Ch.46Amurtart’s Method

It was around the time when the trees in the forest were beginning to change their green hues to red.

Tiberius and his aide had been recruiting 1,000 administrative officials for several months to manage the hundreds of thousands of refugees flowing in from Elyssia, and now the time for these officials to take action was approaching.

While 1,000 might seem like a large number, it was appropriate considering Amurtat’s population, which was now approaching nearly 500,000.

Unlike security work, administration had to deal with the twin challenges of collective complaints and recurring grievances.

And now, Tiberius had gathered these 1,000 officials, specially selected by his aide, in the castle’s backyard and began a speech to boost their morale.

Though they weren’t soldiers, the way they stood in neat rows suggested how rigorously the aide had trained them, but standing in formation didn’t necessarily mean they were proficient in administrative duties.

“Listen well! Whether these 200,000 people become true citizens of Amurtat or merely leeches draining our treasury depends entirely on your performance! For this day, I taught you how to read and write! For this day, I taught you how to handle people! So give it your all! Not your best by your standards, but your best by mine! Understood?!”

“Yes, sir!”

Their spirited response struck Tiberius’s eardrums.

Tiberius descended from the platform with a satisfied smile, and the 1,000 rookie officials marched out of the castle in unison.

Their task was to accept those refugees among the 200,000 who could immediately join the workforce into the city, while sending the rest to villages to focus on agriculture and livestock farming.

“…I’m not convinced. Even if you selected them, they’re still just kids.”

“Well, there’s a saying that you have nothing to lose by trying. It would be great if administration ran smoothly with just you and me, Your Majesty, but now we’re a nation with hundreds of thousands of people. You can’t personally oversee every matter forever.”

“Well… that’s true.”

To be honest, Tiberius didn’t have high expectations for these ‘officials.’

They say even a dog in a Seodang can recite poetry after three years, but it still takes those three years. Administrative work fundamentally requires understanding of systems and the art of dealing with people—it’s complex work.

How well could people who had been hastily taught for just a few months perform such duties?

Some of them probably still struggled with writing, and although they had gained experience assisting with various tasks over the past few months, that was only possible because they were dealing with citizens who didn’t worry about dying tomorrow.

Could these rookies, who had barely earned their badges, maintain composure while ordering refugees who might die in the next few minutes which ones should go to villages and which to the city?

Of course, soldiers and adventurers would help maintain control, so extreme situations (like riots) probably wouldn’t occur, but people become fierce after just one day of hunger. The idea that these young people, fresh from their parents’ care, could properly handle refugees who had suffered for decades under an indifferent monarch and gang rule was beyond impossible—it was delusional.

*

“Age?”

“23 this year…”

“Occupation?”

“Just manual labor…”

“So, a laborer… And…”

“Excuse me… could you give me something to eat before asking more questions? I’m starving.”

The refugee interrupted the official’s next question with this request.

He had clearly received rations yesterday, so he wouldn’t die immediately even if he went hungry today, and the questioning wouldn’t last all day, so he could eat after answering. But such simple reasoning was beyond the 200,000 refugees who had been starving for so long.

“No. Meals will be provided after all questions are answered, so please respond to the next—”

“Look, I’m not refusing to answer. I just want to eat some bread first. Is that so difficult?”

“As I said earlier, meals will be provided after—”

“Why can’t you ask questions after we eat? I’m hungry, damn it! I’ve been walking for a month without rest, and even when I eat, it doesn’t feel like enough… You said we’d get to live in the city, but is this how you treat us?!”

“That’s not what I meant! We’re following the rules—”

“Rules?! What damn rules?! People come before rules! Give me bread! Don’t expect me to answer any questions until there’s at least some gruel in my stomach!”

And so, the feared situation unfolded.

These were the reasonable words of a refugee from a country where social trust had collapsed.

The memory of not receiving what was promised even after doing what was asked was so deeply ingrained that the notion of receiving something first before working manifested in such trivial matters.

Moreover, their situation was objectively dire.

In a single night, the country they had lived in their entire lives was destroyed. They had to leave their loved ones as food for monsters and walk for an entire month without rest through mud that swallowed their feet, under the scorching summer sun. Their meals consisted only of dry bread that barely satisfied their hunger, some preserved meat, and a few pieces of turnip.

Even strong adult men would return with broken bodies from such conditions. After struggling to survive and making it this far, they were held up with questions and examinations, causing all their pent-up frustrations to finally explode.

And naturally, the novice officials, unfamiliar with such “sudden outbursts,” panicked at the rapid change in the situation and failed to respond properly.

“Give us bread! Meat or vegetables, give us something! You said we’re citizens of Amurtat! Was it all a fucking lie?! Where’s your supervisor?!”

Murmuring grew louder…

And just as one person’s explosion began to spread to others, the army and adventurers started to move.

Thud.

“Huh?”

“The supervisor. Right here.”

Crack!

“Gah.”

An iron mace smashed into the face of the refugee who had been demanding to see a supervisor.

Crunch…

Logically, when a person’s head is caved in, they die. So he died.

But just as even sewage has its uses, this dead body had its purpose.

“Hang this worm who dared insult His Majesty on a pole!”

“Yes, sir!”

Clatter… clatter…

In an instant, a long pole was prepared, a rope was tied around the dead refugee’s neck, and he was hung from the top of the pole.

The corpse, subjected not to hanging but to display after death, delivered a powerful message to the still-long line of refugees.

“Anyone who disrupts order will learn the severity of national law!”

“Those who refuse to answer questions will be summarily executed for insubordination! If you wish to live as subjects of Lord Tiberius, show at least minimal loyalty!”

Fear guarantees loyalty.

This was an absolute truth that no one could challenge.

Reason is trampled by violence, and rationality cannot overcome fear.

“Eek…”

As the soldiers’ attitude suddenly changed, the refugees looked to the adventurers with pleading eyes.

They believed that adventurers, who followed guild precepts rather than a monarch’s orders, would be closer to the common people than soldiers.

“If you want to live, you’d better follow orders. We won’t offer any help.”

“But… that’s…”

Of course, just as police—the supposed staff of the people—don’t treat citizens leniently, these adventurers were no different in their attitude.

This was why the Adventurers’ Guild had deliberately recruited older adventurers—younger ones, not yet familiar with the ways of the world, might burn with misplaced righteousness and risk conflict with the soldiers.

In contrast, older adventurers had experienced fights to the death over just a copper or two, and had seen supposedly honest village elders pull out pitchforks instead of promised payment when wages were mentioned.

Trying to gain their protection through emotional appeals would have no effect on these seasoned adventurers who had seen it all.

If anything, such appeals might remind them of past experiences and make them treat the refugees even more harshly.

“Our employer is Monarch Tiberius, not you refugees. We wouldn’t face any punishment for killing you right now. You’re not citizens of Amurtat yet.”

The saying “there is no paradise in the place you flee to” applies perfectly here.

They would become citizens of Amurtat, but no ruler in the world wants subjects who refuse to work and who insult them.

Having experienced the benevolent rule of non-action, they would now face rule by iron fist. The tempering was over, and it was time to heat the iron in the hot fire again.

After all, they were still, undeniably, citizens of a “defeated nation.”