CHAPTER 65: BULLYING THROUGH TAXES

Estefan stepped into a small diner, its air warm with the smell of fresh bread and roasted coffee.

The place was nearly empty, with only one table already occupied by Commander Frejlurd, who was leisurely working through a hearty breakfast. As soon as Frejlurd noticed the Baron’s arrival, he instinctively pushed his chair back and began to stand.

"Sit down... there’s no need to get up while you’re eating," Estefan said calmly, motioning for him to remain seated. Frejlurd nodded obediently and returned to his meal, though his posture straightened out of respect.

"You’ve done an exceptional job," Estefan began as he took a seat opposite the Commander. "The streets are far safer than they’ve been in a long time."

It was the first day of Autumn, the very day marking the end of the deadline Estefan had set for Frejlurd which was to secure the central region completely and also increase the manpower of the City Guard since they had less than necessary manpower.

The Commander had not only achieved it but exceeded expectations. The central districts were now firmly in the hands of the City Guard, with the troublesome gangs rooted out, order restored, and new Guards enlisted to bolster their ranks.

"My lord, the credit belongs to your guidance and unwavering support," Frejlurd replied, choosing his words with care. The truth was clear as without the Baron’s authority, none of this would have been possible.

"I’m well aware," Estefan replied without false modesty. "And I am genuinely pleased with what’s been accomplished. On my way here, I saw families walking openly along the streets, smiling, chatting, and with no fear of being accosted or harassed."

The central district had always been under nominal government and Guard control, but in reality, countless small gangs festered like weeds.

Instead of addressing these minor threats, the old leadership ignored them, choosing instead to focus on the larger factions without the proper tools to bring them down.

Estefan’s approach was different. He ordered that the weeds be cut away first. Removing them would definitely reduce the footholds of both Zorthar and Lutis in the heart of the City.

Now the central region was not just fully under their control but also it was a complete stronghold from which the Guard could push outward across the City.

The Guard had always maintained posts across the City, but in the region dominated by Zorthar or Lutis, their presence was hollow. Isolated outposts were surrounded and often infiltrated, with many stationed Guards either too few in number or too corrupt to act against the faction’s interests.

Frejlurd set down his coffee cup after draining the last sip. "What will be our next step, my lord?"

Estefan leaned back slightly. "Our next actions must be deliberate. We have the manpower to expand our influence, to strengthen the reach of law and order. But we cannot afford reckless moves. Losing troops unnecessarily would be... inconvenient."

The Commander’s eyes narrowed in thought before he suggested, "We could strike directly at the core of Zorthar and Lutis. If we capture their leaders and force their followers to surrender, the fight could be over quickly."

He didn’t stop there, wanting to make the plan sound more solid. "We have nearly fifty thousand Guards ready and stationed at the fortress. We could split them into two forces, one for each target. With our numbers, we can overwhelm them."

"So... brute force," Estefan mused aloud after listening.

"Yes, exactly," Frejlurd confirmed eagerly. "We have the advantage in numbers, the superior quality of our equipment, and perhaps most importantly, the newfound support of the people. Many would help us however they can."

"And once their leaders are captured?" Estefan asked, his tone unreadable.

"They’d surrender," Frejlurd replied quickly, though his certainty faltered when the Baron’s gaze sharpened.

"Are you certain of that?" Estefan pressed.

Frejlurd hesitated. "...Yes," he answered, though the hesitation betrayed his doubt.

"Well," Estefan began, "your plan has merit. But the cost in casualties would be high and devastating, even. Zorthar employs seasoned mercenaries who won’t go down easily. Lutis has their orphan warriors, fanatics who will fight to their last breath. You’d be sending your men into a storm that will not pass without taking many lives."

The Commander paused to think, then offered, "If we strike before they can regroup, before they can organise a counterattack, we might reduce our losses."

"Perhaps," Estefan conceded, "but do you honestly believe the Guard would escape with minimal casualties?"

"In conflicts like these, casualties are unavoidable," Frejlurd said with a shrug, attempting to sound pragmatic.

Estefan’s voice hardened. "Losing thousands is not a luxury we can afford. Yes, you might lose them but can you replace them? Do you think new recruits will flock to join only to die for you in droves?" Frejlurd hearing this had no immediate answer.

"Never make the mistake of believing people will willingly die for you," Estefan continued. "If you cling to that belief, you’ll be the first to fall when no one comes to your aid. People fight for themselves first, always. They act when there’s something to gain. Right now, they join the Guard to free the City, not to throw their lives away. They expect you to lead, to protect them, to carry the burden and not to hide behind them while they do your fighting."

The Commander understood then that this was more than a tactical lecture, it was a lesson on leadership. A true leader did not hurl followers into senseless slaughter. A true leader walked at the front, clearing the path, inspiring others to follow willingly which was not out of obligation, but out of conviction.

"I see now," Frejlurd said finally, bowing his head in acknowledgment. "My ambition clouded my judgment. I was too eager. I apologise, my lord." He rose from his seat and bowed deeply to the Baron.

"It’s fine," Estefan replied with a faint smile. "Your eagerness comes from wanting to save this City as quickly as possible. I share that desire but I just refuse to rush at the expense of everything else."

Frejlurd eased himself back into his seat, his expression earnest. "Then how exactly should we proceed, my lord?" he asked with genuine humility.

Estefan leaned back, his tone measured. "We can’t afford to rush things, but I have no intention of dragging this out either. The more time we give them, the deeper their roots will grow. Once they’re firmly entrenched, pulling them out will be far more difficult. Our objective is complete eradication, not merely trimming a few branches."

Frejlurd listened intently, his eyes fixed on the Baron. Estefan continued, "Let’s say we follow your original suggestion, strike hard, capture the heads of Zorthar and Lutis. Do you truly believe that would end it all?"

"Absolutely," Frejlurd replied without hesitation. "Those two groups exist because of their leaders. Remove them, and the rest will scatter."

Estefan shook his head slightly. "That outcome could be even worse. Picture it like this where the remnants of their forces turn on each other, while also attacking the City Guard. These are people trained and seasoned under Zorthar and Lutis. If each fragment starts operating like a smaller version of their parent faction, you won’t be dealing with two enemies, instead you’ll be facing dozens of them."

"That’s only one possible outcome," Frejlurd countered.

"Yes," Estefan agreed, "but it’s one we cannot ignore. You can’t assume they’ll simply surrender because their leaders are gone. Every one of them is driven by greed, every one of them wants to be the next ruler. That ambition would spark a bloodbath, and half the city could get dragged into a prolonged conflict."

Frejlurd raised a brow. "Then perhaps we could gather all of them in one place... and eliminate them at once." His tone was half-serious, half-humorous.

Both men chuckled at the thought. "If it were that simple, this city would have been free years ago," Estefan remarked. "Instead, we need to strangle them slowly. Cut off their escape routes, disrupt their logistics, choke their supply lines. Hit their businesses until they realise there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide... and that the only way out for them is death."

Frejlurd nodded, though there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. It was a cruel but effective strategy, robbing men who thrived in chaos of their sense of control and hope. It was far more challenging than a direct assault, but if executed properly, it could collapse the entire foundation of their operations.

"Zorthar earns much of his wealth from gambling," Estefan explained. "That’s a weakness we can exploit. These establishments operate legally, which means they’re subject to taxation. We raise the tax rate, fifty percent of their total profits."

Frejlurd frowned. "That’s steep. But wouldn’t they simply refuse to pay? They’ve barely paid taxes before."

"That’s exactly the point," Estefan replied, his voice sharp. "Their refusal becomes our justification. If they decline to comply, the City Guard can step in under the law’s authority. They either pay up, or they face the consequences. And once we have that legal foothold, we can harass them constantly in the name of not paying taxes..."

[To be Continued]