Chapter Sixty-Four: Please Do Not Treat Me as Human

"Alex, I truly did not wish for things to come to this." The King of Dawn gripped the hilt of his sword, his gaze brimming with murderous intent.

If before he had only sought a pretext to punish the civil officials, now his desire to kill was real.

Colluding with heretics led only to death, even if the culprit was his own son.

Suppressing his inner fury, the King of Dawn asked, "Mark, what do you think of the Grand Duke of the East?"

"A truly frightening man," Mark replied without hesitation, then said gravely, "Your Majesty, you must not place too much trust in him, or you will end up like everyone else in the capital, controlled by the Grand Duke as if you were a marionette."

As the commander of the Royal Knights tasked with protecting Qin Le, Mark had come to understand just how terrifying the Grand Duke was. He wielded no supernatural power, yet seemed to control everything like a god.

At times, Mark felt like a fool, watching the entire process and yet unable to comprehend how the Grand Duke influenced others. Even the simplest strategies in his hands produced completely different results.

The man’s intellect seemed inexhaustible, as though a multitude of minds lived in his skull, advising him at every turn.

"I have never trusted him," the King of Dawn said softly, his eyes lowered as he gazed at the Sword of Dawn in his hand.

"Aside from that silly girl Orlena, no one in the capital has ever believed in Qin Le. But what of it? He cares nothing for our trust, for in the end, we all act according to his will."

"Nor do I care if he manipulates me. All that matters is whether the outcome benefits me. If the Grand Duke helps me achieve my goals, why should I refuse him? Is there any better way?"

Mark fell silent at the king’s question. Indeed, there was no better way; for now, they could only rely on the Grand Duke.

After all, it was the Grand Duke who had pulled the kingdom back from the brink of internal and external disaster. If not for his steady hand keeping the king’s illness at bay, chaos would already have erupted across the realm.

Perhaps Mark himself would have taken the field, siding with the rebellious princess in a bid for the throne.

The King of Dawn smiled faintly. "If we cannot bind him, let us bring him into our fold. It's a pity the Grand Duke has peculiar tastes and seems unwilling to accept any woman who has been with another man. Fortunately, Orlena and Irene meet his requirements, or I would not know what else to do."

"If he marries Orlena or Irene, he becomes one of us. His descendants will be heirs to the Dawn."

Clearly, the king had not given up on the idea of a political marriage, no matter how many times Qin Le had refused.

…

Elsewhere, under the escort of a few soldiers, Aimeya and Orlena made their way to the temporary command post set up by Xuánlǜ within the palace, where they found Qin Le seated on a sofa.

Qin Le beckoned. "Sit."

The two of them made themselves comfortable on the sofa opposite him, unreserved and at ease. Orlena clutched a small bundle, glanced at the twin maids behind Qin Le, and then asked, "Qin Le, what happened to the ball?"

She had mustered her courage to wear a dress, only for the ball to be cancelled.

"This is not the time for revelry. We have far more important matters to attend to," Qin Le explained, noticing the small bundle in Orlena’s arms. "What’s that you’re holding?"

"This?" Orlena carefully placed the bundle on the table, a sweet smile on her lips.

"This is the giant vine, a fast-growing food source. I grew up eating it as a child."

As she spoke, Orlena slowly unwrapped the bundle, revealing thick, arm-sized vines within.

Qin Le looked at the plant with some confusion. "It does grow quickly, but it’s mildly poisonous and tastes dreadful. Why did you bring it?"

This plant was like a supercharged sweet potato—give it water and it would thrive, reaching maturity in just three months. It was the staple food of the common people, the very foundation that allowed the kingdom to support such a large population.

Xuánlǜ’s research had revealed a mild toxicity; consumed in small quantities it was harmless, but long-term reliance could lead to various ailments. The only confirmed side effect so far was a peculiar aversion: the more one ate, the more the body would instinctively reject it, from nausea to outright vomiting.

For those with extraordinary powers, neither the toxicity nor the side effects were of any concern, but the taste—reminiscent of rotten salted fish—meant that nobles and the gifted generally avoided it.

"To eat," Orlena replied, peeling the vine with practiced hands.

"I’ve been thinking, if we could make the giant vine palatable, less revolting, then everyone would have enough to eat—they could turn their minds to higher things. But to cultivate it widely requires land, and land is in the hands of the nobles."

She took a bite of the vine, her delicate brows knitting in distaste; it was clearly awful.

"Nearly twenty million people live in the kingdom, yet most of the harvest is kept by nobles and those with powers, especially the nobles. Most gifted folk come from the commoners, but they, in turn, grow distant from their origins... The conflicts among commoners are immense, and they fight to the death over trivial gains..."

"Distributing too much food could put them in unnecessary danger, or encourage laziness. Simply handing out food only harms them... What they need are livelihoods to earn their own living..."

Orlena began to murmur to herself again. Aimeya sighed. "This fool has been rather obsessed lately. Ignore her; let’s discuss our real business."

Qin Le gave Orlena a long look, surprised to find her thinking at such depth—perhaps due to her past, or perhaps because she was quickly absorbing the practical ideas Xuánlǜ had instilled in her: identifying issues and seeking solutions, rather than living in naïve delusions.

But at the moment, there was no way to solve these problems, nor any opportunity to do so.

Xuánlǜ himself had no intention of tackling them for now; he had his own troubles to contend with. Only after he had vanquished the scoundrels of his own world and consigned the old order to history’s dustbin would he have the time and energy to consider the problems of a new world.

As for Qin Le, he had no intention of concerning himself with the fate of the lower classes here. Their lives were none of his affair. The purpose of this world was clear: to seek power, development, and profit.

Republicanism was never about a single person; revolution was a blaze kindled by sparks from every class.

A fire that burns from the top down can never spread far; it merely scorches the surface, swapping one mask for another. The core of a republic is a belief shared by all, a miraculous golden spirit.

Qin Le turned his gaze from Orlena and said, "Aimeya, the batch of mithril you made before is gone. I need more now."

"What? Already?" Aimeya was incredulous.

She had nearly driven herself to death producing that batch of shoddy mithril, and it was gone so soon? Had they been using it as paving stones?

"It’s all been used," Qin Le nodded. "This time, I want a thousand kilograms."

Aimeya took a sharp breath and shook her head vehemently. "I won’t do it. Find someone else. Last time I nearly died, and no amount of money will persuade me this time."

Last time, Aimeya had gone without sleep for three days and nights to produce ninety kilograms of mithril. Now, the order had more than tenfold increased—surely a death sentence.

"I’ll double your payment."

"No. I’m not that sort of person."

"Twice as much."

"…I…can’t…"

Twice the reward was barely enough to tempt her.

"Five times."

"Boss, please don’t treat me as human! No, from now on, I’m yours!"

The noble elven lady felt herself overwhelmed by that irresistible force—not because her principles faltered, but because his offer was simply too much to refuse.