Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World
Chapter 86 86: Iron Hearth (Part 2)

"Iron Shields?" Arthur repeated, his voice thoughtful. "A self-made name, then. How long have they been operating here?"

The vendor gave a hesitant nod, lowering his voice as if the name alone might summon danger.

"They showed up around a month ago. At first, no one took them seriously—just a few men claiming to be part of some 'private security group' offering protection. No uniforms. No banners. Just a name… and weapons."

Arthur's gaze sharpened.

"They demanded coins in exchange for safety. Merchants thought it was a bluff—until carts started going missing at night. Stalls vandalized. One trader found his entire inventory soaked in oil and set ablaze while he was sleeping."

Arthur didn't interrupt. He was letting the man speak freely—every word was another clue.

"Then came the disappearances," the vendor continued. "Nothing major at first. Just a few apprentices vanishing for a day. Then they returned with broken fingers, cracked ribs… too scared to speak. A warning."

Arthur's brow furrowed.

"What of the city watch? The magistrate?"

The vendor hesitated, then chuckled bitterly. "They've done nothing. Either the Iron Shields pay them off or the guards are too afraid to act. The magistrate gives speeches about 'maintaining order,' but order for who? These thugs walk freely during the day, collect at night, and no one dares oppose them."

Arthur's voice lowered. "And the name—'Iron Shields.' Has anyone traced its origin? Any symbols? Emblem? Ties to the nobility?"

The vendor shook his head.

"No known backing. They're not registered under any official mercenary banner. No recognized guild mark. Some say the name is a joke—mocking the real shields who no longer protect us. But there are whispers…"

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. "Go on."

"Some say they aren't just extorting merchants for coins. They're gathering information. Movement of goods. Lists of who's importing what. Which merchant deals in what kind of artifact."

A flicker of realization passed through Arthur's mind.

This wasn't just about money?

"They've been pressing smiths too," the vendor added, lowering his voice even further. "Asking how much ore they bring in, how long it takes to process, who supplies the coal, even which workshops are expanding. That's not something common thugs care about. They act rough and loud, sure—but there's more structure to them than they let on."

He scratched at his jaw nervously, glancing to his left as if expecting someone to be listening.

"But of course, those are just rumors, you know?" he said quickly, as if to shield himself. "Whispers passed around between carts and crates. No one dares say anything with certainty anymore."

Arthur's gaze didn't waver. Every word was more confirmation: this gang wasn't just extracting coin—they were collecting strategic intelligence. That meant organization. Funding. A larger agenda.

Just then, the vendor straightened up, forcing a smile as if trying to shift back into his daily rhythm.

"Anyway, you must be a merchant from another region," he said, eyeing Arthur's clean-cut cloak and polished boots. "You've got that look—the kind of fellow who knows the value of silence and silver. And you're not like the usual highborn types who stroll in here flaunting titles and treating us like dirt. But…"

He glanced at his fruit stand.

"…Are you going to buy anything, good sir? Or just ask questions all days? I've still got mouths to feed."

Arthur gave a soft chuckle, respectful but amused. "You're right. Apologies for keeping you."

He picked up the apple he had inspected earlier and held it up. "I'll take this one."

The vendor sighed inwardly. One apple. After all that talk?

What kind of cursed luck is this? he grumbled internally. Talks my ears off and walks away with a single fruit. Just my luck—every other day it's thugs, now chatty merchant or a noble in disguise.

But before the vendor could say anything else, Arthur reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a silver coin—gleaming under the light—and held it out.

"For the apple," Arthur said simply, "and for the information."

The vendor blinked. His breath caught for a moment.

"S-Silver? This is worth enough for a whole basket of apple…"

Arthur merely smiled. "Then consider the rest payment for your honesty. And your courage."

The vendor took the coin with both hands, eyes wide. His sour mood evaporated like mist in the sun.

"T-Thank you, good sir! Truly, may the spirits bless your steps! And may fortune smile on whatever business you're pursuing!"

Arthur gave a slight nod, turning to walk away.

However, he didn't leave immediately.

Instead, he took his time.

Arthur moved stall to stall—examining goods, exchanging a few polite words, asking harmless questions with a traveler's curiosity. He spoke to a weaver, a blacksmith's wife selling iron nails, a spice merchant whose stall smelled of crushed peppercorn and dried starleaf.

And slowly, the same truth began to take shape.

Each vendor, once gently prompted, gave answers that echoed the fruit seller's tale—fear behind their smiles, frustration veiled under practiced civility. They spoke of "accidental fires," "missing shipments," and "protection fee." The Iron Shields were no longer just extortionists. They were becoming an institution. An invisible hand behind the daily grind of Iron Hearth's commerce.

And worst of all, not a single merchant believed the local authorities would help.

After gathering enough, Arthur stepped away from the heart of the market and toward the alley beside a brick warehouse. He tilted his head slightly and called Ken.

Arthur then went straight to the point.

"Begin a quiet investigation into the Iron Shields," he instructed. "I want a full picture—who they are, where they operate, and more importantly… why the local authority hasn't lifted a finger against them."

Ken's expression didn't change, but a spark flickered in his eyes. "Understood. Should I go through official channels first, or—?"

"No." Arthur's voice was calm, but sharp. "Avoid city officials for now. I don't want them alerted, especially if they're complicit. Work through the scouts, the covert agents from the inner court. Tap into informants if you have to. I want the full web unraveled—from the street thugs to whoever is pulling the strings."

Klein gave a single nod. "I'll immediately inform the trusted spies and information broker we have on Iron Heart."

Arthur nodded, "Good, now it is time for me to meet with the local authorities and those who is in charge of this district"

The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!