Solmere Awakens
Three weeks.
That was all it took.
Solmere transformed.
What had once been a struggling town—
Was now the center of the United Kingdoms.
Caravans lined the roads.
Portals shimmered with constant activity.
Merchants arrived from every allied nation—
Elves.
Rabbitkin.
Canine traders.
Fairy caravans.
Goods flowed freely.
The new transportation system changed everything.
For a modest toll—
Merchants could move goods across vast distances in hours.
No bandits.
No monsters.
No risk.
Only profit.
And Solmere sat at the center of it all.
The New Law
Signs were posted throughout the city.
At the gates.
In the markets.
Along the main roads.
"Slavery is forbidden within the United Kingdoms."
"All individuals are free under U.K. law."
"Those found in possession of slaves will be detained."
"All enslaved persons will be liberated and protected."
Clear.
Unmistakable.
And enforced.
The U.K. didn't punish association.
Not yet.
But they watched.
The spy network had already compiled a list.
Names.
Affiliations.
Connections.
Those tied to the Slave Guild were allowed entry—
But not freedom to act.
Every move observed.
Every interaction noted.
They were guests.
Not trusted.
The Enforcer
He stood above most men.
Seven feet, four inches tall.
Broad.
Massive.
A Minotaur.
But not the raging beast people expected.
Bruce Ironhorn.
Former adventurer.
Now—
Head of Solmere's Enforcement Division.
His presence alone kept order.
Calm.
Measured.
Until it wasn't.
The Incident
"Sir, we've got a situation."
Bruce didn't rush.
He never rushed.
"Where?"
"East market district. Merchant group. Possible violation."
Bruce nodded once.
"Let's go."
The stall wasn't subtle.
Four "workers."
Thin.
Quiet.
Eyes down.
Too quiet.
The merchant smiled as Bruce approached.
"Ah! Officer. Welcome. Just setting up for the festival."
Bruce's gaze shifted.
To the workers.
Then back.
"Who are they?"
"Laborers. Hired help."
Bruce stepped closer.
"Names?"
The merchant hesitated.
"...temporary hires."
Bruce didn't react.
But his men did.
They moved.
Quietly surrounding the group.
Bruce turned—
Suddenly—
And grabbed one of the workers by the arm.
The man flinched.
Too quickly.
Bruce's eyes narrowed.
"You," he said calmly.
"Why did you react like that?"
"I— I didn't—"
Bruce leaned closer.
"What's your wage?"
Silence.
"Where do you sleep?"
Nothing.
"Who keeps your contract?"
The man's breathing quickened.
Bruce released him.
Turned.
"Detain them."
"What?" the merchant snapped. "On what grounds?"
Bruce didn't look at him.
"Suspicion."
"That's absurd—"
Bruce turned slowly.
Now—
There was something else in his eyes.
"You're right," he said.
A pause.
"Let's confirm."
An hour later—
The truth came out.
No wages.
No contracts.
No freedom.
Slaves.
Bruce stood in front of the merchant again.
"You lied."
The merchant tried to recover.
"You misunderstand—"
Bruce stepped forward.
"No."
His voice dropped.
"You misunderstand."
The ground beneath them felt heavier.
"Slavery is forbidden."
The merchant swallowed.
Bruce gestured.
"Take them."
The four were escorted away—
Not in chains—
But in protection.
Transition
They were taken to the converted school.
A place repurposed for integration.
Housing.
Care.
Opportunity.
Bruce stood with them—
Waiting.
Jax arrived.
Bunny beside him.
Bruce spoke simply.
"They're slaves."
Jax's expression hardened.
Bunny's hands clenched.
"We have resources ready?" Bruce asked.
Jax nodded.
"Always."
They returned to the stall.
It was empty.
Gone.
Packed up.
Fled.
The message had spread fast.
The Slave Guild would not operate openly here.
Not this year.
The Watch
But they hadn't left.
Not entirely.
They adapted.
Blended.
Merchants.
Suppliers.
Selling goods produced elsewhere.
Goods harvested—
By unseen hands.
The U.K. couldn't stop all of it.
Not yet.
But they could watch.
And they did.
Every movement.
Every meeting.
Every exchange.
The net tightened.
The Festival Begins to Stir
Night fell over Solmere.
Lanterns lit the streets.
Music began to echo.
The city breathed.
Alive.
Hopeful.
And completely unaware—
Of the eyes watching from within.
High above—
A figure stood on a rooftop.
Not a merchant.
Not a traveler.
A performer.
Or so it seemed.
Painted mask.
Elegant robes.
Watching the streets below.
Watching the Vixens' banners hung across the city.
Watching the people celebrate.
A quiet voice slipped from beneath the mask—
"So this is the city…"
A pause.
"…that dares defy us."
Their fingers traced the edge of a hidden blade.
Then—
Stopped.
"No."
A whisper.
"Not yet."
They stepped back—
And vanished into the crowd.
The Thread Tightens
Somewhere else—
A Tele-Stone flickered.
"Report."
A voice responded.
"Solmere is… thriving."
A pause.
"And Jax Darquebane?"
Another pause.
"…central."
Silence.
Then—
A final command.
"Observe."
"Do not engage."
"Not until the signal."
The festival was coming.
The world was watching.
And beneath the lights—
The game had already begun.