Chapter 223 : The End of a Dynasty
Chapter 223: The End of a Dynasty
After the voting concluded, representatives from both parties took the stage to speak.
Wellington’s body trembled slightly as he stepped forward, his face unable to conceal his anger. “The representative of the Kingdom of Pue Lent claims that this agreement reflects the will of mainstream nations. I cannot agree with that.”
“If that is the case, then I want to ask—who exactly do you represent? Which ‘mainstream’? Must the entire world follow the nobility, submit to the nobility, and anyone who refuses or resists be attacked?”
The delegations from the two empires packed up their documents, stood up, and pushed open the conference room doors, walking out without even glancing at Wellington on the stage.
“If that is truly the case, then I can only say they are wrong. Their Mechanical Bodies, their cannons—even if Saints themselves descended—would never shake our resolve for unity!”
“They cannot shake our determination to eliminate the Tsar! Nor can they stop the people of Roshek from deciding their own future!”
“The people of Roshek will never accept such a treaty! This is nothing more than stealing the fruits of our victory. Their disgusting posture makes the people of Roshek feel sick.”
Watching Wellington on stage, Coy removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is getting troublesome.”
A colleague beside him whispered, “It really is. Roshek has just fought two large-scale wars in succession. Setting aside war potential, just the war-weariness among the people must have already reached its peak, right?”
“Mm…”
The multi-national alliance had seized the opportunity perfectly. The reasons and justifications they used were extremely effective, even to the point of shaking the uprising’s popular support to a certain degree.
If the uprising forces accepted the terms, there would be no more war. Everyone could recuperate and heal from the wounds of war, with the promise of funding from the alliance dangling ahead.
If they refused, it would likely mean a third large-scale war. Even the Ceris Alliance would have to carefully consider whether engaging in three consecutive wars might shake the foundation of its rule.
The lower classes often did not care who ruled them. What they cared about was who could bring positive change to their lives. Being dragged into the quagmire of war was the last thing they wanted.
The future? When survival itself was already a challenge, how many people would truly think about the future of their nation and people?
It was far more practical to think about whether they could get an extra piece of bread to fill their stomach today.
Above the city, the air was filled daily with the burnt stench of corpses—those who had starved to death outside the city walls.
They did not want to be heroes. They only wanted to live in peace. They did not want to die. Was such a request really too much?
Inside the conference room, Wellington’s speech failed to stir much reaction.
Back at the hotel, Wellington paced back and forth in the living room. The more he thought, the more the anger in his heart intensified.
The expressions on the others’ faces were equally grim—anger mixed with faint despair.
Why? How many had died to achieve the current situation?
Why should a single statement erase all their efforts and sacrifices so easily?
When the finalized Muglin Peace Treaty was transmitted back to Roshek, it immediately caused a massive shock across all factions.
The Tsar, already descending into final madness, burst into laughter upon reading the magical transmission.
Meanwhile, the nobles who had accepted the peaceful disarmament of the uprising forces uniformly changed their stance, beginning to resist the uprising’s rule and repeatedly engaging in passive resistance.
Even within the uprising itself, chaos began to spread. A pessimistic outlook toward the future emerged, and the feeling of being surrounded by enemies on all sides was far from pleasant.
However, one group displayed a completely opposite reaction upon seeing the treaty—the large number of mid-level officers within the uprising, as well as the returning exchange student group.
They shared a common trait: they were young.
As internal chaos spread, the legions led by Legion Commander Cassius and Yadov achieved a breakthrough on the main battlefield in the Imperial Capital. The noble district was breached by the vanguard, pushing the frontline to the vicinity of the Royal Palace.
The Tsar had already fled. The palace itself was not heavily guarded by Tsarist forces; instead, it was defended mostly by civilian militias formed from ordinary residents.
When these forces encountered the uprising troops, they surrendered almost entirely as organized units, causing minimal casualties. Some units even defected on the spot, executing hidden Tsarist officers within their ranks and joining the uprising forces.
The more they advanced, the larger the uprising army became. Finally, under Cassius’s leadership, the uprising troops broke through the palace defenses and entered the Royal Palace, now filled with ruins.
When the two men stood at the highest point of the Tsarist palace, looking at the flag of the Roshek Tsardom before them, both wore excited smiles.
“Pff…”
Yadov could not hold it in and spat out a mouthful of blood. The wound in his chest, struck by magic, sent waves of piercing pain through him.
He steadied himself, took the Legion Commander Cassius’s banner handed to him by a soldier behind him, looked at it for a moment, then passed it to Cassius. “You do it.”
Cassius pointed at himself in surprise. “Me? But I’m not from Roshek. That wouldn’t be right.”
Yadov shook his head, a hint of self-mockery on his face. “Roshek people? You’re not. Neither are we.”
“We’re just a group of slaves. We have no country, no nation, not even names. The names we have now were given by ourselves—they used numbers to refer to us.”
“We are people without a past. In the past, we were nothing more than wandering livestock. But from today onward, our children will not be. Our young people will not be.”
With a single slash, Yadov cut down the flag rope of the Roshek Tsardom.
“Child, our part is done. The new journey will be opened by you, on their behalf. Go tell them—they now have a completely new, clean country that truly belongs to them!”
“As long as there are young people, the heart of this army will never be broken!”
Cassius nodded and forcefully planted the banner atop the Tsarist palace.
The blood-red flag fluttered in the sky above Vyatletsk, signifying that the Roshek Tsardom had finally come to an end.
At the same time, across other uprising-controlled regions, large numbers of student-led protest and propaganda groups emerged. Their slogan was:
‘We will not bow our heads. If oppressed by force, we still have our youth! We will resist with everything we have!’
They expressed intense anger toward the Muglin Peace Treaty and voiced firm rejection of its signing.
Yadov might not have been well-educated, but he possessed the political wisdom of a pioneer.
Through deliberate arrangements, Yadov ensured that young people occupied the majority of mid- to high-level positions within the uprising, further strengthening their sense of being the protagonists.
These youths came from different states, and within same-state units they naturally had mutual affinity, so this arrangement did not provoke much backlash.
There were only a few hundred of them in total, but after returning home, they integrated into local armies and civilian communities. What the uprising lacked most were educated personnel capable of administration and cultural work.
They were responsible not only for land redistribution and material allocation, but also for literacy campaigns and the dissemination of advanced ideas, helping ordinary people understand policies and supporting struggling families.
In other words, the civil administrative core of the uprising was built upon the exchange student group as its foundation. They educated other young people, cultivating more personnel capable of handling lower-level administrative work.
All officials engaged in such work were either their students or their classmates. In both military and political spheres, they held significant core influence.
The bonds between classmates naturally caused them to form tight-knit groups, ensuring that most were not marginalized internally. As a result, pro-war ideology rapidly unified the remaining voices within the uprising.