Chapter 105: Lyfe or Deth
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 105: Lyfe or Deth
“What do you mean by that?”
“I didn’t want to say anything to the others because I didn’t want to spread unnecessary fear, but do you realize that what you did was practically suicide?”
Hanson scoffed at the foreman’s warning.
“What’s so dangerous about it? If that administrator lays a hand on me, it’ll only be their loss anyway…”
“Nonsense. You almost lost your life just a moment ago.”
“Administrator Isabella didn’t do a thing. How could I have been in danger?”
“People like you wouldn’t know, but I was a mercenary once. I traveled all over the Serdes Continent, taking every job that paid. During that time, I encountered Dragon Spawns once.”
Normally, Hanson would have dismissed it as typical mercenary tall tales. However, the foreman’s eyes held a murderous glint that no mere braggart could fake.
“That day, we were hunting an ogre. Since the target was what it was, I led a large group of mercenaries, and we went in fully prepared. It was a fierce battle. The creature’s regeneration and our preparations were neck and neck. That’s when a latecomer appeared. It was a Dragon Spawn.”
The middle-aged foreman swallowed hard.
“I don’t know if that ogre was the Dragon Spawn’s target or if we just ended up double-teaming it, but we took it down together. Actually, ‘together’ is an overstatement. The moment he arrived, he took its head off. All we did was leave a few scratches on the corpse.”
“What does that have to do with now?”
“Listen to the end. This is where it really starts. After the ogre died, he cut off its ear and tossed it to our mercenary captain.”
“As proof of the subjugation?”
“Exactly. Since the Dragon Spawn had snatched the credit, he was showing a bit of goodwill in his own way.”
“That sounds like it was resolved amicably. Why are you telling me this?”
“We thought so too. But it wasn’t. Our mercenary captain was a former knight. On top of that, he was reckless. He tried to act tough with that Dragon Spawn. Do you know what happened next?”
With a frozen expression, the man made a slicing motion across his throat.
“He took the captain's head right then and there.”
“…”
“You think only the captain died? No. He didn’t stop until ten more heads rolled. Only then did he end the slaughter.”
“Why would he do such a thing…?”
“Simple. Because the captain talked back. To them, it’s unacceptable for someone young, foolish, and weak to act with such pride. Do you finally realize what you’ve done?”
The foreman jerked his chin toward a certain spot. It was where the Armored Knight had been sitting.
“If that noble person hadn’t stopped you, it wouldn’t have ended until you and several others here were dead.”
The middle-aged foreman slung his tools over his shoulder and walked out. Hanson couldn't bring himself to follow. He stood there, chewing over the man’s words, realizing just how absurdly reckless he had been.
‘But I was right, wasn’t I?’
Hadn’t he escaped death precisely because the Armored Knight was there? Regardless of the danger, things were moving exactly as he had intended.
* * *
Meanwhile, Isabella was also ruminating on a strange sensation.
‘For a moment, my instincts took over.’
The instinct of a Dragon Spawn always boils down to one thing: pride.
The most precious beings under heaven are Father and Mother.
He who defiles their names shall be made an example of through swift and absolute punishment.
He who kills their children shall be hunted to the ends of hell and granted a painful death.
That nature had momentarily overwhelmed her. It was inevitable. Even when a Dragon Spawn looks at humans, they see a hierarchy. Those worthy of respect are respected, but everyone else is on the level of dogs or livestock. The only thing better about them is that you can actually communicate with them to some degree.
As a child of Iorga, Isabella felt the same. She respected Ferda because he was Valdrova’s fiancé and a capable Regent. She respected William because he possessed exceptional martial prowess and a mental strength that surpassed it.
But Hanson? He was no different from any other common human. In other words, he was on par with a dog that could talk. She had even brought him a treat, yet instead of wagging his tail, the insolent dog had tried to bite its master’s hand.
She had gone through the trouble of proposing a peaceful resolution and getting it approved, only for him to demand more. A dog that bites people must be put down. That thought had consumed her, and she had intended to kill Hanson. He would have been a sufficient example.
‘Until that man stepped in.’
The Armored Knight. Tall, with a sturdy build. Armor that even clairvoyance magic couldn’t penetrate. Its design looked like something a village blacksmith would make, but it was undoubtedly crafted from the highest quality materials.
‘If that man hadn’t stopped me…’
Isabella would have acted on her instincts. Hanson’s head would be rolling on the floor, or if he were lucky, his body would have been left a mangled mess. It wouldn't have been a pretty sight.
‘I thought he was just dull and clumsy, but he has surprisingly sharp intuition.’
Isabella, too, began to take an interest in him. It seemed a waste to leave him as a mere laborer.
* * *
The Armored Knight, Valdrova, was thinking.
‘Why is everyone just sitting here?’
This was before Isabella had entered. The atmosphere had been heavy. All she could see were foreman-level figures. They were huddled together in the cramped office, waiting for something.
‘I’m sure the Director said something…’
Hanson had said a lot of things before this happened. However, he talked for so long that she had failed to grasp the main point. There was only one thing she understood clearly:
— Sir Knight, your help is desperately needed.
He said he needed help. So, although she didn’t know what was going on, she decided to help.
‘It’s for the sake of this village!’
She had assumed it would be a task requiring her strength. But all she had to do was sit next to Hanson. No matter how she looked at it, it didn’t seem like a job that required help.
‘I’m bored.’
Since she wasn't moving, she felt like her muscles were stiffening. Even though she wanted to get up, the heavy atmosphere kept her pinned to her seat.
‘Let’s wait just a little longer…’
With that thought, she sat there for several hours. After a while, someone walked in.
‘It’s a child of Iorga.’
At the same time, Ruri’s warning came to mind.
— Master, please make sure you are never caught acting as a laborer here. Especially, those damn water lizards must never find out.
Ruri had looked fiercer than ever, so Valdrova didn’t dare ignore her. She felt strangely nervous, wondering if she would be found out.
Meanwhile, a conversation was taking place. As Isabella was finishing her speech, Valdrova managed to catch a few words.
— Please cease the ongoing strike and return to your livelihoods.
Livelihoods. That meant go back to work. Valdrova finally realized.
‘So that’s what it was!’
The reason they were waiting here was that the descendant of Iorga had stopped them from working. That was why they were waiting in this place.
‘They must be so angry because they’re being blocked from working.’
Valdrova would have been angry too. She felt a surge of joy, thinking she was finally on the same page as the workers.
‘Time to go to work.’
But then it happened.
“We cannot.”
Hanson had refused.
‘Why?!’
The person who told them not to work was the child of Iorga, so why was he refusing now that she was telling them to work? Valdrova couldn’t understand Hanson’s behavior.
‘If you work, you get money. Why wouldn’t you want to work?’
Working meant money. Money meant you could eat delicious things. They were even offering more money, so she couldn't understand why he was kicking the opportunity away. Above all…
‘I want to work.’
Valdrova wanted to see another building go up as soon as possible. Left with no choice, Valdrova reached out and poked his shoulder. Fortunately, the message seemed to get through; Hanson didn't say anything more, and the foremen headed back outside to work.
Valdrova looked up at the sky. The sun was already dipping low in the west.
‘I have to finish today’s quota quickly.’
It wasn't that she was being chased by a deadline. She simply loved working. That was why she liked Mondays more than Sundays, when everyone else rested.
‘Off to work.’
The Red Dragon, Valdrova. Today, she headed to the construction site with a joyful heart.
* * *
The day of the council meeting arrived.
A building intended to be the Hestia branch of the Pascal Trading Company was chosen as the meeting room. The reason was simple: Ferda didn't want to let those insolent fools into his own home. Ruri agreed, and Isabella eventually backed down.
Of course, Isabella explained the reason differently. She framed it as a gesture of trust in the village’s architecture and a way to observe the actual conditions of Hestia. Since she already had a good reputation, it wasn't hard for people to accept that she was looking out for the commoners. She was adding fuel to her already glowing reputation.
Having finished his morning preparations, Ferda moved to the meeting hall. As he entered, everyone stood up and paid their respects.
“We shall begin the council meeting.”
As soon as Ferda took his seat, Isabella took charge as the moderator and opened the session. Ferda went through the formalities, reciting the opening remarks while observing the expressions of those present.
A large group of people sat across from him. Every single one of them wore a headband with the protest slogan: “Give us life or give us death.”
‘Should I just kill them all?’
They were practically begging for death; wouldn't it be polite to grant it? Or perhaps he should make them suffer until they wished they were dead. The fact that he couldn't do either and had to settle for mere words was agonizing for Ferda.
Still, he had expected that much. But Ferda also saw someone unexpected. A very familiar face. No, not a face—a helmet.
‘The Armored Knight.’
His feelings toward the man were complicated. The man had turned his back on Ferda’s offer of a knighthood. It would be a lie to say he wasn't offended. After all that talk, the man had kicked away his goodwill.
‘No, I can understand kicking it away.’
But to think the reason was to participate in something like this and muddy the waters.
‘Could it be…?’
A possibility occurred to Ferda.
‘What if that guy is the actual mastermind behind this situation?’
It was possible. What if he was aiming for more than just a knighthood—a noble title with land? There were plenty of people in the Empire who did such things. What if he was playing a long game for his own comeback?
‘And there’s no risk of failure.’
He could use Hanson as a puppet leader and slip away if things got ugly.
‘Pathetic.’
A sense of contempt, born from a feeling of betrayal, welled up inside him. He had thought the man was somewhat noble, but to think he was such a social climber.
‘One day, I’ll rip that mouth of yours open.’
Ferda glared at the Armored Knight with eyes full of hatred. Inside the armor, Valdrova saw that gaze.
‘Mr. Ferda is glaring at me…’
A look that held not a shred of kindness. And yet, she didn't entirely hate that look. She tried her best to suppress her racing heart.
Announcing the opening of the meeting, the first to speak was Hanson, the representative of the labor union.
“We sincerely thank the Regent and the Administrator for listening to the voices of the common people.”
Hanson spoke while looking at his prepared notes.
“Last autumn, we came here as laborers to help build Hestia Village and set foot on this land for the first time.”
The beginning was a reasonably ambitious story.
“However, a recent unfortunate incident resulted in thirty casualties, throwing the village into great chaos.”
There was some confusion, but it wasn't enough to make a fuss about. It was unclear if Hanson didn't know that or if he was just brazen enough to pretend he didn't.
“If you are a wise king and leader, we humbly submit this petition, asking you to grant the commoners’ request. First, we request a wage increase for those employed in the construction industry. Second, we request the establishment of a construction union.”
Their demands seemed like two, but they were actually three: money, a home, and…
‘Power.’
Wherever people gather, power is bound to follow. A union, or a guild, is a power structure created under the pretext of representing the voices of the common people.
‘One thing is certain: someone wrote this for him.’
Looking at the vocabulary and the way he read it, Ferda couldn't believe Hanson had written it himself.
‘Did that guy write it for him?’
If he could write something of that caliber, it lent weight to Ferda’s mastermind theory.
‘Regardless, everything is going as expected.’
To be precise, it was going as Stephan had predicted. Having managed a large company under his father, Stephan was quick to notice such things.
“What if,” Ferda asked, just in case, “I were to ignore your request? What do you intend to do then?”
Hanson grew tense at those words. Though the Regent was young, Hanson was overwhelmed by a gaze that didn't match his age. Thus, Hanson gave a subtle signal to Valdrova.
‘It’s my turn to move.’
At the signal, she moved and placed her hand on a pen and paper. What she was supposed to write was the slogan written on their foreheads.
‘I’m supposed to write “Life or Death,” right?’
Valdrova was nervous. Everyone’s eyes were on her. She had thought it would be fine since she just had to write some words, but…
‘…How do you write that again?’
She had forgotten how to write the letters. Or rather, she barely knew in the first place. She had become accustomed to reading, so she could recognize words when she saw them, but writing was a different matter. In other words, she could process input, but she couldn't produce output.
It made sense, as she could count on one hand the number of times she had written anything in her life. Naturally, she hadn't practiced, and she couldn't quite remember the spellings.
‘Life or Death, Life or Death.’
She muttered it to herself in her head and tried to mimic the letters. The result of her writing was this:
— Lyfe or Deth.
“…?”
“…?”
The handwriting was crude, and the spelling was atrocious. Not only Ferda, but even Hanson, the representative, broke into a cold sweat. Looking at those letters, Ferda became certain of one thing.
‘He’s definitely not a mastermind.’
It was the moment his contempt turned into pure pity.