The Propaganda of "They Are Filthy Scoundrels"
Jane McCree, a woman bearing the name McCree, began to unleash the emotions swirling in her heart and shout at the sea of faces before her.
“We in our village have been betrayed to the core by the Empire’s army! My own fiancé! Little girls of the Smith family, who once fervently pledged their loyalty to the Empire! No matter how passionately we served the Empire, all that returned to us was the cruel harvest of plunder and the death of our families!”
Her words carried raw, searing anger and betrayal, tears streaming down her face as she shouted.
The gathered citizens in the town square were shaken to their core by the story.
“How could such a thing happen…”
“Even the Empire’s most fervent supporters have suffered this fate. It means that no matter how obedient we were to the Empire, we could be betrayed at any moment!”
These were the same people who had previously maintained a cautious distance from the rebels, choosing to stand with the Empire rather than risk alliance with them.
Yet the tragedy that had befallen the extreme Empire loyalist Davy Jones and his village—where even helpless children had perished in the slaughter—struck them far more deeply than words could describe.
Reading the mounting outrage in their faces, Jane raised her voice once more, tears still glistening in her eyes.
“For that reason, I ask every one of you here today: do not make the same foolish mistake I made. Do not place your blind trust in the Empire. Even if we try to help them, the only end we will meet is being slaughtered like livestock! What we should trust and follow is not these filthy Imperial soldiers, but the rebels who are wielding swords in the name of noble freedom!”
Jane’s passionate appeal for support of the rebels sent a fresh wave of unease rippling through the crowd.
Once a stronghold of pro-Empire sentiment, the town square now trembled under the weight of Jane’s words and those of her fellow villagers.
From within the crowd, several citizens began to speak, their voices thick with fear and resentment.
“But the Empire’s army is strong! Defying them is impossible!”
“Even if their actions disgust us, we cannot wage a battle we are certain to lose!”
These words threatened to poison the mood.
Yet Jane remained unmoved, neither angry nor irritated.
She had already learned through experience—and her own inner planning—that such resistance was inevitable, and she knew exactly how to handle it.
“Of course it is. The Empire’s army is undeniably powerful. The war between the rebels and the Empire is, as the saying goes, like pitting eggs against stones. Beating them will not be easy. But…”
After a brief pause, Jane scanned the faces before her, letting silence fall.
This silence drew every eye back to her.
Once more her voice rang out, clear and steady.
“But we must fight. We must prove to the Empire that we are not livestock! We must defend the people we love so dearly! We must raise our weapons and show the world that we are still alive!”
With those words, Jane drew the sword at her hip. Though the blade was slender and her grip weak, she lifted it with all her strength, holding it firm and shouting without flinching.
“I will not force anyone. I am merely an outsider from another village, and I hold no right to decide the future of this town. But one thing I will make absolutely clear: the choice before you is simple. Live as livestock and be slaughtered without dignity, or grasp the sword and protect the loved ones who mean everything to you. This decision is entirely yours.”
Jane finished speaking and turned her gaze to the villagers, watching their reactions.
Then, one by one, hands shot up.
“The man is right! We are neither slaves nor beasts!”
“I’ll fight! I’ll pick up a weapon to protect my family!”
These resolute voices ignited new resolve in the crowd. One by one, hesitant citizens followed, raising their hands in solidarity.
“I’ll join the rebels too! For the sake of the people I cherish!”
“Rather than dying betrayed in the shadows, I’d rather face them head-on and shoot them dead!”
“We cannot hand our lives over to executioners!”
“Let’s fight! Let’s see what happens when we break eggs against rocks!”
The realization that the Empire’s betrayal would one day claim even ordinary people like themselves spread through the square like wildfire. For the first time, the townspeople who had once passively supported the Empire began to actively rally behind the rebels.
And as Jane watched the villagers’ faces light up with newfound courage, a deep, genuine smile bloomed within her heart.
Thank the gods… the pain I endured was finally worth it.
“Winning will not be easy. But we must fight. We must prove to the Empire that we are not livestock…”
“Hold on—there’s one part here that’s getting a little long. Maybe we should take a small breath right there.”
“What? But then won’t my attention slip?”
“No. A well-timed pause actually focuses the listener’s mind. Think of how, when a noisy crowd suddenly falls silent, everyone starts wondering what happened next.”
“Ah… I see what you mean.”
Colonel Cromwell spoke in his calm, authoritative military tone.
Jane nodded, checking her speech once more.
She had written the speech herself, pouring her hard-won experience and honest emotion into every line. What Cromwell had done was refine her sometimes rambling words, turning them into a polished oration. Watching him now, Jane felt a strange thrill.
I’ve never thought of organizing a story into writing before… yet here I am, and even I feel how powerfully it lands when you do it right.
To a woman who had barely learned to read and write as a common farmer, the act felt almost miraculous.
The moment she finished memorizing the lines, her gaze drifted to the man beside her—Edward Cromwell, the rebel commander.
He really is extraordinary… Given that he commands the trust of General Franklin, that high-ranking ice mage, he must come from a noble family and have received the finest education. A man like that can accomplish things ordinary farmers could never even imagine.
Deeply intrigued, Jane began to read her speech aloud once more.
Jane stood before the villagers, rehearsing her speech with fierce concentration.
Looking at her, Cromwell could not help but let out a wry smile.
Who would have thought I’d be using something I learned in Korean class like this…
Organizing stories into written form and delivering them to others had been a frequent school assignment back in his previous life. His language teachers had loved the challenge, often assigning writing practice. Whether it was for university entrance exams or not, the fact that he was now using the same skill to stir hearts in a fantasy world felt oddly familiar—and strangely satisfying.
His voice was strong, his pronunciation precise. Each word reached the villagers’ ears clearly. Satisfied that the message would land without distortion, Cromwell allowed a small, satisfied smile to touch his lips.
One by one, militia members arrived from the surrounding villages. As Cromwell and Jane toured the nearby towns and gathered their “spoils,” a warm wave of joy rose in Franklin’s heart.
“How many have we collected altogether?”
“Including everyone already here, we’re past six hundred. If we add the reinforcements who promised to come, we’ll easily surpass a thousand.”
Cromwell’s report was delivered with a smile, and Franklin’s own lips twitched upward in response—until she caught herself and spoke in her usual cool, dignified tone.
“Excellent. We will focus entirely on managing them for now. With such a large crowd gathered, we cannot afford any disruption in morale.”
“As you command, General.”
Franklin maintained her usual icy composure, hiding every trace of emotion.
Yet she had no idea that the man standing beside her—whose face kept flushing slightly whenever their eyes met—had been the one she once kissed under the influence of alcohol.
He still doesn’t remember… It’s almost as if the film skipped. That kiss still burns my skin even now.
Since that night, Franklin had shown no sign of disturbance, and Cromwell began to believe the kiss had been nothing more than drunken foolishness.
Of course, the two incidents felt completely separate in his mind.
Is she the heroine…? I can’t be sure, but it almost feels like a flag. …Maybe?
Cromwell raised a hand as if to touch his lips again.
“General!”
An urgent aide came running toward them. Both Cromwell and Franklin turned.
“What is it?”
“Th-the reinforcements… have arrived! They’re finally here!”
“What?”
The timing was earlier than expected.
Franklin’s lips curved into a smile, but Cromwell’s expression darkened slightly.
If it’s reinforcements… that means he brought the bastard too. Better than not coming, but it’s going to make things a little more complicated than I expected…