Chapter 60 : Crack (2)

“Meals are suffering.”

This had become a common saying shared by many of the people in recent times.

One might wonder—why would a time meant to enjoy a lovingly prepared meal from a wife or a cook be considered suffering?

The answer was simple:The ingredients for food had run dry.

“Everyone, come get your lunch!”

“What’s on the menu today, dear?”

“The usual, of course. Turnips.”

In the morning—turnip bread, turnip stew, braised turnips.

At lunch—turnip stew, braised turnips, turnip bread.

In the evening—braised turnips, turnip bread, turnip stew.

Always the same.

A desperate collection of dishes created in an attempt to make the pitifully bland, tough, and low-calorie turnips edible somehow.

If you were lucky, you might get a bit of black bread with sawdust mixed in, or a salad made by drizzling vinegar over weeds.

Since all the mountains and rivers belonged to the nobles, hunting was forbidden.

No matter how hard one tried to improve the meals, this was the limit.

“Fuck. How are we supposed to work after eating this crap?”

“Shut up and eat, man. You have to fill your stomach with something if you want to work the fields in the afternoon.”

“Damn, if I had just one slice of ham, I’d ask for nothing more.”

“I want a biscuit.”

Without any real flavor, food brought no happiness.

Turnips were filling for only a moment, and their texture was horribly tough. 

That was just the nature of the ingredient—nothing to be done about it.

And in winter, when fuel was scarce, the meals were often undercooked, leading to upset stomachs.

“How much longer do we have to live like this?”

It had been nearly two years since the war broke out.

The civilian food situation in the Kram Empire was rapidly spiraling into disaster. 

It was becoming worrisome how much longer they could endure this.

“Those nobles, even in these times, eat meat every day and drink expensive alcohol.”

“I heard the banquet halls in the city always have a feast prepared.”

“But we can’t even eat a single fish whenever we want.”

What’s even more pathetic, you ask?

Despite the dire state of the people’s diet, the food supply itself hadn’t really plummeted that drastically.

Compared to before the war, domestic production was about 70%.

If you include imports, about 80% of the supply was still being maintained.

Even though many farmers had been drafted into the war and labor shortages were severe,production didn’t drop to zero overnight.

This was true for both Kram and other countries, except for Helvetia, which was forming a People’s Assault Corps.

“No matter how much of a war situation this is, there’s got to be a limit. How can they scrape the bottom like this? What are we supposed to live on?”

“They don’t farm anyway, so they don’t care if we suffer.”

“Dammit.”

Despite this, the suffering of the people was because a specific group was monopolizing the available food—namely, the military.

The military, which had grown excessively large for the war, had become like a ravenous beast devouring all the nation’s resources.

Before it even reached the market, everything was swept clean, leaving nothing for the civilians to consume.

Unless you were a noble with power and your own supply chain, proper meals were out of reach.

In rural areas, soldiers were even dispatched to confiscate food.

As soon as wheat was harvested from the fields, it was immediately seized and sent to the front lines.

“Can’t you hand it over right now? We’re going to use it to fulfill our sacred duty of protecting the nation, how dare you refuse!”

“Goddamn these bastards! My mother is sick, and now they’re taking this too? What the hell are we supposed to eat to survive?!”

“Just endure a little longer! Once the war ends, things will go back to normal.”

Everything except for the seeds to be sown next year was taken.

Even if they buried the food underground and hid it, the military would release hunting dogs to find it.

At this point, the only food left for the people was famine crops—Crops that were fast-growing, not very flavorful, but rich in starch.

And among those crops, the ones that were hardy enough to survive the winter’s cold.

In other words, turnips.

“We’re all going to die of malnutrition at this rate.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not asking for much, just one pig. We could share it among everyone in the village.”

“Should we try stealing from the lord’s manor?”

A disastrous diet with no nutritional balance to speak of.

Even so, they endured, driven by propaganda claiming they were sacrificing for the country, for the future of their people.

After all, they didn’t want the country to fall due to defeat in the war.

They endured, believing that if they could hang on for just two or three more years, life would return to normal.

They pushed on, holding out until their patience finally reached its breaking point.

“I heard there’s a criminal hiding in this village. Find them quickly!”

‘However…’

It was a trivial incident that pushed them to their breaking point.

*****

Somewhere in the eastern part of the Kram Empire.

Slap!

The clear sound of a slap echoed under the clear sky.

A strong officer swung his arm, and an elderly man, his cheek bright red, collapsed to the ground.

“Grandfather!”

“Wh-what is this all of a sudden?! The scheduled food requisition isn’t for some time yet!”

“That’s right. I wasn’t planning to come here either. But if it weren’t for the tip-off about this bastard hiding flour, I wouldn’t be here.”

The villagers, horrified, collectively protested.

In response, the officer lifted a burlap sack in his hand.

Inside was the flour he had spoken of.

It was the flour that had fallen to the ground during milling at the mill, gathered up—full of impurities and of poor quality.

“How dare you hide food in a time when the entire empire is united in fighting! You treacherous bastard!”

“Ugh!”

With a harsh kick, the elderly man screamed as he clutched his chest. 

It appeared that his bones had been struck incorrectly, leaving a strange indentation.

The injury seemed to be quite severe.

Yet, ignoring this, the officer spat on the elderly man with a look of contempt.

He then turned to the villagers he had gathered and began a lengthy speech.

“The Emperor has spoken! 

If the whole nation doesn’t sacrifice together, this war will be hard to win! 

To defeat the evil Ilain and Helvetia, the devotion of all citizens is necessary!

And yet, to secretly hide precious food instead of giving it to the soldiers… This can only be considered an act of treason!”

It was the same rhetoric priests would drone on about in church.

At first, it was revered as sacred doctrine, but the excessive emphasis on it had caused the message to lose its persuasiveness lately.

The officer, who had been lecturing the villagers like reciting a scripture, pulled out a pistol from his coat.

“As an example, this old man will receive a punishment befitting his crime. All of you, watch closely and engrave this into your hearts!”

The officer aimed his gun.

The elderly man, unable to protest, seemed to accept his fate, his eyes full of resignation.

“Goodbye, traitor of the nation.”

Bang!

However, when the gunshot rang out and a few seconds passed, the elderly man couldn’t help but be shocked.

It wasn’t him who had been shot, but the officer, who was now lying on the ground with blood pouring from his neck.

“You damn bastard. There’s a limit to how much nonsense you can spout.”

The shooter was a veteran who lived on the outskirts of the village.

He had joined the war in the early days, lost his right leg, and had been discharged.

The young man, who had taken a rifle when he left the military, shot the officer and stepped forward, stomping on the officer’s corpse.

He then shouted to the villagers.

“People! How long will you keep suffering? How long will you endure exploitation and pain?”

His finger pointed at the burlap sack.

More precisely, he pointed at the flour inside that was soaked with the officer’s blood and rendered inedible.

“The high and mighty ones always shout about sacrifice and devotion, but have you ever seen them sacrifice anything themselves?”

“We’re being treated like we’re going to die just for hiding flour, while they feast on luxurious dinners every day!”

“Y-yeah.”

“When I went to the lord’s manor last time, they were having a banquet inside.”

No matter how scarce food is, the fact that only the common people are being exploited is well known.

“Look at this bastard’s face. He’s fat and well-fed while we’re all skin and bones! This officer isn’t even fighting on the frontlines, he’s enjoying life safely in the rear!”

It’s no secret that the trend of avoiding military service is spreading.

There were rumors that the high and mighty were sneaking out of the army or fleeing to the rear… and now here’s the proof right in front of us.

“We’re done for. If we keep living like this, we’ll all starve to death. If we’re going to die anyway, let’s take back our stolen grain and eat our fill!”

“……Right! Let’s take back the grain we toiled to grow!”

“Let’s put soft bread in our hungry children’s mouths! How is it right that we, the ones who grew the wheat, can’t even eat it?!”

Anger and madness spread quickly.

Especially in a situation like this, where everyone is already on edge from shocking events like murder.

The villagers, who were already starving, exhausted, and constantly at their breaking point, quickly succumbed to the young man’s rallying cry.

They began to burn with genuine fury.

“Let’s arm ourselves! The grain we lost is stored in the warehouse at the back of the mountain!”

“There are only a few soldiers guarding it, so if we all go together, we’ll have a good chance of winning!”

Thus began the first instance of food looting and military sabotage by the citizens.

When this news reached the capital, the Kram Empire was thrown into chaos.

***** 

Honestly, it was surprising.

They’re still in the first year of the war, and they’ve already started making their own version of a winter famine. 

I wonder how they plan to hold out later on.

“Do you think it can be suppressed, even though it’s still small-scale?”

“It should be possible…”

At Kalia’s question, I rubbed my chest and muttered.

“It might be tough. This doesn’t seem like something that will be over in a few weeks.”

In the past, they would have handled it in an instant.

They’d have launched a scorched earth campaign, burned the whole village down, and used every harsh measure available.

The lord of the fief would have dealt with it himself.

But now, things are different. 

Politically and systemically.

Even with enough military power, it didn’t seem like it would be easy to resolve.

“Get the paper ready. It’s about time I start writing the next book.”

“I guess I’ll have to do the publishing back home. I was thinking it’s about time to prepare to return.”

Should I head back already?

Well, I’ve been here almost three months.

I need to return if I don’t want to paralyze the Allein branch’s operations.

“So, what’s the topic this time, Ishmael?”

“Hmm… The aesthetics of dictatorship?”

I’m thinking of borrowing some ideas from the world’s top expert on dictatorship.