OBS Chapter 533: Generally Stable
Chapter 533: Generally Stable
"Raise your hands and line up!"
Outside a village somewhere on the eastern border of Helderland, the spring breeze swept across the ridges of the fields, and the leather boots of the regular army soldiers stepped over the frozen mud, driving several hunchbacked Yoda people to the side of the pit.
Their muddy fingers were still grasping half a turnip stalk, and the corners of their gray robes trembled in the wind. These stowaways had just been picking turnips from the farmer's house, but now they were being held up at the back with spears and gathered together like cattle.
The wooden fence of the prison car exuded a foul smell of mold, and when several Yoda people were pushed and climbed in, the wheels made a "squeaking" sound as they rolled over the frozen soil.
The escorting soldier held a grass stem in his mouth and knocked on the carriage with his scabbard:
"I just don't understand why you guys like to come to our side. You can't even eat turnips."
A centurion was talking to the owner of the farmland, but it was more of a questioning than a conversation.
York, the owner of the farm, stood at the edge of the field holding a pitchfork, with mud spots on his coarse trouser legs.
He watched the soldiers stuff the last Yoda into the prisoner car, and his Adam's apple moved:
"I've said it many times... I don't know them! They came to my field to steal vegetables, and I just happened to see them and tried to stop them, and then you came."
The centurion riding on his tall horse didn't believe this reason at all.
"Stealing vegetables?"
He sneered and dug up some dirt with his horse's hooves.
"Then let me ask you, why do you grow turnips all over this field? Why don't you steal from other fields but yours? And your field is not on the roadside. Could it be that the turnips in your field are different from those in other fields?"
York's face flushed, and the veins on his forehead throbbed:
"How would I know that? Why don't you ask them?"
He stretched out his hand to point at the prison van, but was stopped by the soldiers with their guns.
"I planted half an acre of turnips, and was counting on harvesting them and selling them to buyers in the next two days... When they came to steal, I was on my way home from the city, and I saw some movement in the fields from afar..."
"Still playing dumb!"
The centurion narrowed his eyes:
"Everyone knows that you are illegally employing stowaways! Tell the truth, or I'll fine you ten silver coins!"
"Ten silver coins?!"
York nearly jumped up, his rough hands digging the pitchfork into the soil.
"I can only sell this half acre of turnips for eight silver coins! You might as well just rob them!"
The centurion whipped the horse's buttocks with his whip, and the horse neighed and took two steps forward:
"Stop talking nonsense! Last winter you hired three Yodas to help you carry firewood at the market, and the other day you asked two women to mend your clothes - you just turned a blind eye before, but you're still not done."
He leaned over, the horse's mane brushing York's forehead.
"Either pay the fine or go to jail with me for a month. I'll have a criminal record. If your son fails the political review when he joins the army, don't blame me."
When York heard the word "prison", his legs went weak.
"No, I hired them to pick the vegetables... but there's really nothing I can do about it! My son is studying in the city, and I have to go back to work. There are only two old people left in the village. If we don't pick the vegetables quickly and waste time, the turnips will go bad."
"Don't use your parents as a cover!"
The centurion cracked his whip.
"It's because of people like you that smuggling has become so rampant! What if a murderer sneaks in and kills people or burns things in the village? Can you bear the responsibility?"
York squatted on the ground holding a pitchfork, his dry yellow hair was messed up by the wind:
"How would I know they were murderers... They all looked like poor people who had been forced into a desperate situation..."
The centurion sneered and the speaker said:
"Alright, since you know your mistake, I'll fine you one silver coin. Submit it to the village office within three days."
After saying this, he pulled the reins, and the horse raised its front hooves, raising a cloud of dust.
As the war between Midlan and Yoda broke out again in the spring, the border was like a taut string, with patrolling soldiers everywhere.
On the sentry tower in Helderan, the lookout turned the telescope day and night. More and more black smoke rose from the distant Yoda territory - those were the villages affected by the war and were burning.
The situation on the eastern border was the most serious. After half a month of arguing in the Council of Nobles, the Yoda Empire finally elected a new emperor.
It is said that the emperor's background is a mystery except that he is a member of the royal family. Even the nobles of Yuda are not very clear about his background. They only vaguely hear that he is the son-in-law of Count Castori.
However, for the majority of Yoda people, the first thing that came with the new emperor's accession to the throne was not amnesty, but all kinds of unheard-of taxes to maintain Yoda's foreign wars. When John saw the new taxes in various fields of the Yoda Empire, he exclaimed that he might have elected a tax lord.
At the same time, John also paid great attention to the security assessment of the Yoda Empire reported by Wesker. The report first stated that within one month of the new emperor's accession to the throne, there had been ten uprisings of more than a thousand people. Although they were all suppressed, Wesker still said at the end that the top leaders of the Yoda Empire are now unable to appease the masses at the bottom, especially the tenants whose income from taxes accounts for the largest proportion and the serfs who have no income. There is a high probability that a large-scale peasant uprising will break out in the autumn and winter.
"So, should we announce the evacuation of our citizens now until the unrest in Yoda subsides?"
John asked the ministers below.
Simon frowned immediately:
“But if we evacuate the Chinese now, all our previous business plans will be ruined!”
He unfolded a sheepskin map and ran his fingertips over the red line marking the trade route.
"We have stored a large amount of goods in various branches of the Chamber of Commerce. If we evacuate now, these goods will either be confiscated by the Yoda nobles or reduced to ashes in the war..."
"But human lives are at stake. We have worked hard to establish an image of protecting the people. If we don't evacuate the Chinese, then that image will be wasted."
"I have a compromise."
Wesker suddenly spoke.
"First, retreat to the port cities on the north and south sides of Yoda. Our Chamber of Commerce bases are located there, so it's relatively safe. Then order all non-state civil servants to evacuate, and the others to stay where they are. If the civil unrest in Yoda escalates, immediately arrange for ships to pick them up and evacuate them back to the country."
There was a buzz of discussion in the meeting room. John pondered for a moment and finally nodded:
"Just do as Wesker said, Simon. Immediately issue an order to have all chambers of commerce in Yoda assist their citizens to evacuate to the southern and northern ports of Yoda. At the same time, notify Ambassador Isu and ask them to rent ten ships to evacuate the people."
He paused.
"Also, we need to strengthen border patrols. If we find any signs of large-scale refugee movement in Yoda, we need to immediately seek help from surrounding military camps. We must not allow refugees to rush into the country."
……
At night the wooden beams of the parish school cast flickering shadows in the yellow candlelight.
Min Caier placed the copper candlestick on the mottled podium. The melted wax dripped along the edge and formed small puddles on the rough wooden table.
The benches that should have been filled with children were now crowded with miners with coal dust on their faces, lumberjacks carrying axes on their shoulders, and even peasant women wrapped in coarse headscarves - their rough fingers stroked the edges of the stone slabs, their cracked soles were tucked into their thin trouser legs, but their eyes were as bright as red-hot iron.