Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World-Chapter 115: Law and Order (Part 13)

Jareth’s body tensed, instincts kicking in as his hand hovered near the baton clipped to his belt. That whistle wasn’t random—it was a coded signal they had drilled during training. One long burst: possible threat, request for backup. His gaze snapped toward the source, where he caught sight of Mikel across the market square, one arm raised, waving urgently. The other clutched his baton, ready but restrained. Something was wrong.

Jareth didn’t hesitate.

"Clear a path—official business," he called, weaving through the crowd as his boots pounded against the cobblestones. "Officers of the Law—move aside!"

The bustle of the market began to fade behind him, replaced by murmurs, widening eyes, and hurried whispers. Some vendors pulled their children close. Others simply watched in stunned silence. The image of an officer in a sharp, navy-blue uniform moving with such purpose—it was new. And deeply unsettling to some.

By the time Jareth arrived at the intersection, the scene had shifted into full tension. Mikel stood rigid, baton raised defensively. Across from him were two stocky men with thick arms and heavier egos, both wearing sleeveless leather vests and smug expressions. Between them, Renford lay on the ground, groaning softly as he clutched his abdomen.

Jareth’s jaw tightened.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, dropping to one knee beside Renford.

Renford grimaced, voice tight with pain. "I was just putting up the sign like we planned. Told a few folks what we were about. Next thing I know, those two showed up—told me to stop spreading ’false hope’ and called us palace lapdogs. Then one of them clocked me in the gut. Hard. I barely managed to blow the whistle before hitting the ground."

Jareth’s gaze sharpened as he rose, his tone cold and firm. "You attacked an officer. That alone is enough reason for arresting you and punishing you according to the law."

Mikel didn’t lower his baton. "I warned them. Told them to stand down before this got worse."

One of the thugs barked a short, mocking laugh. "Stand down? Who the hell do you think you are, waving that stick around like it means something? This market’s Iron Shield turf. Has been for years. You new boys are just playing dress-up. You want peace? Go kneel to the boss like everyone else."

The second man added, "You lot are nothing but glorified city watch—just with fancier coats. Go back to Eldoria and kiss your king’s boots. You don’t belong here."

The two men, of course, had no idea just how far the authority of these new officers stretched—or how thoroughly they had been trained. To them, this was just another show of force from the capital, a temporary display meant to pacify the public. They assumed these so-called "law enforcers" were no different from the city watch—loud at first, but quick to vanish once the pressure came. Backed by the deep-rooted influence of the Iron Shield and emboldened by years of unchecked power, the thugs believed they could say and do whatever they pleased.

Jareth’s voice dropped into a lower register. "You say this is Iron Shield turf?" He stepped forward, eyes locked on the first thug. "Then you’ve just admitted affiliation with an illegal gang. That’s two crimes: assaulting an officer and declaring ties to a known criminal syndicate."

"I don’t care what you call it," the thug growled. "We’re the only ones who’ve kept this place safe for many years. The people pay us because we protect them. Not because of some royal dream."

"You protect no one," Jareth shot back, stepping directly between Mikel and the thugs. "You extort. You intimidate. And now? You’re done."

Just then, the other two officers in Jareth’s group arrived, weapons drawn and eyes wary. The crowd that had followed from afar now circled at a safe distance, watching with hushed awe.

Mikel didn’t look away as he added, "So... I take it that’s a yes. You’re part of the Iron Shield."

The first thug’s jaw clenched but said nothing.

"By order of His Majesty, King Arthur Tesla," Jareth’s voice rang clear, firm, and without hesitation, "you are under arrest for assaulting an officer, gang affiliation, and threatening public peace. Surrender now, or we will escalate."

The two men froze for a heartbeat—surprised, perhaps, by the authority in Jareth’s tone or the way the other officers flanked him with practiced precision. Though they might not have fully understood the weight behind the words "under arrest," they sensed this wasn’t the usual city watch bluff they were used to.

They’d seen their share of patrolmen—men who barked threats but backed down the moment the name Iron Shield was dropped, especially when the patrolmen were backed by a small noble house since many of the nobles know Iron Shield is not to mess with. But these officers in dark navy-blue uniforms didn’t flinch. No hesitation. No sideways glances. Just cold, calm readiness.

Still, arrogance had been bred into the bones of the Iron Shield. The taller of the two men sneered and spat to the side. "You think that badge gives you power here?"

His partner chuckled and stepped forward, puffing his chest. "Do you even know whose turf this is? Iron Shield owns this place. You think some green recruits and their shiny king’s orders scare us?"

They exchanged a glance, grinning with teeth too sharp, too sure.

"We’ve seen your kind come and go. Talk big. Act brave. Then run home once the coin dries up or a noble snaps his fingers."

Jareth didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out a silver token engraved with the Crown Guard’s crest and the seal of the Law Enforcement Division. Sunlight caught the etching, casting its reflection like a blade across the men’s faces.

"You’re right about one thing," Jareth said quietly. "Others came before. But this time is different."

He stepped forward, his voice steel.

"We don’t serve a noble. We don’t take bribes. We don’t back down. You assaulted an officer under royal decree. And if you resist again, you won’t get a second warning."

Behind him, Mikel and the others gripped their batons tighter, stepping into formation.

The crowd around them had begun to grow—dozens of market-goers now watching in tense silence, eyes flicking between the thugs and the officers. Some whispered. Others held their breath. A child clutched his mother’s skirt.

And for the first time, the Iron Shield men hesitated.

[Mini Challenge Announcement ]Hey everyone! I’ve got some free time tomorrow, so I thought I’d set myself a fun little challenge:

If I receive one massage chair gift, I’ll lock in and drop 4 Chapters tomorrow.

If I receive Luxury car, I’ll push for a full 6 Chapters!

If I receive a castle, I’ll push for a full 10 Chapters!

No promises on the 10 (since each Chapter takes around 1.5 hours to write), but I’ll give it my all and if can’t do 10, I will continues on Monday! Let’s see how far we can go together.

Thanks as always for the support.

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