Building a Kingdom and Conquering the World - Chapter 218

Chapter 218: The conquered people
In a quiet village deep within the now-conquered lands of Aritreia, renamed the Xistic State, a grand wooden carriage rolled steadily down the White Merchant Road. Its polished surface was adorned with intricate carvings of dragons, their iron forms shimmering faintly in the pale light of the North. The carriage was surrounded by dozens of warriors, fully armed and riding tall on their horses.

Near the edge of the road, two men stood hunched over, their thick fur coats soaked and dirty. One held a battered hatchet, the other a shovel. Both men’s hands trembled, whether from exhaustion or from the biting cold. They were part of a labor team sent to clear and repair the road, ensuring merchant wagons and troop movements could pass smoothly. They were working to maintain the integration of the kingdom.

One of the workers paused, staring at the ornate carriage as it appeared on the horizon. His eyes widened in awe.

“Bow your head, idiot!” – barked the team leader, smacking the back of the man’s head with a heavy hand. The blow almost made him fall. He clutched his head in pain – “Can’t you see that’s a noble from Stahl? Do you want to see your head dropping on this snow?”

At those words, the man winced but quickly dropped his gaze, his heart racing. The thought of dying by that cold steel blade made him shiver more than the icy wind or the cold snow – “But” – he stammered, his voice barely a whisper – “didn’t Kirk say there aren’t any more nobles in the North? The king got rid of all of them after the rebellion.”

The team leader hissed in frustration, his voice low but filled with anger. He glared at the man as if daring him to speak again – “How can you believe anything that lunatic says? Kirk wasn’t right in the head even before the war. And since he came back, he’s been spewing nonsense, talking like his time as a prisoner was the best experience of his life.” – The leader paused, swallowing hard – “Maybe they tortured him so much he lost what little sense he had left.”

For thousands of years, the monarchy had been deeply rooted in this region’s culture, religion, and political structure. The noble households were not just rulers in name; they wielded actual power. Each noble family possessed the ability to harness Mana, making them physically and magically superior to commoners. Even the weakest noble could take on a dozen men without breaking a sweat. This power created a stark divide between the nobles and the lower class. For most commoners, the idea of a world without nobility was unthinkable. To them, the monarchy and its hierarchy were not just a system, they were the natural order of the world.

This rigid structure wasn’t unique to this land. On Earth, a similar dynamic existed in medieval Europe. Before the rise of centralized nation-states, noble families ruled over vast regions, controlling fiefs, land granted by monarchs in exchange for loyalty and military service. These nobles commanded private armies, wielded immense local power, and maintained strong ties with the Church. Together, the nobility and clergy reinforced a strict social hierarchy that placed them above commoners. This system upheld inequality by design, ensuring the nobility’s dominance while legitimizing their rule through religion.

On the other hand, Henry’s vision was entirely different. He desired to dismantle this entrenched hierarchy, replacing it with a more centralized and organized society. His goal was to concentrate all power in the hands of the throne. Under his rule, there would be no private armies, no noble families strong enough to challenge the crown. The kingdom’s military would belong solely to the king, and all authority would flow from him.

Henry also wanted to pursue a certain development. He was already selecting capable individuals from the army to handle administrative tasks, but he intended to take it further. Eventually, he would separate the military from the administration altogether, creating specialized roles for governance. In this way, Henry was building the foundation for a kingdom where merit and loyalty to the throne would determine one’s station, not bloodline or inherited titles.

As the carriage approached, its wooden wheels crunching through the thin blanket of snow, the man who had been struck earlier couldn’t help but glance up.

“Again, stop looking, idiot! Do you want to get us all killed?!” – the team leader hissed again, his voice sharp with panic. This time, he pushed the man’s head down with more force, nearly causing him to fall head first.

Suddenly, the sound of the wheels came to an abrupt stop.

“Do you come from Yomi Village?” – a calm, young voice asked. Neither man dared to respond at first, keeping their heads bowed low. Their legs trembled, not from the cold, but from fear that their heads might soon be rolling on the snow-covered ground.

“You can raise your heads” – the voice added, reassuring but firm.

The first man, the one who had been hit, seemed to summon a bit of courage. Fighting against the team leader’s hand, which was still pressing him down, he cautiously lifted his head. His eyes met a young golden-haired man on horseback, a bow strapped across his back. It was Agusa, the young warrior who had trained under Luther.

“Y-yes” – the man stammered, swallowing hard. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to hide the trembling in his fingers. “If you follow the road, you’ll reach the village in a few minutes. It’s right at the foot of the mountain leading to the capital, Er—”

Before the man could finish his sentence, Agusa interrupted, his tone firm but friendly – “Hidden Stone. The mountain leads to Hidden Stone.”

A polite smile curved Agusa’s lips as he corrected the man, and the team leader immediately caught the unspoken message. The capital’s old name was no longer to be spoken. It had been renamed after the conquest.

“Y-yes, leading to Hidden Stone,” – the team leader quickly echoed, nodding repeatedly as he grasped Agusa’s intent.

Agusa glanced at the sky. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the snowy landscape. It would be dangerous to climb the mountain to Hidden Stone at night. “Does Yomi Village have a place to sleep?” – he asked, his golden hair catching the last rays of sunlight.

The team leader hesitated, his gaze shifting nervously toward the ornate carriage. “I-I don’t think anything in the village would be suitable for your royalty…” – he said carefully, his eyes dropping to the snow. He didn’t dare look directly at Agusa, afraid that one wrong glance might seal his fate.

Before the leader could say more, the other man, clearly more animated and talkative, spoke up. “Kirk’s tavern! He remodeled it a while back. Said he wanted it to feel like one of the taverns in the capital. And his drinks, his drinks are much better now, too!” – the words tumbled out of his mouth in a hurried rush, as if he couldn’t contain them.

Agusa smiled faintly, nodding in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” – he said simply. With a quick flick of his finger, he sent a small coin spinning through the air. It landed neatly in the hand of the first man. “Buy something warm to drink. Your hands look like they’re freezing.”

And with that, Agusa turned his horse back toward the carriage, rejoining the convoy.

The man who had caught the coin stared at it, his eyes shining with wonder. He murmured under his breath, “They’re… really different.”

“Don’t be fooled,” – the team leader muttered, his voice tinged with both caution and curiosity. But even as he spoke, his eyes carried a hint of something new—something like hope.