Chapter 623: This has always been like this, is that right?
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*The performance of the nobles in this chapter is not purely fabricated.
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All right.
Unexpectedly.
I really didn't expect it.
Fricks described the envoys with a strong subjective emotion when he reported before. Dantioc originally thought that the chief trident might be because he didn't like to deal with aristocrats and bureaucrats, but now it seems that Fricks's evaluation is actually fair, and it can even be said to be very restrained.
...If these fools, if their father hadn't been seriously ill now, how could you allow you to roar like this in front of his throne!
I really want to shoot them all.
Dantioc stood by their Gene Father's throne with expressionless face and thought unexpectedly.
Because Primarch wanted to have dinner on time, the banquet of drinking and chatting had begun for about a quarter of an hour.
The Primarch's dominant guard was waiting outside the door, while the two tridents were indoors, accompanying the Primarch for a meal.
By the way, because of Pertulabo's prior instructions, he had to watch the group of overestimating mortal nobles who had no choice but to argue, quarrel, push, and at the same time, eating and drinking, and toasting to the throne with wine glasses (and even a few female nobles turned their bodies to the Primrose even more ignorantly, suggesting that Dantioc swears that he felt he heard a bloody summon at that moment). The blacksmith of the war never felt that he had understood so much that some combat brothers who loved to pull out their axes and chop people.
I really want to cut them all, cut them all! A big deal!
It's incredible how did these stupid pigs sit in their current position?
How could this kind of thing that has no fear of the Primrose, the Legion and the Empire, and only cares about these mere cities in my eyes, be the same people who live on the land where we and our parents and brothers once lived?
As an Iron Warrior who was once an Olympian shepherd, Dantioc found himself unconsciously getting to the next level of pessimism about the possible ending that Olympia will face in a few days or weeks.
What's worse is that he found himself beginning to understand Frix, and began to feel that the Primarch was indeed too strict to issue an extinction order to Olympia, but if he planned to kill the Eleven, he wouldn't be unable to understand.
Some things may be really pitiful at the beginning, and it is understandable, but looking at the subsequent development, there must be something hateful, and it is your own fault.
But Dantioc searched his past experiences and knowledge that had been stuffed into his mind for a long time and had not been used, trying to find some explanation for it or something that would support his thinking, and he was surprised to find almost nothing in the realm of knowledge he needed.
He was full of anger, more of a confusion and confusion: the Primarch seemed confident, but no one knew whether this was a sign of his illness or if it was true. They could only follow the orders, stand silently on both sides, pouring mineral water or fermented juice for the Primarch from time to time.
The Primrose looked good and unaffected. When Warren's representative and Foros' representative were disagreeable (but according to Danteoke's observation, he suspected that they had drunk too much from each other's high wine brewed by other worlds brought by the Iron Warriors from the ship) began to escalate from sarcasm to abuse, and finally started to fight and roll into a ball of white sand.
Primrose is still gracefully but quickly cutting lamb chops while drinking half a dozen fermented juice.
Then, when Demathia, wearing blue ribbons and Didimus Diogolas, wearing red ribbons, began to blame each other, and at the same time ran to the Primarch's table with a scream, pointing at the other side, while pointing at the other side, the situation had become that Fricks had to whisper the reminder of Dantioc on the internal channel not to kill here against the Primarch's wishes.
And the Lord of Steel - or Ramizane in Pertulabo's shell, ate happily.
The live dramas performed by these people and the various contents were really wonderful.
Taking this opportunity, he also well linked the names of these people, the noble family, with the colors of the ribbons they each wore.
Obviously, although this group of people came to petition together, they were not a solid piece of cake.
They were divided into three groups: the most numerous were wearing red ribbons. According to the records of LOGOS, this group of people, one of the city-state groups that prevented Pertulabo from unifying the entire Olympia from Locks, was one of the city-state groups called the Pentuic Alliance; and the second was the six cities of Arcion wearing blue ribbons; and finally, there were a few people, and no ribbons of any color were worn.
What a guy, this sense of déjà vu... I remembered it! Isn’t this the ruling seats in the minority of neutral seats described before the election of parliamentary elections in European countries that I saw in international news every day, and then regressed their appearance and name to the Greek city-state system. Isn’t this...dirty! I understand! Thanks to Cyris News Network! Thanks for the reference message! Thanks for the Political Class! Thanks to Ma Zhengjing!
Once he gained such an enlightenment, his thinking was immediately opened. At this time, Ramizane showed the maximum efficiency that Peturabo had used in his mind: while maintaining his demeanor and speed, he tasted the delicacy that he had not eaten for a long time; while pricking up his ears to listen to the classical court political debate drama staged below; while also matching each of their faces with their names and status; while analyzing their mutual appeals and interests; finally, he opened the index catalog of LOGOS, set the time and location in Olympia 150 years ago, and began to find out whether there was more information about their respective ancestors and city-states left at that time.
The more he reads the information, the more incredible he feels, but this will not affect his good appetite. On the contrary, although it is incredible, it is quite a bit of a meal in conjunction with the drama in front of him. It was not until these arrogant and confident representatives of the nobles here, they ate, drank, scolded and beaten, and almost all the contents of their own city-state and their masters fighting with factions, the wars between city-states, all of which they had fought in various large and small city-states in the past thirty years, some murderers who died unexplained and various wonderful adultery, taurens, beautiful widows and sheep princes, etc., that the owner of the banquet, who listened with relish and compared them, drank the last bite of soup from his bowl with satisfaction.
Ramizane put the utensils aside, pushed open the soup plate, and wiped his mouth with a soft napkin that was enough to serve as a cloak for mortals.
He knocked on the armrest of the throne.
The group of small noble representatives below are still immersed in mutual abuse.
Ramizane signaled to Frix, who immediately understood and took the first half step, using the loudspeaker on his solemn and heavy power armor to announce loudly that the Lord of Steel was about to speak, and that everyone should remain quiet and polite.
So these men and women finally knew to calm down, and many people began to turn their eyes from wine, food and opponents to the giant god on the throne.
"I am very curious and I want you to answer a few questions for me. But first of all, there must be a representative. Obviously, the spokesperson among you, I guess correctly, is Ms. Dematia, representing the Six Cities of Arcion and Mr. Didims, Mr. Didims, the general spokesperson of the Pentuic League. I am right."
The two nobles who were named immediately wiped their mouths and tidied up their clothes. Demathia put the fallen hair behind her ears, pushed the chair away, stood up and raised her dress to salute the Lord of Steel; and the spokesman of Pentuyk sneered at her with a contemptuous sneer, then shrugged, nodded in agreement, and made an action you please say.
Danti Oak found that his fingers were itchy and he had touched the weapon handle on his waist at some point.
"So... everyone, before you start, I will introduce myself again."
The primordial faced these jumping clowns with such calmness and demeanor at this moment. Dantioc found that he had begun to admire the noble cultivation of the father of genes before he knew it.
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"I, Peturabo, the Lord of Steel, the Master of the Fourth Legion of the Empire, the Emperor's Parents and Children, those who have conquered your great-great-great-great-great-grandparents and ascended the Supreme Tyrant after the Unification of Olympia - and the masters of your city-states not only dare not come to ask for my forgiveness in person, but you who were sent to my emperors are still so loose. So, why can you eat, drink, clamor and arrogant in front of me and think that I am just a tyrant who has been here for a long time. If you want to leave the Empire, you can directly ask the entire city-confession alliance to escape. If you want to whom I support, you willfully ask me to help you and defeat each other? I am really curious - where do you get the confidence, and think that you can be on an equal footing with me, the son of an imperial emperor? With those thin blood ties you inherited?"
Before the other party was able to answer this series of questions, he continued to speak on his own.
"Or it is based on the soldiers of the legion you have contributed to my 150 years? Since I left here, has Olympia's technology improved? How many ground troops do you have? Do you have any aircraft? Do you have your own ships that can sail subspace? Where are the fleets in the galaxy? Where are the orbital defense platforms? None! That's it! You dare to openly yell to split! The so-called independence!"
His ice-blue eyes turned coldly to the quarrel louder and louder several times, hinting that they came this time to be the spokesperson of the Pentuyk Alliance, who was going to leave the empire directly.
"I remember you admit that all the city-states are short of males, right? Yes, first of all, I admit that the recruitment of the legion, which originally only dozens of people, has become thousands in the last half century, which has indeed affected the reproduction of Olympia's agriculture and population to a certain extent - but according to my calculations, is there a possibility that the more the reason for the underpopulation is that you yourself have frequent civil wars between small land competitions?! I am so fed up with [Gutera]! Look at these data! Your Pentuic Alliance fought many battles with the six cities of Achón in a century and a half just for a small piece of land of thousands of square kilometers. Not small, one of which is a full thirty years and one twelve years! How many women and children have died in your people?! How many extra blood of the warriors has shed?! How much extra productivity is not fully utilized?!"
Ramizane narrowed her eyes, and Fricks silently gave several orders to the members of the guard outside inside his armor.
"...These lost populations are all casualties caused by you for your own selfish interests. Why, do such casualties also count on me and my legion?! Ah, I understand. Anyway, the Primarch Pertulabo fights enemies you don't know in places you can't see at all. He hasn't come back for a hundred and fifty years. You know, the Primarch has no time to care about the sounds of ants on the ground, so the ants can tell their people with peace of mind that the reasons why all suffering and all the pain that takes away their children are the ones who are not at home, right? Because the Legion tax is paid, all other taxes can be distributed under this excuse! Why do I sound so familiar? Hum?"
He suddenly raised his tone, and his voice echoed under the silver-gray metal silk dome like thunder, beating the pillar of pure gold, "[Gutera swears]! Pear... My genetic seed adaptability is very good! The pass rate of the selector is extremely high! There is no high pass loss problem! And as the parent star of the primordial body, Olympia's imperial tax level is a special tax exemption! Special tax exemption! Are you not sure, and you were deceived by the tax officials of the Imperial Ministry of the Interior? Or are you pretending to be confused when you understand? If you were deceived, you can now shout for justice to me!"
"And." The Lord of Iron pounded the table, "The person I sent to buy things just now has asked by the way - I see that many places are not short of men who are engaged in production at all, but in the case of constant civil war, you still need to maintain and pursue your noble life more, right?! It's already like this, do you still want them to serve you free labor?!"
"Is there anything wrong with this? Lord?" Obviously, Didims' aristocratic arrogance and bloodline brought him more than courage, it covered his eyes, and so did the others, their eyes full of disagreement with these long speeches, as if they forgot that they were facing a true demigod, a demigod who had conquered their ancestors with war and blood a century and a half ago.
"It has always been like this! Tyrants, nobles, citizens and Hayros (a public slave of the city-state that the conquered people have been reduced to*)! We have always lived in such a step-by-step manner under the will of the gods! As relatives of the tyrants, we have full power..."
"Is there nothing wrong? Is this true?" Ramizane smiled. This time he showed his white teeth, including canine teeth. "Maybe the legend of the conquerors a century and a half ago was indeed too long for mortals who had no prolonged life and rejuvenation surgery here. And he made many mistakes at that time, but after all, it's not very popular here to kill weeds and kill nine clans... but it doesn't matter now."
He said, "I brought my fleet with the light spear and the cannon. You may not understand what this means, but it doesn't matter. I will let you know what 'the plough has its own fields'."
(This chapter ends)