The Guildmaster's face was grim and his tone serious:
“I believe the overwhelming majority of us know the reason for this meeting. However, a small number might be unaware of it, or lack some parts of the story. As I do not wish to repeat myself, pay close attention:
Yesterday afternoon it was discovered that a few dock workers, whose names and addresses will be provided later” The Scribes’ Guild Master glared a now very pale, young-ish alchemist apprentice who lowered his hand at speeds the world’s best athletes could only dream of “were running a racket in warehouse 14, swapping the high quality grain our brewer associates buy for old, smuggled product and selling it on the black market. Some of that disreputable, filthy rye was sold to a brewer whose identity will not be disclosed, to protect them and their family.”
Murmurs of approval spread through the crowd. Victor did not like where this was going.
“As a result, a single batch of no more than 500 liters was made with some contaminated materials.The tiny, practically undetectable mold which had plagued a few handfuls among tons of grain was of incredible toxicity, such that the trace amounts contained within said batch were enough to render it mildly poisonous.”
Victor made an active effort not to laugh at the blatant falsehood, succeeding after remembering what was going to happen to those labeled traitors.
“The batch arrived to the city a week ago, and yesterday some of the weaker, sicklier drinkers started to show symptoms of poisoning. The masses went insane, never minding the fact that in order to be dangerous, you’d have to drink an inordinate amount of the stuff. Imperial scum decided to ride the wave of anger...”
Victor dozed off, his fear muted by tedium. If he kept listening, he might start to believe their bullshit. All this nonsense was giving him a headache.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“... and that is all we know so far. Any questions? No? Good. I now give place to whom we’ve elected to guide us in this time of strife. I want an applause for the one and only, Tanner’s Guildmaster!”
The crowd cheered. No one better than that old crone to deal with violent affairs.
Victor really did not like his chances. Oh, the brewer would not be punished, and business would not suffer much in the short term. But that was if and only if the Guilds still had the authority of the Lord behind them, something sure to change in the long run.
If the Imperials were to capitalize on the opportunity (and they’d be stupid not to), annexation was a certainty within the next decade.
These people were delusional enough to think they could oppose a fucking empire. They could keep remembering the “good” old days all they wanted - it didn’t make a difference to the rapidly expanding Empire. In fact, it might even be what the Emperor wanted, to keep them from doing anything that might actually empower them.
“I’m fine with that. We are quite horrible.”
The Tyrant was deserving of his name, just not for the reasons the Guilds claimed. Victor knew the life of the average citizen was greatly improved under the Empire. Hells, the fact the Guildmasters were using the term was a recognition of their own weakness. Thirty years ago they wouldn’t have had to consider the rest of the peasantry their equals .
People hated the Lord, and they hated his backers. “Owners would be a more appropriate term” , Victor thought.
They would probably offer no resistance to annexation. After all, what did a farmer care about? Taxation and security. They wanted to eat, and not be killed. The Lord taxed them to starvation, forced them to work his fields during harvest season, and sent troops only if it was worth the investment, generally after the damage was done. The Emperor taxed a lot, which was a whole lot less than the Lord, sent patrols preemptively on a regular basis, and did not force them work anyone else’s fields during harvest season. Because he was not an idiot.
The Guilds thought they were very smart keeping things off the books, while purposefully ignoring that having to show their books to anyone was a very recent development. The citizenry was demanding reform, and the Guilds had to obey.