Arcane: TTB: Ch. 160

"Tax collection! Open up!"

The knock echoed through the narrow street in Piltover's merchant district. A local man stood at the front of the group, flanked by four Noxian soldiers in full armor. The locals knew his face, Marcus Wrent, a mid-level clerk who'd worked in the commercial licensing office for years before apparently switching careers.

The homeowner opened the door without suspicion. Piltover's public safety had always been excellent, and seeing a familiar face made it seem legitimate enough.

Then he saw the soldiers behind Wrent and his expression soured.

"What's this about?" he asked, looking between the grinning clerk and the stone-faced Noxians. "Why are we being taxed?"

Wrent's smile didn't waver. He'd prepared for this question.

"Haven't you heard? The Council was concerned about potential aggression from Zaun, so they contracted Noxian forces to provide security. You can't expect soldiers to work for free, right?" He gestured expansively. "Protecting Piltover is every citizen's responsibility. The Council issued a notice, everyone contributes toward the cost of our defense."

He pulled out an official-looking document, complete with the Council seal and multiple signatures. "It's all been approved through proper channels."

The homeowner took the paper. His frown deepened as he read the details.

Twenty percent of personal assets. Not twenty percent of income. Twenty percent of everything he owned.

"This is way too much," he said flatly. "How can they justify this rate?"

Wrent had been ready for this objection too.

"I know it seems steep, but Zaun's gotten aggressive lately." He lowered his voice. "Word is they'd somehow gotten intelligence about the Noxian arrival. Set up an ambush at the docks and attacked our allies the moment they disembarked."

He shook his head sadly. "The Noxian forces drove them back, of course. But the surprise attack caused casualties. And Zaun's proving to be tougher than expected. The Council determined we need additional forces stationed here, and the hiring costs are substantial."

The homeowner was still frowning, clearly not convinced.

Wrent played his trump card and produced another document. This one contained a detailed breakdown of the Council's donations. Every councilor's name, their contribution amounts, all properly signed and sealed.

"The councilors themselves donated half their personal wealth," he said. "For the city's protection. We're getting off light compared to them."

The homeowner studied the document. It looked genuine. The signatures matched the ones he'd seen on other official paperwork over the years.

"Fine," he said finally, his tone making it clear he wasn't happy about it. But what choice did he have? Four armored soldiers were standing right there, and official documentation said this was legitimate.

He went inside and came back with a lockbox and counted out the required amount while Wrent made notes on a receipt form.

This kind of peaceful compliance was actually rare.

Most collection attempts went differently.

---

Three streets over, another door opened to reveal a different homeowner, a woman in her forties who ran a small textile workshop. She took one look at the tax notice and shook her head.

"This is extortion. I'm not paying."

The Noxian soldier at the front of the group didn't say anything. He just planted his boot against her chest and shoved. She went down, the back of her head cracking against her own floor. Before she could even process what had happened, the soldiers were inside. They swept through rooms and grabbed anything that looked valuable.

The whole process took maybe three minutes.

When they were done, one of the soldiers checked his mental tally against the required amount. Close enough. He dropped a stamped receipt on the woman's chest while she was still gasping on the floor, trying to get air back into her lungs.

They left without another word.

---

In a nicer neighborhood, a merchant refused to even open his door. He just shouted through it that he had no intention of paying illegal taxes and they could take it up with his attorney.

The Noxians didn't bother arguing. One of them produced a hand axe and started working on the door frame. The wood splintered.

When they got inside, they found the merchant trying to hide in his study with a decorative sword clutched in shaking hands. He'd probably never used a weapon in his life.

They reinforced their dominance by beating him senseless, then extracted their payment. After stripping the house of everything portable and valuable, they dragged him outside, tore the clothes from his body despite his screaming protests, and tied him naked to a lamppost in full view of his neighbors.

He was left hanging there for hours as a living example of what happened to those who resisted.

---

These methods were standard procedure for dealing with ordinary Piltovans and small business owners. The soldiers had been thoroughly briefed on the rules of engagement.

Emystan had been very clear about the restrictions. No killing civilians or crippling them. And no sexual assault. Any squad that violated those orders would be executed in front of the entire warband. She'd already made an example of one group who'd gotten too enthusiastic, their screaming had echoed through Piltover for most of a day before they finally died.

The message had been received. You could beat people and rob them. But you didn't kill, maim, or rape. Those were the lines Zaun had drawn, and crossing them meant death.

For the nobility, though? Different rules applied.

The wealthy families of Piltover had gotten a simple choice: voluntarily surrender half their assets, or get wiped out and have everything taken.

After three families had been massacred, the rest had gotten the message.

Better to lose half and survive than lose everything including your life.

The compliance had surprised Emystan. Based on past experience, trying to extract this much from noble families would trigger resistance. Secret alliances, assassination attempts, maybe even warfare.

She had prepared countermeasures for exactly that scenario. She planned bribes to fracture the opposition, targeted killings to remove its leaders, and even a scheme to co-opt the three most powerful families by allowing them to share in the plunder.

The performance had been almost comical in its transparency. The nobles' money returned in full, the commoners' wealth split seventy-thirty. On paper, Emystan took seventy percent. In reality, it was reversed.

Many noble families couldn't raise enough cash quickly and were forced to sell off properties and business holdings at distressed prices. She had no interest in that kind of heavy asset, she needed liquid wealth she could move quickly. So all those businesses and properties ended up bought by Clan Ferros, House Medarda, and House Kiramman at fire-sale rates.

What Emystan didn't know was that those three families were just holding everything on behalf of Zaun. The real controlling shareholder was already positioned across the bridge.

---

"Don't you think taking only half is leaving money on the table?" Emystan asked, lounging in what had once been Jayce's laboratory. She'd claimed the space as her own headquarters. "We could probably squeeze more out of them."

Camille stood near the window, watching Piltover's streets below. "I wouldn't recommend it. My intelligence network indicates significant unrest building among the general population. There's talk of protests."

"Protests?" Emystan laughed. "The nobles are too scared to even hire an assassin, but the commoners think they can march around making demands?"

She had been looking forward to an assassination attempt and had even arranged for Katarina to be stationed in Piltover specifically to intercept any such attempt. The woman had been complaining about the boring assignment for days now.

"Not the nobles," Camille clarified. "Ordinary residents."

That made Emystan sit up slightly straighter. She studied Camille's expression, trying to read what the woman wasn't saying.

"Ordinary residents organizing against Noxian authority?" She set down her wine glass. "That's just insurrection. We'll need to respond appropriately."

She wasn't stupid enough to rely solely on Camille's information.

---

"General. We've had incidents during tax collection. One of our soldiers is dead."

For a moment, Emystan just stared at him. Then her wine glass hit the floor.

"Say that again."

"A civilian with a Hextech rifle shot and killed Corporal Rhen during a collection operation in the commercial district."

Silence.

When Emystan finally spoke, her voice was dangerously quiet.

"How does a civilian get a Hextech weapon? Those are under strict control. Even minor nobility can't acquire them legally."

"The man claims he found it. We've interrogated him, including magical verification of truthfulness. His story hasn't changed. He found a Hextech rifle in an alley three days ago."

Emystan stood, pacing to the window where.

"Someone's testing us... Probably one of the noble families. They can't move against us directly, so they're arming civilians to see if we'll break our own rules."

It was a clever play. If she massacred the civilian population in retaliation, Zaun would have grounds to remove her immediately. But if she did nothing, it would signal weakness and invite further resistance.

"What are your orders, General?"

Emystan turned back from the window.

"The man who killed Corporal Rhen. He's still alive?"

"Yes, General. Following your standing orders, we exercised restraint. He wasn't killed or permanently injured during arrest."

"Good." She smiled, and it wasn't pleasant. "Strip him naked. Hang him in the main square. I want guards on him at all times. And the best medical care... keep him alive and conscious. I don't care if it takes expensive healing magic. He stays up there until I say otherwise."

The adjutant nodded. He'd served with Emystan long enough to know this mood.

"And the protests they're planning?"

"Let them happen. In fact, encourage them." Her smile widened. "They want to demonstrate? We'll give them a venue. I'll even watch from a nice vantage point. Maybe invite some of the noble families to join me. They should see what happens when people challenge Noxian authority."

She moved back to her desk, already thinking through logistics.

"Take some of the collected tax money. Distribute bonuses to the troops. Tell them to prepare for intensive work. When these protests happen, I want our response to be educational."

The adjutant understood. "How educational, General?"

"I want those noble families standing next to me to understand exactly what Noxian soldiers mean when we talk about loyalty and discipline. I want them to see what restraint looks like when we choose to exercise it. And I want them to imagine what happens if we ever stop being restrained."

She picked up her wine glass, or would have, if she hadn't broken it earlier. Instead, she just leaned back in her chair.

"We're walking a tightrope here. Zaun wants us to oppress Piltover just enough to make them desperate for rescue. But if we calibrate this correctly..."

She trailed off.

The truth was that she had no intention of becoming anyone's disposable tool. She had spent weeks stashing money in secure locations, positioning death squads throughout Piltover, and setting them on standby to unleash chaos at her signal. She had also reached out to other Noxian commanders, quietly probing whether any of them might be foolish enough to take over the Piltover and Zaun assignment if she could make it look profitable enough.

So far, nobody had bitten. Apparently, the other warlords weren't as stupid as she'd hoped.

Which meant she had to keep playing the game until an opening finally appeared. She would continue bleeding Piltover, keeping the population angry but not quite desperate enough to force Zaun into open action. She had to walk the narrow line between being useful and being disposable for as long as she could manage.

And if that line ever disappeared? Well, that's what the death squads were for. If she was going down, she'd make sure Piltover burned on her way out. Zaun wanted the city intact for their grand unification? Then they'd better keep her alive.

It was a dangerous game. But then, she'd always preferred dangerous games. They were the only ones worth playing.

"Get started on the preparations," she told her adjutant. "If any of the nobles get clever ideas about removing me before the protests, I want our troop ready."

The man saluted and left.