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85.71% Fallout:Blood and the Bull / Chapter 39: Echoes of Victory and Shadows of Power

章節 39: Echoes of Victory and Shadows of Power

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The following days were marked by celebrations and complaints.

The Church's narrative spread like wildfire. In every sermon, in every city, in every town, clerics proclaimed that our victory was a miracle, irrefutable proof that humanity was God's chosen people. They deliberately ignored the sacrifices of my men, the depletion of our resources, and the human lives lost in this war. According to them, everything had been part of a divine plan, an unshakable destiny that led us to triumph.

"Twenty thousand humans against eighty thousand beastmen," they repeated as if those words were a magic formula. It didn't matter that those numbers were inflated, nor that many of the "twenty thousand" weren't legionaries or disciplined troops but a mosaic of improvised soldiers, trained slaves, and survivors. It didn't matter that our victory was due to precise tactics and the sacrifice of thousands. The Church didn't see men; they saw martyrs.

Every human who had fallen was glorified as a saint, someone who had given their life to preserve the purity of our species. And every beastman who had died, whether a warrior or a farmer, was portrayed as a monster whose only purpose was to destroy everything we held sacred. The fact that so many humans had joined the ranks of the beastmen, seduced by Arla's promise of equality and justice, was something the Church simply ignored. In their narrative, those traitors didn't exist, and if they were ever mentioned, they were described as weak and corrupt souls "saved" through their deaths.

The Church's control over the narrative was so absolute that even the survivors among my ranks began to repeat their words, forgetting that they themselves had seen and fought humans on the other side of the line. The Church's propaganda wasn't just a convenient interpretation of events; it was a political tool used to consolidate their position and weaken the nobles who had abandoned their lands. The victory we had secured was transforming into something unrecognizable—a story written to glorify the clergy, not the men who had truly fought.

While the Church continued celebrating and spreading their narrative about the victory, the nobles who had abandoned the east began to return, believing the old order would be easily restored. To them, the defeat of the beastmen meant that the lands they had left behind would once again fall under their control. But what they found was far from their expectations.

In many cases, their own soldiers—those they had abandoned at the height of the danger—shut the gates on them. The bitterness and resentment were evident among the troops. These men, who had fought and lost comrades while their lords fled to the safety of the capital or beyond, were unwilling to accept that those same figures would now return to claim authority over them. "Where were you when we were dying for these lands?" was the question that resonated in every corner, though it was rarely spoken aloud.

Rumors of soldiers barring access to their former lords began spreading rapidly. Some nobles tried to reclaim their castles by force but found that the fortresses were already occupied by forces loyal to the legionaries or local commanders who had taken over in their absence. On the rare occasions when they managed to force their way in, they quickly discovered they lacked the support to maintain control. In some cases, they were forced to withdraw, humiliated.

The complaints of these nobles began flooding in, demanding audiences and insisting I intervene to return what they considered their rightful property. "These lands are ours by imperial decree," they argued indignantly. I listened calmly, allowing them to vent their frustrations before giving my response.

"Your lands?" I would say, looking them directly in the eye. "Where were you when the beastmen burned villages and pillaged the countryside? Where were you when the soldiers you now disdain gave their blood to protect what you abandoned?"

They did not expect such a direct response, and their expressions often shifted from anger to a mix of indignation and fear. Despite their grievances, they knew they lacked the power to challenge me or the troops now maintaining peace in the east. The Church, always calculating, had no interest in supporting them either. After all, these cowardly nobles were the perfect targets for consolidating their influence in the region, and the Church would do nothing to risk that advantage.

On several occasions, the nobles pressed me to intervene on their behalf, appealing to my position as a military commander and de facto ruler of the east. But every time, my answer was the same: a reminder that their right to rule meant nothing without the support of those they had betrayed. Some withdrew in silence, understanding their time had passed. Others left with veiled threats but lacked the power to act on them.

At the same time, refugees began returning to their homes. Entire families who had fled during the beastmen invasion returned en masse, carrying what little they had left and hoping to rebuild their lives. But as they settled back into their villages, testimonies began to emerge that unsettled everyone—especially the clergy and nobles trying to cement their version of events.

To many people's surprise, the occupied lands had not been devastated. Most villages were intact, the fields unburnt, and the main structures largely unharmed. The refugees shared their experiences with palpable nervousness, as if fearing how their words would be received.

"They didn't treat us as slaves," they said hesitantly. "They didn't kill us or burn our homes. Some even spoke our language and seemed like they wanted to help us."

These confessions spread like an underground river, challenging the official narrative. The beastmen, according to the refugees, had not behaved like the brutal monsters the Church and nobles portrayed. Some had protected villagers from human raiders, and in certain cases, even shared resources with local communities. The occupation had been, in many ways, more peaceful than anyone had anticipated.

This, at least partially, explained why so many humans had joined the beastmen's ranks. For those who had lived under abusive nobles or been ignored by imperial structures, the promise of equality offered by Arla was tempting. The idea of a world where they wouldn't be treated as inferiors was enough to convince many to switch sides. This revelation complicated the carefully constructed narrative of the Church and nobles, who insisted on painting the beastmen as uncivilized and destructive creatures.

Meanwhile, the days after the victory were not solely focused on rebuilding and military consolidation. The echoes of what we had achieved attracted artists, poets, and sculptors from across the region. Painters arrived with easels and canvases, attempting to capture the epic battlefield, though they had never witnessed the horrors of the fight. Poets composed odes exalting the bravery of human soldiers, praising fallen heroes, and transforming the battle into a divine epic. Sculptors began crafting monumental figures, heroic representations of legionaries facing the "hordes of beastmen," with poses that seemed more idealized than real.

Many of these artists were sent or sponsored by the Church, which wasted no time using this victory as a tool of propaganda. Bards sang songs about how "twenty thousand faithful men of God rose against eighty thousand beasts and sent them back into darkness."

The Church did not delay in making its move. My victory not only reinforced their ideological control but also gave them the perfect opportunity to further weaken the nobles who had abandoned their lands. According to my frumentarii, the Church was being particularly harsh on these cowardly nobles. Many had been stripped of their influence in the region, and their lands were being redistributed with the support of the faithful. This confirmed that they were fulfilling their part of the agreement: helping me consolidate control in the east while seizing the chance to strengthen their own position.

A few days later, the cardinal who had originally supported my cause arrived at the fortress. He was not alone; he was accompanied by other cardinals and high-ranking clerics, all dressed in their ornate robes and surrounded by an air of almost theatrical authority. Their arrival was announced with great fanfare, and while many of my men looked on with suspicion, they understood that this meeting was as much political as it was religious.

The cardinal, with a smile barely concealing his calculations, addressed me.

"Caesar," he said, using my new name with carefully rehearsed respect. "It is an honor to stand in the presence of the hero who has demonstrated the superiority of our faith and our cause. Your victory has strengthened the spirit of all the faithful."

I accepted the congratulations with the same calculated courtesy. I knew his visit was not merely to praise me but also to remind me of the terms of our agreement. It was a subtle reminder that our relationship was one of convenience, not mutual trust.

"This victory is a testament to our collaboration," he continued, his tone growing more serious. "But we must not forget what we agreed upon. You requested our support, and we fulfilled it with fervor. The nobles who abandoned their posts have been exposed, and many have lost the favor of our Church. Their lands are in dispute, and their influence is being dismantled. This, as we agreed, paves the way for your control."

He paused, ensuring his words sank in before continuing.

"However, now comes the time for you to fulfill your part. The tithe you promised must be implemented immediately, ensuring that the faith receives what is rightfully due. Additionally, we believe that building new churches in these reclaimed lands is essential to maintaining God's presence among the faithful. With these new territories, there will be a need for new bishops and clerics to guide them."

"Of course, Your Eminence," I replied, my tone both diplomatic and firm. "I am committed to honoring my promises. The tithe will be collected, and I have already begun assessing the lands where churches could be constructed to ensure that the faith has a prominent place in this region."

The cardinal nodded in satisfaction, but I couldn't ignore the calculating look in his eyes. To him, I was both an ally and a potential problem. I understood this, and I accepted it. The Church was a useful tool for now, but it was also a risk that needed careful management. Their influence could be both an advantage and a liability for my long-term plans.

As he was escorted out of the hall, I turned my attention back to my own plans. The relationship with the Church needed to be managed delicately for the time being. They had fulfilled their part, but that didn't make them indispensable. Everything in its time.

This was the perfect moment to rebuild a line of fortifications. The victory at this fortress had solidified our position in the east, weakening both the beastmen and the cowardly nobles alike. My legionaries, though exhausted, were resolute, and the newly trained slaves were beginning to prove their worth in construction and logistics. If ever there was a time to expand our frontier and solidify our presence, it was now.

However, news from the scouts introduced an unexpected variable. They reported a complete retreat of the beastmen from the valley. According to their accounts, the beastmen were abandoning their most advanced positions and falling back to an ancient fortress that, according to records, had once been the eastern front line of defense against the wildlands. This move left vast stretches of land empty, ripe for reclamation.

It was too good to be true.

The retreat seemed too orderly, too strategic. The beastmen, under Arla's command, had shown a level of organizational ability not seen in generations. Their withdrawal didn't appear to be an act of desperation but rather a calculated maneuver. Yet even if it were a trap, I couldn't ignore the opportunity. If we acted swiftly, we could push the frontier hundreds of kilometers eastward, claiming vast tracts of fertile land and securing a decisive strategic advantage.

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Any opinion and comments are welcome


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