Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World-Chapter 114: Law and Order (Part 12)

"And if something goes wrong—if you’re robbed, threatened, afraid, or just need to report some matter that you think is wrong—come to Station A. You don’t need coin. You don’t need status. You just need to ask. We’ll be there to help. That’s a promise."

The silence that followed was no longer laced with doubt—it was the stillness of people truly listening, caught between cautious hope and the quiet stirrings of belief.

Jareth took a step forward, his voice calm but resolute. "From this day onward, we are the official protectors of this region. If anyone from a gang—like the Iron Shield—tries to extort money from you, don’t stay silent. Come to us. Report it to Station A, and we’ll respond without delay."

He let the weight of those words settle, then continued.

"We won’t just sit behind walls waiting for complaints. We’ll be walking these streets, patrolling the markets, alleyways, and neighborhoods of Iron Hearth. If we see a threat—if we witness extortion, violence, or intimidation—we will act immediately. Not next week. Not after someone dies. Right there and then."

A few heads began to nod. For the first time in years, it felt like someone was drawing a line in the sand.

"Also," Jareth continued, voice steady but more inviting now, "if you’ve done nothing wrong, then you have nothing to fear from us. We’re not here to harass or intimidate—we’re here to protect. So please, don’t be afraid to speak with us. You can approach any of us, anytime. We won’t shoo you away, won’t turn our backs. Think of us as your city watch... or like neighbors who volunteered to stand guard for your safety."

He paused briefly, letting the words settle—before his tone shifted, sharpened.

"However," he added, "unlike the old city watch or any volunteer guards who answer to regional nobles and have little real authority... we do not answer to any lord."

Jareth’s eyes swept over the crowd, his voice lowering, carrying weight.

"By the decree of His Majesty, King Arthur Tesla, we—Officers of the Law—have more authority in matters of justice than any noble in this land. More than a baron. More than a count. Even more than a marquis."

He took a breath, then delivered the next line with conviction.

"If a noble commits a crime—if we catch them in the act or found evidence—we have the authority to arrest, investigate, and if necessary... execute them on the spot."

Gasps broke out like a wave across the square. A vegetable cart vendor nearly dropped her basket. A few people looked at one another in stunned silence, unsure whether they had heard correctly. Was this a joke? A bluff?

But no one laughed.

Because no one dared to joke while invoking "By decree of His Majesty, King Arthur Tesla." That phrase alone was sacred. Which meant Jareth was either mad... or telling the absolute truth.

And if it was true—if what he said was real—then the people of Iron Hearth had just witnessed the birth of something they’d never dared hope for:

Accountability.

Real, untouchable justice.

Some stared at Jareth with awe. Others with wary suspicion. To some, this was salvation. A divine hand finally reaching into the mud to pull them out. But to others... It was terrifying. A new power had emerged—one that could override titles, bloodlines, and generations of rule. And no one yet knew if it would protect them or dominate them.

Sensing the tension, Jareth softened his voice.

"So you don’t need to worry about us being pressured by the lords of this region. We answer to no one but the law. No bribes. No favors. No secret handshakes behind closed doors."

He gestured calmly with both hands, inviting their trust.

"And of course, we only act when there’s proof. If you haven’t committed a crime, then to us, you’re just a citizen. We won’t chase you, we won’t harass you. We’re not here to look down on anyone. "

Jareth smiled, a quiet kind of smile—worn, but honest.

"Don’t let the uniforms intimidate you. We’re not here to rule over you—we’re here to protect you. This entire force exists because of your hard work, your taxes, your belief in building a better kingdom. We were created for the people, not above them. So as long as you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ll have nothing to fear from us."

He paused, his voice steady with conviction.

"That is the will of His Majesty, King Arthur Tesla. And I swear to uphold it—street by street, family by family—until every corner of Iron Hearth feels safe again."

What Jareth said wasn’t just off-the-cuff—it was part of a carefully crafted message, planned and approved by Arthur himself. It was justice, yes... but also strategy. Propaganda, in a sense. Officers were trained not only in law and combat, but also in how to speak to the public, how to answer difficult questions, and how to win trust without a single drop of blood spilled.

At first, Jareth and the other new officers had been surprised to learn there were scripted responses and approved talking points. But they hadn’t questioned it—not out of fear, but belief. They trusted that Arthur’s vision was one worth following, one built on protecting the people and improving the kingdom.

And they weren’t wrong.

Arthur was, in truth, trying to create a safer, more just society. But he also understood something deeper—something that a competent ruler should know. People weren’t always moved by the truth. They were moved by belief, by emotion, by hope. That’s why he made sure every officer reinforced the idea that taxes weren’t just burdens—they were the price of peace. That justice didn’t come from titles or bribes, but from the Crown’s will. That help would come not from the nobility, but from the king himself.

And through those words, Arthur slowly expanded his influence—not over nobles, but over the hearts of the common folk. The ones who made up the spine of the kingdom. The ones who would remember who stood beside them when no one else would.

However, before deploying the Officers of the Law and granting them such sweeping authority, Arthur had already played a subtler game—one of deception, politics, and careful manipulation during his recent meeting with the nobles.

[Note: For those wondering, no—the Chapter about Arthur meeting with the nobles wasn’t skipped; it was simply never written. I briefly mentioned it in a previous Chapter, not sure the exact Chapter, but I know everyone has their own reading style, so I wanted to clarify it again here in case some missed.

Like in most kingdoms, the king is expected to meet with the nobles once or twice a month to discuss matters of state. However, unless something important or plot-relevant happens during those meetings, I won’t be writing every single one. Including routine, uneventful sessions would only slow down the story’s already slow pacing and make it less enjoyable to read.]

In that meeting, Arthur had presented the idea not as a revolutionary law enforcement body, but as a regional extension of the Royal Guard—an elite task force meant to deal with rising gang activity, particularly in Iron Hearth. He emphasized the growing threat posed by groups like the Iron Shield and painted the new force as a necessary measure to protect the lives and property of the people. frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

Arthur was deliberate in his framing: he couched every argument in moral obligation. If any noble voiced opposition, they risked appearing indifferent—or worse, hostile—to the suffering of their own citizens. No one wanted to be the lord who openly objected to public safety, not when Arthur was making it sound like this was a humanitarian mission.

When questioned, Arthur offered only vague details: the force would be called the Law Enforcement Division; it would be structured similarly to the Royal Guard; and, yes, under extreme circumstances, they would have the authority to arrest even nobles—but only under royal command, or if undeniable crimes were committed. That condition soothed many egos in the room.

What Arthur didn’t explain was how much autonomy the officers would truly have. He didn’t mention that they would operate independently, answer directly to him, or that their authority would rival—if not surpass—that of the regional counts and marquises in judicial matters.

In truth, Arthur had already finalized the program and prepared for deployment. The meeting was not a consultation—it was theater. By allowing the nobles to feel involved, to believe they had a say in shaping the policy, Arthur secured passive cooperation. And once the program rolled out, he could point to their silence in that meeting as tacit approval.

After all, it’s much easier to implement sweeping reforms when your enemies think they’ve agreed to them.

Before Jareth could speak further, a sharp, piercing whistle cut through the hum of the marketplace like a blade. It came from the far end of the square, echoing off stone walls and wooden stalls. The sudden sound jolted both vendors and shoppers alike—several heads turned, conversations paused mid-sentence, and a few children instinctively clung to their parents’ sides.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel