"Didn't I already distribute the money? How could sothing like this still happen?"
The steward was taken aback by these words. He looked up at Gene, and realization dawned on him in an instant, a smile spreading across his face.
"Yes, yes! The money has been distributed. We've been so busy lately that the accounts haven't been settled yet, so we couldn't distribute it in ti."
The boss had made it clear soone had to take the fall, and even if the steward was unwilling, he had no choice but to step up. Otherwise, why was he the steward, while those outside were rely coachn?
"Distribute the money, and don't let this kind of misunderstanding happen again, no matter how busy we are," Gene said, defining the problem as a misunderstanding. After speaking, he turned to the few worker representatives. "Your wages will be paid today. Go out and tell them now."
It was ti to prepare for a new round of action, and he didn't want any more trouble.
Were they really short of money? Gene's attitude made it clear that these wages were rely a matter of a word from him. And even if the money were given to them, it would be collected as soon as they bought food. Despite this, the workers still had to be thankful.
"Thank you, sir!"
The few n, who had been wearing troubled expressions and a constrained deanor, felt their brows visibly relax upon hearing this. Their resentnt quickly dissipated, replaced by imnse gratitude toward Boss Gene for championing their cause.
This world still has its fair share of good people! they thought.
The scene had been relatively stable, but after the representatives left, an unusual buzz filled the hall. So couldn't help but burst out in reprimand.
"Look around the city now, where are there any jobs? Letting them stay is already a blessing."
"If it weren't for our Trading Company feeding them, they would have starved to death long ago. Truly ungrateful!" The complaints continued in a similar vein.
Embezzling and withholding wages was a tacitly accepted practice among everyone present; they all shared in the profits. Now that they had to disgorge it, even if it was just the principal amount, they were extrely annoyed. Earning less is losing, they thought.
Gene was currently at the height of his power, and they dared not offend him. So, their anger could only be vented on the workers, blaming them for their greed and lack of gratitude. We provided jobs; how can they still demand wages?
As the situation escalated, proposals for cutting wages and reducing the workforce quickly erged.
"They're just stinking coachn, not worth such high wages. Offer a loaf of bread, and plenty would be willing to work."
"We have an army; why do we need so many Guards? Keeping them is just a waste of food." Such sentints were common.
Gene wasn't without his own ideas upon hearing these comnts, but he couldn't voice them himself; they had to be "suggested" by others. Now that the groundwork had been laid, he spoke.
"Indeed, everyone is facing difficulties currently, and our Trading Company also bears imnse pressure from the upkeep for those hundred people. It's ti to adjust wages and streamline the workforce, letting go of those who are incompetent and retaining the capable ones. This is market behavior."
The others were just venting; only Gene held the real decision-making power. With an army at his disposal, Gene was no longer as fearful of trouble as before. The others didn't care because, as they said, Ovando had plenty of people willing to work for just a bite to eat. And the money saved would naturally find its way into their pockets.
"I need to attend the City Lord's banquet tonight; I'll leave matters here to all of you," Gene said. He didn't specify how things should be handled but stood up to leave, a hint of disdain on his face.
The way he carried himself suggested he was naturally a cut above the common people, bearing so resemblance to the nobility. No, wait, he's been elevated to the nobility now, a genuine aristocrat, the real deal!
Gene had no intention of wasting his ti on commoners. Moreover, he was unlikely to make an appearance or take the bla for such matters. If any trouble arose, he could step in as he had just done, thereby earning himself an even better reputation. In truth, he did have to prepare for that evening's banquet.
However, the true target of this banquet organized by the City Lord is likely not , but Captain Michel. Gene knew that Michel was the son of an important figure from the front lines; it was a chance eting with Michel that had given Gene this connection. As for why Michel had returned with him? That was naturally for safety. One wouldn't expect the son of an important person to be on the battlefield like a commoner's son, would they? Michel had been deliberately ordered away from the front lines under the pretext of ensuring logistics, bringing him to a remote place like Ovando, far from the fighting. Even so, he was accompanied by a force of one hundred private soldiers, all battle-hardened. It was claid they were for food security, but everyone knew who they were actually protecting.
What truly troubled Gene wasn't the need to supply this army—that was rely a matter of a word. What truly vexes , Gene thought, is Michel. That fellow is an utterly unrestrained profligate, especially after escaping his father's oversight and becoming even more unbridled. And I have to serve him carefully.
As he approached the room specially set aside as Michel's quarters, he could hear won's piercing screams and wails, which made Gene's expression sour even further.
Gene disliked this intensely—not because of the trivial matter of won, but because it made him feel so insignificant in Michel's presence. But Michel's status was such that he couldn't afford to offend him; he could only try his best to satisfy him.
Steeling himself, he walked over, but after only a few steps, he was stopped. Here, in the Trading Company's encampnt, he, the boss, was stopped.
Gene, however, didn't find it strange. Instead, he took out an invitation and handed it over.
"The City Lord has invited Captain Michel to the banquet tonight," he said. His face was now wreathed in smiles, displaying none of the indifference he had shown others monts before. Instead, he wore the fawning attitude of a subordinate.
This scene, in contrast to his earlier arrogance, was sowhat comical.
anwhile, on the other side, a box of coins was carried out; their efficiency could be quite remarkable at tis.
"Line up, line up! One at a ti."
Seeing this, the workers lost all their prior anger. Forgetting their previous conflicts, they queued up obediently to collect their wages.
When the money was in their hands, its weight gave them a sense of security. A collective sigh of relief could almost be detected from their faces as smiles began to erge.
With this money, our families can survive...
Indeed, they weren't even hoping for a full belly, but simply for survival. What was rely a casually placed wager for Gene represented these workers' hope for continued existence.
Just when everyone thought the situation was improving, the steward was pushed out again. This ti, however, he wasn't there to announce a new task but a wage cut.
This cut not only eliminated the previously added portion but slashed even further from the original wage, a devastating blow.
Once announced, this decision caused a huge commotion among the workers. With the price of grain skyrocketing, life was already difficult on their current salary. A reduction like this was tantamount to pushing them onto a dead-end street.
"You all know what tis these are. Even the Trading Company is out of surplus grain," the steward said, calm and unhurried. He was resigned to being the scapegoat; after all, he wasn't the one facing a pay cut or dismissal.
This attitude once again ignited the workers' fury.
"No! We can't work for this wage."
"Exactly, we quit."
"Strike! We're all quitting!"
Seeing that these fellows weren't leaving and even dared to challenge his authority, the steward roared with rage.
"The one thing Ovando isn't short of right now is people! If you don't want to work, there are plenty who will! Those willing to accept, stay. Those who aren't, get lost!"
This outburst montarily silenced the workers, but the steward didn't forget to add fuel to the fire.
"And it's not like you can stay just by wanting to; spots are limited."
At these words, the workers fell silent, looking at each other in panic. Everyone knew what conditions were like outside. Even if the wages here were minimal, it was still so inco. If they lost this job, finding another would be incredibly difficult. No one wanted to take that gamble.
"I accept."
Once the first crack appears in a dam, a second is sure to follow. Instantly, as if the dam had breached, more and more people chose to accept the terms, afraid they would miss out on a spot.
User Comments
0 comments from readers