Chapter 489: The Multitude and the Choice of the Multitude

The last rain of late autumn already carried a hint of bone-chilling cold.

Se'erfu threw the last bundle of wet wheat straw into the granary, raised his arm to wipe away the hot sweat, and exhaled a heavy puff of white air.

"Finally finished!"

The harvest season was finally over.

Although fate was not perfect—for instance, he forgot to pay attention to the weather, causing the drying wheat straw to be soaked, and for instance, the lord didn't go hunting this year, so there was no leftover wild boar or venison to share—this autumn had passed passably well.

He was an easily satisfied person.

The most arduous labor of the year could finally come to an end, and next, he would spend a long and comfortable winter in a warm quilt.

This was the coldest time of the year in Campbell, but it was also the best season of his life, because only at this time did he have the time to make babies.

Perhaps before next spring, another little life could be added to his family.

Thinking of this, a hint of warmth couldn't help but rise in Se'erfu's heart; he hummed a little tune as he returned to his small shack, rubbing those dirty yet clever little heads.

Although he was only in his early twenties, he was already the father of three children.

Unlike the citizens of Lei Ming City, people in the North Creek Valley Count's territory always married very early; sixteen was considered an adult, and they were making babies at fourteen.

And the manor of Baron Lukeweier, where Se'erfu grew up, was the same; they had a diligent baron who generously exempted them from the "chastity tax" and promised that newlywed couples would be given priority in being allotted their own shacks and fields.

In most places on the Aus Continent, when a serf's daughter married, her father was customarily required to pay a fee to the lord.

Especially when marrying into a neighboring village; that would be a large sum of money for ordinary people.

It must be explained on behalf of the baron here: the citizens of Lei Ming City always liked to exaggerate, distorting the "chastity tax" into "droit du seigneur" in their novels, and by the way, slandering the peasants they looked down upon the most, saying these ignorant guys actively offered their wives to the lord to ward off evil.

What a truly ignorant statement!

Why not look for a priest or a nun to ward off evil?

In fact, these guys would know as long as they took a trip to the countryside, they didn't even need to go too far; Bai Yin Pine Town was enough.

How could a lord with better taste possibly take a fancy to the wives they looked down upon themselves?

Anyone who was a bit pretty either went to Lei Ming City or went to the lord's or knight's manor; they would never become a serf's wife.

However, Se'erfu had also heard that some barons would use this as a threat, but the purpose wasn't for the bride's first night, but to extort an extra sum of money from the groom.

If there was no money, using labor to exchange was also fine, and normal people would agree; after all, most of the time it was just repairing fences for the lord's servants or digging out a bird's nest.

Why was it repairing them for the servants?

Ghost knows why!

But repairing fences at the doorstep was better than going dozens of miles away to reclaim wasteland; they didn't dare to talk back at this time, they would have finished the work if they had this time.

In short, due to the diligence of Baron Lukeweier, the peasants living under his rule grew as vigorously as the crops in the fields.

Although thin, they were full of hope.

Without the harassment of little demons, Se'erfu lived very happily, working at sunrise and resting at sunset, plowing in spring and harvesting in autumn, repairing tools in winter, and then rolling in the sheets with his wife... If there was a next life, he hoped his soul would definitely be reincarnated into this blessed land.

Especially after seeing the refugees from the Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng, the little certainty in his heart was unprecedentedly strong.

Being able to serve Baron Lukeweier was a blessing he had cultivated through who knows how many reincarnations.

However, this year seemed different from the past.

Three days after the granary door was closed, before he had time to enjoy a few days of leisure, the manor's bell rang.

"Everyone, gather in the manor's front courtyard! Immediately!"

That bell made people panic; Se'erfu and his companions gathered in the muddy courtyard, full of confusion, stretching their necks to look around.

"What is this for?"

"Could it be finding work for us..."

"Work? In this season?"

"Is our master crazy..."

Se'erfu's good friend, a sturdy young man named Pete, suddenly lowered his voice and muttered in his ear, "We can't be asked to reclaim wasteland in this season, right? The ground is almost frozen."

Se'erfu also felt that this matter was strange.

Reclaim wasteland?

Now?

The mud in the fields was harder than ore!

Thinking with his brain, he felt that even if the lord didn't cherish them, he had to consider the hoes and shovels in the warehouse.

Those antiques had been around for some years; he felt it was a pity if they were broken.

Se'erfu's confusion didn't last long.

A thin man soon walked in front of the crowd.

He was wearing decent cotton clothes, his expressionless face was like the frozen mud outside the manor, and the wrinkles were like field ridges; one couldn't tell if he was happy or angry.

Everyone subconsciously held their breath, not daring to breathe.

They all recognized this gentleman; he was the baron's butler, and everyone in the manor, except for the baron's family, had to bow to him.

His cold gaze swept over the crowd, the butler didn't say a word, just pointed to several covered wagons parked in the courtyard.

"Follow."

No one made a sound.

Everyone followed obediently.

The wagons soon hit the road, the clatter of horse hooves making people panic, and even more restless.

Se'erfu and Pete followed behind the wagons, their eyes constantly glancing at the tightly tied cloth curtains behind the wagons, looking at the cargo boxes that were occasionally revealed, muttering in their hearts.

What exactly does the master want to do?

Unfortunately, no one answered their questions.

Everyone was taken to a bare open space on the north side of the manor; not far away was a sparse forest, and it seemed a black bear had darted through the woods.

The cold wind rolled by, cutting their faces like knives. Se'erfu and the other hundred or so serfs shrank their necks, not knowing what was waiting for them.

Until the butler signaled the servant to lift the cloth curtain on the wagon.

What was loaded on the wagon was not farm tools.

There were no hoes, no axes, and no heavy plows for reclaiming wasteland; instead, there were flintlock guns neatly stacked one by one.

The pitch-black gun barrels exuded a chilling cold in the late autumn sunlight, and the farmers standing here felt their hearts sink.

Is this... going to war?

"Everyone come forward and collect a gun." The butler didn't speak; this time it was the servant driving the wagon who shouted the order loudly.

The serfs became restless.

An older man gathered his courage, looked at the lord's servant who was distributing guns to them, and asked nervously.

"My lord, is this... is this going to war?"

That servant clearly didn't know too much either, while stuffing a gun to him, he said ambiguously.

"Not necessarily, it's just routine training. It hasn't been peaceful in the north recently, there's banditry, and the lord is doing this for your own good. Those guys wearing green turbans are all people who don't blink when they kill..."

Listening to the servant's perfunctory voice, everyone looked at each other, and there was a burst of whispering in the crowd.

They all felt that the baron was probably crazy.

Although they were serfs, they were neither deaf nor blind.

Long before autumn arrived, they had heard from the merchants coming from the north that the trade route of the Raging Torrent River had been restored, and Princess Ailin's army had beaten the Green Forest Army to a pulp, and those bandits had long since run away without a trace.

Where was there any banditry in the north now?

On the contrary, ever since the Tribunal went there, it was extremely safe!

They looked around and couldn't find an opponent to fight; did the lord want them to fight the dwarves in the Wan Ren Mountains?

However, the butler's dead-man face clearly didn't intend to answer any questions.

The serfs didn't dare to resist the lord's authority.

Here, the baron's will was the law, and the butler's words were the order.

They could only suppress their fear and doubts, lining up, using their frozen stiff hands to collect the heavy weapons from the boxes.

Training soon began.

The person who came was a brawny outsider with a burn mark on his face, speaking with a heavy Lai En Kingdom accent.

It must be said that although Lai En people were not as good at fighting as Campbell people, this mercenary-looking man was much more professional than the baron's guards.

He only used less than a quarter of an hour to teach them obedience and discipline.

"Form three ranks! Fast!"

"Raise your guns! Aim! Fire! I heard that you Campbell people are born knowing how to shoot; is this your level? Move faster!"

"First rank retreat and reload! Second rank forward—!"

The shouting voice made Se'erfu temporarily forget the full belly of confusion, and together with other serfs, he filled into the neat line formation.

They were indeed born warriors.

Lai En Kingdom's peasants had to start learning from loading and adapting to the sound of gunfire, while they could start practicing formations as soon as they got the guns.

Actually, they also knew formations, it was just that they would forget after a long time, and they needed someone to scold them a few times to wake up their muscle memory.

The crackling sound of gunfire rang out.

That outsider instructor seemed very satisfied with their performance, shouting, "You guys are truly geniuses," and this was the first word of praise Se'erfu had heard this year, and a smile couldn't help but rise on his honest face.

People always said that the Campbell Duchy was the model of the home of knights, but he never thought so; clearly, firearms were their pride.

It was said that in the distant old epoch, the king's army needed to assemble thousands of spearmen and pay a heavy price to defeat a Bai Yin-tier transcendent knight.

However, now, a Campbell hundred-man squad was enough, and the dense firepower was enough to make Bai Yin-tier transcendents retreat.

And Gold-tier or even Platinum-tier transcendents could also be defeated through the cooperation of formations and the support of artillery.

Of course, if the opponent was a magician, it would be a bit troublesome, requiring the commander's strategic scheduling and familiarity with various spells.

But those were things the commander needed to consider; as a soldier, he didn't need to worry about those complex things.

He only needed to stand firm, load, and then fire—

Until the war was won.

The tense and busy training lasted for a whole day, until dusk arrived, and the serfs, who had worked up a sweat, finally got a slight respite.

They tried to get close to the instructor, but the instructor kept a cold face, not answering any questions, as silent as the distant woods.

"Who are we fighting?"

"When are we leaving?"

"What happened in the north?"

The instructor's response was only one sentence—

"Shut your mouths, take care of your guns, practice honestly if you want to live, and ask your master if you have questions."

They didn't dare to ask their master.

The entire training ground was silent, and everyone was very depressed.

Perhaps seeing their depression, before they were driven back to their shacks, the instructor finally spoke again, throwing them the only promise.

"This training won't take too long; you will be allowed to go home before winter ends."

Allowed to go home before winter ends...

Although this meant their vacation was ruined, people's faces still showed gratified expressions, feeling that life had something to look forward to, and the training didn't seem so hard to endure.

After returning the guns, Se'erfu dragged his heavy body and returned home along the road he came, repeatedly pondering the instructor's meaningful expression.

Although he was full of questions, he felt that this promise was still very reasonable.

The manor's farm work always needed people to do it.

You couldn't let the baron and the butler gentleman do the farming themselves, right?

Difficult days always fly by.

At first, everyone trained on the open space north of the manor, but soon the training location was changed to a more covert place—the count's hunting ground.

Here they saw young men from other villages, and they were surprised to find that it wasn't just their own village that was mobilized, but many villages in the baron's territory.

Next, they were going to train in joint advancement of multiple units.

They would advance in units of a thousand-man squad under the cover of friendly firepower, and fire back after getting close enough to the enemy.

There were other teams not far away.

At least the gunfire Se'erfu heard wasn't just in one area; there were also shouts of bayonet fighting and charging in the distant forest.

The weather was getting colder.

However, colder than the weather was his heart; from some day on, he suddenly couldn't go home, and he could only ask someone to help him bring a message to his family.

That servant agreed readily, but whether he actually did it, he could only pray to that gentleman's conscience, not to deceive him for the sake of his ancestors serving Baron Lukeweier for generations.

Life in the training camp was like the weather in North Creek Valley, colder day by day.

The cold wind in early December could already roll up snow foam, whipping against the tents like gravel, making people worry that the wind and snow would uproot them.

Se'erfu and his companions were still wrapped in the thin coarse hemp autumn clothes from the harvest; the baron seemed to have forgotten to issue them winter clothes, and the count didn't remember this matter either.

He only recently learned that this plan wasn't the baron's idea, but the count's. As for who was behind the count, that was unknown.

Some well-informed guys seemed to guess they were going on a long journey, carrying some dried pumpkin from home, but they had eaten it all last week.

Now everyone's only source of food was the porridge distributed by the lord's servants.

That was a kind of wheat porridge so thin one could see their reflection, two meals a day, the same as when doing corvée labor on weekdays. It was just that there was a problem when there were too many people; the food distributed according to the head count couldn't feed everyone.

Those who came first could definitely eat their fill, while those who came later always had nothing.

Despair and dissatisfaction spread silently in the camp like the frost outside the tents; people began to complain in low voices, cursing the commoners in the Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng for not letting their master worry, causing them, who clearly had food, to go hungry with them.

"Banditry in the north..."

At night, Se'erfu couldn't sleep at all, squeezed in the snoring that sounded like thunder. He stared at the dark tent top, repeatedly chewing on this word that was becoming blurred.

They had been practicing here for almost a month, scaring the birds in the forest so they didn't dare to land, yet they hadn't seen the shadow of a single bandit.

On the contrary, a few guys who didn't have eyes wanted to sneak home a few days ago, but were pressed down by a group of fierce mercenaries, and they were actually hanged for this little thing.

Baron Lukeweier never did this.

His cherishing of serfs was like his cherishing of farm tools; he didn't even want to use a whip, and unless they stole something, he would often let them go after a few sticks.

But these guys were for real.

The war hadn't started yet, but their wide-open eyes were already red...

The turning point occurred on the second weekend of December, when a burst of rapid horse hooves broke the silence of the camp at dawn.

A cavalryman ignored the mud and galloped all the way to the thousand-man commander's tent. He dismounted, his armor still covered in ice, and rushed in without stopping for a moment.

Se'erfu's heart jumped violently, his heart pounding along with those rapid footsteps.

And just at this moment, Pete beside him poked his ribs with his elbow, whispering excitedly.

"It's the messenger! We can go home!"

Speaking of this, he paused, worried that Se'erfu had forgotten, and added a sentence behind.

"Remember? Before we set off, that sentence the instructor told us!"

Only then did Se'erfu's face show a look of sudden realization.

If Pete hadn't mentioned this, he would have almost forgotten. It seemed someone had indeed told them they could go home before winter ended.

His nerves, which had been tense for a month, finally relaxed; he was even thinking about how to deal with his wife and children's complaints and make up for the companionship owed this winter.

However, unfortunately, the cold reality soon shattered his fantasy.

The thousand-man commander and the cavalryman walked out together, but didn't announce that they could go home, but shouted in a high-pitched voice.

"Everyone gather!"

Gather?

Pete was stunned.

Gather to go where?

Se'erfu was also dumbfounded.

They knew the way home; give them some dry rations to carry, and they would walk back themselves; it had always been done this way before.

But this time it was different.

He clearly heard that the thousand-man commander's last sentence wasn't "go home," but a loud "march!". Without waiting for him to ask the full belly of confusion, he followed the mighty crowd and rolled into the wind and snow along with the broken snow in the sky...

Se'erfu finally left the camp he had cursed for nearly three months, together with other serfs who were carrying flintlock guns with blank expressions.

With the precedent of being hanged, no one dared to run away. Besides, there were cavalry soldiers watching covetously, and no one dared to bet that they were the fastest runner.

In short...

Just follow along for now.

However, the direction of the march made everyone feel confused again; they were clearly trained to prevent banditry in the north, but the commander's boots pointed south.

The team was pulled to the bank of the Raging Torrent River.

There was a small pier here, and the pier was full of flat-bottomed barges of all sizes, mainly used for transporting food, and sometimes they would carry guests.

However, this year was different from previous years.

The merchants collecting food had been driven away, especially the caravan of the Andi family, which didn't even have one to be seen, and this pier naturally became desolate, as cold and clear as if it had been occupied by ghosts.

The river water surged with gray waves in the cold wind, just like the confusion in the serfs' hearts, not knowing where to take the next step.

Fortunately, the cavalryman beside the thousand-man commander walked over, opened his mouth and shouted loudly, urging them to board the ship.

"Board the ship! Fast!"

With that belly of confusion, people pushed and shoved into the narrow cabin. The cabin emitted a sour smell of fermented grain husks, just like a livestock shed where animals lived.

"Hurry up! Squeeze in a bit more—"

"This one can take three more."

"Get in quickly!"

Under that urging sound, the narrow cabin was forcibly stuffed with twenty fully armed soldiers. They squeezed like sardines under the shed, gun butts against the floor, knees against other people's butts.

The barge's mooring ropes were untied, and the ship soon moved, shaking its bloated body in the icy river water, drifting downstream.

That jolting made many young men's faces turn blue and white; although the Campbell Duchy was by the sea, not everyone had been on a ship.

The oppressive atmosphere made people suffocate, and what was even more suffocating was the sudden sound of vomiting, as well as the stench permeating the air.

Se'erfu was squeezed into the corner of the cabin, looking at the receding shore through the narrow gap, praying for the protection of Saint Xisi.

And just at this moment, heavy footsteps came from the direction of the bow, and a serious-looking knight's squire stepped onto the deck.

He was wearing fine chain mail, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his gaze sweeping over the serfs huddled together in the cabin like a hawk.

Although he wasn't a Bai Yin-tier powerhouse, his gaze clearly had more deterrent power than Bai Yin-tier transcendent power.

At least Se'erfu dared to look at a transcendent on a battlefield where guns and cannons were roaring, but he didn't dare to meet this guy's gaze, let alone think about how many hundred-man squads it would take to take him down.

Perhaps—

A few squads wouldn't be enough either.

A transcendent could at most kill him with a sword, but this guy only needed one look to drown everyone around him in the icy river water.

The commotion on the ship subsided immediately.

The squire stood at the bow, letting the whistling river wind rage, blowing the robe embroidered with the emblem of the Gelansidun family.

Everyone in the cabin had long known who had mobilized them, but this was indeed the first time the emblem of the Gelansidun family had appeared in front of them.

It seemed the count was finally ready.

That knight's squire also spoke.

"Campbell soldiers! Subjects of the late king! Pious and kind servants of Saint Xisi, the Gelansidun family summons you here!"

Everyone was waiting for his follow-up, and some people's hearts had already vaguely given birth to a bad premonition, feeling that something very bad was about to happen.

And sure enough.

The squire's next sentence completely revealed the count's conspiracy and pushed everyone present to the edge of the cliff of no return!

"Our Duke Edward Campbell has betrayed the high hopes placed by our ancestors, betrayed our late king Aaron Campbell, and also betrayed the subjects who were loyal to him!"

"This shameless jackal tampered with the last will and usurped the ducal title that didn't belong to him. He hasn't been recognized by the 'Light of Praise,' which is the most direct evidence!"

"The true will has always been kept in the castle of the Gelansidun family, the true successor is our Majesty Jieluoke, and this legal principle has already been recognized and proven by the King of the Kingdom!"

"Baron Lukeweier, and all the northern lords, will respond to the call of Count Derek Gelansidun! We will support Majesty Jieluoke to become the new king of the duchy!"

The cabin was silent, then a clamor, and the sounds of anger and panic almost overturned the small boat.

"You, what do you want to do?!"

"Are you crazy!"

"I'm not messing around with you guys, let me down!"

A duchy, actually had two kings!

Se'erfu only felt a chill rushing from the soles of his feet to his crown; he couldn't understand what "Light of Praise" was, but he understood the second half of the sentence.

This guy—

Was going to rebel!

Cold sweat soaked his back; he had never been so terrified. Because it wasn't just Count Gelansidun who could hang his whole family, His Majesty the Grand Duke could certainly do it too...

"Quiet!"

The squire drew the long sword at his waist with a "clang."

Borrowing the daylight outside the cabin, the bright sword edge refracted a bone-chilling cold under the gloomy sky, and also deterred the sounds of people's commotion.

Only the sound of teeth chattering remained in the cabin.

Looking at this group of serfs who had been scared out of their wits, the squire was expressionless. He held the long sword upright in front of him, the tip pointing directly at the roof of the cabin.

"Gentlemen, I know your hearts are full of fear, but I hope that besides that, there is also a little something else in your humble souls. For example, loyalty to the lord, enthusiasm for Saint Xisi, and the determination to defend order at all costs!"

"You are fighting for the future of Campbell! For the future of all of us, so as not to be dragged into that bottomless abyss, Majesty Jieluoke needs your martial prowess!"

"If you don't want to live in an era where those who plow have no land, then fight with our Majesty!"

Se'erfu's brain was blank; he couldn't hear the noisy sounds in the cabin, and he didn't have time to sort out the chaotic and meticulous logic.

If there were a smart person here, they would probably refute that unreasonable logic one by one—

The Light of Praise certainly didn't choose Edward, but it didn't choose Jieluoke either.

They weren't defending order at all, but breaking it, and only because the choice of the multitude didn't conform to their interests.

And those who plow having no land was even more absurd; the land the serfs plowed had never belonged to them, and it wouldn't belong to them just because they defeated another lord.

But usurpers were all smart.

The moment Edward transferred power to the commoners, they realized that a fool was shaking their foundation, so they didn't show any mercy at all.

Holding an auction for diamonds was just a smokescreen; what this Grand Duke cared about wasn't money or the shiny diamond on the crown at all; everything was to borrow the power of the Kelin Duchy to do his own things!

And Ailin clearly wasn't a better choice.

She squandered the wealth accumulated by industrialization on useless welfare and education; that was even worse than her brother!

Once the Campbell people really got rid of ignorance, they would release a terrifying monster, and this monster would first eat the tumor on its own body.

That tumor was them.

December, 1053 Aus Calendar, not a single grain of food was transported to the port of Lei Ming City in the valley plains of the Campbell Duchy, but the river surface transporting food was eerily filled with barges pressing against the waterline.

The mighty army was divided into two routes; the nobles' coalition went straight to the capital of the Campbell Duchy, Campbell Castle, while the soldiers disguised as grain transport ships went straight to the outskirts of Lei Ming City, working from the inside out with the demons stirring in the labyrinth.

A catastrophe sweeping the duchy was coming silently...

Edward, sitting in the Andi manor, finished reading the secret letter in his hand, sighed, and gently sent the letter into the fireplace.

The thing he worried about most had happened after all.

And that was also Mr. Kelin's constant reminder to him.

No noble would tolerate the changes he was pushing; they wouldn't wait for the spring of Campbell to arrive before flipping the table.

Thinking of the king hiding in the shadows and stealing joy, a haze flashed across Edward's young and handsome face, and his fists clenched tightly.

At this time, a knock came from the door.

Edward, standing in front of the fireplace, didn't look back and said coldly.

"Come in."

The door opened.

Walking in was his butler, who bowed slightly as he looked at him.

"Your Majesty."

Edward turned around and said expressionlessly.

"Where have they reached?"

The butler was stunned, then said with a heavy expression.

"They... have already reached your castle."

Edward nodded, then asked again.

"What about our people?"

"They have already set off according to your instructions..."

A hint of a smile finally appeared on that tense face.

He walked to the window of the study, looked at the sparse birch trees outside, stared for a long time, and said coldly.

"Very good."

After cleaning up those disobedient vassals, the next one would be that sleepy old man.

He swore he would make that guy pay the price!

Every drop of blood shed by the Campbell people would be repaid by the Lai En people!

"Your Majesty..."

Hearing the butler's voice, Edward turned his head and said expressionlessly.

"Is there anything else?"

Because there was anger in his heart, his voice unconsciously carried a bit of coldness, just like the cold wind hitting the glass window.

The butler stared blankly at his forehead, not knowing how to speak for a long time, and finally handed over a mirror silently.

Edward frowned slightly, took the mirror, but was stunned when he looked at himself in the mirror.

That cold frost didn't just climb onto the window sill, but also climbed onto his head silently. Only then did he see that the golden hair, which was as dazzling as the noon sun, had actually sprouted a few silver threads.

December, 1053 Aus Calendar, the high-spirited Duke of Campbell was in his prime, having just passed his thirty-sixth birthday not long ago.

Because the situation was delicate, he didn't hold a grand celebration for his birthday this year, only having a small gathering at the "Dawn's Embrace" hotel on Empress Street with friends from the Gana Continent as well as nobles and citizens in the city, expressing the royal family's support for industrialists and ocean trade.

Edward touched his temples and took a long time to come back to his senses.

He had grown white hair...

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 490 =====