Free Web NovelChapter 1187: Chapter 1119: Stalemate
The dim candlelight flickered, suffocating the atmosphere.
This was the third day of the state meeting, and aside from the abolition of the Joint Devotion Committee on the first day, the state meeting had failed to decide anything else.
The air in Parliament Hill was thick and stagnant, with almost no one speaking.
Only the occasional sound of lawmakers pacing and whispering, mixed with the "crackling" of the candle flames, stood out sharply.
In such an atmosphere, Bradak had just opened the door when he heard a roar.
Valeris was no longer as elegant as before; his hair was disheveled, hanging down over his forehead, and his face was full of uncontrollable anger.
The sleeves of his navy formal attire were rolled up to the elbows, and he was pointing at the seats of the Holy Alliance faction, shouting, "You pack of Holy Alliance lapdogs, do you really want to drag Dawn Island into a civil war?"
The lawmakers from the Holy Alliance faction sat in their seats, yet remained seated like holy images, squinting with no words.
"Valeris sir." Bradak stepped forward, his voice extremely calm, "This is not a civil war; it is the people of Dawn Island fighting for the rights they deserve."
"Deserved rights?" Gates stood up from the armchair with a sneer, "Blocking roads, beating tax collectors, if these aren’t mobs, what are they?"
"They are not mobs!" Torah suddenly stood up, "Where would we be without you? This is the voice of Dawn Island!"
"Bullshit!"
It was as if a powder keg had been lit; the previously silent Parliament Hill erupted into chaos once more.
The oligarchs of the Falan faction slammed the table, angrily rebuking the farmers and helpers for their insubordination, while lawmakers of the Holy Alliance faction shouted about listening to the voices of the lower classes.
Neutral lawmakers huddled in the middle, either pretending to sleep with bowed heads or secretly observing the figures outside the window.
No matter the noise, Bradak strolled to the window and lifted the heavy corner of the curtain.
The rain had stopped, but the sky remained lead-gray.
Under the city gates of Longbow Castle in the distance, a mass of people could be seen surging.
They had raised several flags — the orthodox flag of the Holy Alliance, the flag of Dawn Island, and even a flag with the image of Saint Joan.
"More and more..."
Bradak’s heartbeat quickened involuntarily, as farmers outside the city had gathered nearly ten thousand people, and the numbers continued to rise.
Besides those near Longbow Castle, even refugees and farmers from farther away joined in the celebration.
The assembled farmers controlled the four city gates of Longbow Castle, prohibiting convoys from entering or exiting.
Veterans guarded the docks; goods on ships could not be unloaded, and goods meant to be transported out could not be loaded onto ships.
Even grain couldn’t enter the city!
Strangely, the order among these people was remarkably good.
There was no arson, murder, or looting; even the street shops hadn’t been damaged, though a few refugees would extort some silver coins.
Bradak knew in his heart that this was all thanks to the monks of the Saint Father’s Association and retired veterans maintaining order.
They didn’t seek chaos; they sought pressure.
Clearly, this tactic was effective, as more and more Falan faction lawmakers showed hesitation and fear.
Bear in mind, such scenes were happening not only in Longbow Castle but in most cities and towns on Dawn Island.
If they were blocked here, what if their hometowns were looted by mobs?
This was not impossible.
Now, with farmers causing a ruckus, even in the past, rationalizing contradictions first was necessary.
Otherwise, not to mention anything else, merely blocking grain supply could make urban areas suffer.
Should they compromise?
The local lawmakers still hesitated, but those sponsored by Falan had no room for doubt.
Even Valeris, despite all his calculations, hadn’t foreseen that the Defensive Army could truly mobilize the farmers.
This group of loose, ignorant, shortsighted, internally conflicted farmers managed to unite and besiege the city.
How did they get so many farmers out of their homes, when many farmers had never left their villages in their lifetime?
What Valeris didn’t know was that the Holy Alliance’s promotion of the Hundred Households District, though seemingly thankless and troublesome, fundamentally changed things.
The Defensive Army would often recruit soldiers on average from each village’s hundred household districts, then return veterans to their original localities, redistribute land, and appoint militia captains.
These militia captains quickly filled the power vacuum left by retreating Knights.
With the credibility accumulated by itinerant monks, mobilizing enough farmers, though at the limits, wasn’t impossible.
In the past, oligarchs would either compromise or hire mercenary troops or call on the church to suppress them.
Now, without the church, either wait for mercenaries or compromise.
But is it really in time?
Valeris gritted his teeth, "Gentlemen, stop arguing! The mobs outside the city are about to surround us, we need to find a way to drive them out!"
"Drive them out? How to drive them out?" a neutral lawmaker whispered, "There is no army in the city, only guards..."
Gates immediately responded, "Can’t use the army, don’t we still have guards? At most, it’ll just count as a brawl."
The oligarchs nodded in agreement, the Holy Alliance faction lawmakers stirred, but were suppressed by Bradak and others.
With arms crossed over his chest, fully understanding the situation, Bradak smiled while looking at Gates and others, making them shiver all over.
The congressmen quickly reached a consensus.
"Assemble the guards and go to the South City Gate to suppress them!"
In less than an hour, chaotic footsteps were heard on the streets.
Over two hundred oligarch guards dressed in assorted leather armors, holding spears and great swords, gathered in the square.
Leading them was the Steward of Katz, who waved a whip and shouted loudly, "Get spirited! Drive those farmers away, and the lord will reward you handsomely!"
The guards responded in unison and charged out the side door aggressively.
But just as they rounded the corner and arrived at the avenue leading to the city gate, they came to an abrupt halt.
Right before them, less than a mile away at the city gate.
Nearly a hundred robust men dressed as farmers formed a neat horizontal formation. They said nothing, just stared at the guards with icy eyes.
Looking at the momentum, the orderly formation, and the faintly visible elongated objects under their cloaks...
Are these really farmers?
"Why hesitate?" the Steward coughed, waving the whip towards the formation, "Charge and disperse them! Whoever charges first will be rewarded 10 gold pounds."
Amid the commotion, a few rash guards couldn’t resist the temptation and rushed forward with clubs.
But just a few steps forward, a crisp gunshot suddenly rang out.
"Bang!"
The guard in the lead screamed, a burst of fresh blood unexpectedly erupted from his calf.
He stumbled a few steps, then rolled to the ground, the club flying away as he clutched his leg and wailed.
"Whoa, these farmers have guns!"
An unknown guard shouted, and the oligarch guards immediately retreated.
Even the Steward shrank back, daring not to order another charge.
From the formation, an old soldier with a gray band slowly raised his hand, his voice loud: "We do not wish to harm anyone; we only demand voting rights. If you take another step forward, next time, it won’t just be the leg!"
The guards looked at each other, none daring to move.
The Steward gritted his teeth and finally waved his hand: "Retreat! Retreat for now!"
The private guards, as if granted amnesty, assisted their injured companion and fled back to Parliament Hill in disgrace.
In Parliament Hill, the oligarchs were eagerly awaiting good news, but instead saw the guards returning in shame.
Moreover, they were carrying a companion with a bleeding leg!
"What happened?!" Valeris’s expression immediately changed.
"Your, Your Excellency, they have guns! Actual spring-loaded guns!" The Steward trembled with fear, pointing outside, "We couldn’t break through!"
Valeris suddenly turned, glaring at the Holy Alliance’s congressmen with suspicion and anger: "Did you dare give them guns?"
Bradak sneered, "Lord Valeris, among these farmers, many are veterans of the Dawn Island war.
As members of the Defensive Army, carrying a spring-loaded gun is quite reasonable, isn’t it?"
The faces of the oligarchs completely changed.
They had combat experience, weapons, and organization.
Calling them a rabble would be an understatement; this was an army, and it was an army coming specifically to seize power by force!
The conference hall instantly fell silent.
Seizing power by force was a last resort; its legitimacy certainly wasn’t as high as national policy meetings.
This meant that if a suitable solution wasn’t chosen, the Holy Alliance had the power to overturn the table at any moment.
The candle flames crackled, the sound of wax dripping onto the ground especially clear.
The oligarchs looked at each other, nobody speaking.
The congressmen of the Holy Alliance were also silent; Tora and Valeris exchanged glances and both smiled.
The tide had turned.
The stalemate dragged from morning into the afternoon, and from afternoon into the evening.
More and more congressmen started coming to chat idly with Bradak, seemingly having realized something.
Many staunch Falan faction members sat in place; no one had the mind to eat.
Only attendants occasionally brought some dry bread and water, but few touched it.
Valeris leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, whether pondering countermeasures or feigning calm was unknown.
Katz kept rubbing the armrests of the chair, his knuckles turning white from exertion.
This was a contest of willpower, a test of who would flinch first, or what change would break the deadlock.
Valeris and his group seemed to have victory assured, but in truth, had no solutions, only silently praying to the Holy Father in their hearts.
As for Bradak and others, they were praying too, but to the Saint’s Grandson and the Cheka.
As the moon rose halfway, a cool wind carried a clamor straight into Parliament Hill, causing many congressmen to stand up in alarm and rush to the windows.
Without needing to look, Bradak smiled, "Finally, they’ve arrived."
