Nyx sat across from the auditor in his study, the tension in the room palpable. The man had finally introduced himself as Zareth a middle-aged, overweight individual with a shaved head and had small glasses perched on his nose. He clutched a clipboard, his eyes scanning the papers before him.

"Mr. Shadowbrook," Zareth began, his voice carrying an air of authority, "based on our assessment of your farm's setup, we estimate your weekly potion production capacity to be between 150 to 275 units." He paused, allowing the information to sink in. "Given the current economic climate, we're implementing a special tax on operations like yours. Your assessment comes to 25,000 gold."

Nyx's eyes narrowed, a mixture of surprise and suspicion flashing across his face. Was this truly a legitimate audit? As if reading his thoughts, Zareth produced an official-looking seal and a stack of documents.

With a slight tremor in his hands, Nyx accepted the paperwork, his eyes quickly scanning the details. The numbers were staggering, far beyond anything he had anticipated.

"Furthermore," Zareth continued, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "you'll be required to sell exclusively to the city from this point forward."

Nyx's head snapped up. "But I have existing contracts," he protested, reaching for a folder on his desk. He pulled out several documents, spreading them before Zareth. "Both within the city and with outside parties."

Zareth's brow furrowed as he examined the contracts. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he declared, "The contracts within the city are now void." He pulled out a large stamp and brought it down heavily on the documents, leaving behind a bright red mark that seemed to mock Nyx's previous agreements.

"As for your external contracts," Zareth continued, barely glancing at the papers, "they will not be renewed upon expiration." He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his protruding belly. "Moving forward, you'll receive 3 gold per potion sold to the city."

Nyx felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath him. This wasn't just an audit it was a complete upheaval of everything he had worked so hard to build.

Nyx's voice trembled with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. "This is impossible! How can anyone sustain a business under such crushing taxes?" His hands shook as he gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles turning white.

Zareth's expression remained impassive, as if he had been expecting this outburst. With a deliberate slowness that only heightened Nyx's frustration, he reached into his satchel and withdrew another document.

"Mr. Shadowbrook," Zareth said, his tone maddeningly calm, "we understand your concerns. The city has prepared for this eventuality." He held out the parchment, its official seal glinting in the lamplight.

Confusion written across his face, Nyx accepted the document. As his eyes scanned its contents, his brow furrowed deeper. It was an official decree, bearing the city's seal, that outlined provisions for the establishment of a school.

Nyx's mind reeled, struggling to connect the dots between this unexpected development and the financial burden that had just been thrust upon him. Before he could formulate a coherent question, Zareth was already rising from his seat, gathering his things.

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In a daze, Nyx found himself walking alongside Zareth and his guards as they made their way out of the farmhouse. The weight of the documents in his hands felt like lead, anchoring him to a reality he was still struggling to comprehend.

As the group reached the edge of his property, Nyx watched in stunned silence as they disappeared down the winding path. The words he wanted to say arguments, rebuttals, pleas all seemed to evaporate in the face of this unprecedented situation.

Standing alone at the boundary of his land, Nyx felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him. In all his years, in all the stories he'd heard, nothing had prepared him for this. The familiar landscape of his farm suddenly felt alien, as if the ground beneath his feet had shifted irrevocably.

As twilight descended on the farm, Nyx gathered his retainers for an urgent meeting. They assembled outside, the crisp autumn air carrying the scent of fallen leaves as Nyx recounted the day's bizarre events the unexpected audit, the exorbitant tax, and the puzzling decree permitting the establishment of a school.

Hoping to tap into their collective wisdom, Nyx opened the floor for discussion. Questions flew thick and fast, some of which Nyx could answer, others leaving him equally perplexed.

Gideon Ironclad, his face etched with concern, asked, "Why not invoke your noble status?"

Nyx sighed, shaking his head. "Our house is minor nobility at best. In truth, my merchant standing carries more weight. Arcanum strictly limits land ownership outside one's territory for nobles like us." He gestured to the surrounding farmland. "Twenty acres is the legal maximum land I can own beyond my family's small holdings. If I could expand further, believe me, I would have."

Bjorn Stormaxe, his red beard quivering with agitation, spoke up. "This doesn't seem aimed at you specifically. I've seen shuttered businesses throughout Arcanum lately."

Torbjorn Rockfist, his ancient eyes gleaming with curiosity, leaned forward. "What whispers have you heard in the Mage Towers, lad?"

All eyes turned to Nyx. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "This stays between us. Word is, the Four Tower Masters were gravely injured in battle beyond Fortress City, in the other realm. The Archmage she is refusing to take action for now."

A ripple of understanding passed through the group, as if the final piece of a complex puzzle had fallen into place.

Thorne Ironheart muttered, "The nobles are capitalizing on the chaos."

"Lining their coffers with gold and resources, no doubt," added Sera Nightwhisper, her sharp eyes narrowing.

Fiona Swiftblade chimed in, "They're testing the Archmage's limits. Trying to provoke a reaction or force a vote."

Suddenly, Lydia Swiftshadow's eyes widened in horror as she examined the school decree. Her face flushed with anger, tears welling in her eyes. "This... this is nothing short of legalized slavery!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with rage and disbelief.

Elara Moonsong, her melodious voice unusually somber, added, "It's as if they're using the ongoing war to consolidate their own power."

The gravity of their words settled over the group like a heavy shroud, the implications of the decree suddenly taking on a far more sinister aspect.

Grimm Shadowsteel, typically quiet, spoke up with a grim expression. "We must tread carefully. This situation is more volatile than we initially thought."

Zara Ironheart, her mind already racing with possibilities, asked, "What are our options, Nyx? How do we navigate this?"

Nyx furrowed his brow, confusion evident in his voice. "I don't understand. How does establishing a school equate to legalized slavery?"

Thorne Ironheart shook his head, a wry smile on his weathered face. "You're still green, lad. Tell me, why did you bring us on as retainers?"

Nyx felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Well, the Adventurers Guild mandates escorts for certain quests, and the Merchant Guild requires you hire there guards for deliveries..." His voice trailed off as realization began to dawn.

Zara Ironheart nodded, her eyes sharp. "Even that auditor seemed disappointed to learn I was a retainer rather than a hired hand."

Gideon Ironclad, his voice grave, began to explain. "Think about it. Workers have contracts, receive wages, pay taxes. Apprentices, too, have agreements and compensation."

"But students?" Lydia Swiftshadow interjected, her voice tight with anger. "They get a free 'education'."

Bjorn Stormaxe chimed in, his tone grim. "Now, imagine if you charge them for lodging, meals, clothing. What about lesson fees? Materials?"

"Before long," Sera Nightwhisper concluded, "These students could find themselves drowning in debt, forced to work off their 'free' education for years, perhaps even a lifetime."

Nyx's mind reeled with the implications. Should he abandon the farm? Return to his family's territory and start anew? Images flashed through his mind: local children practicing with the wooden weapons he'd crafted, his loyal retainers, Magister Eldridge back at the Mage Guild, his siblings still studying in the towers, The beggars on the street.

Torbjorn Rockfist, sensing Nyx's inner turmoil, placed a gnarled hand on his shoulder. "Easy, lad. This is a crossroads, to be sure, but not one you face alone."

Elara Moonsong, her melodious voice tinged with determination, added, "We've faced dire situations before."

Fiona Swiftblade nodded in agreement. "The question isn't whether we should run, but how we can protect those who might fall victim to this scheme."

Grimm Shadowsteel, usually reserved, spoke up. "We have knowledge and experience that could be valuable. Perhaps we can use this decree to our advantage, create a true place of learning rather than a debt trap."

Nyx looked around at his retainers, “If they want me to start a school, I’ll give them a school like no other.”