The smoke of conquest still clung to Taygeton when Leonidas walked its narrow streets. Blackened walls leaned heavy over alleys lined with miners, smiths, and their families. Some stared at him with fear, others with dull anger, but all watched. He felt their gaze like spears.
The overlay pulsed in his vision, faint and insistent: [Taygeton Loyalty: 42% – Skeptical. Potential: High.]
This was no simple victory. The walls were his. The forge was his. But the people? They were not yet part of his wall.
Winning the Forge Master
Brontes, the forge master, met him in the central hall, arms crossed like iron bars. "You have the fire, Spartan. But fire is nothing without the hands to tend it. My people will not swing hammers for a master who feeds them lies."
Leonidas answered with no bravado, only steadiness. "I do not want your people as slaves. I want them as partners. The council would strip your ore and starve you. I will guard your forges as I guard my soldiers. Bread in bellies. Water in fields. Protection from raiders. That is my oath."
Brontes studied him, pride warring with pragmatism. Slowly, he inclined his head. "Prove it. Feed us first. If your word holds, our fire will be yours."
The overlay shimmered: [Artisan Loyalty: 42% → 55%. Conditional.]
Feeding the Town
Damon stepped forward, his farmer's hands already sketching in dirt. "These slopes can't hold fields, but terraces will. Give me men and time, and I'll coax grain from this stone."
Leonidas gave the order immediately. Lakonian recruits grumbled at working earth instead of wielding spears, but he reminded them, "A soldier who eats fights. A soldier who starves flees. This is battle, only slower."
By dusk, terraces were mapped, irrigation ditches planned, and seeds promised. The townsfolk began to murmur differently—less fear, more curiosity.
[Food Security Progress: +10%. Recruitment Stability Improved.]
Forging Trust
At the great smelter, Lyra and Phokas took Brontes into their work. She sketched socketed spearheads in the soot while Phokas showed shield rims reinforced with new alloys. Brontes listened, silent, then guided their hands on the anvils, showing tricks his fathers had taught him.
For the first time, Leonidas saw his pride soften—not broken, but bent toward purpose.
[Artisan Synergy: +20%. Forge Productivity Rising.]
Whispers of the Council
That night, the Cohort feasted among slag heaps, but Leonidas's captains gathered grimly around the fire. Theron's scouts had intercepted messages from the mountain trails—Sparta's council already knew of the Forgeheart.
"They'll not sit idle," Theron said. "They'll call it theirs, and they'll demand it back."
Eryx spat into the fire. "Demand, or take?"
The overlay answered for them: [Council Hostility: 91% – Critical. Direct Retaliation Forecast: 12 months.]
Leonidas looked at the fire, the blue coals burning in his mind as much as in the smelter. The wall had grown taller, but walls invited siege.
"Then we prepare," he said. "Iron does not bend. And when they strike, they will find fire biting back."