Chapter 221: Count Rondon (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 221: Count Rondon (6)
The reason he had paid off the debt was not out of simple goodwill.
Throughout this series of events, Roman Dmitry had a clear objective in mind.
"When the people stormed your mansion, and when the carriage carrying the 100,000 gold departed, I clearly warned you, Count. I told you that half-hearted tolerance would erase the fear from the citizens' hearts, and from then on, there would be no telling what might happen. Yet, you chose to believe in them. You never imagined that desperate people would attack a carriage in the middle of the capital."
It was a mistake.
Although instigators had driven the situation, it was the citizens' underlying discontent that had created this mess in the first place.
Count Rondon.
He was a good man.
Though he claimed he was never a patriot to begin with, his core nature—inherited directly from his father—remained unchanged. That was why he could not help but make mistakes. Because the world he lived in was beautiful, he could not conceive of people acting outside his own framework of common sense.
"Your choice, Count, was reckless bravado. If you intended to solve a critical issue by borrowing someone else's money, you should not have trusted anyone but yourself. In the end, you broke your promise to the Dmitry family. You failed to resolve the issue even with the 100,000 gold, and had I not paid off your debt to the Golden Bank, the Redford Kingdom would have been swept into a vortex of war. What did you plan to do then? Regret what had already happened, come to me once more, bring up our agreement, and ask to borrow more money? We both know very well that the family heirloom and the Rondon lands you offered as collateral hold little meaning. In terms of debt priority, the Golden Bank would have stripped Rondon to its very foundations before Dmitry could even exercise its rights."
The collateral.
He had known from the very beginning that it was meaningless.
Once the Golden Bank began driving a war, Rondon's assets could not be claimed with mere scraps of paper.
That was the nature of war.
When a war was waged to strip the loser of everything, what value did a document signed by Count Rondon, the lord of the land, actually hold? Knowing this, Roman Dmitry had still accepted the proposal. Even with the possibility of never recovering the 100,000 gold, this venture was worth undertaking.
The attack on the carriage.
He had merely stood by and watched.
If Count Rondon had died, then that would have simply been the end of his life.
Just as Demonic Cult Scholar Yoo Hyun had died, the Count would have simply paid the price for his own choices.
In that case, Roman would have discarded the Rondon card and put forward a new, suitable figure to lead Redford.
"...I am sorry."
Drip, drip.
Blood dripped from Count Rondon's head.
Although he felt dizzy because his wounds had not yet been properly treated, he could not tear his eyes away from Roman Dmitry.
"I know very well that no words can excuse this. Redford and Dmitry... In this unequal relationship, contrary to my boasts, I failed to bear any responsibility. I lost the money, and my choices were clearly wrong. So please, tell me the answer. Since you did not abandon Redford and paid off our debt, Lord Roman Dmitry, I believe you must want something from me."
His bloodshot eyes burned with a newfound venom.
Those once-gentle eyes finally stared reality in the face, realizing that he could never resolve this issue with his old ways.
Rondon had survived.
In that case, it was time to execute the plan Roman had originally intended.
Roman Dmitry spoke.
"The promise between Dmitry and Redford remains valid. There will be no set deadline for the 210,000 gold, but I will extract double that amount as payment in the future. And what you must do, Count Rondon, is clear. From this moment on, I intend to reveal the truth to the people. I will tell everyone what you have actually done—that you were not the traitor they claim, but a true patriot. Therefore..."
From the very moment they first met, Roman Dmitry had drawn a picture in his mind.
Seeing Count Rondon constantly suffering due to his foolish honesty, Roman had judged that such foolishness would be useful in the future.
The Kronos Empire.
It was an entity that those who compromised with reality could never dare to oppose.
"Count Rondon, you must start a rebellion and usurp the throne."
* * *
A pub in Redford.
The atmosphere was festive.
The people who had just caused a massive uproar were eating, drinking, and basking in their overwhelming joy.
"Drink up!"
"For Redford!"
Clink!
They clinked their glasses together.
Jacklin, his face flushed red with alcohol, opened his throat and chugged down his beer.
He was ecstatic.
While distributing the gold coins, people had grasped Jacklin's hands tightly, shedding tears as they called him the hero who saved Redford. Just a few days ago, he had been nothing but a mere servant. A man named Jacklin, who had been worrying about how to make a living day by day, had suddenly leaped to become a revered hero of Redford.
The hand holding his beer mug was stained with blood.
Though he had shed blood while attacking Count Rondon and his soldiers, he didn't regret his actions in the slightest.
'I only did what was best for Redford.'
He was proud.
Count Rondon, who had collapsed with blood pouring from his head, had merely paid the price for his sins. A traitor, as the people called him. A piece of trash who greedily amassed wealth while maliciously destroying his competitors. If left alone, he would have surely embezzled the country's wealth to live in luxury.
Jacklin drank his beer.
People crowded around him, praising him as a hero.
"By the way, where did the pub owner go?"
"Who cares? He said we could drink all the beer in the pub, so let's just enjoy this moment to the fullest!"
Once the situation had settled, the pub owner had vanished.
But with Jacklin, the most important figure, right there with them, the people didn't care much.
Attacking a noble was a severe, capital crime.
If they stayed in the capital, they risked being arrested by the guards, but Jacklin and the people didn't worry about such matters. Jacklin was the hero of Redford. In a situation where the people who received the gold coins were chanting his name as if they would lay down their lives for him, what would happen if anyone dared to touch him?
A riot would break out.
From the moment they attacked Count Rondon, the people had stopped holding back.
"Jacklin, there's no need to worry about the guards. You saw it too. When we attacked Count Rondon, even the Aura Swordsmen collapsed helplessly. Honestly, those guys are nothing special. If we push them with our numbers, even if the Redford royal family sends troops, there's no way they can take you away."
Roman Dmitry's words had been correct.
A single precedent had shattered the wall.
The moment their fear of those they had once looked up to vanished, they became capable of doing anything.
The people laughed and chatted.
They didn't think of the future.
For now, they simply wanted to enjoy the happiness that had been denied to them for so long.
It was then.
Slam!
"Find Jacklin and bring him before me."
A squad of soldiers marched through the open door.
In an instant, their fleeting happiness shattered into pieces.
* * *
The pub erupted into chaos.
The patrons threw their beer mugs, grabbed the weapons they had set aside, and blocked the soldiers' path.
"You can't touch Jacklin!"
"You bastards! What have you ever done for us that you dare lay a hand on Redford's hero?!"
Rage exploded.
Already heavily intoxicated, the people swung their weapons aggressively before the soldiers could even attack.
"Die!"
Whoosh.
It was a steel sword.
Since it was a weapon looted from Count Rondon's fallen soldiers, the way the man swung it—having never handled one before—was utterly pathetic. Yet, the face of the charging man overflowed with confidence. Having tasted victory once, they no longer perceived soldiers as a threat.
At that moment.
Flash.
Blood splattered.
The man's sword was sliced cleanly in half, and at the exact same time, his head flew into the air.
"Argh!"
"H-His head was cut off!"
The crowd screamed.
A single strike.
They hadn't even seen it properly, yet the man's head hit the floor in the blink of an eye.
Only then did the people realize that something was terribly wrong.
The soldiers who had stormed the pub didn't wear the crest of Redford on their chests, but that of Dmitry.
"From this moment on, anyone who blocks our path will be executed on the spot."
It was Chris.
The citizens of Redford did not know the laws of Dmitry.
Once a decision was made, Dmitry showed no mercy, regardless of who the opponent was. Chris, known as Roman Dmitry's right hand, was a walking disaster. At first, some rushed forward, failing to grasp the situation. But when even they were cut down in the blink of an eye, the rest of the crowd dared not move.
They were paralyzed with fear.
The very people who had just sworn to protect Jacklin shrank back, desperate to distance themselves from Chris.
The path cleared.
Chris walked forward and looked down at a man.
"Are you Jacklin?"
Standing on the boundary between life and death, Jacklin swallowed hard.
Though he knew he might die, the memory of being revered as a hero made him puff out his chest with pride.
And so, he tried to show composure in the face of death.
"Yes, I am Jack—"
Grab!
"Aaargh!"
Chris grabbed Jacklin by the hair.
Dragged along the floor, Jacklin thrashed and screamed in agony.
In the end, he was nothing but an ordinary man.
The moment pain consumed his mind, his triumphant attitude from moments ago vanished without a trace.
Thud.
He was thrown onto the ground.
Jacklin trembled in sheer terror.
Looking up with trembling eyes, his gaze met that of Roman Dmitry, who was staring down at him.
* * *
Jacklin.
They dragged him toward the square.
They dragged him by his hair for all to see, and the people watched him writhe in pain.
"Lord Jacklin is being dragged away!"
"Shouldn't we help him?"
"Those bastards! How dare they touch Redford's hero?!"
The crowd went wild.
At first, the people, not knowing what was happening, followed Roman Dmitry's footsteps toward the square. Their faces were filled with clear rage. They wanted to attack Roman Dmitry right then and there to rescue Jacklin, but looking at the Dmitry soldiers, they couldn't muster the courage to charge.
However, there were bold individuals among them.
They ran throughout the city, raising their voices for everyone to hear.
"Right now, Jacklin, the hero of Redford, is being dragged away by Roman Dmitry! He is the one who saved us when even the Redford royal family abandoned us! Everyone, take up your weapons! Let us show those atrocious thugs what happens when they touch Redford's hero, and that we will never abandon him!"
"Everyone must go to the square! Lord Jacklin is there!"
They screamed with venom.
Their cries, which disregarded death, quickly infected the frightened crowd.
The people took up arms.
Those without proper weapons grabbed farming tools, and those without farming tools grabbed anything they could use as a weapon. Holding them in their hands, they bared their hostility. If Jacklin died, they might have to return the gold coins. Since that was absolutely unacceptable, they were willing to risk their lives to protect their own safety and their hero.
Jacklin was merely a servant.
But the moment the people accepted him as a hero, he became a symbolic figure.
"Jacklin! Jacklin!"
"Jacklin! Jacklin!"
"Jacklin! Jacklin!"
The people chanted.
Forming crowds at every street corner, they surged toward the square.
At the end of it all stood Roman Dmitry.
Having forced Jacklin to his knees, he waited for everyone to arrive.
The crowd flooded the square.
As the people packed the area so tightly that there was no room to step, Roman Dmitry recalled the words he had spoken to Count Rondon.
"Keep in mind that compassion is also a form of prejudice. The moment you delude yourself into thinking you can help someone, they will only exploit your compassion to drag you down to the same rock bottom. Your standard for judging a person must not be based on their circumstances, but on the clear facts you have seen and heard. Just because you are a good person, Count, it is dangerous to believe that those who receive your help are also good."
Perhaps those were the words he had wanted to say to Yoo Hyun.
He looked ahead.
The crowd boiled with rage.
Finally, the perfect stage to reveal the truth had been set.