As June arrived, the summer heat grew steadily stronger.
A small meeting was underway in the City Hall meeting room in Minas Tirith.
Tristan stood at the head of a long table. Seated before him were twelve young people, all children of nobles who had recently joined the Pan-Grey Sea Alliance.
"Everyone, please turn to page three, clause seven of the 'Pan-Grey Sea Alliance Draft Agreement on Unified Tariffs and Market Access.'"
The rustle of turning pages filled the room.
"Regarding the 'Detailed Regulations on the Protection and Mobility of Skilled Workers,' City Hall has received a query from the Creek Valley Barony. Sir John, please state your question."
A blond young man stood up. His formal attire was well tailored, but his awkward posture betrayed his nervousness.
"Mr. Tristan, my father believes this clause... grants those craftsmen too much freedom. The agreement stipulates that after one year of service, they may choose whether to stay or leave. But they are my father's subjects. Their skills are the family's property."
Tristan nodded.
"Sir John, two months ago, your father, the Baron of Creek Valley, had four hundred and thirteen recorded cases of blood-cough disease in his territory. Now that number is zero. He exchanged one year of labor from a thousand craftsmen for the survival of his entire territory. This was a transaction, not charity."
He paused briefly, allowing the weight of those words to sink in.
"Secondly, Minas Tirith provides these craftsmen with food, lodging, and medical care, and allows them to participate in the merit points system. The discipline and new techniques they learn here, once brought back to Creek Valley a year from now, will create far more value for your father than they could before they left. Provided, of course, that they are willing to return."