Ch.47Blending In

After a ‘small disturbance,’ the 200,000 refugees were quickly relocated.

Half of them—100,000 people—became citizens of Amurtat City, while the remaining 100,000 were distributed across the plains of Amurtat, with 10,000 people assigned to each of ten villages. Those who became farmers would need to spend the autumn plowing fields and spreading fertilizer to prepare for next year’s crops.

Of course, considering their hardships and the difficulty of land reclamation, the taxes for the 100,000 farmers living in the ten villages would be completely waived for the following year. For the first time in their lives, those from Elyssia would have harvests that belonged to them rather than being taken by others.

“By the decree of His Imperial Majesty Tiberius, each household shall be granted one hectare of farmland. Henceforth, you shall live in this village, farm the land, raise livestock, and fulfill your obligation to pay taxes regularly.”

Understanding that humans tend to care more for ‘my things’ than ‘our things,’ the Amurtat government decided to allocate one hectare of farmland per household.

In other words, they were serfs.

But that was enough. In Elyssia, despite having abundant land, the rulers had given nothing to those beneath them.

Even if the farmland was nothing more than a fenced patch of grass, the mere ability to ‘directly’ own something was like paradise to these people.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

“Huff… huff…”

“Old man, take it easy.”

“No, no. Gotta work hard now… once winter comes and the ground freezes, nothing will grow…”

Among those leading the land reclamation efforts were elderly people with little time left to live. Having spent decades having everything taken from them, they had the strongest yearning for ‘something of their own.’

“After coming all this way… I can’t die yet… after coming all this way…!”

Dig… dig…

Despite the cool weather, the faces of the elderly working the land were covered with beads of sweat and a hint of madness.

Sweat trickled down their wrinkles, and the soil that absorbed their sweat gradually became salted.

At this rate, it wouldn’t take long for all the farmland in the ten villages to be pickled in salt.

“My land…! I won’t give it to anyone… my land! My land!”

In principle, all the land they were tilling belonged to Tiberius, but who could tell them that?

The longing of those who had worked the land their entire lives without ever owning a patch to rest their bodies on was truly terrifying.

*

“Work time! Everyone gather with your tools!”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

When work time came, the foreman frantically rang a small handheld bell to summon the laborers.

Like a lich summoning skeletons and zombies, the laborers gathered as the foreman loudly announced the day’s tasks. After asking a few simple questions and receiving answers, the laborers headed to their assigned locations.

Naturally, Elyssian refugees were mixed among them, but no one could distinguish them.

Manual labor was a profession with high turnover, so it wasn’t strange if Fritz from yesterday became Miller today.

More precisely, there was no reason to distinguish them, yet the Elyssian refugees were still conspicuous.

Compared to other workers, they were noticeably shorter due to their previous harsh living conditions. Moreover, during meal times, they pounced on food with such desperation that they couldn’t escape the notice of other workers.

And they didn’t just eat a lot—they shoved bread and preserved meat down their throats as if they’d been starving for ten years, beyond what one would call a big eater.

When people around them suggested they eat more slowly, they would glare back with murderous intent. The mindset of those who had only known victimhood was truly pitiful.

“Wow… I don’t know how they fit all that food in… I struggle to eat bread with my steak…”

“They said they’re from Elyssia… When I first saw them, I thought they were children because they were so thin and short… but they’re adults like us.”

Surprisingly, the Elyssians adapted quickly to Amurtat society.

Both Amurtat and Elyssia were maintained by grinding down people, so there wasn’t much to adapt to, and since they were already accustomed to manual labor, it wasn’t particularly difficult.

If anything, they were overwhelmed by Amurtat’s favorable conditions.

“What…? Amurtat provides lunch allowances? Don’t lie! Such a thing can’t exist!”

“Minimum wage? What’s that? The state guarantees a wage for minimum living standards? Impossible! Is this heaven?!”

…That was the general reaction.

As they say, everything is relative. After escaping a death pit, even a nation that casually presses the forced labor button seems like paradise.

If life in Elyssia taught them anything, it was that situations can always worsen, and one should be grateful for current circumstances.

Those who failed to practice this were already disabled and left behind in Elyssia, waiting for death.

*

“Ladies and gentlemen, what is a monarch? A monarch is one who creates a way of life for the people and brings down the hammer of justice upon the wicked! Then why did Elyssia meet such a miserable end?! The reason is that the so-called monarch was swayed by perverted logic, established laws with improper standards, and ruled with tyranny! In contrast, how is our Amurtat?! No one dies of starvation though some die while working, and we may behead criminals but we don’t cut off their wrists and legs!”

The small number of literate people who barely survived in Elyssia were, predictably and naturally, employed in propaganda.

Writing essays rather than novels made their work much easier, and since they were sharing their own experiences, their words carried a unique weight with the public.

After all, who could question those who had witnessed and survived that hellscape?

Thanks to this, Amurtat was able to rally the people and reduce discontent by employing the time-honored “at least I’m better than that guy” strategy.

Few people disliked being told they were better than others, and not many citizens would object to being told their ruler was governing well.

“Beware and hate those who preach mercy!! They are essentially rats in human disguise. Why do they advocate for mercy? Because human life is precious? Because punishment is too cruel? No!! The main reason they advocate for mercy is not because mercy is right, but because they want recognition for ‘their righteousness in advocating mercy’! What happens when a country is swayed by such people?!”

“Criminals escape legal punishment under the pretext of mercy! The solemnity of the law falls to the ground, and society eventually collapses completely! Imagine, everyone! Police who won’t wield their batons against criminals standing right in front of them in the name of ‘mercy’! Executioners who won’t bring down the blade in the name of ‘mercy’!!! Is this a sensible society?! Is this a society with common sense?! Respected citizens of Amurtat! Mercy is more abominable than anything else!”

“I saw it clearly! Those who had their innocent limbs cut off, wailing with the excuse that death was too cruel! And the people who had to work endlessly without holidays or rest during all waking hours to feed them! If cutting off people’s limbs in the name of mercy is human ethics, then the human species deserves extinction!”

…In this world, nothing was fiercer than love turned to hatred.

The role and responsibility of the state may change according to people’s ideologies, but in the end, there were no anarchists who denied the necessity of the state as a massive collective.

If there were any, they would surely be urban intellectuals who had never tasted the madness of the outside world.

And when urban intellectuals came to despise the state intensely, it meant the state was already beyond salvation.

Knowledge has always been power, and the literate were potential elite who could run the state.

When not just the ruled but also the ruling class turned their backs on established power, the sandcastle of the state collapsed instantly.

That was how Elyssia fell—through excessive mercy, the monarch’s negligence, and the politics of the unrighteous.

So the surviving intellectuals praised the monarch of Amurtat.

Because he did what she could not.

To hate someone intensely was to love someone else intensely.