Chapter 16: Waiting for a Good Price
“Respected Baron, Dragoamo isn’t worried about how long he has to wait. Even if you have several groups of guests, Dragoamo is willing to wait on—provided you’re willing to torment him like this.” After interacting with this young and humorous lord several times, even Dragoamo, who considered himself stubborn, found himself speaking more due to Komer’s witty remarks. Though still filled with worries, Dragoamo used a joke to comfort himself.
“Hehe, Mr. Dragoamo, it seems your mood is much better than the last two times. That’s right. No matter what difficulties we face, we first need to maintain a calm and relaxed state of mind. Only then can we handle and overcome these difficulties in the best possible way. If we’re pessimistic and disappointed, even simple tasks become troublesome. Don’t you think?” Komer teased the persistent half-ork military leader. “I think Mr. Dragoamo must have some good news for me this time—otherwise, you wouldn’t be so happy.”
“Good news?” A smile even uglier than crying appeared on Dragoamo’s furry face. He pursed his lips before sighing deeply. “Lord, think about it—what good news could I possibly have for you? I’ve come here specifically to ask for your help. If you don’t give me a satisfactory solution this time, I, Dragoamo, am ready to stay here as one of your guard soldiers and never return to Mando. I believe I can fulfill the duties of a soldier.”
Dragoamo’s words were filled with bitterness—this was his true feelings. Over the past few months, various trivial tasks in the entire Mando region had left him overwhelmed. Although he had reduced the army size significantly following Komer’s advice, he was still struggling. The mortal nobles in Mando didn’t like living there, so they didn’t bring much wealth. After using it to buy food and necessities, little was left. Now, with nothing left, the slaves in the region just lay in the shade all day, waiting for bread to be distributed, unwilling to do any work. Aside from his three thousand relatively loyal soldiers, Dragoamo didn’t know how to continue. Rather than living in anxiety and worry, he would rather become a simple soldier.
Tens of thousands of half-orcs and human slaves who were declared free enjoyed what they called freedom and democracy in Mando City and its surroundings, obtained through force. Yet just a few months of relative prosperity passed before they faced dwindling rations and thinner porridge, growing increasingly dissatisfied. Some with a bit more insight recognized this vicious cycle. Some began to secretly leave for the Caucasus, while others turned to Dragotho, asking him to find a solution to their urgent problems. Most of these individuals had held or still held certain positions in their own armies as leaders or organizers of the uprisings. They were more worried about their own future, as many had already become dissatisfied due to food shortages and were now demanding that the human nobles return—as long as they could meet their food needs. Once those nobles returned, they would likely target these former leaders first, while the lowest-ranking slaves would simply return to their old status, as they were skilled miners, and the human nobles were unwilling to kill property that originally belonged to them.
Komer observed the seemingly naive half-orc man before him with interest, noting his distress. Intelligence from Mahagumi confirmed that the situation in Leon was deteriorating rapidly; Mando was still relatively better off. In places like Izmel, the situation had already gotten out of control—military leaders couldn’t even control their own soldiers, and many deserters had joined forces to become brutal bandits, roaming around plundering and killing. They had completely turned into lawless outlaws, while the so-called rebels there had no power to restrain or influence them and even suffered attacks from them.
The time was ripe. It was now time for him to take action. Mando would make a good testing ground, and Dragotho could become a good officer—but he certainly wasn’t suitable as a local administrator, Komer thought.
“Mr. Dragumo, I have some understanding of the situation in Leon. You keep coming to me for help time and again, and it would be neither fair nor reasonable for me to refuse you. But have you thought about this? Even if I provide assistance this time, what about in the future? Can the Caucasus keep giving Mandos free food aid like this? How can I explain this to the people in my own territory? You know, the Caucasus is not a place of extreme wealth or abundant food supplies. We can’t even meet our own needs right now and have to import food. Even if we could eventually be self-sufficient, we can’t keep giving aid for free. The food is grown by our people through hard work and sweat. If we keep supporting the Mando people for free, won’t they become nobles who exploit us? Moreover, if the Mando people receive such preferential treatment, what will the people in the other regions of Leon think?” It seemed that Komer had already shown great leniency toward Mr. Dragumo. The leaders of the mobs from other regions of Leon had also come here before, but Komer’s reply was always the same: the Caucasus could do nothing to help. For Dragumo, Komer was even willing to spend some time and effort to explain patiently.
Komer’s words left Dragumo, who had prepared many pleas, momentarily at a loss for words. The other party was right—the Caucasus was not wealthy. Even if aid could be provided this time, what about next? This couldn’t go on forever. And those freed slaves who used to be his brothers now seemed to have completely transformed into a different kind of people—lazy individuals who wanted only to enjoy life without working. Perhaps they thought this was a right they deserved through violence and battle, but was such a lifestyle really normal?
“Mr. Dragumo, I understand your difficulties. It seems that food supplies in your controlled areas will gradually run out, and this phenomenon will occur throughout the Leon region, including yours. The idea that one party will continuously provide free food aid is unrealistic—there is no such thing as a free lunch anywhere. Leon has now lost its value, and the kingdom will not offer much more aid to you. So you must consider what to do next. I’ve also heard that in many areas, the orc armies have begun to turn into bandits, which is very concerning. If the situation gets out of control, Leon might become a battlefield where orcs fight over the remaining food. This doesn’t seem to align with your original goal of overthrowing the cruel rule of those noble mine owners, does it?” Comer continued his persuasive speech, his melodious voice carrying an indescribable charm. His cadence varied, sometimes rising, sometimes falling, like a romantic ballad improvised by a bard.
The orc warlord’s mind was completely influenced by Comer’s words. He had no other thoughts—everything he said reflected what was happening or about to happen in his controlled areas and the Leon region. No matter what he did, he couldn’t prevent these events from occurring. Grievances were rising among his troops. If he hadn’t disbanded most of his army in advance, leaving only the more loyal members, Mandor would likely be overrun by bandits as well. But even so, what could three thousand soldiers do? If the nearly hundred thousand disbanded slaves rebelled, who could control them? This was what Dragumo feared the most.
Comer had to resort to a somewhat underhanded trick once again. “Dust Purification” was a simple mental magic spell. It was the most suitable spell to deepen the goodwill and loyalty of those with relatively simple minds who had a certain degree of trust in the caster. To strengthen the warlord’s acceptance of his words, Comer used this mental magic, originally developed by the Light Church, while elaborating on his views.
It was clear that the orc warlord, under the influence of this spell and Comer’s persuasive words, had fully accepted his viewpoint. Seeing his devout nodding, Comer was sure that the warlord would accept any of his suggestions without question. Yet Comer wasn’t planning to act rashly.
“Well, Mr. Dragumo, that’s all I have to say. After all, I’m not the lord of Leon; I’m merely the lord of the Caucasus. It’s up to you to decide matters related to Leon. How about this: this time I’ll provide you with a supply of grain, which you can exchange for the remaining ores in the Mando region. The ores in the Caucasus are already quite abundant, but if I don’t offer something in exchange symbolically, it would be difficult for me to justify it to my subjects. However, next time, I’m afraid I really won’t be able to help.” Standing up, he took a small sip from his coffee cup. Dragumo knew this was a sign that the lord was about to see him off.
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I still have opinions to express. I believe I must have a clear resolution regarding the future of the Mando region today. I can’t control other regions, but since the burden of Mando now rests on me, I must find a way out for tens of thousands of my brothers and sisters there.” Dragumo’s expression had become extremely serious.
Chomer smiled lightly and raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. “Could it be that Mr. Dragumo has a better suggestion?”
“Yes, that’s exactly the purpose of my visit. I would like to ask Lord Chomer to accept Mando as your territory. You can send officials to govern Mando, and I, along with my army and everyone in Mando, will unconditionally accept your command and all orders. This is the unanimous decision of me and everyone in Mando. I hope you’ll accept it.”