Chương 8: Mightier than the Sword

'…And then he stabbed him right in the heart, but there was no blood.'

"How does that work?"

'A sharp mind makes for killer words.' —Conversations from The Artificer's Guide to the Apocalypse"I, Francois Emiralda, emissary to the imperial throne, in representation of Duke Demarius IV, in accordance and within the guidelines of the Imperial Treatise on mandatory military service, declare the opening enrollment of the Vandmar Draft of 1287! Any individual that willingly joins the draft will be compensated with a generous one-time payment of a one-hundred silver signing bonus!"

He leaned over the edge of a cart holding a large wooden chest and flung it open, revealing a gleaming pile of silver. I saw the smug bastard smile at the last bit. The pompous ass was so sure of himself. I had nearly made that much in two weeks. The thought of entering an unknown battlefield against an unknown enemy—who was certain to be far stronger than myself—nearly made me burst out laughing at the paltry sum. Captain Reybaum stood by the emissary's side, his company of soldiers in tow.

They looked at each other knowingly. When no one stepped forward, the captain shifted his halberd and stepped forward, addressing us.

"I have served in the emperor's army, and I would not trade that service for anything. A substantial signing bonus is not the only benefit. You will also formally receive citizenship to the Vandmar Empire. This comes with its own benefits. You will also receive regular pay directly from the emperor. Food, room and board, training, even concepts for new skills, all will be provided to you. You could even request non-combat stations, like a cook, clerical staff, or medical personnel.

There are many ways to serve, and this could be the opportunity of a lifetime for you!" With his speech finally over, the crowded neighborhood stood still. No one moved, no one approached. Captain Reybaum and the emissary looked uneasy as they traded a glance. They had expected an entirely different outcome, I was sure.

"Care will be provided for those too young to care for themselves." The emissary tried again.

"They will be provided with schooling, appropriate housing, and—""Appropriate housing? Like those you see around you now? Food? Like the mop-water gruel you feed us?" Ernie strode forward, back straight and locked eyes confidently with the emissary.

"You expect us to believe you would care for our own, when you have treated us worse than dogs? No! We will not play your games." A sour look came over the emissary, and he lowered the lid of the chest. The facade had fallen, and his disdain was apparent.

"You dare. We offer you salvation from your… predicament. You are unwanted. You are a stain on this city; you will ROT!" He hurled the last word like an attack. Ernie did not flinch.

"We would sooner rot than roll over for capricious swine such as yourself!" Ernie roared back, his now beet-red face sported a pulsing vein over his temple. I had never seen the man so angry.

"You couldn't afford the service of these good men and women! Not for a hundred gold!" Taken aback by the small man's ferocity, the emissary appeared far more uncertain now. He looked nervously at his guard, as if fearing an attack by the spitting chairman.

"You don't understand how precarious your position is here. I am offering you a way out, and a noble one at that. It doesn't matter. We will speak to each resident individually and—""NO. YOU. WILL. NOT!" Ernie jabbed a finger toward the man with each word. I strode forward and stood near him in solidarity, prompting everyone to follow suit. We stood as one before the tyrant's lapdog. The guard shifted nervously, unsure of what was happening. The emissary's disdain was replaced with a hateful scowl.

"You fool. I tried to accommodate you peacefully." He signaled something to the soldiers, and they moved into action, making a semi-circle around us.

"You will be placed into the dungeons. You will be conscripted by force. You will be slave to the empire, digging pits for shit and piss, and when you are done, you will be sent to the front to serve as a meat shield for your betters that knew when to accept their place in this world." He spat at the last, a snarl marring his face. With his threat, I dropped any pretense of peace and squared up. I might not have a combat class, but there was no way in hell that I was going out without a fight.

Gene and Darby were right behind, blocking the soldiers from completing their circle. The rest of the HOA followed suit, like a hodge-podge bingo night brawl. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

"Yo- you wouldn't dare to—" The emissary shrank back, shocked that completely unarmed citizens would defy his armed guards. Ernie spoke up before someone could get hurt. Before we could get hurt.

"What I dare to do? I hereby do dare, under the authority of the Imperial Doctrine of Expatriate Other-Worlders of 783CE, DEMAND Repatriation." He vehemently spat the words and the emissary recoiled, clearly confused.

"What do you mean? And how did you come to fi—never mind that. I am aware you can demand repatriation, but as your world no longer exists, there isn't exactly anything we can do." I had to give the man some credit; he clearly knew of whatever document Ernie was citing, but I knew Ernie was just getting started.

"In the case where Expatriation is not viable to Other-Worlders assigned by the gods to the Vandmar Empire, we are entitled to an endowment of no less than fifty gold coins for each eligible individual." He grinned fiercely with his rebuttal, knowing that he was putting his opponent through the paces.

"Preposterous! Such an amount would bankrupt the throne!"

"The throne can't afford a mere four thousand, two hundred gold coins?" Ernie shot back.

"And only citizens can be drafted into the empire. As your captain stated himself, we are not full citizens. You have no power over us." The emissary backed up slowly, then ordered the soldiers back to his side. Once fully under their protection, his eyes glazed over and he stared into space for several minutes. He mouthed something unintelligible and swayed in place. The uneasy silence grew until his eyes finally cleared and he resumed staring daggers at Ernie.

"You place yourself on the precipice of death, you insolent whelp. You have no concept of the forces at which you toy." The emissary's tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. It reminded me of a snake. How apt, I thought.

"Under the same set of codices, should you have had any real training in legal matters, you would have observed that in times of war, of which we now find ourselves, the governing body may disburse payment of due balances in any form of equal value." His lips parted, showing his teeth in a savage grin. Ernie's brow knotted in consternation. As observers, most of us had a general idea of what was happening. Some appeared confused, and a select few outright befuddled.

I could tell the last exchange was a bit of a curveball for Ernie, but he'd proved his chops, and I had faith that the man would find a path forward. I couldn't begin to fathom what might have an equal value to forty-two hundred gold coins.

"And what uh… what form might that take?" For the first time since his tirade had begun, I could sense Ernie's uneasiness. He had taken the lead on negotiations, and the outcome of them, good or bad, would weigh heavily on his shoulders. I did not envy the man, but I did support him wholeheartedly. As did every man and woman present.

"It takes the form of whatever the crown wishes it to take! Your insolence at our fair and just offering doth not bode well for you. The duke has been made aware of the situation and is considering his offer." The weasel of a man turned away to talk with Captain Reybaum quietly and left us to our own conversations. As suspected, it was confirmation for me that whatever trance he had gone into must have been a direct link to the duke.

I was grateful for a moment to distract myself from our implied impending doom and considered the implications. A spell slot used up just to talk to someone? Could it be used with anyone? What were the limitations? Perhaps, with some experience and the right materials, I could create a device to replace the ability… I didn't have a grip yet on the physical nature of this world. It would be an interesting concept to explore one day though. The same pit had reformed in my stomach, chasing away my ruminations.

It felt like we had won, or were about to win our wish. Unfortunately, it appeared more and more likely that it would be a monkey's paw scenario. I looked to Ernie, and observed him talking with my neighbors, doing his best to put their unease to rest. > Ernie Jenson - Lv. 4 Human > Support Class - Coordinator Lv.??? >??? The subconscious activation of [Inspect] startled me. I had never thought to use it on a person, despite the description mentioning 'creatures'. I suppose it made sense though.

I cast it again, this time on the emissary. > Francois Emiralda - Lv.??? Human > Support Class - Imperial Emissary Lv.??? >??? > Inspect Leveled Up! I doubled over, hit by a wave of fatigue. A stabbing migraine formed behind my eye, and a frantically flashing red indicator brought my attention to my mana. > Mana - 0/110 I had never considered the possibility that more difficult targets could require more mana. Clutching my head, I fought the nausea that threatened to make me retch. I stabilized myself and waited.

As the points slowly recovered, the negative side effects slowly subsided. When I finally found the strength to look up without experiencing a case of vertigo, I found the emissary staring into my eyes. Had he known? Can he feel it? Or was he just watching me randomly fall apart? Either way, he jerked his gaze away when something captured his attention. His head rolled back slightly and he fell into the same trance as before. The audience reconvened with the emissary's strange communication skill.

We waited impatiently for him to recover. He took his time, looking over each of us with a growing triumphant smile, as if savoring the moment. Finally, he spoke.

"The duke has made his decision. In his boundless patience and endless mercy, he has decided to bestow, in equal value, a parcel of land. You will be repatriated to Mossbrook Valley." Darby was the only one to speak up.

"Mossbrook Valley, but that sounds nice. Right, guys? Right?"