Chapter 199 - 194: Riot
Tonight, Minas Tirith was exceptionally raucous.
Torches formed twisting ribbons of light, winding between the fjord’s construction site and the camps, casting flickering human shadows on the cliff faces.
In the Iron Fist Gang’s camp, the atmosphere was oppressive.
Grom sat on an overturned asphalt drum, repeatedly wiping his enormous iron hammer with a piece of oilcloth.
Around him, a dozen of his most trusted men formed a circle, each with a grim expression.
"Boss, the garrison has sealed off the woods. The body’s been carried away too." A tall, skinny miner rubbed his hands together. Half of one of his ears had been sheared off in a mining accident. "I asked around. The Wildfire Gang guys were taken in for questioning, but on our end... the garrison hasn’t come at all."
"Them not coming is what proves this is serious!" another burly man with a severed finger growled. "They already know it was us! They’re waiting for an excuse, an excuse to get rid of all of us! And now, a dead body is the best excuse they could ask for!"
"What’s there to be afraid of?! Who has proof that we made the first move?"
"Bullshit! What’s the use of saying that now? Someone died! You think the lord is just going to look the other way?"
The arguing grew louder.
Grom slammed his hammer onto the ground. The heavy, muffled THUD silenced everyone.
The camp fell silent in an instant.
"All of you, shut up."
Grom looked up, his gaze sweeping over their panicked faces.
"Run? Tell me, where would we run? Outside of this Grey Marsh Territory, we’re right back to being tenant farmers and mine slaves who can’t even feed ourselves. Who here wants to go back to living a life worse than a dog’s?"
No one spoke.
Their experience over those two days in Newly Town had changed them; there was no going back.
"Since we can’t run, our only option is to make things even bigger." A vicious grin spread across Grom’s face, his eyes turning fierce.
"Right now, we’re the biggest eyesore to the lord. He could get rid of us at any time. But what if... what if all the troublemakers at the entire construction site started a riot?"
He stood up, his voice dropping to a low, bewitching tone.
"Go. Split up and go to the Wildfire Gang, to the dockworkers’ ’Brotherhood’... go to all the camps that have carved out their own territory like us."
"Tell them someone died at the logging camp, and the Lord is going to use it as an excuse to purge all of us ’gangs’!"
"He wants to take back all the profits! No one will have a say anymore!"
"Tell them the warehouses at the Lord’s Mansion are piled high with grain and cured meat, and he’d rather let it all rot than let us eat our fill and have the strength to cause trouble!"
"Stir up everyone who’s like us! As long as enough people cause a scene, the law can’t punish a crowd! Is he going to kill several thousand people? When that happens, we’ll use the chaos to rush the warehouses, grab the goods, and blend into the crowd. No one will be able to find out who did it!"
Grom’s plan was vicious, but it preyed on the fears of the other gang leaders.
He would use their fear to ignite a sea of chaos for himself, then use the smokescreen to escape.
His men exchanged glances, the fear in their eyes replaced by a fanatical greed.
In the middle of the night, as most of the laborers in the camp slept soundly, shrill cries erupted from the edges of the various gang camps.
"The Lord’s Mansion is going to purge us!"
"Someone died at the logging camp! Everyone who holds territory will be punished! They’re going to cut off our food supply!"
"There’s plenty of grain in the warehouses! We’ll grab it and run!"
Members of the Iron Fist Gang ran between the camps of the various gangs, spreading panic and rumors.
The gang leaders, who already had guilty consciences, were startled.
They stepped out of their shacks, their faces filled with shock and suspicion.
When they heard the Lord was going to "purge" all the gangs, they immediately erupted into a commotion.
"On what grounds? We didn’t kill anyone!"
"To the warehouses! We need to demand an explanation! If he really dares to make a move, we’ll loot his granaries!"
Swept up and incited by the Iron Fist Gang members, over a dozen groups, large and small, nearly a thousand people in all, converged into a torrent.
They raised torches and held their work tools, surging from all directions toward the warehouse district in the center of the construction site.
Lars was jolted awake by the commotion outside. Peeking through a crack in his shack, he saw the crowd brandishing axes and pickaxes. Terrified, he clamped a hand over his son’s mouth, not daring to make a sound.
A few garrison guards on night patrol tried to stop them, but they were quickly overwhelmed by hundreds of red-eyed rioters, who pushed them to the ground and rained down kicks and punches.
"Get out of the way! Don’t block the path!"
One of the guards clutched his bleeding forehead, his heart turning to ice as he watched the completely out-of-control mob.
BOOM!
Led by Grom, the rioters used a log as a battering ram to smash open the doors of the first granary.
Seeing the sacks piled up like mountains inside, the crowd roared with greedy cheers. In that moment, all order completely collapsed.
Countless people charged in like madmen, shouldering the sacks, while even more surged toward the next warehouse.
Just as the chaos reached its peak, a series of shrill whistles pierced the night sky.
Immediately after, the ground began to tremble rhythmically.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
The sound of synchronized footsteps emerged from the shadows of the warehouse district. A troop of fully armed garrison guards in a tight formation, holding shields and short spears, blocked the path to the other warehouses.
The man at their head was none other than Barton.
He wasn’t wearing standard-issue armor, only a tight-fitting leather cuirass that revealed his knotted biceps. In his left hand, he carried a massive tower shield, and in his right, a standard-issue Longsword.
Behind him, a series of CLICK-CLACK sounds echoed from the shadows of the warehouses.
Hundreds of Soldier Ants emerged from the darkness, marching in unison. They quickly fanned out, forming a crescent-shaped encirclement on the flanks and rear of the garrison guards, completely cutting off everyone’s escape.
The carapaces of these monsters were thicker than those of the common Worker Ants seen on the construction site. A menacing horn grew from the top of their heads, and their six leg joints were covered in bony spurs.
The rioting crowd froze. They looked at Barton and the garrison behind him, then stared in terror at the silent, black beetles.
Most of them had never seen more than a few Magical Beasts in their entire lives. They were used to bullying ordinary civilians, not facing a nightmarish scene like this.
The greed on their faces quickly faded. Some of them went weak in the knees and collapsed to the ground, scared witless on the spot.
Barton’s orders were issued through the hive matrix.
The swarm of Soldier Ants surged into the rioting crowd like a black tide.
The rioter who had kicked down a garrison guard was still shouting defiantly one second, and the next, his legs were locked by the scythed limbs of two Soldier Ants.
A third Soldier Ant pinned his neck and arms, pressing him firmly to the ground.
The entire process took less than two breaths. He couldn’t even let out a scream before he was completely neutralized.
This was not a battle.
It was merely a one-sided apprehension procedure.
Grom watched as his trusted men were subdued one by one by those monsters, his heart pounding wildly. ’Staying here is a death sentence.’
He roared, shoving two of his men beside him toward the charging Soldier Ants. He then spun around and charged toward the weakest point in the encirclement—toward Barton.
’This big guy is just an ordinary garrison captain,’ he thought.
"Monsters! Get the hell away from me!"
"Grom!"
Barton’s roar was like a crack of thunder.
Seeing Grom charge at him, he unexpectedly slid his Longsword back into its sheath. He protected himself with his tower shield and met Grom’s charge head-on.
BANG!
The giant hammer smashed against the tower shield, creating a deafening crash and sending sparks flying.
Barton’s feet carved two deep furrows in the ground, but he didn’t retreat a single step.
Grom was horrified. ’A blow like that could kill a prize ox!’
Barton’s arm muscles bulged as he suddenly shoved with his shield, sending Grom stumbling backward.
Then, Barton dropped his shield and closed the distance.
A straight punch.
Grom raised his hammer to block, but Barton’s other hand seized his wrist, the immense strength rendering him immobile.
Barton’s fist landed squarely on Grom’s face.
The crack of bone was clearly audible.
Grom fell.
In a short time, all the rioters who had led the charge on the warehouses and beaten the guards were captured alive by the Soldier Ants and escorted to the center of the square.
The rest of the crowd stood there, dumbstruck.
They dropped their tools and the grain they had looted, staring at the swarm of insects shimmering with a dark luster in the shadows. They finally understood.
On this land, the Lord’s will was omnipresent and irresistible.
In the absolute silence, a figure slowly descended from the Town Hall.
The swarm automatically parted, forming a path to welcome their master.
In his hands, Velin held a thick ledger.