Chapter 495: The Iron Revolution(1)
Chapter 495: The Iron Revolution(1)
The Dwarf Trio, having received advice from Isaac, did not simply rush back to their homeland of Makina to launch a reckless revolution.
Starting a rebellion without any support would make them nothing more than madmen. Simply dragging Bourgeois V off his throne would not be the end of the revolution.
Thus, they initially organized a new group and conducted peaceful protests. Centered around the Dwarf Trio, the factory workers of Makina began to rally.
The name of the group—the political party—they formed was the "Factory Party." It was a name that perfectly suited the dwarven laborers.
However, unlike the political parties of Earth, they had no symbols or slogans. At that point, they were merely using the name of a party; it was nothing more than a series of demonstrations.
It was closer to a labor union. The dwarven workers held onto a foolish hope, even when Bourgeois V fired arrows to suppress them.
The silver-tongued Geas appealed to them, insisting they needed to put up a stronger resistance, but the dwarves were stubborn—far too stubborn.
"At least he didn't let us go hungry. If we just raise our voices a bit more, it'll be fine."
"Exactly. I don't need money. I just want some rest."
"Surely he wouldn't refuse us even that?"
On the surface, it seemed incredibly foolish, but this was a manifestation of the dwarves' racial traits: a mindset of solving the problem right in front of them without worrying about the distant future.
Furthermore, the dwarves of Makina treated their King as a definitive "Benefactor." He was the leader and mentor who guided them, people who knew nothing but how to craft.
Even when the suppression arrows had been fired previously, they merely thought of it as a lack of communication. They firmly believed he would never truly disregard them.
After all, that was the nature of a master. Even when a disciple presented a brilliant idea, the master might scold them and say it was wrong. They assumed this was just another instance of that.
Of course, the workers who had realized early on that the King was beyond hope had already joined the Factory Party, but many protesters still clung to hope.
"Everyone. Lord Hirt gave us the great gift of nature, yet we are not receiving its blessings. From now on, we shall not resist the King, but ask him with love."
"Give us rest."
"Give us true freedom."
"Give us warmth."
As a dwarven priest preached in a warm voice, the factory workers offered their respective prayers.
Dwarves were beings who worshipped Hirt, rather than Luminous or Mora. For dwarves who crafted countless items from mines and minerals, Hirt’s influence was absolute.
And unlike other gods, Hirt rarely granted divine power directly. While sorcery existed, even that was often portrayed as something bordering on a miracle.
Thus, religion for the dwarves took a form very similar to that on Earth. It was like opium—something that occasionally provided a miracle but could not be relied upon to return every time.
"Let us move forward. So that our voices reach the King. So that our sincerity can be conveyed. Let us move forward, step by step."
At the dwarven priest's signal, the factory workers—the protesters—began to move, one step at a time.
[The fire of the forge flows as sweat, and sweat is our value and our proof.]
[The vigorous sound of hammers hums as a song.]
[Newness is born from my hands. We are building a great mountain with our hands.]
[Let us build together. Let us sing together. Let us dance together.]
They sang the national anthem of Makina, as if to show that, unlike other protesters, they desired true peace.
Originally, the national anthem of Makina was quite cheerful, imbued with the unique playfulness of dwarves. Since it was composed for dwarves working in forges, it was closer to a work song.
However, the song the protesters sang as they marched was solemn beyond measure. The playfulness had vanished without a trace, replaced by a tone that seemed to be desperately clutching at hope.
It was a situation that revealed just how exhausted the usually witty and energetic dwarves had become. They moved their short legs diligently, heading toward the royal palace.
Along the way, factory workers moved by the procession began to join in bit by bit. It wasn't just the laborers; dwarves from related fields joined as well.
The workers, exhausted to their limits, didn't need a revolution; they needed peace. They had run without rest for three hundred years; it was time to stop.
By the time the sea of dwarven workers arrived in front of the palace, they stood there quietly singing the national anthem, waiting for the King to appear.
It was a scene of them earnestly displaying their patriotism, loyalty, and hope toward their King.
But one hour passed, then two, then three, and still, the King did not show himself.
The dwarven workers, with their characteristic stubbornness, sang the anthem at the top of their lungs, waiting for the King with bated breath.
Finally, after about four hours had passed...
Creeeeeak—
"Oh? The—the gates are opening!"
"The King is finally...!"
"O King! Please, give us hope!"
The palace gates, which had shown no sign of budging, finally began to open. The dwarven workers stopped singing and waited for the King to emerge.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
But something was wrong. Instead of the King appearing, a completely unexpected group came into view.
The army. The military that was supposed to protect the nation began to march out of the palace in perfect order.
The dwarven priest standing at the front of the procession was bewildered, but he soon tried to understand.
The King wouldn't come out alone. It was only natural for the army that protected him to accompany him.
[The fire of the forge flows as sweat, and sweat is our value and our proof.]
[The vigorous sound of hammers hums as a song.]
[Newness is born from my hands. We are building a great mountain with our hands.]
[Let us build together. Let us sing together. Let us dance together.]
The other dwarven workers seemed to have the same thought, raising their voices even louder as they sang the anthem. It was loud enough to be heard throughout the plaza and even inside the palace.
Now, if only the King would come out and comfort his weary workers...
"All units—!!"
If only he would talk to them...
"Aim at the rebels!"
Everything would be...
"Fire!!"
Why, O King?
"Aaaaaagh!"
"O—O King! Wh—why!"
Why so mercilessly?
"Load the cannons!"
"Fire!"
BOOM!!
Why must you trample our hopes?
"O King! We have no power! Why!!"
"H—help me! Aaaagh!"
"N—no. This can't be happening. Why would the King... to us, who have no strength... no matter how much we protested..."
Under the rain of arrows and the barrage of cannonballs pouring over their heads, the protesters began to flee without looking back.
A tragedy where the bows and cannons of the army, meant to protect the people, were turned against them. A massacre that should never have happened.
The dwarven priest who had led the protesters stared blankly at the surrounding chaos. He felt the illusion that time was slowing down.
Dwarves falling with arrows in their backs, and people being blown to pieces by direct hits from cannonballs.
Some sat on the ground as if unable to believe it, while young dwarves began to cry in terror.
Finally, a mother huddled over her newborn baby to protect it. Several arrows were already lodged in her back.
Was this right? How could the mentor, who was supposed to guide the disciple, trample them underfoot?
"Ah..."
No.
"Aaaah..."
He had been mistaken. The King had never thought of his people as disciples to be led.
They were just convenient pawns. Slaves who made things. Slaves who brought him money.
A pig who was busy mocking those who held hope, caring only for his own interests.
The dwarven priest clenched his fists, trembling violently. An uncontrollable fire of rage filled his chest.
He glared at the army firing indiscriminately and screamed, his heart feeling as if his very soul were being torn apart.
"There is no King anymore!"
Eins and the trio were right. The King had no intention of loving his people.
"O Hirt! Bring divine punishment upon them! Give them the most terrible death...!"
Thwack!
The priest could not finish his sentence. An arrow had lodged itself deep inside his mouth.
Thud! Thwack! Thud!
Arrows began to strike him in succession. The dwarven priest staggered back before collapsing.
In his fading consciousness, the last thing the dwarven priest heard was...
"Exterminate the rioters!"
The roar of the commander labeling them as rioters.
Boom! Boom!
"Aaaaaagh!"
"Agh! My leg! My leg!"
"H—help me...! Anyone...!"
The sound of cannons firing, and the desperate screams of the dwarven workers.
*
The fantasy world's version of the Bloody Sunday Incident spread not only through Makina but across the entire world.
An unbelievable event where the blades and spears of a nation's own army were turned against its people.
Though various wars had broken out since the Race War and a revolution had even occurred in the Ters Kingdom, this shock was equal to, if not greater than, those events.
Even in the Jayros Revolution that took place in the Ters Kingdom, the army's weapons were never turned against the people.
On the contrary, the army had lowered its weapons and joined the revolution, making it a very clean and smooth process.
Although the revolution itself ended in failure and Jayros, the leader and martyr, was executed, it led to the emergence of the Commoners' Assembly and the fantasy version of the Bill of Rights.
It was a situation that could be called a success in all but name. However, Makina had brought about a response far worse—perhaps even more horrific.
[How can the weapons of an army meant to protect the people be turned against them?]
[Makina has effectively entered a civil war. A further stagnation is unavoidable.]
[Why does Bourgeois V refuse to communicate with his people? What are his true intentions?]
Even for a reckless leader, this was a situation where the line had been crossed completely. Leaders of various nations were busy condemning Bourgeois V.
Because the scale of the incident was so large, it was impossible to hide even if they wanted to. Especially since Bourgeois V was already notorious for his bully-like diplomacy, everyone joined in the condemnation.
In response, Bourgeois V issued a brief statement amidst his country's chaotic situation.
[Mind your own business. We are simply doing our job. Don't we have to end this quickly to stop the Great Stagnation?]
As an official statement, it was long-winded, but that was the gist of it.
It was an answer that would make other countries, already suffering from the Great Stagnation, clutch the back of their necks in frustration.
However, it was technically true, and since the revolution was an internal affair of Makina, there was no justification for intervention. As Bourgeois V said, whatever it was, it had to be ended quickly.
And there was only one way to extinguish the flames of revolution in a short time.
"There he is! Catch him!"
"Any worker who comes outside is to be arrested!"
Oppression. Oppression. Oppression. And more oppression.
To ensure the workers could not leave their forges, even harsher oppression was applied. He chose the cruel whip over the carrot.
A whip lashed out so fiercely that they wouldn't even be able to resist—so they wouldn't even think of resisting.
Normally, people would have swallowed their anger and entered the forges, but the rage of the dwarven workers had reached the heavens.
Most importantly, there was a "central force" capable of leading the revolution.
That strength began to manifest properly after the recent incident.
"We must create it! Just as a worn sword can be repaired, but a completely shattered sword cannot! We must create a new Makina!"
This was the hideout where the dwarven workers who had decided to fully participate in the revolution were gathered. This hideout was originally a tavern where the workers met after finishing their day.
However, as time passed, the tavern began to transform into a gathering place for the "Factory Party." Since it was already a place where the workers vented their frustrations, the change was only a matter of time.
The only sanctuary and place of comfort for the dwarven workers was gone. It was now merely a match lighting the fire in their already overflowing hearts.
"Follow us! We will be your sturdy shield and lead you! We will be your cannon and help you! We will never be broken! Give all authority and power to our 'Geist'!"
"That's right! That's right! We can't take it anymore!"
"My cousin died the other day! I won't recognize a man like that as King!"
"Geas for King! The Factory Party as our Mentor! All power to the Geist!"
The meaning of "Geist" referred to the workers—the dwarven factory workers. Since the Geist itself was the party where the dwarven workers gathered, it was very appropriate.
Geas wore a satisfied smile as he received the passionate response from the workers gathered in the tavern.
By now, orators who had been moved by the ideology would be boosting the spirits of the workers in every tavern.
A true revolution was at hand. Bourgeois V might have trampled on the sparks of revolution, but he had failed to extinguish them completely.
A tiny spark often transforms into a massive fire that consumes everything. That fire would burn away everything Bourgeois V owned.
Wheeeeeeeet!
Just then, the sound of a whistle pierced the ears of Geas and the workers. Startled, Geas turned his head toward the source of the sound.
Without them knowing when they had arrived, the royal army had entered the tavern. They had clearly posted sentries outside, so something must have happened.
Either that, or the sentry was a spy. In fact, there had been more than a few instances where spies were sent to monitor the party.
"Seize them all! That man over there must be captured alive!"
At the commander's order, the tavern instantly turned into a scene of chaos. The dwarven workers resisted, and the soldiers subdued them violently.
Because their hostility toward the King had reached a boiling point, the resistance of the dwarven workers was formidable.
The physical strength they had developed while living in the forges was at a level that even soldiers could not easily suppress.
Thud! Whack! Crack!
"Agh! Aaaaagh!"
"You bastards! Who do you think we are!"
However, there was one thing they lacked: "weapons." The difference between bare hands and weapons was like heaven and earth.
The resistance was long and fierce, but it was difficult to turn the tide. It merely bought time for Geas to escape.
"Hold on just a little longer, comrades! I shall return to help you soon!"
"Capture that man at all costs! Don't let him escape!"
Geas swallowed his grief as he watched the workers fall and hurriedly left the scene. Seeing him flee, the commander quickly issued orders.
Numerous soldiers began to pursue Geas. Geas's fame had already spread throughout Makina.
Moreover, he was a revolutionary who was drawing interest from abroad, so they could not let him go. He was, quite literally, the true spark.
"Where did he go?"
"That way! Catch him, quickly!"
"Huff... huff..."
Geas ran as hard as he could on his short legs. Unlike before, they seemed determined to catch him, as soldiers were stationed everywhere he fled.
But he could never be caught. He had to reach the meeting place somehow for the true beginning to be possible.
Geas did not stop his legs until the taste of blood filled his mouth. Having long since mapped out the local geography while giving speeches, shaking them off wasn't difficult.
It was just that the army was more persistent than expected. Even as Geas moved from place to place, the soldiers pursued him to the end.
"He went in there!"
"Is that his forge?"
"It seems this is the only place left for him to hide."
At the end of it all, Geas entered a certain forge. Even from the outside, it was a forge of considerable size.
By the looks of it, it seemed to be a forge for "engineers." The commander leading the army stood before the forge.
It was at that moment.
Zip!
Something soared violently above the forge. The dwarven army, including the commander, looked up at the object that had ascended without warning.
Pop-pop-pop-pop!
The red streak soaring into the sky soon sparkled and exploded. Red flashes of light scattered in all directions.
It seemed they were playing some sort of trick with gunpowder. Or perhaps it was a specific "signal."
'It doesn't matter.'
He just had to catch that cockroach-like fellow. The commander stared at the firmly closed entrance of the forge before glancing to the side.
Rumble, rumble—
He had brought a cannon just in case. Right on cue, dwarves were dragging the cannon forward.
The commander wore a cruel smile and ordered without hesitation.
"No warning needed. Fire!"
"Yes, sir!"
BOOM!
The gunner fired the shell immediately, as if it had been pre-loaded. The entrance of the forge, which took a direct hit from the shell, vanished with a thunderous roar.
Debris scattered, and thick dust swirled in the air. Beyond the large hole, only pitch-black darkness existed.
Now that an entrance had been made, the commander nodded silently. At the signal to enter, the soldiers began to move.
Rumble, rumble, rumble—
But something was strange. For some reason, the ground was shaking.
Not only the commander but also the soldiers who were moving stopped in their tracks at the sudden vibration.
"Wh—what is it? An earthquake?"
"Is Lord Hirt unwell?"
As everyone knew, Hirt was the Goddess of Nature. An earthquake like this was a natural disaster that occurred when Hirt was ill or angry.
Given the deeds they had committed, the dwarven soldiers couldn't help but hesitate.
They wondered if they were truly being punished by heaven for what they had done.
Grrrrrrrr!
The earthquake intensified. Simultaneously, a strange sound began to emanate from the darkness.
If one listened closely, it sounded like... a cry. Yes. It sounded like a monster growling in a low voice.
A threatening cry, as if declaring this place its territory.
A warning that if they came any closer, it would take action immediately.
"What... what is that sound?"
"Is there a monster in there?"
"With this much vibration, it could only be an ogre..."
While everyone, including the commander, was in a state of tension due to the completely unpredictable situation, something emerged from the darkness.
The first thing to appear was a long, cylindrical mouth. It was a mouth that looked slightly longer than a typical cannon.
Next came a body that looked heavy even at a glance, and wheels of a unique shape. The part with the long cylindrical mouth was mounted atop the massive body.
Most striking of all was the thick iron covering its entire form.
A steel monster that looked like it belonged in hell slowly emerged from the darkness.
"What... is that?"
"..."
Clank, clank, clank!
Faced with a steel fortress the likes of which they had never seen before, the commander and the army were speechless. It was a shocking appearance and exterior.
It was only natural; anyone would freeze when confronted with that monster encased entirely in steel.
The appearance of a monster that was impossible to even comprehend how it had been made.
As if an ordinary person had encountered an "ogre," the commander and the army could only stare with hollow faces.
Hiss—!
As the massive steel fortress stopped, a violent burst of steam was emitted from the back. That sight also brought to mind an ogre exhaling a rough breath.
Whirring—
Soon, the long mouth was aimed toward the army.
[Fire!]
A familiar voice from inside the imposing steel monster reached the commander's ears.
BOOM!
Divine punishment—the revolution—had begun.