Speaking of which, he raised his head to look at Malin, his face not tear-stained, but as resolute as steel.
"The people of the Northern Kingdom, generation after generation, face sacrifice head-on. In the face of the Tide of the Dead, Noble and serf die the sa death. Maybe in the mouths of the Northists, we Nobles are placed high above, but have they ever considered why, after every Tide of the Dead, there are always nurous Noble families that co to an end... because these families have lost all their n and won, even children, to the battlefield," he said, unfastening a small tal flask from his waist, unscrewing the cap, and took a small sip.
"I understand," Malin knew what the old man wanted to say. Indeed, there had been so rumors in Copenhagen lately, because he was too close to Antoine, and the factions in the military that disliked Northism were sowhat displeased, but of course, they didn’t express this outright. After all, whether it was Malin or Antoine, both were fighting with all their might for victory in the war, and even if Antoine was a Northist, the military factions couldn’t possibly openly malign him.
But still, there were those among the Nobles who were very displeased with him, and sotis Malin even wondered, when would the blade from his own ranks pierce Antoine’s back?
Therefore, after hearing what Keders had said, Malin also discarded his cigarette butt: "Have you co as a ssenger of the anti-Northist faction among the Nobles to tell this?"
"...No, Lord Malin." The old man shook his head. He unbuttoned his coat’s collar, showing Malin the small Northist badge that was hidden beneath the collar of his inner garnt: "I sympathize with them, I’ve even donated money, you know. My wife died young, she couldn’t bear any children, and I... I cannot forget her. She was the daughter of a small Noble family, with a younger sister and an older brother... I guess I am old friends with her brother, but last year, during the serf rebellion, his descendants all perished among the insurgents, with Casters and War Practitioners joining the serf rebellion. I know that those people are Northists... Your Excellency, do you see, is this the bloodshed and sacrifice that the Northists speak of?"
Malin lit a second cigarette in silence.
"I know, they also had no choice, serfs attempting to escape their servitude had no possibility of achieving it, only through rebellion could they harbor a glimr of hope, but... I’ve seen too much misfortune, Lord Malin. I know with you here, we can definitely win this Tide of the Dead, our nation, Northists, Nobles, the royal house, all now stand together in the sa trench, because we have a common enemy called Chaos... but what about after we achieve victory? I am of the third stair, as a high-ranking War Practitioner, I can still live for many years, and so I fear one day I may carry my children, pointing guns at those children’s fellow townspeople, at those children’s companions, even at those children’s brothers... oh mother of the Winter Wolf, why has this world beco such a terrifying place..."
Old Keders gradually fell silent as he spoke, the elderly man sighing between Malin and the snowstorm.
Malin sighed as well.
Yes, just as the old man said, the world has always been this terrifying. Everyone says that each person has the right to live, that everyone has the freedom to choose, but more often than not in life, people are shackled by sothing called Fate. Even if you are strong enough to deny it, even if you’re strong enough to break it with your own hands, but who can be sure, is all of this truly as one sees it? Have you really broken those chains, or is this simply another set of shackles that you have placed upon yourself?
But if we don’t change, what about those poor people?
The saying that poverty doesn’t last three generations doesn’t an there is a chance for improvent after three generations of poverty, but rather that typically, a poor family cannot pass on beyond three generations. In other words, every poor person once had ancestors who were wealthy, but unfortunately, it was only in the past.
And maybe a serf could continue, after all, they are seen as private property by the Nobles, who wouldn’t easily let a serf lose value. They would allow serfs to marry and have children, all healthy children could live to grow up, but a serf... are they really considered human in the eyes of the Nobles?
Malin didn’t know that before that, he could buy a healthy serf from a Noble of the North with just twenty Mowish standard currencies.
Under normal circumstances, the value of a person should not be asured with money.
"Keders, what do you say then, about Northern ideals? Should we just let everyone continue to be serfs and let this world keep sinking?" At that thought, Malin spoke, while in his heart he answered—Of course not. No matter what, no matter how it’s done, he couldn’t let this world continue to sink.
Malin took a drag on his cigarette and also heard old Keders’s response.
"We can’t. In our North, Nobles always tell tales from before the Great Destruction Era. No one knows when they started, but so ancient families always speak of the necessity to rebuild civilization... But it has been so long, perhaps it’s now impossible. In the Tide of the Dead before the last, we were even fighting against Chaos with cold weapons. It’s said that during that ti, the Hagelberry family had seven branches, thousands of n... But after the war, only four children were left alive."
The old man paused here, "We must have change, Your Excellency. After the Tide of the Dead, I don’t care who becos the master of our kingdom, as long as he can ensure more children survive the next Tide of the Death, then he’s worth my loyalty... You see, I don’t have children, nor will I have any more, so I don’t want the tragedies I experienced to be repeated over and over in the future. I know I can’t break through and ascend anymore, so I’m destined not to live until the next Tide of the Dead, I might even die in this one... So, Your Excellency, do you think we can do it, can the wonderful world before the Great Destruction really be rebuilt?"
"...We definitely can do it." Malin said, pulling out the small badge Antoine had given him from his pocket.
On it were gears, wheat sheaves, books, and two hands tightly clasped together.
Antoine said it was the badge of Northern idealism. The gear represents the craftsman, the wheat sheaf the farr, the book the ntor, and the clasped hands signify two of the purest souls walking together.
"So it’s true... You’re one too." The old man said, his voice choking up, "You believe in us too."
"What I believe in is the idealism itself, not the person, because I also believe in the story of rebuilding civilization. One day, all those who wish to rebuild civilization will co together, and we can create the most wonderful future... Old Keders, strive to survive until this all ends. We will have a long ti, and then let’s rebuild civilization together." After saying this, Malin extended his left hand.
Old Keders also extended his left hand, and the two clasped tightly together.
"May the idealism shine forever." The old man uttered these words with the devoutness of a believer.
"May the idealism shine forever." Malin responded in kind, just as he had vowed years ago beneath that flag.
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