Chapter 105 - Lyfe or Deth

"What are you talking about?"

"I won't say it to the others because it might seem like I'm needlessly spreading fear, but do you know that what you did was practically suicide?"

Hanson bluffed at those words.

"What's there to be in danger of? If that administrator lays a hand on me anyway, they'll be the only ones taking a loss..."

"What are you talking about. You almost lost your life just a moment ago."

"Administrator Isabella didn't do anything, so what do you mean I almost lost my life?"

"People like you might not know, but I used to be a mercenary. I've roamed the Serdes Continent and done every job that paid well. Then, one time, I encountered dragon spawns."

Ordinarily, he would have thought of it as typical bragging.

However, the middle-aged man had a murderous look in his eyes that a bluffer could never make.

"That was the day we were hunting an ogre. Considering the target, we brought a lot of mercenaries and went in fully prepared. It was a pretty fierce battle. The bastard's regeneration and our preparation were on equal footing. That was when an unexpected guest appeared. It was a dragon spawn."

The middle-aged foreman swallowed hard.

"Whether that ogre was the dragon spawn's target or not, we ended up taking it down in a joint attack. No, even 'joint attack' is putting it too generously. The moment they arrived, they immediately severed its neck, and we were just putting scratches on a corpse."

"What does that have to do with right now?"

"Listen to the end. It starts now. After the ogre died, they cut off its ear and tossed it to our mercenary captain."

"You mean as proof of subjugation?"

"Right. Since the dragon spawn stole the credit, they were showing a bit of goodwill in their own way."

"It sounds like a problem that was resolved amicably, so why are you telling me this story?"

"We thought so too. But we were wrong. Our mercenary captain was a former knight. Plus, he was immature. He showed some nerve to that dragon spawn. And do you know what happened?"

He made a throat-slitting gesture with a stiffened expression.

"They just lopped off his head."

"..."

"Do you think he was the only one who died? No. They only stopped their ruthless slaughter after striking down ten more people, including that head."

"Why would they do such a thing..."

"It's simple. Because he talked back. For something immature, young, and weak to show pride is something they simply cannot allow. Are you starting to realize what you just did?"

The foreman gestured somewhere with his chin.

It was the seat where the armor knight had sat.

"If that noble person hadn't stopped you, it would have only ended with you and a few others here dead."

Saying so, the middle-aged foreman slung his tools over his shoulder and went outside.

Hanson couldn't follow him outside.

He was inwardly mulling over the middle-aged man's words.

About just how absurd of a thing he had done.

'But I was right, wasn't I?'

Didn't he avoid death because the armor knight was there?

Regardless, it was certain that things were flowing according to his intentions.

Meanwhile, Isabella was also ruminating on a strange sensation.

'My instincts overwhelmed me for a moment.'

A dragon spawn's instinct boils down to a single thing: honor.

The most precious beings under the sky are their father and mother,

Those who tarnish their names must be made an example of and punished severely,

And those who kill their children must be chased to the ends of hell and killed painfully.

Such a nature had momentarily overwhelmed her.

It couldn't be helped.

Even when dragon spawns view the same humans, they divide them into tiers.

Those who deserve respect are rightfully respected, but the rest are on the level of dogs or livestock.

The only thing better about them is that they can communicate a little.

Isabella, a child of Iorga, was the same.

Ferda is Valdrova's fiancé and, at the same time, a capable Regent, so he is respected.

William possesses excellent martial arts and an even greater mental fortitude, so he is respected.

But Hanson?

He was no different from ordinary humans.

In other words, he was on the same level as a talking dog.

An arrogant dog that, even though brought a special snack, bites its master's hand instead of wagging its tail.

She had presented an amicable solution and even gotten it approved, yet he had the gall to ask for more.

A dog that bites people must die.

She was completely consumed by that thought and had tried to kill Hanson.

He would have been enough as an example.

'Until that man blocked me.'

The armor knight.

A tall stature with a reliable build.

Armor that couldn't be pierced by see-through magic.

Its appearance was at the level of something made by village blacksmiths, but it was undoubtedly made of the highest quality materials.

'If that man hadn't blocked me...'

Isabella would have acted on her instincts.

Hanson's head would have rolled on the floor, or if he was lucky, his whole body would have been battered and bruised.

He absolutely wouldn't have met a good end.

'I thought he was just dull and foolish, but he surprisingly has a sharp intuition.'

Isabella also began to take an interest in her.

It was a waste to leave him as a simple laborer.

The armor knight, Valdrova, thought.

'Why is everyone sitting here?'

It was before Isabella had come in.

The atmosphere was unusual.

What she could see were foreman-level figures.

They were waiting for something, packed tightly together in the cramped office.

'The director definitely said something, but...'

Hanson had been saying something before this happened.

However, because his talking went on for too long, she couldn't understand the main point.

There was only one thing she clearly understood.

["We desperately need your help, Sir Knight."]

He said he desperately needed help.

So, though she didn't know what was going on, she decided to help.

'Because it's for this village!'

She had assumed it was definitely something that required using her strength.

But all she was doing was merely sitting next to Hanson.

No matter how she looked at it, it didn't seem like something that required help.

'I'm bored.'

Since she wasn't moving her body, she felt like her muscles were stiffening up.

Even if she wanted to get up, this atmosphere made it so she couldn't budge an inch.

'Let's just wait a little longer...'

Thinking that, she sat for hours.

A moment later, someone came inside.

'It's a child of Iorga.'

At the same time, Luri's request came to mind.

["Please never let it be discovered that you acted as a laborer here, My Lady. Especially, that damn group of water lizards must never find out."]

Because she had made a fiercer expression than ever before, she didn't dare ignore it.

She became nervous for no reason.

Wondering if she might get caught...

In the meantime, some conversation was continuing.

Right around when Isabella's words were almost finishing, she was able to pick out a phrase.

["Please stop your ongoing strike and return to your livelihoods."]

Livelihoods.

That meant, in other words, to go to work.

Only then did Valdrova realize.

'So that was it!'

The reason they were waiting like this was because that descendant of Iorga had blocked them from doing it.

And that was why they had been waiting here.

'He was blocking them from working, so that's why they were so angry.'

It was something that even Valdrova would have been angry about.

She rejoiced to herself, thinking she had something in common with the laborers.

'Now I should go to work.'

But it was then.

"No."

Hanson had refused it.

'Why??'

It clearly seemed like the one who told them not to work was the child of Iorga, so why was he refusing now that he was told to do it?

Valdrova couldn't understand Hanson's actions.

'You get money if you work, so why isn't he trying to work?'

If you work, you get money.

If you get money, you can eat delicious things.

They were even saying they would give them more money, so she couldn't understand kicking this away.

Above all,

'I want to work.'

Valdrova wanted to quickly see one more building go up.

Unable to help it, Valdrova moved and poked his shoulder.

Fortunately, her intention must have been communicated, as Hanson didn't say anything further, and the foremen went outside to work again.

Valdrova looked up at the sky.

She could see the sun already dipping heavily toward the west.

'I have to hurry and finish today's quota.'

It wasn't like she was being chased by something.

She purely liked working.

That was why she liked Mondays more than Sundays, when others rested.

'I should go to work.'

The Red Dragon, Valdrova.

Joyfully going to work at the construction site again today.

The day of the council meeting.

The building meant to be the Pascal trading company's Hestia branch was used as today's meeting room.

The reason was extremely simple.

He simply didn't want to bring those arrogant bastards into his nest.

Luri also agreed with his intention, and Isabella only then backed down.

Of course, Isabella explained the reason differently.

She packaged it as him looking after the true state of Hestia village and doing so out of trust for the village's architecture.

Since he was someone who had a good reputation to begin with, it wasn't hard for people to accept that he was looking after the commoners.

It was further spurring his good reputation.

Ferda, having finished his morning preparations, moved to the council venue.

As Ferda stepped inside, everyone stood up and paid their respects to Ferda.

"We will now begin the council meeting."

The moment Ferda took his seat, Isabella acted as the moderator and opened the meeting.

Ferda observed the expressions of the people who had come while reciting phrases in accordance with the formalities.

Many people were already seated on the opposite side from him.

All of them had the protest slogan 'Life or Death' written on their headbands.

'Should I just kill them all?'

They were practically begging to be killed, so wouldn't it be polite to kill them?

Or at least make them suffer enough to wish for death.

The fact that he couldn't do either of those and had to just prattle on with words was incredibly agonizing for Ferda.

Still, that much was something he had expected.

Ferda could also spot an unexpected figure.

An all too familiar face.

No, not a familiar face, but a helmet.

'The armor knight.'

His feelings toward him were a bit more complicated.

The guy who had refused his offer to give him a knighthood and turned his back.

It would be a lie to say he didn't find him disgraceful.

To kick away his goodwill after he had gone through the trouble of saying all that.

'No, I understand him kicking it away.'

But to think the reason was to participate in a place like this and muddy the waters.

'Could it be...'

Ferda thought of one possibility.

'What if that guy is the actual mastermind behind this situation?'

There was a possibility of that.

What if he was aiming beyond just a knight and for a noble title with territory?

There are plenty of bastards in the Empire who do such things.

What if that guy is drawing a big picture for a comeback?

'Plus, there's no risk of failure.'

He just has to put forward Hanson as a figurehead and bail out when things get disadvantageous.

'Pathetic.'

A sense of contempt accompanied by a feeling of betrayal welled up.

He had thought he was somewhat noble, but to think he was such a snob.

'Someday, I'll tear your jaw right open.'

Ferda glared at the armor knight with eyes mixed with hatred.

Inside the armor, Valdrova saw those eyes.

'Mr. Ferda is glaring at me...'

A gaze in which not a single ounce of kindness could be felt.

And yet, she didn't entirely dislike those eyes.

She did her best to suppress her pounding heart.

Announcing the opening, the first person to open his mouth was the representative of the laborer executives, Hanson.

"We sincerely thank the Regent and the administrator for lending an ear to the grassroots."

Hanson spoke while looking at what had been written down.

"Last autumn, we came here and first set foot on this land as laborers helping with the construction of Hestia village."

The beginning was a reasonably ambitious story.

"However, a recent unfortunate incident resulted in 30 casualties, and as a result, the village fell into great chaos."

There was some chaos, but it had been said it wasn't to the extent of making a fuss.

It was impossible to tell whether Hanson didn't know that fact, or if he possessed the brazenness to pretend not to know even if he did.

"We carefully submit this petition in hopes that, as a wise ruler and leader, you will listen to the earnest pleas of the grassroots.

First, we request that the wages of the construction workers be raised.

Second, we request that a construction union be established."

Their demands seemed to be two, but there were three in total.

Money and a nest.

'And power.'

Wherever people gather, power is bound to arise.

What is called a union, or a guild, is an institution of power created by commoners under the pretext of representing their voices.

'What's certain is that someone wrote it for him.'

Looking at the vocabulary and the way he read it, it was hard to believe he had written it himself.

'Did that guy write it for him?'

If he could write that level of text, Ferda's mastermind theory gained traction.

'Anyway, everything is proceeding as expected.'

To be exact, it was Stephan's expectation.

Having managed a large company under his father, he was well-versed in such matters and quickly caught on.

"If."

Ferda asked, just in case.

"What do you plan to do if I ignore that request?"

Hanson grew tense upon hearing those words.

He was young, but he was overwhelmed by a gaze unsuited for his age.

Because of that, Hanson covertly gave Valdrova a signal.

'It's my turn to move.'

At that, she shifted smoothly and placed her hand on the pen and paper.

What she was to write down was the slogan written on their headbands.

'He said to write... Life or Death, right?'

Valdrova was nervous.

Everyone's gaze was directed at her.

She had figured it wouldn't matter since all she had to do was write down the letters right then.

But,

'... How do I write it again?'

She had forgotten how to write the letters.

No, it was closer to saying she didn't know.

She had gotten used to reading, so she could read the letters when she saw them, but writing was a whole other problem.

In other words, she was in a state where input worked, but output didn't.

That made sense, as she could count on one hand the number of times she had written letters in her life.

Naturally, she hadn't practiced, and she couldn't properly remember what the spelling was either.

'Life or Death, Life or Death.'

She desperately muttered it in her head while trying to mimic it into writing.

The text she wrote down like that was as follows.

-Lyfe or deth.

"...?"

"...?"

Text with a cheap-looking handwriting and completely incorrect spelling.

Not only Ferda, but even the representative, Hanson, was surprised and broke into a cold sweat.

Ferda felt certain of one thing as he looked at that text.

'He definitely wasn't a mastermind or anything.'

It was the moment his feeling of contempt turned into finding him pathetic.