© Terry Pratchett
"Always remember that the crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show."
***
Victor stood in a warehouse in Rivenhall. Truth be told, all buildings erected by carpenters resembled warehouses, and this one was no exception.
Ten meters high, fifty meters long, and ten meters wide, the structure looked like a typical warehouse but was destined to become one of the most critical sites in the future, as it would house papermaking operations.
While examining the future facility, Nalita stood at the entrance, her skirt trailing behind her. Behind her, a girl of apparent eight years old clung to her dress hem.
The girl's name was Lamira, and she was not eight, as Victor initially guessed, but twelve. Malnutrition had stunted her growth.
Currently, she looked far healthier than when they first met. Back then, knife wounds and malnourishment had ravaged her. Now, her hollow cheeks had filled out, her dull eyes sparkled like blue sapphires, and her formerly greasy hair gleamed silver after washing.
Victor, however, hardly recognized her as the victim of the attack. Her big blue eyes darted nervously around, scanning the surroundings like a frightened deer seeking shelter.
He tried talking to her, but Nalita's persuasion failed, so he decided not to pressure the child.
Later, based on Lamira's explanation, he constructed this building where she could conduct experiments and eventually manage the entire paper-making process.
Victor had no other means to repay her or give her confidence in the future. Knowing the recipe, he could toss her a couple of gold coins and organize the rest himself, but he decided that a supervisor was needed anyway, so why not her? After all, she nearly died due to his oversight, and compensating her with this small gesture seemed reasonable.
The actual process of making paper was rudimentary, and the result fell short of his expectations. It resembled fragile cardboard, crumbling easily and cracking when bent.
He gave Lamira tips on how to improve it but avoided interfering too much, fearing his authority might overwhelm her.
Nalita and soldiers guarded her, supporting her efforts. Additionally, ten serfs were placed under her supervision.
In reality, Nalita led everything, as Lamira feared communicating with anyone except the medic. She whispered instructions into Nalita's ear, who relayed them accordingly.
Victor watched their interaction, ready to leave, when the bailiff entered, reporting the task complete and readiness for departure.
Hearing this, he hurried toward the exit, encountering a cart outside, loaded with a small obelisk roughly five meters tall and two square meters at its base.
He ordered it shipped to Ironwood, then mounted his horse alongside Linnea and galloped ahead.
Arriving in the city, he headed toward the noisy marketplace, where scaffolds were being erected for the execution of Shoma, who had attacked Lamira.
News spread quickly, and Victor prohibited bringing children. As a citizen of a modern society, he didn't want kids witnessing such brutality and normalize violence.
Initially, he planned to ban women altogether, but reconsidered, believing they deserved to know they were protected and that attacking them carried serious consequences.
Watching carpenters finish erecting the platform, Victor climbed onto it, flanked by two soldiers and Linnea.
This was a simple wooden stage, open on all sides, equipped with instruments for executing criminals. According to his vision, everyone must see and hear him, marking a pivotal moment for the territory.
People gathered, curious and expectant. Soon, soldiers escorted the chained prisoner onto the scaffold.
Victor surveyed the crowd, growing denser by the minute. Eventually, soldiers hauled the criminal up the wooden ladder.
— Citizens and guests of my dominion, I am Vicount Viktor Baltas, — he announced loudly, causing the square to fall silent. — Today marks the first time I sentence someone to death, and I sincerely hope it remains the last.
After detailing the incident, the crowd roared, demanding Shoma's hanging or decapitation. Wildly chanting, they lunged toward the scaffold.
At that moment, Victor imagined the same mob baying for his blood someday. Chills ran down his spine.
Raising his right hand, he silenced the audience.
— Henceforth, I enact a new law, — he declared. — Crimes committed against anyone will be investigated by a newly established organization known as the Police Force. Individuals subjected to fraud, assault, theft, or other crimes can report incidents to them for justice.
Victor simplified terminology, unfamiliar in this world. Instead of "police," law enforcement was usually handled by guards.
They rarely pursued petty crimes and often intimidated victims. Murders in the dominion typically involved arbitrary executions of random individuals.
Crime syndicates bribed the guard captain, who ignored their illicit dealings. When gangsters needed to kill someone, they notified the captain beforehand, substituting an unfortunate patsy.
— If you've witnessed such crimes, you can anonymously inform the police and earn a reward, — he added shockingly.
Rewards for snitching on minor infractions could attract anyone, but Victor recalled reading about a parallel case in his world.
In New York City, Mayor Giuliani targeted graffiti removal aggressively. Graffiti reappeared repeatedly, but he persisted, allocating budget funds for cleanup.
Over time, crime statistics dropped. Districts cleared of graffiti saw fewer petty crimes, and focusing on preventing minor offenses reduced serious felonies.
Addressing trivial transgressions conditioned citizens to expect penalties even for minor violations, deterring major crimes.
Victor aimed for the same outcome. He wanted citizens to recognize that there was no such thing as "just a fight" or "just robbery." Every offense merited punishment, and reporting crimes to the police was encouraged.
After his speech, the crowd cheered enthusiastically, praising Victor. Smiling outwardly, he inwardly remained cautious about their volatile nature. They craved blood because he commanded it, a frightening reminder of this world's norms.
Victor retreated, yielding the stage to soldiers who positioned the condemned man. Kneeling, Shoma faced execution, awaiting the lord's signal amidst the crowd's feverish chants.
Victor glanced at the mob, then nodded subtly. A guard unsheathed his sword, severing Shoma's head in one stroke. Roars of triumph erupted from the crowd, leaving Victor dazed by the uproarious screams and applause.
Avoiding the gruesome sight, he descended the scaffold, navigating the celebrating masses toward the western market district, where a wagon waited, carrying the monumental stone.
Citizens parted, watching him pass, muttering praise and admiration.
Victor halted at the stone, commanding serfs to lower it into a shallow pit dug half a meter deep.
Before the crowd, a miniature obelisk emerged, engraved with phrases repeated on each side, leaving ample space for future additions.
Victor, turning his back to the crowd, began reading aloud:
Every person has the right to fair trial. All residents are entitled to protection by the lord. All inhabitants of Baltas must adhere to laws established by the lord. Property belonging to citizens is protected by the lord from seizure unless legally judged. Before the lord's court, all persons—whether peasant, freeman, or merchant—are equal. Men and women share identical rights and duties in Baltas. No one shall be tortured, abused, or mistreated without the lord's consent. Judgment belongs solely to the lord, irrespective of rank.
Revisiting his own decrees, Victor noticed many loopholes but had an ace up his sleeve: ultimately, he would decide what was valid.
This attempt at a constitution would evolve separately from the future laws governing society.
Explaining constitutional principles to medieval minds was folly.
What he sought was widespread adoption of policing practices. Initially, citizens would flood the guards with minor disputes, encouraging familiarity with the new system. Over time, awareness would propagate organically via gossip networks, eventually solidifying as cultural norms.
Adjustments and amendments could be introduced, as constitutions were flexible, amendable documents, not sacred scripture.
Victor had no intention of establishing democracy or free speech. He sought an orderly world, structured by his vision, achievable within his dominion.
No conflicts with aristocratic interests were apparent, so he anticipated minimal resistance, though he remained hopeful.
— Nobles won't approve, — Linaea's melodic voice sounded unexpectedly.
Victor glanced at her, then at the obelisk.
— Why? There's no conflict with their privileges, — he protested.
She methodically tore apart six of his clauses, excluding the fifth.
Nobles traditionally judged commoners arbitrarily, even in foreign domains. Punishments were summary executions for perceived offenses against nobility or even casual insults. Victor's statutes denied them this privilege.
She confirmed that nobles wouldn't overtly oppose him, but minor infringements would irk them.
Victor felt he'd removed all potential triggers but now realized even these laws could cause trouble.
Still, he refused to alter anything. If he feared every action, he'd freeze in place.
Cowardly Victor had perished under cavalry attack; weak Victor would die today. Decidedly, he chose boldness.
Letting matters stand, he stepped aside, allowing curious observers to examine the inscription.
Immediately, the crowd surged toward the stone, initiating heated debates, sighs, and gasps.
Some understood, others didn't. Clauses impacting their lives were celebrated, especially by merchants who publicly recited each provision.
Victor watched the flow of people, replaced by subsequent waves, spreading awareness throughout the county, then the kingdom.
This was precisely his objective. He hoped allies among nobility would emerge, following his example. Otherwise, who cares? He'd chart his own course, undaunted.
***
Three months elapsed since adopting the new constitution. Secluded in his study, Victor reread a parchment from the count.
The letter instructed him to mobilize troops for a military expedition within a month.
Drums of war resonated in his mind. Secretly wishing the moment would never come, he accepted its inevitability—war had arrived.
Prepared for survival and maximum gain, he gazed out the window at fields where serfs harvested crops. Harvest season lasted nearly a month, catching both peasants and their lord unprepared by the unexpected bounty.
Thanks to his reforms, yields were plentiful, forcing him to engage virtually all refugees from the camp.
Construction and renovation efforts advanced rapidly, transitioning the entire territory into active development mode. He hated leaving, but had no choice.
Anticipating prolonged absence, he drafted detailed instructions: constructing residences, roads, and infrastructure.
He sketched a map highlighting planned concrete roads and mandating brick construction for all village and city homes. Each dwelling included fireplaces, plumbing, and drainage for future installations.
Detailed annotations covered planting rotations, specifying fallow periods for restoring nutrients.
Additionally, he allocated sections for potato cultivation, adding strict precautions against consumption. Learning from Peter the Great's introduction of potatoes in Russia, he avoided potential riots by teaching proper preparation methods.
Reflecting at the window, a knock sounded at the door. Admitted, Alganis entered.
— Milord, we're ready to depart, — the knight announced, evidently eager.
Victor pivoted, striding purposefully toward the exit.
Alganis observed his commander, noting the transformation from an insecure youth to a confident warrior.
Sharing this sentiment, he followed, soon riding out of the manor toward the castle gates.
An hour later, they reached the citadel. Surveying his troops, Victor appraised the setup: forty specially-designed wagons carrying provisions, tents, stoves, tools, and animal feed. Two hundred soldiers, eighty-nine bronze-rank, the rest iron-level. Forty nurses, similarly equipped, wearing backpacks.
Soldiers sported partial metal armor, supplemented by leather.
Full plate mail was unavailable, so he purchased scattered armor components across the county. Merchants competed to satisfy his demands, and the Merchants' Guild channeled deliveries efficiently.
Around a hundred serfs joined the column, servicing soldiers during the march.
Linnea supervised the troops, reprimanding minor infractions.
Mirroring her commander, she evolved into a disciplined leader, embracing her role as Baltas' knight and future wife of the vicount.
Smiling, Victor surveyed the scene, then nodded to Alganis.
— Forward! — Alganis bellowed, charging ahead with a grin.
Soldiers lugging heavy shields followed suit, while serfs cracked whips at horses pulling wagons. Moments later, the convoy rolled into motion.