The cheers of the crowd in the square soon died down; the bodies were dragged away, and the bloodstains were washed clean.
For the Lacey of today, disposing of the Austins, father and son, was but a trivial matter.
He focused all his energy on the new policies for Wasser Fief.
With "My Struggle" as the blueprint and the Workers' Party as the skeleton, the new policies were implemented with unprecedented speed and depth.
Land was re-surveyed and redistributed, the tax system was completely reformed, old monopolies were shattered, and new factories and farms sprang up, driven by the new administration.
The Workers' Picket Team was expanded into the Workers' Party Guard Corps, undergoing militarized training and ideological education.
The Department of External Liaison and the Department of Intelligence worked in tandem, on one hand feigning civility with neighboring powers, and on the other, compiling countless streams of information for Lacey's desk.
The propaganda machine ran at full steam, sowing the ideology of the Workers' Party into every corner of Wasser Fief.
Everything was developing in a positive direction.
...
...
One year later.
The autumn sun pierced through the stacked spires of Trullinczentyr's high towers, landing in the offices of The Imperial Times.
Egbert put down the quill in his hand and rubbed his sore wrist.
Ostensibly, he was a moderately famous columnist for this newspaper, known for his sharp writing and unique perspective.
His true identity, however, was that of a member of an intelligence agency directly under the Twin Empresses.
He didn't know who his handler was, nor who else was in the intelligence network, receiving his orders only through a complex system of code words and dead drops.
This time, his mission was to travel to the Grand Region of Wasser Fief, which had been silent for a year.
Ever since Lacey had seized the title of Elector with lightning speed a year ago and received the Empresses' enfeoffment, Wasser Fief had become as if enclosed by an invisible wall.
The information blockade was watertight. The occasional fragments that did leak out were all filtered through the Workers' Party's propaganda department, sounding too good to be true.
This uncertainty instilled fear in the nobles abroad and a certain unease in the two women on the throne.
Before setting out, Egbert did his homework thoroughly.
He collected all the information he could find, chatted with merchants from the west in taverns, and listened to the complaints of the old aristocrats in noble salons.
In his mind, a portrait of Wasser Fief had long since taken shape.
It must be a place even more oppressive than it was during Otto's time.
He imagined its streets, inevitably muddy and mixed with coal ash and livestock manure, the air perpetually filled with the sour stench of cheap ale and the lingering sweat of the poor.
Children, like stray dogs, would rummage through trash heaps for food—barefoot, their eyes numb, and so thin they were nothing but skin and bones.
The adults, meanwhile, would toil to their deaths in the mines and factories in exchange for a meager piece of black bread, just enough to fill their stomachs.
As for the new Elector, Lacey, Egbert had no favorable impression whatsoever.
An opportunist who had risen by inciting the mud-legged rabble and driving the previous lord to his death. Though he possessed some personal valor, he was essentially no different from a tyrant like Otto.
Otto's greed was out in the open, whereas Lacey's was hidden in the depths.
He would surely, like all new kings, hoard all the plundered wealth for himself, build more luxurious palaces, and maintain more elite private soldiers.
And the people who had once cheered for him were merely stepping stones on his path to power, to be discarded after use.
History was full of such stories.
The dragonslayer eventually becomes the dragon.
Egbert could even picture Lacey's appearance: a young man feigning profundity, sitting on a high throne, speaking of liberation and freedom in a compassionate tone, while the depths of his eyes concealed the same greed and tyranny as Otto's.
And the people below the dais would remain the same ignorant mob, bought off with a few slogans and a small piece of bread, shouting 'long live the king,' and then continuing to exhaust their lives in poverty and toil.
"He will turn all of Wasser Fief into his private manor, and all its subjects will be his serfs."
An old marquis had drunkenly asserted this at a salon, drawing a chorus of agreement.
Egbert, sitting in a corner at the time, silently noted the statement and wholeheartedly agreed.
Harboring this almost certain prediction, Egbert boarded a public land-vehicle bound for Eisenwald, the capital of Wasser Fief.
...
The carriage was filled with a mixture of smells. The passengers were mostly small merchants and commoners visiting relatives, their conversations trivial and dull.
Egbert wore a fedora pulled down low, feigning sleep by the window as he continued to mentally draft his report on the "Tragic State of Wasser Fief."
The land-vehicle jolted along the bumpy dirt road for two full days.
When the driver shouted, "Entering the Wasser Fief border ahead!" Egbert opened his eyes.
He was ready to greet the desolate and dilapidated scene he had anticipated.
However, the vibration from the wheels beneath him suddenly smoothed out.
He looked out the window, his pupils contracting slightly.
The original dirt path had transformed into a wide, flat gravel road. Its surface was firmly packed, and there were even drainage ditches on both sides.
Along the sides of the road, newly sprouted saplings were planted at regular intervals.
This... this is Wasser Fief??
Egbert's mouth fell slightly agape without him realizing it.
The land-vehicle continued to drive smoothly towards a newly built checkpoint.
The checkpoint building was a new red brick structure, its wall painted with a massive black insignia of a crossed sickle and axe.
Several guards in uniform green outfits were on duty. They stood tall and straight, unlike the slouching, greasy-faced local guards Egbert was used to seeing.
A young guard stopped the land-vehicle. His attitude was polite, but his gaze was sharp—neither servile nor overbearing.
"Welcome to Wasser Fief, travelers."
"Please present your identification documents and state the purpose of your visit."
His speech was clear, without a regional accent, spoken in standard Leithanien official language.
The passengers in the carriage skillfully produced card-like identification documents and passed them over one by one.
When it was Egbert's turn, he handed over his forged press credentials.
The guard checked it carefully, made a note in a ledger, and then returned the document to him.
"Welcome, Mr. Journalist."
"I wish you success in your reporting in Eisenwald."
The entire process was orderly, with no sign of harassment or demands for a toll.
The land-vehicle started up again, driving along the flat road.
Egbert leaned against the window, silent.
He watched the fields passing by outside. The furrows were neatly planned, the green crops were growing vigorously, and he could even see some metal pipes in the fields—unfamiliar to him—that seemed to be for irrigation.
In the distance were small villages with houses also made of red brick, with plumes of cooking smoke rising from their rooftops.
Everything was completely different from the scene he had imagined.
Egbert frowned, telling himself this was probably just a facade at the border, a carefully arranged illusion by Lacey to deceive the outside world.
The true rot must be hidden deeper within, hidden in Eisenwald.
He had to see it with his own eyes.
________________________________________
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