Free Web NovelChapter 1186: Chapter 1118: The Torrent
Just as Bradak and other members of the council were discussing strategies during their lunch break.
The news of the first decree being passed had already spread rapidly around Longbow Castle.
This news not only circulated around Longbow but also spread throughout the Dawn Island region.
The first to learn of the news were the laborers, helpers, and migrant groups nearby.
Compared to the farmers who owned land because of the Holy Alliance, those who relied on tenant farming and short-term work were more inclined towards the Holy Alliance.
After all, corresponding to "those with stable property are those with stable hearts" is "those with stable property are those with worries."
In contrast to the farmers’ hesitant joining of the Saint Father’s Brotherhood, this group was very decisive and swift.
Nowadays, among the cities like Longbow Castle, the number of Saint Father followers within the migrant tenant farmers and laborers can reach 50% or even 40%.
While it seems not many, the remaining migrant groups are mostly politically apathetic and don’t care about the council at all.
Therefore, almost all of the laborer and tenant farmer groups with intentions have joined.
The newsboy, barefoot, shouted while running down the street, just in time for the lunch break of various workshops.
This was a major initiative by the Holy Sect monks after coming to power, mandating a one-hour break at noon for all workshops.
The sound of hammers and anvils gradually ceased, and artisans and helpers poked their heads out from the workshops.
Five or six orphaned newsboys collectively employed by the Holy Sect monks, weaved through alleys and streets and shouted with all their might.
"Breaking news, breaking news, the Joint Devotion Committee has been dissolved by the National Affairs Conference!"
"At this rate, Dawn Island is very likely to be merged into the Falan Kingdom!"
Upon hearing this news, many helpers and laborers were stunned, not even taking time to eat, they rushed out.
As for the more distant streets, you could see the artisans and helpers holding tin lunch boxes, at the doorways, on rooftops, and by windows whispering to each other.
"What was the outcome of the meeting?"
"It seems the Holy Alliance faction lost."
"What do you mean?"
"It seems like the Joint Devotion Committee is to be dissolved..."
"What?! Then what about my contract? Didn’t they say, after clearing the debt, I’d regain freedom next month?"
"I don’t know about that."
"What, what, I didn’t hear that!"
"These traitors, they want to turn all us laborers into slaves!"
By the time the lunch break was almost over, the news had changed from "the Joint Devotion Committee being dissolved" to "Falan faction members attempting to restore slavery."
As the working bell rang, the helpers and laborers had lost all interest in continuing work.
Even if they reluctantly went to work, their minds were elsewhere.
Many simply didn’t go to work but gathered together to discuss the matter.
Especially many labor leaders who had joined the Saint Father’s Brotherhood earlier were at the forefront, explaining to the numerous coworkers and fellow believers.
"In the past here in Leia, at least priests served as judges and were somewhat restrained. If the Falan people come over, wouldn’t it be the guild leaders acting as judges?"
"If anyone can buy an official position, who will help us in times of injustice?"
"When it comes to lawsuits, the person you’re suing might be the one sitting as the judge."
"This is a restoration of slavery. If this continues, we will all become workshop slaves!"
The migrant laborers became increasingly restless and uneasy.
Initially, when the Joint Devotion Committee was established, besides reaching economic cooperation with the Holy Alliance, its biggest task was to host the improvement of migrant laborers’ safety and wage conditions.
Normally, with the Holy Alliance’s Thousand River Valley being a hub connecting three countries, it could add many Norn, even Dwarf and Centaur buyers to Dawn Island.
They also had the vast markets of Falan and even overseas, where they could earn sufficient profits without exploiting migrant laborers.
Moreover, by increasing wage conditions and safety, these laborers then have the purchasing power to gain more profits.
But the short-sightedness and profit-seeking nature of money persists.
Even though the Holy Alliance pointed this out to them, it didn’t stop them from continuing to exploit.
All the Holy Alliance could do was regulate and even force their behavior as much as possible.
But even this slight change was a drastic change for the bottom-level laborers.
Their job wouldn’t be terminated due to illness, injuries wouldn’t go uncompensated, and they wouldn’t go hungry through the evening without a lunch break.
But now?
These merchant oligarchs actually want to deprive them of these rights.
If they had never seen the light, they might have endured the darkness, but not anymore.
If they miss this chance, when will the next one be?
Only the Holy Father knows!
"It would have been better not to win this victory!"
Someone shouted, immediately receiving a chorus of agreement.
Anxiety spread like a plague, and the helpers grew even more restless.
Some suggested "protesting at Parliament Hill," while others suggested "seeking help from the Defensive Army."
But the labor leaders of the Saint Father’s Brotherhood noticed that after shouting, this group of people always retreated into the crowd, shielding everyone in front.
Other laborers, despite shouting, didn’t really make a move.
A good death is not as good as living poorly; they have not yet made up their minds.
The time is not ripe!
"Alright then, let’s wait for now. There are too many rumors. We must not mistakenly harm good legislators," labor leader Farabauer shouted to the crowd, "If necessary, we’ll go to Parliament Hill to help protest."
"But we need to decide on some rules first," another labor leader beside him shouted, "Like when we fought, didn’t we appoint squad leaders according to districts? It should be the same now."
Farabauer raised his voice, "If something arises, we’ll notify everyone along the streets, and everyone will protest at Parliament Hill under the leadership of the squad leaders!"
"Alright!"
In the distance, watching the workers gradually disperse, those oligarch guards and spies finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Whew, it gave me a scare. I really thought they would dare to act!" The guard captain wiped the sweat off his face.
"Don’t worry, that’s how they are." The accompanying oligarch steward lit his pipe, "Just watch, they’ll never really act!"
"Should we continue to monitor them now?"
"Yes, besides that, those few just now..." The steward squinted his eyes into a thin line, "Write down their names and have their employers fire them. No workshop is to accept them!"
"Alright."
While the city was under tense surveillance by the oligarchs, it was equally lively outside the city where they couldn’t extend their watch.
A hawk flew across the rain curtain, looking down—
Outside Longbow Castle, on the muddy road, figures in gray monk robes were hurrying along on donkeys.
The gray robes were soaked with rain, clinging tightly to their bodies, yet no one stopped.
One monk was riding a donkey, but the donkey twisted its hoof on the muddy road.
He simply abandoned the donkey, slung a backpack full of illustrated pamphlets over his shoulder, and trudged forward, each step deep or shallow.
"Can’t let the Falan people succeed... Can’t let this hard-won second Holy Sect nation be destroyed... Head towards Earthly Heaven, head towards Earthly Heaven!"
As if motivating himself, this monk, pampered since childhood, gritted his teeth and continued onward.
In Grape Seed Village on the city outskirts, after bursting several blisters on his feet, he finally arrived.
He climbed onto the large rock at the village entrance, rain dripping down his cheeks.
He raised the pamphlet and shouted to the approaching villagers, "Fellow believers, I have news for you: the parliament has canceled the Joint Piety Committee...
This is a Falan plot!
They want to ally with Falan, and then landlords will continue to seize your fields and exploit you like before!
We fought hard to win against Leia; we can’t let the fruits of victory be stolen by the oligarchs."
Upon hearing the monk’s cries, many villagers stepped out of their homes and gathered nearby.
Seeing people gathering around, the monk grew more enthusiastic, "Once enslaved by the Leia people, now by the Falan people, don’t you want to own your own land?
You’ve tasted sweetness, endured hardships; do you want to keep suffering?
Everyone, please join me to support our fellow believers at Longbow Castle!"
"..."
"We must support our fellow believers, or else if they lose, we will all suffer."
"..."
"Everyone, I’m saying..."
Standing on the rock, the monk shouted over and over until his throat was hoarse, his mouth dry, yet the villagers only listened in silence.
Some fiddled with their fingers, some turned away, and some even stood aside with amusement as if watching a clown.
Looking at the villagers’ apathetic faces, the monk’s heart sank bit by bit.
He wanted to say more, but the more he spoke, the less interested the curious villagers became, and the quicker they left.
Finally, he was the only one left standing on the rock, lonely like a scaffolding.
Rain hit his face, chilling to the bone.
He lowered his head in despair, and the pamphlet in his hand was scattered by the wind.
Could it be true, as the Falan say, that farmers are simplistic and can’t be involved at all?
Climbing down from the rock, taking a deep breath, the monk refused to give up and continued toward the next village.
But he hadn’t walked far before hearing a series of rhythmic footsteps behind him.
Looking up, he saw over a dozen strong farmers emerging from the village alley, including some who had turned away earlier.
They all wore black hooded cloaks, with bulging waists.
Had they gone back to grab weapons and cloaks? The monk’s eyes lit up.
The leading farmer lowered his hood, covering half of his face: "The Third Battalion of the Defensive Army, Melboom salutes you. Let’s go!"
The monk’s tears immediately mixed with the rain: "Let’s go!"
The group spoke no more words, nor did they need to, and they proceeded along the muddy road.
As they walked out of the village entrance, they were stunned.
In the distance, on the road, group after group, throng after throng, dense crowds were moving towards Longbow Castle.
There were farmers holding hoes, helpers clutching hammers, retired soldiers of the Defensive Army wearing hoods.
Rainwater flowed from their hoods and cloaks, with no one speaking, only the orderly footsteps particularly clear in the rain curtain.
Raising his arm, the monk shouted loudly, "Follow them!"
The crowd moved like a torrent, constantly advancing towards Parliament Hill.
