen seemed to fade into the background.
Jax studied Mayor Halvren Thistlefox.
The mayor had come alone.
No aides.
No guards.
No cheerful greeting.
Only urgency.
"How so?" Jax asked.
Halvren swallowed once before answering.
"They've copied you."
Jax frowned.
"...Copied me?"
"They've built their own information network."
The Vixens exchanged puzzled glances.
Halvren continued.
"Pamphlets. Broadsheets. Traveling storytellers. Whisper campaigns in taverns. They've learned that controlling the story is often easier than controlling the battlefield."
Jax's expression darkened.
"They're winning the argument before anyone draws a sword."
The mayor nodded grimly.
"They're trying."
"What story?" Llandra asked.
Halvren hesitated.
"That Solmere is developing weapons of mass destruction."
Silence.
"And that Brannic and Merriweather's forge is being used as a terrorist staging ground."
The temperature seemed to drop.
Jax didn't raise his voice.
He didn't clench his fists.
His blood simply began to boil.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Dangerously.
Slavery remained technically legal inside Solmere.
Politics had forced that compromise.
Buying and selling slaves within the city, however, had been outlawed.
The Slave Guild had never forgiven him for it.
For months they had paraded chained caravans through the outer districts, exploiting loopholes simply to remind everyone they still existed.
Jax had ignored them.
Deliberately.
Picking that fight too early would only unite his enemies.
But this...
This was different.
"They're naming Brannic?" Jax asked.
"And Merriweather."
"They're calling the forge a terrorist operation?"
"They're claiming you're manufacturing weapons capable of destroying entire cities."
Nyxian let out a low whistle.
"That's ambitious."
Jax almost laughed.
In another world, the accusation would have sounded ridiculous.
Here...
It wasn't entirely wrong.
The mayor continued.
"The campaign is spreading throughout the Empire. Nobles are repeating it. Merchants are discussing it openly. By the time anyone questions the truth..."
"...they've already accepted it," Zee finished quietly.
Halvren nodded.
"They've seized the narrative."
Jax folded his arms.
"What comes after propaganda?"
The mayor's expression answered before his words did.
"An army."
"How many?"
"Ten thousand Imperial troops."
Bunny's ears shot upright.
"They're moving through Crescent Canyon. They'll reach Crescent City in three days."
No one spoke.
Ten thousand soldiers wasn't a raid.
It wasn't even an invasion.
It was a statement.
The Empire intended to be seen.
Jax's mind immediately began assembling maps.
Crescent City.
One week from the Imperial capital.
Weeks from Solmere by conventional roads.
Hours...
through the gate.
"If they reach Crescent City," Bunny asked, "can they force the portal open?"
Jax shook his head.
"No."
Everyone looked at him.
"The receiving gate answers to us."
He pointed toward the warehouse.
"We can disable it from this side whenever we choose. No one comes through unless I allow it."
The mayor visibly relaxed.
"I wasn't aware that was possible."
"Very few people are."
Halvren stepped closer.
"They aren't planning to march through immediately."
"No?"
"They're moving into Crescent City first."
"Occupation?"
"Influence."
The mayor's face hardened.
"They're calling it reclaimed Imperial territory."
Llandra's eyes narrowed.
"They still refuse to recognize the United Kingdoms."
"They refuse to recognize anyone who disagrees with them."
Jax looked across the Transportation District.
Workers continued loading wagons.
Clerks continued writing ledgers.
Life continued.
Unaware.
His thoughts accelerated.
Close the gate.
No.
That abandoned Crescent City.
Collapse the dimensional anchor.
Possible.
Too many civilians.
Relocate the exit.
Interesting...
No.
Thousands of soldiers would fall to their deaths.
Most of them had probably never heard of Solmere until a week ago.
The Guild wanted him to overreact.
They wanted him to become the monster they'd already described on paper.
He wasn't going to hand them that victory.
Not yet.
"Thank you," Jax said at last.
"We'll respond."
The mayor searched his face.
"You already have a plan?"
"I have the beginning of one."
Jax extended his hand.
Halvren accepted it.
Jax's perception swept across him one final time.
No deception.
No manipulation.
Only genuine fear.
After the mayor departed, Jax turned toward the city.
"Brannic."
The forge was louder than ever.
Hammers rang.
Bellows roared.
Customers packed every inch of the showroom.
Prices had doubled.
Demand had tripled.
Nothing stayed on the shelves long enough to gather dust.
Merriweather's newest marketing idea had only made matters worse.
A troupe of performers had transformed the front of the forge into a full theatrical production.
One actor leapt onto a crate.
"Make way!"
Another sounded a trumpet.
"The legendary heroes of the Crystal Caves!"
The crowd erupted.
"The conquerors of the Vanguard's unfinished raid!"
More applause.
"And armed by none other than..."
"The House of Imperium!" the audience shouted in practiced unison.
Jax blinked.
Brannic had actually allowed this.
A woman dressed as Merriweather dramatically flourished a replica sword.
"Our heroes survived impossible odds thanks to weapons forged by the greatest smith alive!"
Another trumpet blast.
Jax rubbed his forehead.
"It works," Bunny admitted.
"I hate that it works," Llandra added.
"It really works," Nyxian laughed.
Customers immediately surged toward the display racks.
Jax shook a few hands, smiled through three congratulations, endured two requests for autographs, then leaned toward one of the performers.
"I need Brannic."
"Immediately?"
"Immediately."
The performer nodded.
A dramatic drumroll began.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
The crowd turned.
"The master whose hammer sings!"
More cheering.
"The dwarf the gods themselves envy!"
Jax closed his eyes.
"...Brannic."
The forge-master marched through the doorway wearing an expression suggesting he'd rather fight a dragon than another marketing campaign.
The audience exploded.
Brannic ignored them.
Walked directly to Jax.
Grabbed him by the collar.
Dragged him into the back room.
The door slammed shut.
Silence.
Brannic folded his arms.
"If those lunatics weren't making me obscene amounts of money..."
"...you'd throw them out?"
"I'd throw them through the front window."
Jax smiled.
"I've got bad news."
Brannic's smile disappeared.
"Something else?"
"Ten thousand Imperial troops."
Brannic didn't react.
"Crescent City."
Still nothing.
"They'll arrive in three days."
The dwarf nodded once.
"I know."
Jax's eyes narrowed.
"You know?"
"We've been buried in orders all morning."
He gestured toward the forge beyond the wall.
"Merchants are buying before trade routes close."
"Mercenary companies?"
"Stocking up."
"Adventurers?"
"Every weapon I can make."
Jax exhaled.
"So the rumors are real."
Brannic nodded.
"They're calling it a liberation."
"They're calling me a destabilizing warlord."
"They are."
"I've been called worse."
Brannic grunted.
"Not by ten thousand men carrying banners."
That gave Jax pause.
Brannic continued.
"They're saying Solmere manufactures weapons capable of leveling cities."
Jax almost smiled.
"They're getting carried away."
Brannic looked at him.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
"...Are they?"
Jax didn't answer.
Because the truthful answer was...
No.
Not entirely.
"If they reach Crescent City," Brannic continued, "they'll demand control of the gate."
"And if I refuse?"
"They'll find another road."
Eventually.
"But Crescent City's people will pay the price first."
Silence filled the room.
Brannic watched him think.
"You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one where you're solving six problems at once."
Jax leaned against the workbench.
"I don't want a war."
"No one ever does."
"I won't abandon Crescent City."
"I know."
"I won't slaughter ten thousand soldiers because their officers are corrupt."
"I know."
"I won't let the Guild manipulate me into becoming their villain."
"I know."
Brannic waited.
"So..."
Jax looked up.
"I'm going to negotiate."
The dwarf raised an eyebrow.
"With ten thousand soldiers?"
"Yes."
"And if they refuse?"
Jax's gaze drifted across the forge.
The anvils.
The furnaces.
The scarred workbenches.
For just a moment, he could almost see it again.
Molten steel.
Sparks filling the air.
Brannic's hammer rising and falling.
Peacemaker taking shape beneath it.
"That's why I carry a big stick."
Then Brannic immediately gets it.
Brannic followed his gaze.
He wasn't looking at the forge.
He was remembering what had been born inside it.
A slow grin spread beneath the dwarf's beard.
"Aye."
He jerked a thumb toward the anvil.
"I built that stick."