Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Before the Alpheian reforms, Yarzat's legal landscape could only be described as disordered and inconsistent, more an accumulation of tradition and local power than a coherent system of law.

In truth, there was no proper lawbook, no codified standard upon which a judge might base a verdict or determine an appropriate punishment.

The existing body of laws largely consisted of scattered decrees, often issued to address very specific matters, and even those were rarely enforced with uniformity. Punishments were typically harsh, more aimed at setting an example than serving justice.

The administration of justice varied dramatically from village to city. In rural villages, legal matters were overseen by the village head, who acted as judge, arbiter, and enforcer all in one. For minor disputes, this might be enoug, but for graver crimes, the limited means of enforcement meant there were only two options: exile or execution. There was little room for nuance or rehabilitation; a crime that rendered someone unable to coexist with others meant permanent removal, one way or another.

Cities, meanwhile, had dungeons and rudimentary court structures. However, they lacked trained legal officials, at least this was the case before Alpheo's administrative reforms, and in most cases, justice was administered by the local priest, who often held the dual roles of moral and legal authority.

Their verdicts ranged from imprisonment to corporal punishments such as maiming or branding, methods designed more to stigmatize than to reform, especially for repeat offenders.

Understanding that rural traditions were deeply ingrained and that any attempt to legislate village justice would be met with resistance and failure, Alpheo deliberately excluded the countryside from his reforms.

Instead, his efforts focused solely on the urban centers under direct crown authority.

Importantly, these reforms applied only to towns and cities directly under princely control. Alpheo was pragmatic, he knew that attempting to impose these changes on lands held by nobles would be both difficult to enforce and politically provocative, as it was one of the noble's right to enforce and decide on their laws.

So he completely washed his hands from it, avoiding direct confrontation, content instead with reshaping justice where he had full authority.

And so the fibers of the paper crackled faintly as the next sheet revealed itself, thicker, cream-colored, and edged in a crisp line of deep indigo ink, the color of state.

Then, with a voice steadier than before, trained now in the tempo of importance, the speaker began:

"Let it be known, by decree of Her Grace, Princess Jasmine of House Veloni-isha , that as of this day, a comprehensive reformation and standardization of the laws of the realm shall begin."

He batted his eyes as he read forth before the City-Speaker raised his voice

"Written by the Royal hands of His Grace Alpheo, Prince of Yarzat, Defender of the state, Bearer of the Laurel of Soldier's Victory, let it be known to all gathered here, and to all subjects of the Crown, that the following statutes are to be proclaimed and observed henceforth throughout the lands held under the banner of Yarzat."

He paused, unfolding the next sheet, noticing that this was a national decree.

"From the first day of the coming month, it shall be henceforth unlawful for any citizen of Yarzat to own, buy, or sell another citizen of Yarzat as a slave. Let it be clear and without confusion: the enslavement of any Yarzat subject, by any other Yarzat subject, is now and forevermore forbidden by law."

A quiet gasp rippled through the crowd, but the speaker continued.

"Any person found purchasing a slave of Yarzat origin shall have all holdings, lands, and properties seized by the state, without appeal or restitution. Any person found guilty of enslaving or selling a Yarzat citizen shall be sentenced to death by hanging and shall forfeit all wealth and assets to the Crown, which will redistribuited as compensation to the victims."

He drew a breath, letting the weight of the words settle before he turned the page.

"Furthermore, the practice of bondage by debt, whereby one is forced into servitude for the repayment of loans or obligations, is now declared illegal under the same law. Those found guilty of enforcing, perpetuating, or profiting from debt-enslavement shall face the same penalties as above: hanging, and the full requisition of their estate."

He looked up from the parchment, sweeping the square with his eyes before delivering the final clause.

"These laws shall take effect on the first day of the next month, and shall apply in full to all free citizens of Yarzat, wherever they may reside within the Crown's domain."

This was no ordinary news and It rippled through the crowd like a stone cast into a still lake, first a hush, then a swell, then a sudden cheer that rose like a wave. It was a decree that struck chords across the strata of society, rich and poor alike.

Yet it was the poor who cheered.

The truth was simple: few among the gathered throng had ever dreamed of owning a slave, and fewer still would mourn the loss of that right. For the common folk, the law posed no threat to their meager holdings or ambitions. If anything, it brought relief. The real thunder of applause came with the announcement that debt bondage had been outlawed.

That was the chain they all feared.

To them, slavery had never worn gold collars , it came with cold winters, failed harvests, and the crushing weight of loans taken in desperation. A bad year, a sick child, a missed payment... and suddenly, a man might find his son sold, or his daughter carried off in the night.

They cheered not for justice, but for the safety of their homes, for the assurance that their debts would no longer buy their ruin.

But what they did not know, was that behind the law was a memory, personal, bitter, and old.

For Alpheo, this wasn't just a policy. He knew the price of a body on a parchment better than most. He remembered the quiet transaction of his own youth, when winter had sunk its claws into the countryside and his parents had signed him away for three silverii.

He had been part of that silent procession of children led from village gates, bound for unknown cities.He had seen the smooth-talking dealers arriving with their fine coats and greedy smiles, always in winter, always just after the frost had killed the last potatoes in the ground and they had come to see, if anyone had a bard harvest, just before the cold crept in.

Now that he ruled, those same men would find the roads barred and the gallows waiting for them.

As one could easily notice, the prince loathed the concept of slavery.

Still, this was but the first in a series of many new decrees.

As a matter of fact, it wasn't even the most important in the bundle, for the decree that would follow would be that to shake and challenge the foundation of the very society that it rotated around, that of the property of foreigners.

The City-Speaker stared down at the second parchment in his bundle, his brow furrowed , as he prepared himself to deliver the next decree.

He had read it twice already before arriving in the square, thinking it a misprint, or perhaps a joke penned by a court scribe with more wine than sense. But there it was again, stamped in crimson wax with the unmistakable seal of the Crown: a decree concerning foreign land rights.

He cleared his throat, more out of nerves than routine, and waited as the last of the crowd's cheering over the previous law died into idle chatter. Then, lifting the scroll with care, as if it might combust in his hands, he raised his voice to full volume:

"A second decree now follows," he thundered, his tone stiff with formality, "from the office of Her Grace, concerning the leasing of land and the rights of foreigners within the borders of the Princedom of Yarzat."

At those words, heads turned , not just in the crowd, but among the circle of foreign merchants lounging by the fountain. Several had been drawing water or rinsing the dirt from their necks. One, rare but present Azanian trader had just filled a skin when the words hit his ears; he froze mid-motion, hand trembling, water spilling onto his boots.

The idea alone was thunderous. In most of the continent, foreigners were barely tolerated in cities, let alone offered land. To the nobles of many realms, the very thought of letting a foreigner own or work the land was akin to betrayal. The land was sacred, it was identity, power, inheritance.

And now this?

The Speaker inhaled sharply and pressed on, as if hoping that by reading it quickly, the words might sting less:

"Henceforth," he declared, "local and foreign merchants, and officially recognized trading companies whose nations are not in conflict with the Princedom, shall be permitted to lease land directly from the Crown. These leases shall last for at least a term of five years, renewable at each term's end."

There was a sharp intake of breath near the fountain. A round-bellied merchant in a silk vest lowered his cup slowly. Another muttered something in his native tongue.

"But!" the Speaker raised a firm hand, "Let it be made unambiguously clear: any such leased land is not to be worked by slaves. Only free-born or lawfully employed citizens of Yarzat shall labor on it. Violation of this law shall result in immediate revocation of the lease."

The crowd itself, largely composed of common folk, had little to say. This law wasn't for them, of course, most of them were uncomfortable with the idea of letting foreigners own lands, but still it wasn't really their problem, still, many watched with interest.

The Speaker continued, steadier now, his voice tightening into the precision of an edict:

"The renewal of said lease shall be granted automatically, provided the leaseholder has complied with all legal obligations, including tax, tariff, and customs duties, and has not been found guilty of deception, coercion, violence, or conspiracy against the people or the institutions of Yarzat."

He raised the parchment higher, as he sweeped his hand forward:

"Any foreign merchant or company found in breach of these terms shall forfeit all rights to lease land in the future and shall be fined accordingly. In the event of non-payment, imprisonment shall follow, at the discretion of the state judiciary."

A heavy silence descended like a cloak. Then the whispering began, among the merchants, mostly. Confusion. Cautious optimism. And more than anything: surprise. Not unlike the feeling of a thunderstorm arriving in the middle of a clear day.

The Speaker lowered the parchment and looked out over the square, scanning the sea of faces. For a moment, his gaze lingered on the cluster of stunned merchants near the fountain,still frozen in disbelief and he felt a flicker of relief. So it wasn't just him.

He wasn't alone in questioning whether what he'd just read was real.

This law, he knew, would ripple far beyond Yarzat's gates. Few among the gathered masses understood the full weight of what had just been announced. Fewer still would grasp just how much their Prince had labored, debated, and risked to make this decree a reality.

This wasn't merely a new statute, it was a fracture in the bedrock of the old order to welcome the new one.