It wasn't long before the trials started, and the guests who had once lorded over the city's poor paid their due. Businesses were shut down or changed hands, food banks and other social work boomed, and the ruthless CEOs found themselves in new suites with lengthy prison sentences. On each day that more were charged, they were made to sit in cages and protest on deaf ears as their former employees trashed the workplace before carrying out bags of money and gems from the bank. By the third round of trials, they started bringing in trucks. There was more wealth than even a dragon could hope for. More wealth than ten dragons could hope for.
Most appallingly, news of more employees kept cropping up. Hidden in warehouses or places off-grid, some blinked from the light when their doors were opened at unusual times, and many of them were children.
"This city has heard of labor laws before, haven't they?" demanded a reporter on TV. The children who escaped their sometimes physical, sometimes metaphorical shackles agreed as much as everyone else that change was needed, and took part in the ongoing trashing.
Oddly, a few weeks into Cecil Richerford's sentence, he disappeared from the prison he was thrown in. No one knew what happened to him, but everyone agreed he probably wouldn't be harming anyone again. Prisoners worked silently, cleaning the floors, staying out places that needed to be stayed out of.
As more of the employees were found, more of Manehatten's unspoken system became brought to light. Light like the future, for the future was bright.