High atop the rooftop deck of the Land Crawler Mk.II - Retail Variant, Jasta sat with a posture that defied the filth below. His white silk suit remained impossibly pristine, a red velvet flower pinned to his lapel like a fresh wound. He swirled a cup of freshly brewed black tea, gazing down at the chaos as if he were an aristocrat observing a private garden from a palace balcony. The Visual Dissonance between his elegance and the surrounding rot was absolute.
“Is this the aesthetic of ‘Dumping’?” Jasta murmured to himself, his eyes tracing the surging tide of humanity below.
The plaza had ceased to be a public space; it was now a sea of desperate bodies. Thousands of tattered beggars, dockworkers, and even middle-class citizens had converged on the armored shop, surrounding the steel beast like a starving pack. They waved copper bits, silver coins, and even bartered teeth or animal pelts, their eyes reflecting a feverish, near-manic hunger for the goods behind the glass.
“Keep the line straight! One gap and I start tossing people into the septic tanks!” Brad’s voice, amplified by the external PA system, boomed over the crowd like a heavy-duty percussion drill. He stood at the prow, his massive alloy tower shield planted into the mud like a structural pillar. “Touch the car, lose a hand! Move!”
At the side of the hull, a reinforced ballistic-glass service window had been slid open. Old Gob sat there on a high stool, his broken leg encased in a thick plaster cast. The injury did nothing to dampen his lethality. Radiant with a vengeful energy, the goblin merchant held up a glass tumbler, letting the weak sunlight catch the flawless transparency of the material.
“Look at it, you gutter-rats! And make sure those Guild lapdogs in the corners see it too!” Gob’s voice was a high-frequency rasp of pure spite. “This is a Skyreach Crystal Cup! Zero air bubbles! Zero impurities! A hundred times cleaner than those clay bowls you use to feed your swine!”
He slammed the glass onto the counter. The sharp, musical clink cut through the noise. “The Golden Gear Guild charges five silver for a piece of baked mud, right?”
Gob leaned forward, his grin widening into something predatory. “Today, this is One Silver!”
The crowd erupted. The price point was a kinetic shockwave. One silver was barely enough to buy a loaf of decent black bread.
“I’ll take ten!”
“Give me a crate! I’m smashing every clay pot in my house tonight!”
“It’s a miracle! A literal miracle!”
A rain of copper and silver pelted the counter, creating a constant metallic staccato. Gob cackled, his wrinkled face a map of greed and joy as he hauled crate after crate from the vehicle’s seemingly bottomless cargo hold. It wasn't just glass. Windproof lighters, mint-scented industrial soap, and even small aluminum trinkets forged from scrap were disappearing into the crowd at a rate that defied standard retail logistics. This wasn't just a sale; it was a Saturation Slaughter.
Jasta observed the slaughter while sipping his tea. At the edge of the plaza, he spotted several Guild overseers in yellow surcoats. They stood frozen, their faces pale as they realized their inventory of charcoal and ceramics had just become obsolete. “Nothing in this world is irreplaceable,” Jasta whispered, a cold lesson for the absent Guild masters. “When a superior commodity appears at ten percent of the cost, the old world has nowhere to go but the trash heap.”
The crowd was suddenly shoved aside by brute force. “Clear the way! Guild Enforcement! Official business!”
A squad of armored guards escorted a sweating, frantic figure into the clearing. It was the Vice Chairman of the Golden Gear Guild, a Badger-kin draped in gaudy silks that were currently soaked with oily perspiration. He charged toward the armored truck, pointing a trembling finger at Gob’s nose.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
“Cease this! Immediately!” the Vice Chairman shrieked, his voice cracking. “This is malicious competition! You are destabilizing the Market Equilibrium!” He waved a piece of parchment, spittle flying from his lips. “Under Rust-Water Commercial Law, you have not registered with the Chamber! This is smuggling! Guards, seize this vehicle! Arrest the goblin!”
“Try it.” Brad stepped forward, the weight of his Exoskeleton causing the mud to groan. He slammed the tip of his Buster Sword into the ground, the vibration making the Badger-kin’s fat layers shudder. “This is private property. You want to rob us? You’ll have to go through the Business End of this blade first.”
The Vice Chairman eyed the menacing power-armor and the 30mm barrels on the roof, his courage evaporating. He looked up, spotting Jasta on the balcony. “Mr. Jasta!” he wailed, reaching for a diplomatic lifeline. “You are a man of breeding! A diplomat! You cannot allow this filth to continue! He is driving prices into the dirt! You’re destroying the entire Rust-Water economy!”
“Our potteries will close! Our lumberyards will fail! Thousands will be unemployed!” The Vice Chairman attempted to occupy the moral high ground, tears of frustration in his eyes. “This is a crime! A crime against the city!”
Jasta set his teacup down. He stood and looked down at the badger, his white suit glowing with an agonizing brilliance in the gray smog. “A crime?” He let out a short, melodic laugh and began to descend the ladder with measured grace.
He didn't walk toward the Vice Chairman. Instead, he stepped behind Gob’s counter. In the ensuing silence, the high-born diplomat picked up a glass tumbler from the display and poured a measure of cheap ale into it. He handed the glass to the stunned goblin.
“Well done, partner,” Jasta said softly. He pulled a silk handkerchief and personally wiped a smudge of soot from Gob’s forehead. The crowd gasped. A celestial noble, serving a crippled scrap-rat? The Social Logic of the city was buckling.
Jasta turned to the Vice Chairman, his smile remaining kind while his eyes turned to liquid nitrogen. “Mr. Vice Chairman, you claim we are destroying the economy?” Jasta wagged a finger. “No. We are upgrading it.”
He held up the glass. “Your pottery is crude, brittle, and priced for kings. Your charcoal is toxic, inefficient, and produces more smoke than heat. You have monopolized this market for decades without a single Technical Iteration. You didn't trade; you siphoned.”
“Why will your workers lose their jobs? Because you were too greedy to invest in new tools. Why will your factories fail? Because you manufactured Waste.” Jasta’s voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a terrifying clarity that carried to the back of the plaza. He stepped into the badger’s personal space. “Return to Chairman Pago. Tell him if he is dissatisfied, he should lower his prices and raise his Quality Standards.”
Jasta took a lighter from Gob and flicked it. The blue flame hissed in the Vice Chairman’s face. “If he cannot... then watch as your empire is extinguished by the winds of the new era.”
“Now, get out of my sight.”
The Vice Chairman’s face went bloodless. Under the murderous gaze of thousands of peasants who now saw him as the obstacle to their cheap glass and fire, he turned and fled with his guards in a pathetic, stumbling retreat.
The plaza exploded into a roar. “Long live Skyreach! Long live Old Gob!”
Amidst the cheers, Jasta raised his glass and tapped it against Gob’s cracked clay bowl. “Cheers, Gob,” Jasta whispered, looking at the refracted light dancing on the mud. “Do you hear that? That is the sound of the old world’s Structural Collapse.”
Question of the Day: The Golden Gear Guild is desperate. What is their likely "Illegal" response to the dumping?
(Click to choose)
?? A) Arson: Try to burn the Land Crawlers at night.
Result: Thermal Hazard. Steel doesn't burn easily, but the cargo might. Brad will get to test the anti-personnel steam vents.
?? B) Blackmail: Kidnap someone close to the Skyhaven team.
Result: Personal War. The Guild targets Gob's distant relatives or a local contact. Jasta will have to show his predatory side.
?? C) Poison the Well: Spread rumors that Skyhaven goods are cursed/toxic.
Result: PR War. Use fear of magic to counter the logic of industry. Alex will have to use "The Ella Center" to provide free medical checkups to prove the safety.
Follow and Rate for more industrial madness!