Chapter 409
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 409
Chapter Title: Frightening
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Urgh."
Once they'd made their decision to act.
The Revolutionary Army moved swiftly.
Not just in Moscow, but contacting organizations across the country, pulling out hidden weapons, and so on.
They were gearing up for a full-scale uprising.
They'd always been the Revolutionary Army, after all.
Preparations for revolution had been methodically underway for a long time, so they could spark one anytime.
Of course, no matter how thorough the preparations, carrying them out was another matter entirely.
And since the uprising itself had been decided on suddenly, the process was riddled with trial and error—and problems.
"We're short on weapons, as expected."
Late that night.
That was why Batsmensky was racking his brains.
Working at the munitions factory, he was in charge of supplying weapons to the Moscow revolutionaries.
The problem was that there was a limit to how many weapons he could siphon off.
"Raid the munitions factory first...? No, that would mean clashing with the central forces right away. We've got to find some other way to procure more weapons...."
He needed more time, after all.
As Batsmensky sighed and wandered the warehouse, pondering ways to make up the shortage.
A voice drifted in.
"...What the hell kind of madness is this?"
"No idea what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb. What do you think you're accomplishing by provoking the revolutionaries?"
"Just a little act of kindness."
"Kindness? More like causing chaos."
"Don't be so cold, big bro. I already told you my goal, didn't I?"
"Don't give me that 'the outsider reaps the benefits' crap. You think this is how you catch a snake? It's like burning down the thatched house to kill a bedbug."
"If you hate it so much, just stop me."
"..."
"Don't worry too much. I don't plan on burning everything down, whatever a thatched house is. Might need some remodeling, though."
"You don't mean..."
Voices in the dead of night.
Following the barely audible sounds, Batsmensky discovered a pair: a man and a woman.
A familiar pair of white-haired siblings.
"The Rino siblings? The Elshar sisters? What are you doing here?"
Rimon and Ekateriche showed no surprise at his sudden appearance and question.
As if they'd sensed his presence from the start, they answered calmly.
"Just... sibling talk."
"My big bro here's a total siscon. He's been super worried about me over what's coming in a few days, so I was comforting him."
"...Something like that."
"Ah, I see."
Batsmensky gave a wry smile.
A massive uprising in Moscow would mean fierce urban combat—no avoiding it.
With no telling who might get hurt, it was understandable to lose sleep from anxiety.
Mwah.
"Look forward to it, big bro."
At that moment.
Ekateriche suddenly wrapped her arm around Rimon's neck.
And softly kissed his cheek.
Then, with a delighted giggle, she left with light, snow-treading steps.
That oddly intimate and seductive display between family made his pupils shake for a moment.
But Batsmensky forced a casual tone.
"You two... really get along well."
"...Researcher dude, you got any brothers or sisters?"
"How'd you know?"
"Just a guess."
He stared at Batsmensky with eyes like he was watching a dreamy kid, but then.
Rimon spoke up.
"Hey, researcher dude. Why'd you join the revolutionaries?"
"Pardon?"
"You're a first-class citizen, right? No need for you to start a revolution."
In Russia, first-class citizens were the top 1%.
Just the citizen rank guaranteed lifelong wealth and glory, so maintaining the system was far more advantageous.
So why risk revolution?
As Rimon asked quietly, Batsmensky smiled bitterly.
"I've heard that one plenty."
"Sorry if that bothered you."
"No need to apologize. It's a natural question."
Batsmensky shook his head.
As he'd said himself, Rimon wasn't the first to ask.
To revolutionaries, a first-class citizen dreaming of revolution looked like a fish out of water.
Knowing that, he answered plainly.
"I joined because I believe this country needs to be fairer."
"Fairer?"
"As you know, Rino, Russia right now is too harsh."
His family were first-class citizens.
So from birth, they'd enjoyed many privileges—and taken them for granted.
But as a child.
After seeing a peer living in rags, Batsmensky began to question.
What made that kid different from him.
Why life was decided by rank.
Even after becoming an adult and earning first-class status himself.
Seeing workers forced into grueling labor just for being third-class deepened his doubts.
And the moment he witnessed the abused in the Gulag by chance.
He realized.
The only way to fix this contradiction was revolution.
"Third-class citizens make up over 70% of the country, yet they're forced into the most labor."
"...So you joined the revolutionaries to free third-class citizens from labor?"
"Yes."
That it was what he, who'd enjoyed unfair privileges as a first-class citizen, ought to do.
Watching the resolute Batsmensky.
Rimon narrowed his eyes.
"Even if things don't turn out as rosy as you think after the revolution?"
"Even then, it'd be better than now."
"Even if lots of people die or get hurt?"
"We'd have to try minimizing the sacrifices."
"Hmm, yeah?"
Sacrifices are regrettable.
But current Russia is the worst.
To gain a better country and future, someone has to make sacrifices.
Gazing at the passionate young man for a moment.
Rimon smirked.
"Then good luck, dude. I'll be rooting for you."
"Pardon? Ah, sure."
After patting his shoulder.
Rimon strolled away.
Batsmensky watched, a bit puzzled.
Cheering words.
Yet they felt distant.
And that odd expression at the end of his smirk—he couldn't place it.
Pondering briefly.
He chalked it up to Rimon being troubled too, and got back to inventorying weapons.
But he didn't hear.
Rimon's mutter as he left.
"...How frightening time is."
As a Sword Master.
And as an old wanderer of the martial world.
With a bitter, chilling sigh, Rimon vanished into the darkness.
The Kremlin Palace dining hall where he'd eaten with Ekateriche.
There, a white-haired girl who'd finished a simple sandwich meal and was munching on kremlins as dessert.
Aynsha suddenly asked.
"Tata, do you know if preparations are complete?"
"Of course, Princess."
"Well done. Impressive to finish so quickly despite the tight timeline. As expected of you, Tata."
"This much is kremlins before breakfast for me."
Tata replied confidently as always, then added humbly.
"To be honest, the Silver Dragon Clan helped a lot."
Without Kana and the Silver Dragons' cooperation, even she couldn't have finished on time.
Aynsha nodded at Tata's frank admission.
"The Silver Dragons are impressive too. I'm impressed."
Her blank expression made it hard to tell where the admiration was.
But she meant it.
They hadn't seen the future.
Yet the Silver Dragons' intelligence network, using spies in the Revolutionary Army, had swiftly uncovered their uprising plans. Impressive indeed.
So Aynsha bluntly pointed out.
"That's Ekateriche's mistake."
Without the Silver Dragons, setting things up would have been much harder.
But thanks to Ekateriche lending them willingly, everything wrapped up faster than expected.
Spreading Tiamat's goods en masse in the Russian Khanate.
And the other preparations too.
"Let them try their revolution. We'll win in the end."
The White Dragon Clan that sees the future.
As the world's greatest prophet with the finest foresight among them.
Having foreseen the uprising.
And prepared countermeasures.
The pure-white princess who effectively ruled this Russian Khanate spoke with an emotionless, impassive face.
"Tata, show them the White Dragon Clan's power."
"Leave it to me, Princess."
Her closest aide.
A White Dragon elder who'd served three generations of princesses.
Tata declared with unwavering confidence.
"I'll prove definitively that defeat has no place in this Tata's White Dragon dictionary."
"Contact with Brother Andrei's been cut too?"
[Yes, Teacher.]
"...Understood. Then gather whoever we can reach and prepare for the great undertaking."
[Yes, sir.]
After the brief call.
Sergei stowed the communication item and stared at the map with a grim face.
He pulled out his notebook, compared the coded roster to the X marks on the map, and let out a heavy groan.
'In the end, contact's been severed with all our brothers and sisters infiltrated into the military and agencies.'
The military and intelligence agencies had security second only to the Kremlin and Bahamutsa in Russia.
They were enemies of the revolutionaries to begin with.
Spotty contact was common.
But over ten agents all at once?
'They've been found out.'
Sergei sensed it.
Intel on their revolution plans had leaked, and the government was already mobilizing.
He'd braced for this.
The infamous Okhrana wouldn't miss such a massive revolutionary movement.
'Doesn't matter. What's happening was inevitable anyway.'
So Sergei steeled his resolve instead.
With purges already starting, delaying meant getting crushed without a fight.
The opponent being prepared might mean more blood than expected, but...
"They won't think this alone can stop us, you wicked dictator."
Behind them was the Sword Duke.
The savior who'd beheaded the Sword Empress and saved the country had promised aid—no more fearing the Silver Dragon Princess.
And above all, he had an ace up his sleeve.
Not to be used lightly.
Requiring a massive price.
But guaranteed to kill the Silver Dragon Princess.
With preparations for contingencies set, Sergei spent the night readying the uprising.
Some hoped.
Some lamented.
Some were certain.
Some resolved.
After that unusually long and heavy night, a new sun rose...
...and the morning of revolution dawned.