Chapter CLXXIX – Forgive us our antiquity.

55th of Summer 5860
Imperial Highway №05-881, County of Prusia

It was a hot summer day in Prusia, with clear skies and a scorching sun that made the people below feel as if they were cooking alive. Still, it was late summer, the time for harvesting the vast mulberry fields that made Prusia known even outside of Gemeinplatz. Not the mulberries themselves of course, nobody would become famous just for fruit, but for the leaves which the silkworms loved to chew on. Boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a machine, and that’s how one would get silk.

Unfortunately, for the mulberry farmers who had gone out of their homes ladder-in-hand had been greeted with an army camping on their fields, snacking on their berries. Some of the mulberry trees had even been chopped for firewood, since they were the nearest source of wood around and the soldiers did not care much about supporting local businesses. They carried the light blue banner defaced with a white lighthouse, the banner of Esmira, alongside the many banners of its nobles, burghers, mercenaries and adventurers who had come along for the ride. At least they were willing to pay for the services of the peasants, other than the initial looting of the mulberries, and the local village had flocked to the camp to peddle their goods to the soldiers.

Especially popular was cool beer taken out from the cellars, followed by fresh meat and mulberry jam. Chicken and mulberry jam together especially, cooked together in the oven, was a local specialty that the rowdy tourists over from Esmira quite enjoyed… at least the wealthier ones who could afford it. The more keen-eyed burghers had taken goods for trading with them in the war caravan, mostly olive oil from Esmira. Whatever was left over by the time the fighting was over would be sold in Prusia and Hauptstadt for a clean profit. The supplies the army had were a mess of whatever the officer responsible for a certain group of men were able to bring along.

As for the man in charge of the entire army, Consul Sezer, he had found himself as a guest in one of the rural estates. He found the mansion to be quite barren, especially compared to those of the money-laden burghers back home. The blue-bloods were rich in land and status, sure, but they couldn’t exactly hold a candle to the nouveau riche in terms of raw cash. Still, he bowed to his host, the man who was his superior in blood, as he was seated in a living room.

“We’re so glad that you’re here, Your Consulship. I’d have loved to have you as a guest in better circumstances, but…” The nobleman host vaguely gestured at his room. The floor didn’t even have a carpet, which was most disgraceful for Gemeinplatz standards. “We’ve had to sell off our furniture to make ends meet.”

“These are hard times for everyone, sir.” Sezer could only somberly think of all the trade revenue which had been lost in the chaos.

“Who would have thought that the Chancellor would go mad? So mad as to seize all the slaves in the Empire!” The nobleman hadn’t sat down. He was clearly frustrated and looking to vent, taking rounds around the room while gesticulating in a most frustrated manner. “Does he not think of our families, our right to property, our Divine-given rights?!”

“Otherworlders are always odd like that.” Sezer reminisced of all the otherworlders who had set up shop back in Esmira. The latest one he had heard about was ‘trading cards’, little squares of paper with drawings of strange creatures (‘pocket monsters’ as they were called) printed on them. “Divine willing, we’ll return the realm to normalcy.”

“You’ll be compensating everyone who has lost property to the brutes over at the Protection Squadron, right? We had to give in of course, we couldn’t just say no to armed men.”

“We’ll do our best sir, with your support, but I doubt that they kept note of their wonton looting.” Not that Sezer really cared about how much some man over in Prusia got his property returned. He wasn’t there to take control like the Chancellor – Esmira was there to restore the status quo and peace. The consul didn’t have any delusions of grandeur that made him think that he could even try uniting the decrepit Empire together.

“What about the slave uprising in the borderlands?”

Sezer let out a hearty chuckle. “The uprising? It’s way overblown. They only have a bunch of backwater settlements to their name. A bunch of backwater settlements and a whole lot of luck, from what I hear. Sure, I’d be terrified if they had Ancoire or something, but Casamonu? Really? People are getting scared over Casamonu? Do you even know what counties lie to the north of it?”

The nobleman paused to think, before shaking his head. “No, Your Consulship. I don’t know.”

“Changra and Karabush. Shows just how unimportant they are.” Sezer hadn’t seen anybody else, other than merchants who had a decent understanding of geography and internal politics, be able to answer that question. If not for the John Brown Isekai, those settlements would not have been mentioned anywhere in Gemeinplatz history. “Every time there’s a minor scuffle, there’s people running around saying that it’s a sign of the end days. If you listen to an actual priest, they’d tell you that we’re missing many signs of it.”

“It’s no surprise that people are hysterical while a bunch of black-shirted goons are stomping all over them.” Still, the nobleman felt relieved and he finally took a seat across Sezer. “Would you like my servant to bring you something to drink, Your Consulship?”

“Something to distract my mind from the upcoming battle would be appreciated, yes.” At least Sezer hoped that the PS hadn’t stolen this poor nobleman’s booze storage.

“I’ll take out some of our vintage, to Your Consulship’s good health and upcoming victory.” The nobleman clapped to signal his servant to enter. No response. Another clap, then another, before he let out some profanity which was too silent for anybody to hear. “Oh, I’m sorry, we had to get a new servant once our old one was confiscated. She’s a bit inexperienced, you see.” He got up to give the servant a good thrashing, opening the door to the living room only to be greeted by a group of officers who seemed to be arguing against each other.

The argument stopped the moment Sezer followed the nobleman in stepping out of the door. “What’s happening here, good sirs? Do you not know that the war room is not for fighting?”

“Well, Your Consulship-” An officer spoke up, his face pale as a ghost. All the men looked the part, of ghosts, of dead men. “We had a messenger from Esmira, from the men we sent to reinforce the city.”

“What’s the problem? Do they need more? We can spare more.” Sezer could guess that was not it, judging from how horrified all the officers looked.

“No sir, the… Esmira is gone, sir.”

“Gone?”

“Burnt, to the ground, with a massive gathering of the Protection Squadron camping right next to it. The only things left standing were the walls, Your Consulship. The men lost hope and charged against the Protection Squadron to preserve their honor. Only a few chosen messengers returned alive.”

His Consulship was at a loss, considering that he didn’t have a city to consul over anymore. The officers were looking at him, for an order, for an answer, yet he could only look back emptily. It hadn’t consciously dawned on everyone yet, the fact that they had lost everything. His Consulship had family back in Esmira, most of these officers had family back in Esmira. Their fates were certain. These men were the last Esmirans alive, as far as they knew. Dead men walking, ghosts, the hopeless. A great military force, at least until the mercenaries and adventures would surely desert them now that they knew they couldn’t get payment. Even then, if the Imperials had sufficient force to take Esmira so quickly…

“Your Consulship?”

The consul looked back at the men again. There was no way any of them could surrender. If the Chancellor burnt down Esmira and slaughtered its citizens, who knows what he’d do to its now former leaders. The former leaders, the last men of what was quickly becoming the Old Empire. Stuck between the (New) Empire and the Republic, antiques of the past which were about to be sold off just like the antiques that once stood in the mansion they were in.

“Your Consulship!”

His Consulship, the man chosen to lead, had to lead. His hand went to his waist, where he had a small scabbard containing his finely embellished dagger. Bringing a sword indoors was considered quite rude, so he could at best draw his dagger. “Those who live by the sword, shall die by the sword, gentlemen.”

The other officers followed, drawing their swords and touching their tips together in a fashion that had no subtext at all.

“Our families have been slain, our rights violated and our realm under the boot of a false empire. Long ago, your ancestors fought to establish the Earlyriser dynasty and topple the previous dynasty, and you were made noble men. Now is it not clear that this empire is no longer the same one that your ancestors fought for? We have nothing left to live for, gentlemen, but we have everything to die for. Let us live by the sword, for our empire, or die trying!”

Sezer had made it all up in that instant, but his years of senator and consulship had trained him for this great oratory task. The men clanked their swords together, and let out a cheer. Nobody had a plan for what to do next, how to get out of the situation they were in, where to march to.

For a brief moment, a fleeting moment, they felt like they had a purpose.