Wizard: Start with Biological Transformation to Grind Experience Chapter 317 - 030: New Order

Apart from criminalizing nobles and treating them equally under the law as commoners, the newly enacted code also revoked many of the privileges of nobles, such as the virgin tax and the right to kill servants. It additionally restricted the personal ard forces nobles could possess, spearheading reforms from the top-down and inside-out.

The changes were too nurous to explain in just a few words. To put it simply, from now on, nobles would hold little actual power, and the rules of society would no longer be dictated by them.

If not relying on the nobles, then who would manage the city? Who would maintain order?

The answer was: the council.

Greywell would form the Fiery Fla City Council, and all officials would be appointed by the council. Everything, from the City Defense Chief and Tax Officer to ordinary soldier captains, would be filled by council-selected mbers.

As for council mbers, they would be chosen from the entirety of the city’s populace. The council would regularly conduct examinations for prospective mbers, and any citizen over the age of fourteen interested in becoming a mber could take the test. Those who passed would beco council mbers.

No matter their background, no matter their bloodline. Whether commoner or noble!

The mont the announcent went out, it stirred an uproar!

Greywell wasn’t just overturning heaven’s order—he was flipping it upside down entirely!

In the past, everything in the city, big or small, was controlled by nobles. From high-ranking officials to petty officers, appointnts were all made by noble families. Even mundane tasks that nobles didn’t want to handle themselves were delegated to their servants.

Note, it was delegated for managent—ultimate power still remained with the nobles.

And now, what was Greywell doing?

He’d ford so ridiculous council, claiming all appointnts would be made through selections within the council. Didn’t that an bypassing the noble class altogether? With power stripped from them, what were nobles left with? A aningless title?

A powerless noble? Was that still a noble?

On the morning of the proclamation, the forr Chancellor of Exchequer, Viscount Mohad, was the first to publicly voice his opposition. He led his knights with lethal intent, marching aggressively toward the Lord Castle, vowing to decapitate Greywell and mount his head on the wall as a warning to all who dared defy the nobles.

However, before his forces even neared the Lord Castle, a bolt of lightning suddenly struck from the sky halfway through the march, reducing Mohad and his armored figure to a pile of scorched remains—utterly inseparable.

From then on, no one dared to tempt fate.

Public opposition might have ended, but it didn’t an the nobles would obediently submit to Greywell.

If resistance was futile, retreat beca the only option!

Many nobles began selling off their holdings in the city at dirt-cheap prices. So didn’t even bother negotiating. By the sa day, they’d already packed their forces and returned to their territories.

Fiery Fla City, such a grand city, saw its wealth and influence slip away overnight. Of course, this was frustrating to the outgoing nobles, but frustration wasn’t the issue anymore. Staying in the city could an losing their lives next.

Risk execution for defiling a couple of commoner virgins? What a joke. Not worth it—absolutely not worth it.

Fine, let Greywell and his Master Wizard play in their broken little city. As for the nobles, far better to retreat to their own domains where they could reign as they pleased, govern as liberally or tyrannically as they liked. Though the isolation might be lonely, it was infinitely better than enduring the humiliation here.

Equal punishnt with commoners?

Ridiculous!

Laughable!

The discontent wasn’t solely confined to the nobility. Even among the commoners, Greywell’s sudden new policies were t with doubts and rejection.

To them, the nobles were akin to gods, their masters, the fundantal existence that preserved their place in the world.

When faced with bandits, they turned to nobles for protection. When starving, they sought noble charity. When the fields failed to yield crops, they prayed to the nobles. Nobles were intertwined in every aspect of commoners’ lives. Without them, commoners were like headless flies, utterly unsure how to carry on.

Many packed their belongings and left with departing nobles. Even those who remained couldn’t escape their trepidation and uncertainty about the future. The entire city was steeped in fear, overwheld by profound confusion and unease.

Despite this, Greywell ignored all criticisms, steadfastly adhering to his ideas. He systematically advanced the establishnt of the council, steadily implenting the transfer of power.

Fiery Fla City, public square.

A large notice board had already been erected in the square’s center. The newly appointed Fiery Fla City Military Commander Demont posted a public notice on it alongside two soldiers.

A crowd of citizens quickly gathered around.

"Bill, old man, you know how to read, don’t you? Co, tell us what it says!"

"It’s a recruitnt notice—hiring people, recruiting folks."

"Recruiting? Recruiting for what?"

"The City Defense Team is recruiting soldiers and sergeants—fifty silver coins a month."

"Wow, fifty silver coins—really going all out!"

"Hmph, no kidding. With all the nobles and knights gone, they need to pull in more n to stand guard on the city walls. What else can they do when the Beast Tide cos?"

"Right, Beast Tide... What are we going to do about that?"

The crowd discussed heatedly.

Soon, a young man squeezed through the gathering, calling out to Demont ahead: "Sir, are you recruiting people?"

Demont nodded: "Yes, we need soldiers."

So familiar with the young man imdiately pulled him back: "Hey, Hasrant, are you crazy? Do you not know the Beast Tide is approaching? Going to enlist now—isn’t that the sa as feeding yourself to the beasts?"

Hasrant couldn’t deny the validity of the words—that feeding the beasts would only happen during the Beast Tide. Yet, starvation tonight might already rob him of the sunrise tomorrow.

He pushed the man’s arm away, licking his chapped lips. "Does it co with als?"

...

Similar scenes unfolded across the city. The Fiery Fla City Council had also begun recruiting mbers. While many remained skeptical or dismissive of Greywell’s newly ford group, there were still citizens—whether driven by tempting pay or a thirst for power—stepping forward to apply.

After several rounds of selection and testing, the council appointed its first batch of mbers, who imdiately assud their roles.

These council mbers filled gaps left behind by the departing nobles, taking charge of critical areas such as city defense, taxation, finance, military affairs, and public order. They beca the new authorities governing the city’s functional systems.

Robust? Not exactly. Reliable... Probably not either. Most of these new officials ca from the commoner class. Forget education—few among them could even read. Many had applied simply out of desperation, aiming to secure a life-sustaining inco.

...

Not long after, Lynch Tower.

In a candlelit eting room, wavering flas cast fragnted shadows on the heavy stone walls. Lynch sat at the end of a long table, holding a steaming cup of tea, sipping it as he observed the scene before him.

On the opposite end of the table stood Greywell, his posture upright. With a thick sheepskin scroll in hand, he relayed his progress to Lynch.

"The first batch of Fiery Fla City Council mbers has been selected and officially appointed..."

"The council has assigned positions for the City Defense Chief, Tax Officer, Finance Officer, Military Commander, and Sheriff. The total number is..."

"That’s the current status, my lord."

Lynch nodded, offering encouragent: "You’ve done well; excellent work."

He’d always recognized Greywell’s talent but underestimated the extent of it. rely uttering fragnted advice, anchored in ideas from Earth’s past, had been enough for Greywell to consolidate them, align them with Lynch’s vision, and swiftly create an ordered system.

Impressive...

Truly remarkable.

After a brief pause, Lynch added, "Once things settle down, take so ti to rest. Co stay at the Tower—I’ll help restore your health."

Greywell was visibly exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed several sleepless nights.

Yet Greywell, evidently driven by adrenaline, ignored this suggestion. Despite his fatigue, his eyes glimred with unwavering determination. He paid no attention to Lynch’s generous offer, consud entirely by the task at hand.

"Rest isn’t an option now, my lord."

Greywell remained composed as he stated, "Though your proposal for the council has taken root, the current situation is delicate. I still feel like sothing is missing—sothing crucial to the structure..."

Lynch replied, "Cohesion."

Greywell’s eyes lit up: "That’s it—cohesion!"

He marveled aloud, "I must admit, my lord, your insights are truly astonishing. You effortlessly grasp the core issue. Indeed, what the council lacks now is a unifying cohesion."

Greywell honestly admired Lynch for conceptualizing the council. Through such an institution, he’d effortlessly supplanted the forr noble hierarchy. Supplenting this system’s weaknesses—such as education—generation by generation would solidify an entirely new order.

This new legacy wouldn’t depend on bloodlines. Anyone with capability could seize opportunities within this system. Nobility and heredity would be relegated to relics of the past.

Greywell’s childhood dream lay just on the horizon, a single step away. This proximity filled him with boundless energy.

"Heh!"

A light chuckle broke the silence; it was Lynch on the opposite side of the table.

Greywell asked suspiciously, "Is sothing amusing, my lord?"

Lynch shook his head: "Not particularly. I was just thinking back—not long ago, you were here, struggling to believe and find my requests incomprehensible. Now, you’ve thrown yourself entirely into the very ideas you doubted."

"Tell —how does it feel to establish rules?"

Greywell nodded: "It feels... fulfilling."

After a pause, his confident smirk widened: "It feels better than ever."

Lynch nodded approvingly, "Then that’s good to hear."

"As for the problem you ntioned..."

He took another sip of tea, speaking with unwavering certainty: "I’ll solve it."

Cohesion, though elusive in concept, could be surprisingly easy to cultivate.

The simplest way to forge cohesion was through collective effort—a shared mission or goal that brought people together in unity. By working hand in hand and enduring together, a sense of solidarity naturally erged when triumph was achieved.

And what mission could foster cohesion better than a war—a war to protect their holand?

The newly ford council was akin to a freshly stacked bundle of firewood.

Let blood and fire ignite that woodpile, transforming it into a blazing fla.

Let it burn brightly enough to alter the world!