Chapter 59
Chapter 59
Iron Emperor — Chapter 59
Risel, who had been following behind, slowly stepped forward and spoke to Go Jin-cheon.
"May I ask the reason for the judgment you rendered just now?"
"Simple. Right now we need every last person."
"Pardon?"
The answer was so different from what he expected that Risel could only voice a reflexive question. But the explanation followed immediately.
"Hwi."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Recruit slave soldiers. They will serve and labor together for ten years, and after that, inform them that they will be granted emancipation. Emancipation covers the individual, their wife, and their children only. There is no age limit. Take in men who look ready to drop dead tomorrow. If they die before completing the ten years, their children or wives shall complete the term."
"It shall be done according to Your Majesty's will."
Watching Jin-cheon's departing figure, Risel came to understand the true intent behind this matter.
He had personally rendered this judgment in order to replenish their currently insufficient troop strength. Moreover, by clearly demonstrating to the people the difference between themselves and slaves, he had made them realize that what they enjoyed was genuine freedom and, at the same time, an honorable duty. And to the slaves, unlike before, he had instilled the understanding that passivity toward the future was not the only path.
"I have grasped Your Majesty's intent. However, being too lenient with the people is also not the best course."
When Dae Mu-deok spoke with a voice tinged with concern, Jin-cheon continued walking as he replied.
"Wherever Gauri exists, she is the center of the world. The people of Gauri are the precious constituent members who build that center. If those constituent members lack at least this much pride, the center collapses."
"Is that line of thought not somewhat dangerous? If it is perceived as a kind of extreme nationalism, the exclusionary aspects will stand out."
At Risel's worried remark, Jin-cheon let out a soft chuckle. What was so amusing?
"What is so bad about putting one's own country at the center, or about nationalism? Did you not say yourself that it is not those things that are evil, but the exclusion of others?"
"I did, but—"
"Everything is fine if you are strong. Stronger than your neighbors, well-fed, and prosperous. It is the weak who are narrow-minded and mutter among themselves in back rooms about how our state is like this or our people are like that. We are strong, and we will become stronger still."
"..."
"Tolerance and understanding are, at their root, the domain of the strong."
At Jin-cheon's words, Risel and Gerard sank into silence once again. It was the simplest and yet the most ideal answer. Most likely, owing to today's events, the people would grow even more unified, and the slaves would aspire to that state...
Dae Mu-deok stared at Go Jin-cheon's back and felt a complicated mix of emotions. If it were simply a matter of beating a slave to death, he could understand it, but this incident also constituted a breach of military discipline.
Clearly, committing murder even after seeing a soldier responsible for public order running toward him shouting to stop—that was something that ought to be punished by death, even as an example. And the slave's family should face the same, of course. Not that Jin-cheon was unaware of Mu-deok's concern.
"Mu-deok."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"We have no enemy right now."
"..."
Perhaps because the two of them were alone in the Imperial Hall, though his voice was low, it resonated quite loudly. Jin-cheon slowly regarded Mu-deok, who was standing silently behind him with his back slightly bent.
"On top of that, our greatest weakness is that Gauri numbers only two thousand or so. If we had an enemy, fostering unity would be easy, but for one thing, the monsters in the area are not a suitable enemy, and for another, we cannot wage war when our population is already short. To that end, leniency is also necessary. That said, we can use this as a pretext to saddle them with a bit more accountability. Collective responsibility."
"Yes."
As Mu-deok bowed his head, Jin-cheon clicked his tongue softly and continued his explanation in a rueful tone.
"This matter was simply a question of priorities. Instilling in the slaves the awareness that they are treated as nothing more than objects, and at the same time, dispelling the doubts that had been accumulating among the people."
Mu-deok could sense, as he watched Jin-cheon's back, how the man had changed. The likeness of a Yeolje who was beginning to survey the whole, unlike before.
Among the people, a subtle sense of superiority was emerging, while conversely, anxiety among the slaves was intensifying. Because of the previous incident, the slaves had been made keenly aware of their standing once again, and the people, unlike before, had begun gradually to feel a sense of belonging as citizens of Gauri. Fortunately, no rash wave of copycat incidents had occurred.
* * *
"Whoa."
"Isn't it magnificent?"
A group of soldiers had gathered, and at their center stood the drinking trio, who shared a deep bond with the dwarves known as the Stone Trio. In the very middle was the thing that held all their gazes. Catching the sunlight and glittering brilliantly, a single suit of plate mail was more than enough to captivate the soldiers' eyes.
The exclamations ringing out on all sides sent the dwarves' spirits soaring. Never before in their dwarven lives had their skills been so undervalued as they were here. And now, to receive this much attention in the midst of that—one need not be told how good it felt.
"Hyaaah~. The engraving, it looks like it's moving, Elder."
"Hul-hul-hul."
As one soldier marveled at the intaglio pattern, a laugh trickled from Galling Stone's mouth.
"This is like a bronze mirror... Whoa! Look, I can see my face!"
"Let me see!"
"Hal-hal-hal."
When the soldiers caught their reflections on the mirror-like surface, Mawin Stone's laughter grew louder.
"Whoa, so this is decoration then?"
"..."
Hwain Stone's face hardened in an instant. Think about it. Who would call a piece made to be worn mere decoration—and what dwarf would be pleased by that? But the anger that had surged up had no choice but to subside.
Why? Because no one had been willing to wear the arms and armor they made. Had it been other humans, they might have sneered, but these humans here had a master named Jang Moo among them, so their eyes could not help but be discerning.
"Ahem. Now then, won't one of you try putting this on?"
"This?"
When Hwain Stone carefully broached the subject, the soldiers' eyes widened as they stared at the armor. The armor, exuding beauty and a majestic sense of weight, more than tempted the soldiers.
"I shall gift it to one of you."
"Whoaaa!"
When Galling Stone stroked his beard and casually dropped the offer, the soldiers' mouths gaped open wide enough to hold a rice winnowing basket. At their heated reaction, the dwarves began to feel at last that their skills were gaining traction even here.
But at that very moment—
Twang!
Crashang-clang-clang-clang!
"..."
"..."
"Whoa."
Bewilderment, shock, and emptiness swirled inside the speechless dwarves' gaping mouths. And the eyes of the soldiers around them were darting back and forth between the plate mail—which had been sent tumbling more than ten mir with a hideous clangor of metal—and the opposite direction.
The plate mail that had, only moments ago, basked in the soldiers' envious gazes was now coated in dirt and dust, and drooping limply across its mirror-sheened breastplate was a bird drenched in blood.
On the other side, where the other soldiers were looking, the massive form of Eulji Uru came flying like the wind, racing toward them.
"O-oh, greetings, General!"
"Outta my way!"
"Sir?"
Utterly ignoring the soldiers' salutes, Uru swept straight past them and rushed toward the tumbled plate mail.
"Oh!"
An exclamation escaped Uru's lips as he ran up. The bird lying across the plate mail had been his objective. But what Uru lifted with a pleased expression was not the bird alone. When he raised the bird, the plate mail came up with it.
"What's this now?"
"Huuurk!"
"Khu-hek!"
"Uwaaahk!"
Along with Uru's clueless voice, the dwarves' breathless, choking cries and the soldiers' screams erupted in a jumbled chorus. The beautifully gleaming breastplate of the plate mail had been pierced clean through, front and back, by the arrow driven into the bird, and the bird's seeping blood was creating a grotesque spectacle.
Clank!
"This plate armor, what is it?"
"..."
Uru, who had pulled out the arrow, looked around and posed his question, but no one could manage an answer.
"We're so short on iron right now that we don't even put iron heads on our hunting arrows—and you're using precious iron for this kind of crap? Take it away and melt it down, quick."
"Th-this kind of... M-melt it down!"
At Uru's remark, which contained not a sliver of consideration for the other party, Galling Stone's mind went blank white and the strength drained from the legs planted on the earth.
Plop.
"Galling Stone-y there, what're you sittin' down for?"
"Art, art..."
Even at Uru's question, Galling Stone only hugged the pierced armor, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, like a man whose soul had fled his body. At that, one soldier began trying to console him.
"The hole..."
"With General Uru's archery, there's nothing he can't punch through. Well, I mean, even if it went clean through front and back, that's just because it's the General, so..."
"Mister Uru!"
Piercing through the soldier's consolation came Sara's voice. The soldiers naturally turned toward Sara, and the soldier who had been offering comfort could find no further words. The other soldiers, too, looked back and forth between the running Sara and Uru with uneasy eyes.
Sensing the strange looks from those soldiers, Galling Stone followed their gaze, looking in turn at Uru and Sara—and in that instant, he froze like a stone. Because aside from the right hand in which Uru was holding the extracted arrow, his other hand held no bow, while Sara, who had come running as if out of breath, was gripping the bow that ought to have been in Uru's hands.
"Don't tell me..."
Hwain Stone spoke in a trembling voice.
"Sara, look at this. It got hit!"
"Oh my! It really did!"
"Right!"
In an instant, the three dwarves who had grasped the direction of the exchange felt their pride crumbling, and the soldier who had come within a hair's breadth(?) of donning this beautiful suit of armor only moments ago felt a chill run down his spine.
And as if giving voice to the soldiers' feelings, one soldier stepped discreetly forward, peered at the plate mail cradled in Galling Stone's arms, and asked while pointing at the arrow in Uru's hand.
"Was this, by any chance, shot by Lady Sara?"
"Yes!"
Clatter.
Unlike Sara, who answered proudly, the pierced plate mail that slipped from Galling Stone's embrace struck the ground with a jarring clang that echoed loudly.
"Sara, take this and go roast it with Buru and eat."
"Okay. Mister Uru, thank you for teaching me archery~. I'll be going now!"
"Right. Off you go."
As if it were a conversation from another world entirely, one side was suffused with warmth and affection while the other was swimming in a sea of despair. Watching Sara's retreating figure, Uru grinned and shifted his feet.
"Well then, take care."
That smile, as if a screw or two had come loose, was most likely because he was off to see Haidia...
As Uru vanished, the soldiers too began slipping away one by one. But not a single one offered the dwarves a word of consolation. No, if anything, they cast a cold glance their way as they left.
"Put that on and go to war, they'd be telling you to go die."
"Right. It's not armor—it's burial clothes."
"Come on, let's go. We'll be late for training."
Every passing remark drove itself like a spike into the dwarves' hearts.
"..."
"Haaah..."
"Hngh."
Galling Stone, robbed of words, stared vacantly at the armor rolling on the ground, while Hwain Stone gazed into empty space and let out a sigh. Mawin Stone, for whom such brutal treatment was a first, hung his head and shed tears.
Who in the world treats armor crafted by dwarves this way?
Who in the world has armor crafted by dwarves that no one is willing to wear?
Who in the world drives them into this kind of despair...?
In truth, it was not that the defensive power of their plate mail was lacking. The problem was the standard. Plate mail made by them should have been able to deflect an arrow with ease.
The issue was that the power of Gauri's weapons did not merely exceed that standard by a slight margin—it exceeded it several times over. Moreover, the bow fired just now was an improved version of the existing bow. Instead of water buffalo horn or rib bone, it used minotaur horn, and its string was not twisted from ox sinew but from ogre sinew.
Armaments that already possessed staggering destructive power had become even stronger, leaving their plate mail with no choice but to be pierced like paper. And how could Sara possibly draw such a weapon? All the more so against a bird in flight, not a stationary target.
Eulji Uru had drawn and loosed it all, while Sara had merely gone through the motions. Otherwise, would there be any reason for an arrow to come down dangerously among the soldiers? The dwarves, with no way of knowing that, took their wounds to heart, and Uru, for his part, felt no obligation to explain.
As could be gathered from this episode, within Gauri, military strength was being expanded continuously. The people were transforming ever more proactively as a result of Go Jin-cheon's personal judgment, and the vague anxiety the slaves had felt was beginning to materialize into reality.
However, the breakdown in military discipline that Dae Mu-deok had worried about did not occur. Because alongside the intensified training, the participation of the slave soldiers had sparked a sense of superiority and a competitive spirit among the existing populace.
On top of that, as in Sara's case, the people they saw were soldiers and warriors, which made it easier for them to grow familiar with weapons and reduced their resistance to learning them.
Furthermore, although crop cultivation was ongoing, the unique terrain of the mountain range had made hunting a part of daily life, and unlike the previous slash-and-burn farming village—where only a handful of hunters ventured out while dodging monsters—everyone could now hunt with a fair degree of freedom and safety. And this proficiency could also be transformed into archer strength in times of siege defense.
The dwarves alone had yet to keep pace with these changes. That was their misfortune, and it became the greatest shock their world of craftsmanship had ever received.