Chapter 127: Chapter 122: Betting and Calling
Dust filled the air in Newly Town’s Central Square.
The midday sun was scorching, baking the flagstones until they were searing hot.
A dozen or so people were escorted by the guards onto a temporary stage, with Pick standing at the very front.
His face showed no trace of fear; instead, it shone with the glorious look of a martyr.
He knew full well that he was making a gamble.
’If I win, I’ll be the hero who dared to stand up for everyone. From now on, my words will carry weight in Newly Town.’
’If I lose... No, I won’t lose!’
In his eyes, this young lord was like a scholar who just holed up in those mountains every day.
He was soft-hearted and easy to persuade, and more importantly, he needed his subjects to do the work.
’There’s safety in numbers. As long as I make a big enough scene, he’s bound to back down!’
At this thought, he grew bolder. He raised his arm and shouted, spittle flying from his lips.
"Everyone! Open your eyes and see! The lord is a good man, he wants us to live better lives, and there’s nothing wrong with that!"
He started with a statement of affirmation to win over the crowd. "But good intentions don’t always lead to good outcomes! We’re human, not machines! Who can guarantee they won’t nick a single sea-salt potato while digging?"
"Today it’s just one sea-salt potato, but what about tomorrow? We toil all day long, and because of one tiny ’accident,’ all our blood and sweat is for nothing! I’m not doing this for myself, I’m speaking out for all of you! We must ask the lord to get rid of this unreasonable rule!"
The dozen or so people behind him joined in the shouting, each trying to be louder than the last.
The faces of the crowd below began to show hesitation.
They put their heads together, whispering to one another.
At the edge of the crowd, Caroline stood with her arms crossed, watching with great interest as a curious light flashed in her eyes.
She wanted to see how this bookworm, always so benevolent toward the common folk, would clean up this mess.
In her opinion, Velin was too good to these people—so good that it bordered on weakness.
And weakness is the most fatal poison for a ruler.
Velin stood upon the stage, not saying a word.
He understood their intentions perfectly: challenge the rules, test his limits, and angle for undeserved benefits.
His first instinct was to use data and logic, to explain that the rules were established to guarantee the long-term interests of the whole group, and that breaking them would ultimately harm everyone.
But then he looked up and saw Pick’s face, flushed from rabble-rousing, and the glimmer of greed and opportunism in the eyes of those around him.
He suddenly realized that this was not the time or place for reason.
He wasn’t facing collaborators he could reason with, but a virus attempting to infect the entire organism.
To save the organism, one had to excise the rotting flesh.
’So be it.’
The last trace of hesitation in Velin’s eyes vanished, replaced by the cold, rational calm of a laboratory.
Just as Pick’s shouting reached a crescendo, Velin gave a slight lift of his chin.
SLAP!
A single, crisp slap cut Pick off mid-sentence.
Barrett had delivered the blow himself, with enough force to whip Pick’s head to the side.
Pick was stunned. The uproar from the crowd below ceased instantly.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
Barrett didn’t stop. He struck with his left hand, then his right. The crisp sound of slapping echoed across the square, each blow sending a shudder through the crowd.
Soon, Pick’s cheeks were swollen, and blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.
He tried to shout again, but his teeth had been knocked loose, and he could only manage a muffled whimper.
The others who had been shouting the loudest received the same treatment.
The only sounds left in the square were the heavy thuds of the slaps and the sound of suppressed breathing.
Only when the last troublemaker had been beaten into a heap on the floor did Velin slowly walk to the front of the stage.
From a nearby basket, he picked up a sea-salt potato.
On its surface was a gash from a hoe. White sap mixed with soil, giving off a raw, earthy scent.
He held the sea-salt potato up for the crowd to see.
"I have stressed that you must be careful during the harvest. Once the skin of a sea-salt potato is broken, it will rot into mush from the wound within a couple of weeks. Thousands upon thousands of pounds of food will be wasted."
"If the people who take their time to carefully protect every single potato receive the same work points as those who only care about speed and recklessly damage the harvest..."
Velin scanned the crowd below.
"Is that fair to the ones who work diligently?"
The crowd fell silent. The people who had been wavering now lowered their heads in shame.
"It’s not fair! The lord is right!" someone shouted.
Immediately, a tide of agreeable murmurs spread through the crowd.
"That’s right, Pick and his lot are too careless when they work!"
"Gods, so they really do rot if they get damaged!"
Velin tossed the damaged sea-salt potato at Pick’s feet.
"So, for someone who deliberately breaks the rules, wastes food, and incites dissent... what do you think should be done with them?"
While the crowd was still speechless, Tumo, his face flushed red, roared with all his might from below the stage.
"Banish them! We don’t raise ungrateful bastards in Newly Town!"
He pointed at his own chest, his voice trembling. "It was the lord! He let us peasants, with our worthless lives, live like human beings again! We can eat our fill, we can stand up straight! My wife dares to smile now, and my kid doesn’t cry from hunger at night anymore! It’s only been a few days! And they want to destroy it all?!"
His bloodshot eyes glared daggers at Pick, and also at those who had wavered. "You may want to go back to living a life worse than a dog’s, but we don’t! Anyone who tries to smash my family’s rice bowl, I, Tumo... I’ll fight them to the death!"
After he finished shouting, he turned to Velin and bowed deeply. From an angle no one could see, a glint flickered in Tumo’s eyes—the look of a man who had just bet everything he had.
Yes, he was also gambling. But he wasn’t placing a new bet, he was just calling.
"My lord... we don’t want to go back to how things were."
In the distance, a look of surprise appeared in Caroline’s eyes.
The subjects she had seen before were either numb, fearful, or cursed their lord behind his back.
But she had never seen a commoner so genuinely use such plain words to defend a ruler’s "rules."
She had a faint feeling that Velin’s way of ruling was different from other lords...
Velin looked at Tumo, his expression softening for a moment before returning to its previous icy state.
"My domain does not support parasites that seek only to gnaw at its foundations."
"For those who follow the rules, you will receive food, safety, and everything you can imagine from me."
"But for those who break the rules, there is only one fate—"
He looked to Barrett and issued his final command.
"These fourteen individuals—strip them of all clothing belonging to Newly Town, confiscate all their personal assets, and throw them out of the territory."
The entire square fell silent for a moment, then erupted in cheers.
"The lord is wise!"
The last shred of speculative hope on the faces of Pick and the others shattered, replaced by utter despair.
"No! My lord! I was wrong! I was so wrong!" Pick broke down. He fell to his knees and scrambled forward, trying to grab Velin’s leg.
"I’ll never do it again! Please, I’m begging you, give me one more chance! I don’t want to die!"
The others behind him came to their senses, and a miserable cacophony of crying, begging, and kowtowing filled the air.
Velin didn’t spare them another glance as he turned and walked out of the square.
The townsfolk below watched his retreating back, and the look in their eyes changed.
It was no longer just simple gratitude and dependence, but something deeper—awe.
Amid the piercing wails, Pick and the other thirteen were dragged away by the guards like sacks of garbage, hauled through the crowd and toward the gates of the town.
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