"Why the hell do they get to eat at and drink wine? They’d rather dump food in the trash than give us a bite. Even the relief grain the Walter Conglorate sold us at a low price, they grabbed it all."
"They’ve already taken our money, taken our jobs, our lives, even our families. We’ve got nothing left to lose."
"Either co with and take back everything that belongs to us, or get lost and starve to death like you deserve."
It might have been a few hundred people, but most of them were just there to make up the numbers.
Vick understood exactly how to work their minds. If you wanted them to overco their fear of those bastards, you just had to drag out sothing even more terrifying to awaken the beast inside.
That "sothing" was hunger. No one knew that feeling better than Vick; even now, just thinking about it made him shiver.
And right now, these people were the sa.
"We’ve had enough!"
"Count in!"
"Take back what’s ours!"
Under Walter’s goading, the crowd responded enthusiastically. Of course, it might also just be for the food right in front of them.
They refused to face hunger again, so their only choice was to go along.
"We’ve got no way out. Either starve to death, or send those lords straight to hell!"
Vick handed out the last of the food, then gathered up several hundred people and charged toward the city, very much with a "burn the boats" kind of resolve.
He’d been in Ovando City long enough to have collected all the intel he needed. Even if he didn’t bother with a detailed plan, he knew exactly how to crush the city defense force better and faster.
Right now the top priority was to arm these people. Vick led a group straight toward the armory.
The depression had brought an unprecedented quiet. In the old days plenty of people would already be up and getting ready for work at this hour, but now the streets were empty. The few pedestrians that did see them hurriedly ducked away.
By the ti Vick and his people rushed over, the whole way was smooth sailing; they didn’t even see a single sheriff.
When they stord the armory, the few small fry guarding the place hadn’t even reacted before they were grabbed, and Vick’s people cut them down without a word.
These guys who’d survived the Gang wars might not have been all that strong, but they had a natural viciousness and felt zero pressure when it ca to killing.
They cleared out the flunkies in no ti. Vick grabbed an axe and smashed the warehouse lock, and everybody rushed in like a tidal wave.
To be honest, any halfway decent weapons in Ovando City had already been emptied out. All they could find in there were so rusty old Spears and other junk from who knew when.
But it was still better than bare hands; these weapons even ca with built-in bleeding and tetanus effects.
"Pick up your weapons! Take back everything that belongs to us!"
With every shouted slogan the group’s montum grew. Vick knew that if he wanted to organize this ragtag bunch, nothing worked better than whipping up a fevered atmosphere.
Light their anger, and once they got high on it, he wouldn’t have to push them to charge.
Vick marched and shouted at the sa ti, practically shaking all of Ovando City with his voice. More and more people kept joining the column, clutching whatever weapons they could find.
Maybe they truly couldn’t stand their hopeless lives anymore; maybe they just wanted to fish in troubled waters. Whatever the reason, nothing could stop more and more people from joining.
The more people there were, the braver they felt, and the easier it was to draw in even more. After marching a stretch, their numbers swelled severalfold, and over a thousand people surged forward, burning with rage.
This kind of commotion naturally alerted the city defense force, but the chaos in their camp made everything far more complicated.
Good thing Vick hadn’t chosen to hit them first; otherwise these bottom-feeding excuses for soldiers might have collapsed before anything even started.
In a way, because he’d served in Hamlet’s Army, Vick actually overestimated these guys. Not every army had the organizational power of Hamlet’s Army.
"Those damned lowborn bastards!" The city defense force’s commander was jolted awake by the shouting outside. He shoved the woman beside him away and struggled to haul himself out of bed.
After all, this concerned his position, so he suddenly got very proactive. If he dragged his feet and things blew up, the lords upstairs would be coming for his ass.
He called in his cronies, and after a storm of curses and kicks finally managed to get the city defense force assembled. So still didn’t even have their clothes on properly, and others were yawning like they’d just crawled out of bed.
Even more ridiculous, the gear in their hands wasn’t even as good as what Vick’s people had—no armor, just so wooden shields and Spears.
Armor simply didn’t exist, to say nothing of Crossbows or any other real killing tools. Aside from the commander’s close followers, the rest were all sallow and skinny; they probably weren’t even eating as well as Vick’s people, who at least got a little fish and at once in a while.
Which made sense. If they were skimming off the equipnt, with grain prices this high, it’d be strange if they weren’t skimming the food too.
With grain so expensive, why waste it on this lot? That would be a real waste.
Far better to funnel it into their own pockets.
The commander’s face darkened when he saw the sorry state of the city defense force; he knew that if he didn’t put so blood on the table, these punks wouldn’t budge.
"Get out there and crush those lowborn scum for ! I’ll report your rits to the higher-ups—extra rations tonight!"
Only after hearing that did the city defense force perk up a little—but just a little.
"More pay!"
A few people took the lead shouting, and the rest imdiately followed suit, hooting along.
Vick’s people were practically sweeping through the whole city, and these city defense clowns were still haggling over pay. Corruption this bad was sothing else.
User Comments
0 comments from readers