This Lich Requests More Remuneration

Chapter 61: Chapter 61 Swear to the Holy Light Chapter 61: Chapter 61 Swear to the Holy Light Masstar, through a mix of coercion and incentives, demanded three hundred militia from several small lords, including the Porcupine Knights.

It wasn’t voluntary, but they had no choice.

Otherwise, if those ten paladins went mad, they could kill all of them and then leave with ease.

Don’t talk to Masstar about mercy and rules; Black Knights are the least rule-abiding when necessary, otherwise how could the Laine Empire have conquered such vast territories with those resembling ascetic monks and saintly paladins?

The Porcupine Knight parted with eighty men with great reluctance. Although Masstar gave him a considerable sum of money, the operation of a domain doesn’t rely on cash alone—what’s most important is the population. Many had already died in a great war, and now dozens more able-bodied men were being sent away, causing the Porcupine Knight to worry about the next year’s farming.

Consider these men already dead, after all, they are going to fight against that terrifying lich; perhaps they can only serve as cannon fodder to deplete the lich’s magic power.

Under some peculiar predilection of the Creator God, on this continent, individual might is superior to the power of the collective in most circumstances.

The widely spread legends are of heroes’ epics, not stories of people uniting for victory.

Thus, in many high-end wars, the role of the common soldier is minuscule, often serving only as a setting for the atmosphere or as a precursor to the strong breaking out.

In the previous campaign against the lich, the fate of the militia from the various domains verified this assertion all too well.

But the Laine Empire is somewhat different.

Thanks to the tradition left by the Founding Emperor, they place human interests in an extremely high position, almost equating it with their faith. And with a population of hundreds of millions, the Laine Empire can’t rely on just a few strong protectors for so many common people.

How to make ordinary humans also play a role is a question that generations of the Laine People have contemplated.

Different cultural traditions create different societal civilizations. When others are desperately thinking about how to upgrade individuals, the Laine Empire had already developed a way that allows commoners to pose a threat to the strong as well.

Masstar, mounted on a Celestial Warhorse, stood in front of this group of gaunt militia.

The people were genuinely given, although they were all young, but each lord chose the weakest among them, some even using serfs to make up the numbers.

Masstar didn’t mind because even well-trained militia were no different from starved serfs in his view.

The Vigor Aura was activated, offering these suffering individuals a rare sense of comfort.

Masstar, mounted on a Celestial Warhorse, slowly circled the crowd, speaking as he walked, “You should already know that I bought you from the various lords to deal with the lich, the very terror you have encountered before and were utterly defeated by—a formidable undead.”

At the mention of that scene of despair, many felt their legs weaken and would have fallen to their knees if not for the support of Vigor Aura.

“Good, it seems I don’t need to waste time explaining the horrors of the undead to you. But what is there for you to fear? What difference does it make if death comes a bit sooner or later in your life? The heavy labor, the constant hunger, the daily, unending agony – you are no different from beasts of burden.

“You have never lived as a true human being; your lives are without meaning, and for this continent, you are worth less than the land tilled by a cow.”

The words of Masstar seemed to carry a strange magic, not a beating nor a curse, yet such light words filled the already numb crowd with anger.

But they just clenched their jaws and hung their heads low, not daring to meet Masstar’s gaze with their angry eyes.

“Keep your anger, my brethren, for humans should not live like this. Today, I offer you the chance to become humans again. If you can survive the war, you will become citizens of the Laine Empire. I make this promise in the name of Holy Light: you will obtain your own land, your own home, and your own life.”

Hearing this, everyone couldn’t help but lift their heads and gaze at the paladin bathed in Holy Light.

They certainly wouldn’t believe other nobles who spoke of giving land and houses.

But the paladin had just sworn by the Holy Light!

How can you tell if a Black Knight is lying? The simplest way is to confront him, “Do you dare to swear by the Holy Light?!”

Of course, this is likely to make the Black Knight use Holy Slash immediately.

And Masstar had just sworn by the Holy Light clearly, which means this could very well be true!

Seeing the shining eyes of this group of beleaguered people, Masstar finally cracked a smile. His goal had been achieved; as long as they harbored hope, they would be able to provide him with support.

And Masstar was not lying, either. A Paladin wouldn’t dare to make a false oath to the Holy Light, lest divine retribution befall him at once.

If they did indeed survive the upcoming war, Masstar would certainly bring them back to the Laine Empire and grant them the land he promised.

Masstar spoke again, “Now, everyone, follow me into the city. You must eat your fill and then rest well.”

From among the crowd, a frail youth stood up, speaking excitedly, “Rest? Lord Paladin, shouldn’t we start training instead? If we go into battle as we are now, won’t we just be a burden?”

Masstar looked at the young man with surprise. Though the mood of the group had been influenced by him, it was not trivial for someone to express dissent.

Masstar asked, “Young man, what is your name?”

“Geronimo.”

The youth pronounced a name that sounded very cumbersome, not like a common human name.

Masstar recalled for a moment and then said with surprise, “A name from the Magic Dragon rule period… Are you a surviving remnant of the ancient civilization?”

Before the founding of the Laine Empire, the continent was ruled by the cruel Magic Dragons until the Founding Emperor of the Laine Empire slew the Magic Dragon, drove out the Dragon Race, and liberated the various species.

The corpse of the Magic Dragon was also turned into the National Guardian Artifact of the Laine Empire.

Because the social and cultural environment during the Magic Dragon rule was entirely different from that of the current Nine Great Kingdoms, that period is sometimes referred to as the ancient civilization.

Although humans lived miserably in that era, there were still a very few human subgroups who longed for the days when the Giant Dragons were revered. They preserved many cultural aspects of that time, such as dragon worship and offerings, dragon language, and the script of the Dragon Race, and so on.

The pronunciation of this young man’s name carried traces of the dragon tongue, something an erudite Paladin like Masstar could distinguish immediately.

Perhaps because they were the victors, the Laine Empire adopted an inclusive attitude towards these remnants of the ancient civilization. After all, the dragons had been expelled, and they were all human brethren, bound to be assimilated sooner or later.

Over the course of a thousand years, the number of these Dragon Race remnants had indeed dwindled, and Masstar hadn’t expected to encounter one here.

However, when Masstar asked Geronimo about his origins in detail, he discovered that the child knew nothing of the Dragon Race. Except for leaving him with this name, his parents hadn’t taught him anything related to dragons.

Regarding Geronimo’s query, Masstar explained, “The first phrase I learned was in praise of the Holy Light. I underwent strict training starting at the age of seven and, after twenty years, I have formally become a Paladin. You cannot expect to undergo a complete transformation in just a few days. But don’t worry; I won’t let you be cannon fodder. Follow my orders, and I will make sure you can play a worthy role on the battlefield.”

Masstar affectionately lifted Geronimo onto his mount and led the serf who had just found hope toward Alchemy City.

At that moment, a thick cloud drifted by in the distance, casting a shadow that made Masstar look up.

The weather had been poor for several days, always heavy with dark clouds, giving Masstar an ominous premonition.

It was precisely because of this unsettling premonition that Masstar kept reminding himself that he must be more cautious and more thoroughly prepared.

However, today’s gains should be enough. These three hundred people would become his strongest trump card.