WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

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◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 76: The Peasant King (6)

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Thud!

The heavy oak doors of the audience chamber closed with a dull boom.

The moment they entered the corridor, beyond the King's sight, the nobles finally let out the breaths they had been holding.

"Ha... We survived."

"I feel like I've aged ten years."

Greed filled the space fear had vacated. Their relief at escaping death quickly became anticipation for new profits.

The Count of Plzeň spoke with an animated expression, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Did you hear that? He said he'd buy the entire output! All of it!"

"I heard, I heard! He'll buy every bit of wool and hide we produce. Isn't that far more profitable than digging in the dirt?"

"I've got plenty of unused hills in my domain. I should start putting up fences tomorrow. I need to find grapevine saplings too!"

The nobles were already imagining hills blanketed in sheep and vines heavy with grapes.

Pride? Family honor?

Those had melted away like spring snow before visions of gold coins soon pouring in.

That was when it happened.

"Have you all lost your minds?"

A sharp voice cut through the corridor like a splash of cold water. The excited nobles all turned toward it.

The speaker was the Baron of Blatná, lord of the southern borderlands.

A young nobleman who had only recently inherited his title, full of youthful fire.

Unable to hide his boiling temper, he glared at the older nobles.

"Is this the time to wag our tails over a bone the King has thrown us? Who are we? Are we not the ancient nobility of Bohemia? Yet he tells us to become nothing more than country shepherds. This is a clear insult!"

Cenek of Vartemberk frowned and adjusted his grip on his cane.

"Baron of Blatná. Lower your voice. Don't you know palace walls have ears?"

"I do! But this must be said!"

Blatná trembled with rage.

"Look at the King's attitude! Doesn't he treat us as inferiors rather than equal partners? Land distribution? Supplying the Crown? The words sound nice enough. But isn't this simply a scheme to strip us of our strength?"

"Baron of Blatná."

"Listen to me! Let us say this was resolved somehow for now. But what guarantee is there that it won't happen again? The King thinks so little of us. Who's to say our rights won't be torn away like scraps of paper next time?"

A few of the younger nobles began to waver at his words.

"That's right. To be honest, it felt as though His Majesty looked down on us."

"Even if he is the King, interfering with the management of our domains, which is a lord's rightful authority, is a little..."

As the mood shifted, Blatná seemed to gain courage and pressed on.

"If we remain on our knees, we'll truly become the King's sheepdogs. Before that happens, we must unite and show him what nobles are capable of!"

"Show him what?"

"We must show the King the strength of the nobility so he cannot treat us lightly! If we gather the private soldiers from each domain and hold a show of force before the royal palace, even the King would not dare..."

Slap!

Blatná's head snapped to one side.

"...What?"

He clutched his cheek in a daze.

The blow had been so hard that his mouth had split, leaving the metallic taste of blood on his tongue.

Cenek had slapped him.

The face of the man usually called a mild-mannered opportunist had twisted into something as fierce as a demon's.

"L-Lord Cenek...?"

"You... you stupid bastard!"

Thwack!

Cenek brought his ebony cane down hard on Blatná's shoulder.

"Aaargh!"

The young noble screamed and collapsed to the floor. Yet Cenek's beating did not stop.

"Aah! S-Save me..."

"If you want to die, die alone! You madman!"

Thud! Thud! Whack!

"How dare you speak of rebellion! Have you decided to drag all our heads to the execution block with you?"

Cenek swung his cane like a man who had lost his mind.

The horrified nobles rushed to stop him as the middle-aged nobleman in fine silk clothes beat the younger man on the floor like a dog.

"L-Lord Cenek! Calm yourself!"

"You'll kill the boy at this rate!"

Only then did Cenek stop, panting heavily.

"Huff, huff..."

The Baron of Blatná lay curled up on the floor, sobbing in pain.

"Ugh... I've never even been hit by my father..."

His expensive clothes were covered in dust and bloodstains, and his lofty noble pride had been torn to pieces.

Cenek wiped his sweat-soaked forehead with a handkerchief, then slowly turned toward the terrified nobles.

His eyes trembled not with anger, but with deep fear.

"Listen carefully. This is my sincere advice and warning."

His low voice made the words all the more chilling.

"Never, no matter what happens, think of going against His Majesty's wishes. Do not even plot treason in your dreams."

"But Lord Cenek... our rights..."

"Rights?"

Cenek gave a mocking snort.

"Wake up. His Majesty is not like the kings we have known. He is neither incompetent like the late King Wenceslaus IV nor merely cunning like Sigismund."

To Cenek, King Ulrich was an incomprehensible being.

A man who tore up the Pope's Excommunication Edict, slaughtered the Emperor's army of one hundred thousand, paved roads with stone, and brought down castle walls with steel.

Yet instead of suffering divine punishment, he remained alive and well, making Bohemia more prosperous than it had ever been.

"Search every history book in Europe. Has there ever been a king who made enemies of both God and the Emperor, yet still won? His Majesty is not a ruler who exists within the bounds of common sense as we know it."

Overwhelming military strength and knowledge beyond understanding.

A ruthless pragmatist with neither blood nor tears.

If the philosopher-king spoken of by Plato had appeared in reality, would he not have looked like that?

In truth, Cenek had not wanted to attend today's audience. His own livelihood was at stake, and his underlings had complained so relentlessly that he had been pushed into taking responsibility.

'Damn it, there are already rumors that the King has created some kind of information service...'

That Hungarian brat called János Hunyadi.

There was no telling where the man called the King's shadow might be listening.

And this fool was talking about gathering private soldiers and staging a show of force in the middle of the royal palace?

It was simply a call for them all to die together.

Cenek looked Blatná over with contempt.

"The King is a terrifying man. That is exactly why he is someone we must revere all the more."

The faces of kings who had passed through Bohemia, or nearly done so, crossed his mind.

The late King Wenceslaus IV had been incompetent.

Under his rule, the nobles had been able to act like kings themselves. But the price of that indulgence had been harsh.

The country had fallen into ruin, and had not the great blaze of the Hussite Wars eventually consumed the entire land?

Emperor Sigismund was cruel.

He saw Bohemia as nothing but a frontier province of the Empire, something to squeeze dry and exploit.

Above all, he was a liar who abandoned his word at the decisive moment. He was not worth serving.

Compared to them, what of Ulrich, who now sat upon the throne?

If any other king in Europe had been placed in that seat, could he truly have accomplished as much?

Was the new King frightening? Yes.

But could anyone deny his charisma? No.

He was neither a ruler who would ruin the nation through incompetence nor one who would cowardly abandon his own subjects. He was a king worthy of loyalty.

Cenek struck the floor with the tip of his cane.

"Fortunately, His Majesty is merciful. Didn't you see it in today's audience? As long as we do not cross the line, he will not let us starve. No, he will feed us until our bellies burst."

His eyes grew cold.

"But do you know what happens if you cross that line? Think of the Duke of Rosenberg."

Rosenberg.

The moment that name was spoken, the nobles felt a chill run down their spines.

Once a great noble who had ruled southern Bohemia.

The leader of the Catholic nobility and the powerful house that even past kings of Bohemia had been unable to treat lightly.

But now, that name had become synonymous with ruin.

"What state is the once-mighty Duke of Rosenberg in now? With one royal decree, all his lands were confiscated. They say he cannot even repair his castle, which the cannons destroyed, and now sleeps in a bedroom where wind and rain leak in."

The nobles' faces turned pale.

This was not simply someone else's story.

The terrifying thought was that the moment they went against the King's wishes, they too could become another Rosenberg.

"So if you want to live, keep your heads down for now. Take the scraps the King throws you, and quietly raise sheep within the fence he has built for you. Unless you want to bark for no reason and be dragged to the slaughterhouse."

As if he had no further business there, Cenek turned sharply, leaning on his ebony cane.

Click, click.

Once Cenek left, the nobles who had stood there blankly suddenly came to their senses.

They instinctively realized that remaining in this corridor meant being seen as an accomplice of the foolish traitor lying on the floor.

"L-Let us go with you, Lord Cenek!"

"Please wait for us!"

The nobles hurried after Cenek, thoroughly ignoring the Baron of Blatná on the floor.

Only the smell of blood and miserable sobbing remained in the empty corridor.

* * *

Time passed...

It was April in Prague's Old Town Square, where the spring sunlight poured down brilliantly.

Normally, this would have been the time when the ground frozen through winter thawed into mud deep enough to swallow one's ankles.

This year was different.

Instead of sticky mud, hundreds of people stood in a long line along a solid concrete road.

Each person carefully held a crumpled identification paper or an old set of dog tags.

"Hoo..."

Jaroslav, standing around the middle of the line, swallowed hard and adjusted the crutch digging into his armpit.

Since his left leg had been cut off below the thigh, standing for long periods was pain close to torture.

Cold sweat kept soaking his back, but he had no thought of leaving. No, even if his one remaining leg broke, he could never leave this place.

"Dear, isn't this hard? Why don't you sit down for a while?"

His wife, Bianca, tugged at his sleeve with a worried expression.

Their youngest child, still an infant, was strapped to her back. She held the tiny hands of their six-year-old daughter and eight-year-old son in either hand.

Jaroslav firmly shook his head.

"No. I can bear it. This is... nothing."

He still vividly remembered weeping his heart out when he heard the King's decree on the notice board outside City Hall a month earlier.

The King's promise to give him land.

That unbelievable declaration that even a cripple missing a leg, discarded after becoming useless on the battlefield, could own land.

He had returned home, embraced his wife, and cried like an animal through the night. At dawn, he rushed to the government office and submitted his application.

A full month had passed since then.

Only yesterday evening had he received word that the review was complete and his land allocation had been confirmed.

Jaroslav had not slept a wink all night. He feared it might be a dream, or that an official might discover a mistake and cancel it.

"Next!"

The line moved forward little by little at the official's shout, and at last it was Jaroslav's turn.

Leaning on his crutch, he limped to the counter.

Buried beneath the endless pile of documents, the official held out a hand without looking up.

"Name."

"J-Jaroslav. My father's name is Michal, and I am from Vyšehrad..."

"Proof of identity?"

Jaroslav handed over his medal and discharge papers with trembling hands.

The official snatched up the documents and scanned them quickly.

"Jaroslav, son of Michal... Here you are. Your assigned land is Block 7, Plot B-12, Řeporyje District, east of Prague."

The official picked up a parchment document prepared in advance.

Red wax melted and dripped from the candle, and the royal seal was pressed heavily into it.

Thud!

The dull sound struck Jaroslav's chest hard.

"Take it."

Jaroslav received the document respectfully with both hands.

He was illiterate, so he could not read most of its contents. But he could recognize the name written in bold at the bottom.

[Jaroslav, son of Michal]

It was his name.

Something hot rose in his throat.

"Is this... truly my land?"

"Until you repay the loan, it is held as collateral by the Crown. But the right to cultivate it and ownership belong to you. In twenty years, it will be entirely yours."

The official answered matter-of-factly, then gave the next instruction.

"Take that to Warehouse Three by the eastern gate. You need to collect your agricultural support supplies."

"S-Support supplies?"

"You aren't going to work the land empty-handed, are you? His Majesty is granting initial settlement support. Next!"

Jaroslav was pushed aside with a dazed expression.

His wife hurried over and grabbed the hem of his garment.

"Dear, did it work? Did we really get it?"

"Y-Yes..."

Jaroslav nodded blankly. It still did not feel real.

'Can this single sheet of paper really become my field, my land?'

Jaroslav and his family headed for the eastern gate, swept along by the crowd.

The area before the warehouse was even more crowded with people waiting to receive supplies.

"All right, show me your documents! Once you're confirmed, take one cart from over there!"

"Excuse me, this..."

When Jaroslav held out his document, the quartermaster checked the number and gestured.

"Yes, yes! Řeporyje Block 7, Plot B-12! Take Cart Number Twelve over there!"

A sturdy wooden cart stood where the quartermaster pointed. It was loaded with goods Jaroslav could hardly believe he was seeing.

"What is all this...?"

The first things that caught his attention were the farming tools.

A shovel, pickaxe, sickle, pitchfork, and plow.

Their color was unlike anything he had seen before.

They were not reddish and rusted like tools roughly hammered out at a village smithy. They were black, gleaming with a heavy sheen as though they had been oiled.

Sternberg steel.

Jaroslav gripped the handle of the shovel with a trembling hand.

It was heavy, yet perfectly balanced in his grasp. It felt as though he could split even a rock like tofu with it.

"T-These precious things... You mean they're for working the fields?"

The quartermaster replied as though it were nothing.

"They are standard agricultural tools produced by the Sternberg Steelworks. They won't chip even if you strike rocks, so use them without worry. And here, take your seeds."

He casually tossed several hemp sacks onto the cart.

"This is wheat, this is oats, and this is..."

The quartermaster tapped two especially large sacks.

"These are the most important. Turnip seeds and clover seeds."

"Turnips? Clover? Why would I..."

"It's the King's order. You'll lose your land if you don't plant them, so do as you're told without complaining. The officials will come through the villages later and teach you how to plant them."

Jaroslav stroked the sacks with a puzzled expression.

He could not understand why they were being told to plant seeds for pig feed and weeds when people were short on food themselves. Still, he assumed the King must have his reasons.

"All right, if everything is there, put your thumbprint on this receipt."

Jaroslav stared blankly at the cart.

A set of steel farming tools.

Enough seeds to feed his family for over a year.

And a cart with sturdy wheels.

Even by a rough estimate, it was worth a considerable sum.

Jaroslav's face went pale.

"E-Excuse me, sir."

"Yes? Is something missing?"

"No, it is just... I have no money."

He spoke in a small voice.

"I am grateful that you are giving me such precious things, but I have nothing except this crutch. I do not have the money to buy them..."

"Who said you have to pay now?"

The quartermaster chuckled and waved the paperwork.

"This is all debt too, debt. When you farm the land and harvest your crops, you repay it alongside your taxes. Payments in installments, you could call it."

"I-Installments?"

"Yes. You can repay it slowly over twenty years. But!"

The quartermaster's eyes hardened.

"If you miss your repayments three times or more without good reason, the land and every tool will be seized. So you have to work that field like your life depends on it. Understand?"

Seizure. Debt.

They were frightening words, but even those sounded like sweet gospel to Jaroslav.

Because they meant he was being given a chance.

Because they meant he could begin with empty hands.

"I understand...! I will work until my bones break and repay it all!"

Jaroslav pressed his trembling thumb firmly onto the receipt.

Creak...

Even the new cart's wheels rolled with a cheerful sound.

Jaroslav tucked his crutch beneath his arm and gripped the cart handle tightly with one hand. Behind him, his wife and children pushed the cart together.

"Heave! Heave!"

The family passed through Prague's gate and headed east.

An endless procession of carts stretched along the road.

Like Jaroslav, every person carried a land deed against their chest and loaded their cart with hope.

One hour, then two.

Prague's magnificent walls receded behind them, and once the well-maintained King's Road ended, a rough and uneven dirt road appeared.

Still, the family did not stop.

Sweat poured down like rain, and the muscles in Jaroslav's healthy right leg screamed in pain, but the smile never left his lips.

"There! That is our land!"

They arrived after walking half the day.

It was Plot B-12 of Block 7, the place the official had told them about.

"Ah..."

A sound that was neither a sigh nor an exclamation escaped Bianca's lips.

To be honest, it could not be called good land even as a kindness.

No one had touched it for a long time, so tough weeds grew up to their calves. Large stones protruded everywhere, and rotten tree stumps were scattered here and there.

They could have received cleared farmland, but they had deliberately chosen uncleared land to receive five years of tax exemption.

Yet Jaroslav dropped his crutch to the ground and moved unsteadily across the rough earth, almost crawling.

Plop.

He sank down where he stood and scooped up the coarse soil in both hands.

The cold, damp feel of the dirt.

The rough grains of sand pressing beneath his fingernails.

Jaroslav inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of soil.

"My soil..."

As a tenant farmer, he had spent his whole life plowing another person's land while constantly minding his lord's temper.

When harvest came, he offered the grain to the lord and survived the winter on the husks that remained. The soil had been soaked in his sweat and blood, but not a single handful had belonged to him.

But now, it was different.

These weeds, these stones, even every earthworm crawling through the soil.

They all belonged to him.

"Thank you, Your Majesty... Thank you!"

His wife came over and wrapped her arms around his trembling shoulders. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as well.

Holding his wife, Jaroslav spoke as if making a vow.

"Dear, once we clear away these stones and pull out the weeds... wheat will grow here. Our wheat."

"R-Really? All this is ours?"

"Yes. Five years. We just need five years. They said we won't have to pay taxes either. If we work like our lives depend on it... we won't have to pass poverty on to our children."

Jaroslav staggered to his feet. He could not afford to waste even a second sitting idle.

"We don't have to worry about pleasing anyone anymore. Everything that comes from this land is ours. We can do it. No, we have to."

Jaroslav picked up a pickaxe from the cart. The heavy weight of steel traveled through both his hands.

"Hah!"

Thud!

The pickaxe struck the ground with a dull yet satisfying sound.

It was the historic first blow that would turn wasteland into fertile fields and a slave into a master.

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