Chapter 47
Chapter 47
The Iron Emperor — Chapter 47
"......."
Jin-cheon stood gazing out at the bustling city, the crisp breeze washing over him. The soldiers moved with an energy that suggested a month's worth of fatigue had melted away the moment they arrived here. That, in turn, meant the troops were beginning to recognize this place as their homeland and the foundation they would defend.
"Hm."
The population of commoners had grown beyond his original intent, and the gender balance among the soldiers was evening out. Yet Jin-cheon's eyes still held deep shadow. Behind him, Hwi-garam and Risel had been shadowing him for some time now.
"Risel."
"Command me."
"Tell me everything you know about the Kingdom of Haian."
At Jin-cheon's question, Risel bowed respectfully and began.
"Among wizards, the Kingdom of Haian is known as the wellspring of continental culture. Its historical roots are estimated to reach back eight thousand years."
"Eight thousand years?"
"Yes."
That a nation that looked as though it might topple at any moment could possess an eight-thousand-year history was enough to astonish Jin-cheon. Reading Jin-cheon's expression, Risel continued his explanation in a composed tone.
"As I mentioned before, the Reganza Mountains have long been called the center of the world. Likewise, the Kingdom of Haian has been called the center of culture since ancient times. Its founding is estimated around seven thousand years ago, but records from that era are unobtainable."
"Why is that?"
"Because the records cannot be found."
"A contradiction."
Jin-cheon continued speaking. Risel gave a slight nod of agreement. How could the birth of its culture be claimed as eight thousand years and Haian's founding as seven thousand if no records existed?
"The records known publicly say that the descendants of gods appeared in the world and founded the nations. Among scholars, that has become the accepted orthodoxy. However, in magical academia, objections have been raised — there are dubious aspects. The nations named after these descendants of gods date their origins to seven thousand years ago, yet the foundational systems of magic were already established eight thousand years ago. Moreover, although they cannot be located today, books certainly existed that recorded the presence of a nation in this land seven thousand years ago."
"Cannot be located today?"
"Yes. The Henesia Holy Empire designated them as forbidden texts. They have nearly all vanished. That is because their contents contradict the present history of the Henesia Holy Empire."
Jin-cheon nodded at Risel's words.
"That aside, what has allowed present-day Haian to endure for so long?"
"By agreement among the empires. Before that, the Kingdom of Haian was a battleground contested by each empire. It was certainly a critical foothold where imperial forces concentrated, but the degree was excessive. Two continental wars have been fought in the past over the Kingdom of Haian. On each occasion, the Henesia Holy Empire and the Slegian Archipelago each occupied it once, but due to the containment efforts of the remaining empires, Haian regained its independence after a thousand years in the first case and three hundred sixty years in the second. Though it is less independence than an arrangement among the empires."
"Hm."
A low hum escaped Jin-cheon's lips. He straightened briefly, retrieved a scroll from one side, and unrolled it across the desk.
Flutter.
"Is that—a continental map?! And detailed national maps, even military maps!"
"Hm."
Risel's eyes flew wide. Maps themselves were rarities, yet here was virtually everything, down to military charts. Gazing at Jin-cheon with a mixture of awe and respect, Risel clicked his tongue at the man's thorough preparations.
"When in the world did you amass all of this?"
"......."
At Risel's words, Jin-cheon silently raised a finger and pointed to one side. There sat Gerard's magic backpack.
"......."
"Hm. For now, reference the map and speak."
"Yes."
Risel, who for a brief moment had felt a twinge of pity for Gerard, pointed at the map Jin-cheon had spread before him.
"This is the Kingdom of Haian. And as you can see, the remaining empires encircle it on three sides."
"Address each point as you go."
"......."
Recalling once more the limitations of the Interpretation Ring, Risel proceeded item by item. The peninsula jutting upward from the center of the U-shaped continent sat at the crossroads of every empire. In short, it was the target of concentrated containment.
Jin-cheon found Risel's explanation easy to follow. It was the strategic dimension that made it simple for him. He studied the expanded power structures of each empire, then nodded.
"This is where we are."
"Yes. This is the Central Lake of the Reganza Mountains."
"Are there no nations on this side?"
"Ah. The southern part of the Reganza Mountains — the region south of our present position — is a zone where the various nations have forbidden incursion."
"The reason?"
At Jin-cheon's question, Risel pointed to the area south of the lake on the map and answered.
"That is the place called the Dragon Forest. The continental dragons form their lairs there. Naturally, lairs exist across other parts of the continent, but this place alone repels human footsteps, and I understand it holds an unverifiable number of dragons."
"......."
At Risel's mention of dragons, Jin-cheon furrowed his brow. He stared at the map for a moment, then traced a circle around the Reganza Mountains with his finger as if marking it and turned to Risel.
"It is large."
"Yes."
"It is our land."
"Pardon?"
"From now on, it is all our land."
"......."
That single, simple declaration from Jin-cheon portended a bleak future for Risel. Jin-cheon turned a curt new question on the quietly sighing wizard.
"If the empires forged a pact, that would imply non-aggression. Then why this state of affairs?"
What Jin-cheon was referring to was the slash-and-burn farmers and the spectacle of tribute being paid to one empire after another. Risel moistened his lips and answered.
"That, too, is an arrangement among the empires. No one may occupy the kingdom, but each may exercise its own influence. The result — the three regions at the top of Haian were ceded to the empires as permanent concessions. In effect, they are extraction outlets for sweeping away the resources of this country."
"And the Kingdom of Haian simply endures this?"
"As you see, its position at the center of the empires also makes it a center of trade. The revenues earned are considerable, so...."
Risel's words trailed off. He had caught sight of the dangerously hardening look on Jin-cheon's face. As Risel was gauging the atmosphere, Jin-cheon's voice cut through.
"So as much as they earn, they give it away! No — those who earn it would never give it away. Which means the burden falls on the common people, does it not? Is that not precisely why a man named Baron Alvin came here — to haul off the slash-and-burn farmers for the profit of merchants and the noble class!"
"Yes. That is correct."
"This nation is already no nation. A country where the nobility neglects its duty and enforces duty only upon the common people — a country of such rotten stock — is no longer worth a second thought."
Jin-cheon's lips pressed tightly together, his face flushed red with anger, and Risel could offer no reply.
Jin-cheon's gaze turned toward the window. Outside, children were running and playing.
Bathed in sunlight, the blue wheat fields rippling across the earth filled the farmers' hearts with joy. When they worked their slash-and-burn plots, they had never imagined they would one day cultivate such broad land.
But the wheat they had raised under the strong protection of the Gauri army looked more beautiful than ever. Naturally, the sight brought a smile to Old Hans's face unbidden.
"Heh-heh-heh."
"Elder Hans, can all this wheat truly be ours?"
"Aye. That it is."
"It feels like a dream."
To Old Hans, the swaying wheat felt like his own children. Just then, a commotion rose behind them.
"Eeyah!"
"Huh? Oh my! General Buru!"
"Welcome!"
Old Hans and his fellow farmers turned to see Buru and a group of soldiers approaching noisily. Though Old Hans and the farmers bowed deeply with humble greetings, Buru, who had brought the soldiers, answered in a gruffer tone than usual.
"What's all this fuss? Hurry an' trample it!"
"Yes!"
"What— What do you mean?"
"What's this all of a sudden?"
Rumble-rustle.
At Buru's command, thirty-odd soldiers charged forward, barefoot. Stunned by the sight, Old Hans opened his mouth to ask Buru the reason.
"General, what’s gone wrong—?"
"Aaaaagh!"
"Ungh!"
But Old Hans's question was cut off by the farmers' solitary cries. And it was not mere screams — the sheer horror on their faces sent a chill through the old man's heart.
"What in the world— Aaaaaugh!"
"No!"
Old Hans's eyes opened wider than ever as he turned to look, and the other farmers' shouts followed one after another.
"Nooooo!"
Ignoring the cries, Buru's voice carried to the soldiers.
"Press 'em down hard!"
"Hoo-aaah!"
Before Old Hans's eyes, the soldiers who had plunged into the wheat fields were mercilessly trampling their abundance. Beneath the soldiers' feet, the young wheat shrieked silently as it collapsed this way and that.
Old Hans's howl burst forth.
"Ju- just kill me instead! What sin have these wheat stalks committed that you do this?!"
"Eh, what's all this, oldster?"
The soldiers were methodically trampling every last stalk, and Old Hans's wailing made Buru's brow crease.
"Waaaugh!"
"Leggo, now!"
"Uwaaaaugh!"
In the end, it was Buru who was thrown into confusion — by Old Hans clinging to his leg and sobbing. And just the same, the elder farmers began cursing heaven for granting their bounty and the devil all at once, all of them collapsed on the ground and weeping. Their lamentations and the lamentations of the wheat merged into the empty air.
"Buru, what's this ruckus yer stirred up?"
"Uru — ye came?"
"Oh, heavens! Just kill me instead~!"
When Uru approached from one side leading thirty-odd soldiers of his own, Buru answered him with relief. But seeing Buru's predicament, Uru clicked his tongue and hauled Old Hans to his feet.
"Old Hans. Stop now, c'mon."
"Oh Heaven, General Uru, please stop General Buru. Oh, the wheat, the wheaaat!"
Seeing Uru click his tongue at Buru, Old Hans latched onto him as though he had met a savior and wailed. Patting the old man's back, Uru gave an order to the soldiers behind him.
"You lot, go trample too."
"Yes!"
"......."
The soldiers charged off vigorously to fulfill Uru's command — and Old Hans collapsed back to the ground in the same instant.
For the farmers, there was no god.
"Look close, Old Hans."
Jolted awake by Uru's voice, Old Hans burst out wailing anew.
"Oh, General Uru, have mercy. Aaahh, this old country man is farming—it’s his first harvest on such broad land—if you must punish someone, punish me, not innocent wheat that never wronged you! Hrrgh-hrrgh."
"Buru, ye just trampled it without a word, didn't ye?"
As Uru lifted Old Hans up and scolded Buru, the general answered sheepishly.
"Aye, what of it?"
"Tch-tch-tch. Didn't I tell ye what's on yer shoulders ain't just for show?"
"What's that s'posed to mean?"
"If ye'd told 'im beforehand, would the oldster be in this state?"
"......."
Buru bristled for a moment under Uru's steady reproach, but it lasted only a heartbeat before he shifted his gaze to the sky and played dumb. Uru stared at him in disgust, then explained the reasons in detail to Old Hans.
"Old feller, listen well now."
"Uwaaaah."
"There's a reason for it."
"Sniffle — what reason?"
At Uru's calm words, Old Hans finally reined in his tears and asked back.
"Recruits an’ wheat both gotta be toughened up. That’s how they grow strong. Get it now?"
"......."
"That's the truth of it, so ye know."
"Hah...."
It was exceedingly kind, but its substance was the height of simplicity. In the end, Old Hans and the farmers found their tears bursting forth again.
"Oh Heaven, is wheat a man or a medicinal herb?! What good is packing it down?! Oh Heaven!"
"Uaaah-haah-haah."
Gazing out at the sea of tears, Uru replayed his own answer in his mind and pondered what had gone wrong.
"Uru."
"......."
"Seems yer head's just for show, too."
As Old Hans's weeping erupted again, Buru had his revenge on Uru. Just then, Gye Ung-sam came walking from another wheat field with some farmers beside him. His eyes rounded, and he ran forward.
"Generals, what in the world is happening?"
"Ah, good ye came. Try an' calm this oldster down."
"Pardon?"
"Oh, Heaveeens!"
Ung-sam echoed back at Buru, but quickly gauged the situation and spoke calmly to Old Hans, who was sprawled flat on the ground.
"Old Hans, what they're doing is called wheat trampling — it's our way of doing things. Look now, does it really look like those soldiers are just crushing the wheat?"
"What?"
"Come on, take a look. When they press down on it like that, the wheat rises back up, and it'll grow more stalks and become strong against wind and rain. From what I hear, folk around here just sow and grow as-is, then harvest. Doing that, you're lucky to get fifteen grains or so. But trample 'em like this, and the wheat grows sturdy — a single stalk'll put out more than twenty grains. You understand? Same goes for barley, not just wheat."
"Sniffle. Is that... truly so?"
"You don't trust me, oldster?"
At Ung-sam's kind explanation, the old man stopped his weeping and slowly took in the sight of the soldiers trampling. But a certain word suddenly flashed through Old Hans's mind.
'Liar.'
In the end, Old Hans's face twisted again.
"Why won't you believe me even after I've explained it!"
"......."
When distrust flooded Old Hans's expression, Ung-sam pressed him, incredulous. But Buru and Uru, as though they understood, nodded and spoke in unison.
"Not a liar."
"That’s right."
"......."
Inwardly, Ung-sam was cursing both his senior officers.
In the end, a detailed explanation from another soldier who had farmed the land finally let Old Hans believe and set his heart at ease — but Ung-sam's slumped shoulders never straightened.
"Oldster, same way, not just wheat—barley, too, we trample. Back home, barley trampling, wheat trampling — everyone knows the trampling's the important part. That's why we even have games like bridge-trampling an' such. You'll learn bit by bit. Yer Gauri folk now, not who ye were."
"Yes, yes."
At Buru's words, Old Hans still carried a thread of uneasiness, but he could believe them. In this way, the chasm between their cultures was narrowing, little by little.