Luke gave a casual wave of his hand, as natural as brushing a fallen leaf from his shoulder.
In the next instant, beneath the wide-eyed stares of Bronn, Lucas, and the front-rank soldiers, a square, matte-black box—half a man tall, topped with a tal grille—materialized out of thin air right in front of Luke's horse!
It was a portable high-power outdoor speaker.
Then, with another flick of his wrist, a silver microphone with a rounded head and a trailing thin cable appeared in his grasp.
"?!"
Bronn's jaw nearly dropped to the ground. He rubbed his eyes hard, certain he was hallucinating.
Lucas's pupils shrank; he tightened his grip on his pike, gaining a far more visceral understanding of his lord's "magic."
The surrounding soldiers let out a wave of stifled gasps. n in the front ranks even took an involuntary half-step back, their eyes filled with awe… and a trace of fear of the unknown.
While everyone was still murmuring in shock, a huge, crystal-clear voice suddenly exploded across the entire assembly ground—loud enough to reach the anxious crowds watching from White Stone Town behind them.
"Testing! Testing! Testing!"
The voice bood like a bell, carrying a strange tallic timbre. It was unmistakably Luke's voice, yet magnified countless tis!
"?!"
This ti it wasn't just the assembled soldiers. Every person in and around White Stone Town—craftsn in the middle of evacuating, won hiding inside houses, anxious migrant leaders, rchants—froze with the sa ghost-struck expression.
They looked around in panic, searching for the source of the voice, but saw only the silent steel forest of the guard formation, the noisy rcenary ranks, and the relatively small figure of their lord on the black horse in front.
Was the voice coming from the sky? Or rising from the earth?
"Everyone, do not be afraid!" the enormous voice rang out again, carrying an oddly soothing power. "This is a magical device that amplifies my voice so that every one of you can hear clearly."
The commotion died down slightly, but countless eyes remained wide with shock and disbelief.
"I am Luke Jaqenion, your lord and your employer!" Luke's voice rolled across the field, clear and resolute.
He paused, giving them a mont to process the "magic," then began his speech.
Drawing on every war-speech he had ever seen in movies and docuntaries, he tailored it to the situation, trying to create an atmosphere of righteous fury and shared purpose:
"I carry the noble blood of the Celestial Dragons and possess the ancient magical knowledge and power passed down through the ages!"
He first wrapped himself in an even more mysterious and "legitimate" halo.
"That is why I can create magical items such as Mithril Salt, Velvet Snow, and Celestial Dragon wines—items that make your lives better—and why I can earn a constant stream of gold dragons!"
"People envy my ability to earn gold. They even joke that the shit I take is made of gold dragons."
He deliberately used a crude but straightforward taphor that resonated instantly. Sure enough, a low wave of laughter mixed with awe and envy rose from below.
"I quite agree with that!" Luke's voice suddenly rose, filled with a sense of mission. "But having been blessed by the gods and granted magic and wealth, I also bear the great responsibility of ushering in a new era!"
He swept his arm toward the distant outline of the Draco construction site and the newly built houses and cleared fields behind him.
"The gods want more people to eat their fill and dress warmly! They want people to escape the tornt of disease! They want people to earn greater wealth through honest labor and live with greater dignity!"
"Diligence should bring riches… it should not be a joke!"
"So I appeared! That is my purpose in this world! That is the reason behind everything I have done!" He was almost shouting now, deliberately tying his actions to a "divine mission."
"That is why I endured hardship, built everything from nothing, earned my title and this fief—to create a place where more people can achieve all of this!"
His tone turned angry and pained. "Yet while we toil to build our new ho, invaders have entered our lands! They have murdered our unard workers and farrs! They have stolen the fruits of our labor!"
He pointed his sword north and roared, "They do not want to share food, land, and wealth with you! They want to seize the gold dragons that belong to you! They want to destroy the hope we have only just kindled! This is an unforgivable cri!"
The atmosphere was prid.
Luke knew that for the soldiers gathered here—especially the rcenaries—lofty ideals and grand causes were far less effective than cold, hard profit.
He took a deep breath and bellowed the most direct, most tempting condition with all his strength:
"So follow and kill them all! Wash away our sha with their blood and defend our hos and our wealth!"
"Listen! This is House Jaqenion's first war! Every man who fights—" he paused for one dramatic second to ensure every ear was listening "—will receive a reward of ten gold dragons!"
BOOM!
The crowd erupted like a pond struck by a boulder.
Ten gold dragons! For ordinary rcenaries or soldiers, that was nearly one or two years' inco!
Just for showing up?!
But he wasn't finished.
"For every enemy killed—whether officer or common soldier—an additional two gold dragons!"
BOOM!!!
The uproar doubled.
Bounties for kills were common, but two gold dragons per head?!
That price was insane!
Greedy light instantly flared in many rcenaries' eyes.
"To the Jaqenion Family Guard!" Luke turned toward the silent silver-armored squares on the right. "All your battle rits will be calculated at double value! Death benefits will be tripled!"
The guard formation remained perfectly still, but the killing aura around them thickened. Behind the visors, breathing grew heavier.
Finally, Luke raised his alloy greatsword with both hands and swore the most solemn oath he could:
"I, Luke Jaqenion, swear upon the honor of House Jaqenion that every promise I have made today will be fulfilled to the letter!"
BOOM——!!!
This ti it was no longer re commotion—it was a thunderous tidal wave of sound!
The thousand-man force boiled over completely!
The earlier shock about magic, bloodlines, and divine missions had already been blown to the seven winds.
All that remained in every mind were those glittering numbers echoing endlessly: ten gold dragons for showing up! Two gold dragons per kill! Double rits for the guard! Triple death benefits!
They knew Lord Jaqenion always kept his word.
He had never delayed a single copper coin of wages!
His promised benefits were never discounted!
If he said ten gold dragons, there would be ten gold dragons!
If he said kills would be rewarded, they would be rewarded!
What was "effective communication"? All that fancy talk was nonsense… just hand over the cold, hard gold!
As a modern-day wage slave who understood the truth, Luke knew that no speech mattered—money was the only language that worked.
Wild joy and towering battle lust erupted like a volcano!
"Kill them all! Take the gold!!"
"For gold! For the baron!!"
"Long live Jaqenion!!"
"Kill! Kill! Kill!!"
"For the gold dragons…"
The rcenaries brandished their weapons and roared like beasts. Their eyes held only the lust for gold and the desire to slaughter.
Their earlier laxness had been replaced by a frenzied excitent.
Though the guard squares still held perfect formation, fingers whitened on weapons behind the visors and chests heaved visibly.
Lucas suddenly thrust his pike skyward and roared, "For Jaqenion! Rule with virtue!"
"For Jaqenion! Rule with virtue!"
Five hundred throats answered in perfect unison, a steel-edged bellow that, though quieter than the rcenaries' clamor, was far more cohesive and filled with iron resolve.
What was "virtue"?
Gold dragons were virtue! Strength was virtue! And so was actual virtue!
The earth-shaking roar seed to flip the sky itself; even the houses of distant White Stone Town trembled faintly.
Morale, at this mont, had been driven to its absolute peak by Luke's most direct "magic" and the most practical "gold dragons."
Luke looked down at the frenzied, battle-thirsty soldiers and secretly let out a breath of relief.
He lowered the microphone, turned to Bronn and Lucas, and asked with a smile that mixed tension and anticipation:
"Well? How was my speech… effective?"
Lucas snapped to attention, voice trembling with excitent. "My lord! Your words were like divine revelation! You exposed the enemy's cris, proclaid your great mission, and gave us unmatched courage and reward! House Jaqenion will surely prevail!"
He was already a die-hard loyalist; at this mont he felt his blood boiling and could hardly wait to charge.
If there were a favorability ter, Lucas's tag would now read "Fanatic Believer."
Bronn, still wearing his usual roguish grin, dug at an ear that had been slightly numbed by the speaker and chuckled. "My lord, that voice was fucking loud—nearly deafened . As for the content…"
He glanced at the rcenaries who had gone completely mad at the ntion of gold dragons and grinned wider.
"The rewards are so generous they're terrifying. Of course the effect is perfect! Just watch—these bastards' eyes have turned pure gold. They're more worked up than stallions in heat! Count Harroway and his bunch of country bumpkins are about to have a very bad day."
Luke's smile widened.
He knew that this speech—mixing "cult-leader" packaging with a massive "gold-dragon offensive"—might have been full of holes to a real orator, but under these circumstances, facing these soldiers, it was undeniably successful.
He drew his alloy greatsword with one hand and pointed it north.
This ti he needed no amplification; his voice still carried clearly over the roaring background:
"Target—the northern invaders! Advance!"
"ROAR——!!!"
A thousand voices thundered. The steel tide surged forward.
House Jaqenion's first war had officially begun amid an atmosphere so fervent it bordered on madness.
The gleam of gold dragons and the cold light of steel reflected off each other, foretelling a brutal slaughter waged in the na of greed and survival.
In the na of gold dragons… kill!
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