Chapter 159: Calamity and Talent 3

The Emperor’s decree had plunged the entire Imperium into utter chaos.

It only served to exacerbate the destitution already gripping the famine-stricken realm.

“Kill the heretics!”

“Let us expel evil and uphold the Lord’s will!”

“For the Holy Virgin Magdalena!”

Chants laced with hatred and fury echoed through cities and villages alike.

Those adhering to heretical doctrines – or perceived as such – faced plunder, arson, violence, and death.

Voices calling for restraint had long fallen silent.

All that remained was unrestrained rage fueling abhorrent atrocities too appalling to behold.

Amidst the bloodshed unfolding across the realm, those embracing heretical teachings were ultimately compelled to make the resolution they had harbored deep within.

“In the end, that mad Emperor has drawn his blade against us.”

“The signs have been there all along. From the moment he ascended the throne, he was already determined to exterminate us.”

“Given this turn of events, we have no choice but to seek a path to survival, do we not?”

“The Heretical Alliance. In our present plight, our only hope lies in leading our families and kin to join them.”

“But how?… The distance is immense. In these circumstances, even reaching the vicinity will be no simple feat.”

“I happen to know a few merchants. If we can persuade them, perhaps we could join their caravan?”

“Hmm…risky, but ultimately our only recourse…”

“We cannot simply resign ourselves to this fate, can we?”

The ominous signs had long been present, and the reality was now upon them.

With their fundamental property rights revoked, there was no longer any prospect for heretics to maintain a foothold within the Holy Imperium.

The sole path left was to turn their backs on the Imperium and somehow escape to the domains of the Heretical Alliance where freedom still reigned.

Thus began a mass exodus.

Yet as they had anticipated, many failed in their attempt to flee, with only a portion reaching the Heretical Alliance’s territories alive.

The majority perished, became destitute wanderers, or turned to banditry – ironically wielding blades against their former persecutors and unleashing further tragedy.

The Emperor’s edict had sown profound tragedy within the Imperium.

Yet at that very moment, its perpetrator – Emperor Sigismund – wore a smile of profound satisfaction.

As he had intended, the heretical seeds scattered throughout the Imperium had been perfectly purged or compelled to renounce their wicked ways and return as true children of the Lord.

Moreover, the unrest stemming from talk of famine and the like had finally subsided, along with the ludicrous demands for aid from the lords.

‘This is truly killing two birds with one stone. Eliminating the heretical forces while restoring order within the Imperium – a resounding success. Evidently, the path I tread is blessed by the Lord.’

Swelling with profound satisfaction, Emperor Sigismund began offering prayers of gratitude to his God.

Gratitude for enabling the eradication of those wicked, heretical seeds…

Gratitude for allowing the establishment of justice upon this land…

One bout of madness had swept across the Holy Imperium like a raging storm.

Yet even in its wake, embers still smoldered throughout the realm, and the fundamental crisis remained unresolved.

“In the end, even our grain stores have been depleted, my lord.”

“Our subjects starve. What are we to do now?”

His vassals’ grim inquiries received no clear answers amid the gloomy atmosphere.

Though the Emperor’s mandate allowed expelling heretics and confiscating a portion of their property to supplement provisions, the situation was far from amenable.

Even those accused of heresy lacked ample reserves, and the confiscations had been anything but smooth.

Most instances involved violence and arson, inflicting collateral damage on others’ property as well.

Moreover, the turmoil had driven away or killed nearly 20% of the heretical population within the territories, severely depleting the workforce.

This inevitably diminished productivity and agricultural labor, further compounding the crisis rather than alleviating it.

Amid such an ominous atmosphere, the lords could scarcely muster the nerve to petition the Emperor for aid once more.

Yet attempting to resolve matters independently was equally futile without provisions – a predicament that transcended their status.

Depleting their personal coffers or opening granary doors changed nothing in the face of an absolute food shortage where money could not procure sustenance.

Trapped in this impasse, the lords could only gaze heavenward, enveloped in despair over their unanswerable plight.

Then, one day…

A sudden glimmer of hope arrived amidst the lords’ despondency.

“My lord! Provisions! Merchants have appeared, offering to sell us food!”

“Wh…What did you say?”

An unexpected caravan of merchants had emerged.

Accompanied by an armed escort exuding a formidable aura, their wagons brimmed with grain as they entered the territory, immediately drawing the ravenous citizens’ attention.

“Just who are those people?”

“I don’t know… But look, they have food. And in immense quantities.”

The sight of the bountiful grains elicited an overwhelming desire in the starving masses to seize and devour them immediately.

Yet they dared not act on that impulse.

The armed soldiers stood vigilantly guarding the provisions, their menacing posture warning of swift retaliation against any approach.

The terror of death outweighed the torment of hunger.

Amidst this tense atmosphere, the apparent leader raised his voice before the assembled citizens:

“Greetings. We are merchants from the East who have come to provide aid upon hearing of your citizens’ plight with famine.”

“Ooh…”

“Aid for us…?”

“Does that mean they will share those provisions?”

The representative’s words kindled profound hope among the citizens.

As their anticipation peaked, the man continued:

“However, gathering such vast provisions and journeying here has been no small feat for us as well. Thus, to recoup our losses to some degree, we humbly request your lord conclude a simple pact with us. Once that is done, we shall promptly distribute the food.”

“A pact?”

“Just what manner of pact…?”

His words instantly sowed disquiet, yet urgent voices soon rang out:

“Does it really matter? The crucial issue is whether we can consume those provisions or not – a decision solely in our lord’s hands.”

“Let us inform the lord at once! And request this pact be concluded!”

Consumed by ravenous hunger, the citizens had lost all capacity for rational thought.

This desperation drove them to grasp at the faintest glimmer of hope, prompting a mass exodus toward the lord’s estate.

Meanwhile, observing their behavior…

A profound smile graced the leader’s features as he spearheaded this endeavor.

‘Hail Bohemia.’