Chapter 67: 70. Authority is Cruel Part 12

“Who are those men over there in relation to us? Are they our oppressors? Yes. Are they living in better conditions than us? Yes… well perhaps marginally." The old man grins at the crowd, a slight wink in his voice.

Angelidis wonders if he's trying to get a rise out of the marchers. What exactly would happen if even one of them interrupted their mana flow right now while the finishing touches are being put on the statue?

Dzan grimaces. Thinking along the same lines as Angelidis', he assumes their diamond sculpture of the 33rd will be just fine even if their spell is interrupted right now. Things don't work out so conveniently.

Sigvor ponders. It might be worth it just to see unfinished fingers or hair. They're currently adding some sharpness to her helmet and clothing, it would be funny if it looked poorly made. A way to spoil their fun is always appreciated.

The old man continues.

"Those humans over there… They know all that. They believe themselves to be our oppressors and they believe their lives are better than ours. But… are they our betters? Are they? Huh? Pft… Hahahahaha!!!!"

The old man points in laughter at the marchers, who remain unmoving still.

"Them? Our betters!? They are nothing more than the sycophants of the nobility. What about those guards over there who protect them? Are they better than us? Well, would you think those fearful cowards, protected by armor and expensive toys, can compare to the children they sprayed? Unworthy of respect or admiration even in the slightest, every last one of them…"

His expression turns cold as he utters that last sentence. Ajax listens to the speaker’s heartbeat. He speaks with a steady heart, unperturbed by the sight of those cops. He is truly brave. To speak in front of so many while the threat of violence looms so large…

Meanwhile, Shaula watches the guards even closer, none of whom have responded in any way to his provocations. She can guess why to some degree. The old man is telling the crowd not to specifically attack the marchers or the guards, but to live with dignity. Dignity that they’ve earned.

She can tell that the blood of the protesters around her is boiling as the old man’s words resonate with them. At a moment like this, if the guards were to attempt a clash, they would be faced with the demihumans they oppress trying to uphold the truth of their dignity through defensive and angry violence.

"Which brings me to the nobles…"

Everyone listens carefully as he speaks his next words. The guards pay special attention this time. In the Federation, lése majéste is treated differently based on the city and province. In Tritol, it is viewed as a jailable offense, though it is most often punished through fine or community service.

These guards would undoubtedly throw the book at him if he insults the nobility here today. Yet the man shows no change at all in his surface level or physiological reactions.

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"I will say but one thing about the nobles. A statement that if argued in a court of law would be hard to prove as libelous or slanderous or an offense against the nobility. It will only be the truth: The nobility do not wish for our freedom, but for those of the races other than their own to never have it. And I mean all races other than their own."

The crowd starts murmuring. Prisca, Cel and Sito break out into cold sweats. To prove the draconid man's statement wrong would require a fair trial. A true statement by definition cannot be lése majéste according to Tritol law.

But, the guards will likely still use his (yet unproven) statements as a warrant for his arrest and detainment on the grounds of lése majéste. The only question is whether they will arrest him now… or wait for a smarter time.

“The nobles have the true power. After all, it is written into our laws that the lives of commoner humans are worth less than the lives of the heroic nobles. If they had to choose between the life of the lowest ranked noble and fifty commoner men, women or even children, it's obvious who they would pick, who the church and the aristocratic state would doubtlessly pick!”

The man shouts in rage and conviction about what he and every demihuman protester knows to be the truth. Commoner humans are allowed to maintain a second class status compared to the heroic nobles. Demihumans are “theoretically” second class as well, but of course in practice are third class. The crowd watches the old man lose his anger and sigh.

“You know who lived and died freer than the sycophants present here?"

Prisca notices the hint of a smile on his face.

“The humans of Hideza's era who had died by her hand. There were… many fearless humans who fought for the cause of liberation from the nobility and the church, fighting for our liberation as well as their own. They joined our forefathers in order to build a truly free nation built on the premise that under no circumstances may man hold as property their fellow man."

The draconid man sighs.

"But look at those pathetic individuals over there. They cling to these figures of old like the 33rd and believe that they are like them, but they are not, even if we discount bloodline. Hideza was a true conqueror and warrior. These men are not like her.”

He waves over at the group of marchers and guards, once again demonstrating to the crowd his sharp draconid claws.

“These pitiable, cowardly wretches have only known easy lives free of war and bloodshed. They do not wish to fight a war, they simply wish to reap a field that has lost its guardian. Even Hideza lost her family, but these men will only fight wars where the chance of their victory is assured, wars where they lose absolutely nothing. They are soulless, seeking treasure and comfort built on the bloodshed of the weak."

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