Chapter 477 The Battlefield and Mouthpiece of Public Opinion: The Future Belongs to Galos!
"The Kingdom of Aura isn't as terrifying as the rumors suggest. Perhaps I... should give this recruitment order a try."
Once the thought arose, it took root in my heart.
For the next three days, Caleb struggled internally.
He walked through familiar streets, saw Aura soldiers maintaining order, saw shops gradually reopening, and saw civilians lining up to receive food, their faces gradually showing less fear and more anticipation.
He also saw those who attempted to steal or cause trouble being quickly subdued and taken away, and were said to be tried under the newly enacted summary laws.
Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, Caleb made up his mind.
He carefully sorted through his few clothes, tuned his harp, and followed the address on the recruitment notice to a post station in the east of the city that had originally been used to receive merchants and travelers but was now being temporarily requisitioned.
A room on the second floor of the inn was converted into an interview room.
The room was empty, furnished only with a thick wooden table and a few chairs. The window was open, letting in the morning light and the faint noise from the street.
Sitting behind the table was a male werewolf.
His face was thin, with a prominent muzzle and fine, dark gray mane. His eyes, yellowish-brown, were very sharp as he looked down at the documents in his hands.
When Caleb entered, he looked up at the poet, and that gaze made the poet's heart tighten, and he almost wanted to turn around and leave.
"Sit." The werewolf's voice was flat and monotone as he gestured to the chair opposite him.
His Common Language was so standard that there was no accent in his speech that Caleb would have mistaken him for a human bureaucrat if he hadn't seen his appearance.
Caleb sat down and carefully placed the harp at his feet.
“The bard, Caleb Luster.”
The werewolf looked down at a piece of paper in front of him, which seemed to contain some simple notes: "Four days ago in the afternoon, in the central square, you sang a song for the ladies of Aura who were distributing food. My men nearby heard it."
Caleb's heart tightened.
It turns out I had already been noticed.
What appears to be a peaceful place seems to harbor many eyes.
“Don’t be nervous.” The werewolf raised his head and looked directly at him. “We are recruiting people like you who know how to move people with their voices and stories, and who know what words can be memorable and resonate with them.”
He placed his hands on the table with his fingers interlaced, appearing relaxed, but his eyes remained sharp.
"Let's be direct. We need new songs, new stories, about His Majesty the Red Emperor, about the Kingdom of Aura, about the new order and future of this land. They need to be understandable to ordinary people, something they'd want to hear, and something they'd even want to sing."
Caleb licked his slightly dry lips: "Specifically... what kind of content do you need?"
Several directions.
The werewolf's voice was unhurried, clearly having said it many times before: "First, Your Majesty's power and great achievements."
"The rise of the North, the establishment of a kingdom, the breaking of natural barriers, the sweeping away of enemy armies... these facts should be sung and celebrated in the way you bards excel, to highlight His Majesty's strength, wisdom, and inevitable victory."
"Secondly, the order and justice of the Kingdom of Aura."
“We emphasize that our attitude toward those who comply is like distributing food in a square or maintaining order on the streets. The chaos is over, and the new rules will guarantee everyone’s safety and basic survival. Those who follow the rules, regardless of their original status, will be protected and may even have the opportunity to have a better life.”
"Third, resistance is futile and foolish."
"The greed and incompetence of the old Theo aristocracy led to their defeat and the suffering of the people. Continuing to resist will only bring more destruction. Only by going with the tide and accepting the new rulers can they survive, and may even have the opportunity to change their class and improve their status. Some examples of those who surrendered and benefited can be appropriately added, whether real or reasonably fabricated."
The werewolf paused, observing Caleb's reaction, before continuing, "We will provide the basic timeline and key points of the events, as well as background information from some former Theo officials or scholars who have already surrendered."
"What you need to do is weave these materials into catchy, easy-to-spread songs, heroic poems, or short, concise stories, and then sing and tell them in taverns, street corners, markets, relief centers, or anywhere where people still gather."
“We will have people observe and evaluate the effectiveness of the dissemination.”
Caleb remained silent.
He was not a fool; he understood perfectly what the werewolf meant.
This means that he must become Aura's mouthpiece, singing praises to the conquerors he once feared, and persuading his own people to accept the new ruler.
A strong sense of betrayal welled up inside him, mixed with complex feelings for the old kingdom, causing his stomach to churn.
He suddenly stood up, the chair legs scraping against the stone floor with a screeching sound.
He glared at the werewolf, wanting to say something to defend his dignity.
"Don't rush." The werewolf's expression remained unchanged, as if he were used to this kind of reaction.
He took out a small leather bag from under the table, untied the drawstring, and poured the contents onto the table with a "whoosh".
Not silver coins, but gold coins!
Five finely crafted gold coins with sharp edges gleamed alluringly in the sunlight streaming through the window, almost blinding Caleb.
He had never owned so many gold coins in his entire life.
"This is an advance payment to prove your worth, then accept the job, and they're yours."
The werewolf calmly said, "After that, based on the quantity and quality of your submitted works, as well as the feedback on the dissemination effect, we will settle accounts weekly. The basic remuneration can be paid in silver coins weekly, or converted into equivalent amounts of necessities such as grain, cloth, and salt."
"Those with outstanding results will be rewarded with gold coins."
Caleb opened his mouth, wanting to righteously refuse, wanting to say that he would never betray his kingdom and would never sing praises to the invaders.
But then he remembered the ogre's indifferent gaze; he remembered the centaur girl's gentle eyes and her words, "We don't eat people"; he remembered the nobles' cold-blooded manner when collecting taxes; he remembered his empty purse and his constantly rumbling stomach, and wondered what these gold coins could bring him.
So, the impassioned speech that was about to come out got stuck in his throat.
He stood there, his body trembling slightly, his gaze shifting back and forth between the gold coins and the werewolf's calm face.
In the end, he silently sat back down.
A knowing glint flashed in the werewolf's eyes, but there was no mockery or smugness in his expression. He simply pushed the five gold coins forward a little.
"Write a hymn of praise to the great His Majesty Ignatius as a test of your ability. There is no specific format, but it must be powerful and impressive."
The werewolf took a piece of paper and a quill pen from the drawer and pushed them towards us.
The bard was silent for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and picked up his pen.
He didn't write immediately, but closed his eyes. The image of the Red Emperor reigning over Iris City flashed through his mind.
A massive crimson dragon shadow swept across the sky, its wings casting shadows that seemed to cover the entire city; its majesty and power were truly awe-inspiring.
He also recalled the various legends about the Red Emperor.
Rising from the northern wastelands, unifying chaotic tribes, establishing a kingdom, personally retrieving satellites from space, and defeating Theo's proudest pass... he is like a legendary figure living in reality.
Countless inspirations surged into my mind.
When he opened his eyes, his gaze had become focused, even carrying a hint of the fervor of a creator.
He dipped his brush in ink and began writing rapidly on the paper, pausing occasionally to consider his words.
The werewolf didn't urge them, but simply waited quietly.
About fifteen minutes later, Caleb put down his pen and turned the paper over.
He cleared his throat and recited the poem he had written in his best recitation style.
"Oh, you who dwell on the throne of molten iron, whose wings cover the skies of the northern frontier, so that we may look up at the sun burning on your scales."
You were born from flames and steel, and you divide the frontier of night and day with the breath of dragons.
Under your shadow, the tide of chaos subsides; where your gaze falls, the foundations of order are established.
“You said: All who obey my law will be protected; all who pledge allegiance to my banner will enjoy peace; under my wings there will be no needless famine; in my domain there will be no unjust plunder.”
Those who heed this commandment will find perfection in their craft before the furnace; farmers will see bountiful harvests in their fields; scholars will discover the patterns of truth in scrolls; and families will continue their traditions and find warmth in sturdy stone homes.
"Oh, just as rough iron is purified in fire, so too is the soul strengthened in loyalty."
Our descendants will sing your name as they sing of the cycle of the seasons;
Our swords will defend your path as if they were your own door.
Only by following the trajectory of that red star can the soul escape the frozen land of confusion and reach the ever-burning dawn.
"Ah, there is no need to praise the sun in the sky, for the great Red Emperor, the great His Majesty Ignas, is our true sun."
May your flame burn forever, may your kingdom endure forever.
From this moment until the end of time.
After the last syllable was pronounced, the room fell silent.
The werewolf silently finished reading the words on the paper, then savored the recitation he had just heard.
After a moment, he nodded, an approving expression on his face.
"Can."
The werewolf put the paper away. "This proves you have the abilities we need."
He took out a piece of slightly better quality paper from under the table, on which a simple contractual agreement and a few lines of more specific creative guidelines were written in Common Language, including some events that had to be mentioned, sensitive topics that needed to be avoided, and the themes that were encouraged.
"Sign it, or even just put your fingerprint on it. This is your first official task list, which includes requirements for three poems and two short stories. Submit the first draft within five days."
The werewolf pushed the contract towards him, saying, "You can take the advance payment with you."
"Remember, the breadth and acceptance of the message will directly affect your subsequent compensation and bonuses. We will have people go to pubs to record the audience's reactions and collect rumors from the streets."
"What if I... if the story I write isn't entirely based on the points you provided, but includes some of my own... embellishments? To make the story more vivid."
The bard asked tentatively, trying to preserve some creative freedom and professional dignity.
The werewolf's pupils contracted slightly, but his tone remained calm: "The core content must not deviate from the point."
"As for embellishment... we encourage embellishment that makes the story more engaging and easier to share, provided that it serves the message we want to convey, rather than weakening or distorting it."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone carrying an undeniable air of authority.
"Poet, this is a job, a task."
“We buy your skills, not your beliefs. You only need to produce products that meet our requirements. We don’t care what you think. We only care about what people hear, remember, and are influenced by.”
After speaking, the werewolf didn't urge him, but leaned back in his chair, quietly watching him and waiting for a decision.
Finally, Caleb reached out, his fingers brushing over the five gold coins, and then gathered them in front of him.
"...I need to see those key points, as well as the specific details of the contract."
He spoke slowly.
The werewolf grinned slightly, revealing the first expression that could be called a smile.
“A wise choice.” He nodded. “Welcome to the team, Mr. Caleb.”
"From today onwards, you will be one of the collaborators of the Aura Kingdom's Publicity Department. Come here every Monday morning to report on progress, receive new tasks or adjust requirements. If you need any assistance with materials or information, you can also raise them."
Similar scenes are unfolding in major towns throughout the province of Aris.
Aura's newly formed propaganda department is systematically recruiting bards, down-on-their-luck scholars, and even literate beggars to build a propaganda network covering the newly occupied territories.
They provide money, food, and security in exchange for written and performed texts that meet their requirements.
Some people who were originally terrified and disgusted by Aura began to waver and compromise under the pressure of survival and realistic observation, and eventually became one of the voices of the new order.
Dusk falls on the rooftop terrace of the former governor's mansion in Iris City.
The red iron dragon stood on the edge, overlooking this human city whose style was completely different from the wilderness.
call!
The sound of wings flapping through the air rang out, and the much smaller Iron Dragon retracted its wings and landed on the terrace.
"The initial takeover of the province of Aris is complete. Many of the die-hard resistance fighters have been eliminated, and the rest are no longer a threat," Sorog said in a low voice. "The first batch of taxes and supplies collected from nobles and wealthy merchants has been tallied."
"Part of it was used for civilian relief as planned, and the other part was allocated to the Propaganda Department as an expenditure for its mouthpiece function."
"How was the result?" Galos didn't turn around, still gazing at the city.
"It went more smoothly than expected, but there were still some minor hiccups along the way."
Sorog walked to a spot slightly behind the red iron dragon and also looked towards the city.
From this vantage point, the crowds on the street moved like ants, and wisps of smoke rose from some chimneys as dusk fell.
"There is not much difference between ordinary people and wilderness tribes. They are all used to being ruled. As long as the ruler can provide basic security and survival, their fear will subside faster than we expected after the ruler changes, especially after we show order and provide the most basic food guarantee."
He paused, then continued his report: "However, their thoughts are also more complicated."
"The underlying suspicions, the nostalgia for the old kingdom, and those concepts of loyalty and integrity cannot be eradicated in a short time; it may take many generations to truly reverse them."
"For this purpose, many people have been recruited in several major cities of Aris."
"The songs and stories they wrote have begun to spread in pubs, markets and relief centers. The first feedback shows that the content about food distribution and maintaining order is the most popular and the easiest to accept."
"In addition, we have selected a group of well-behaved and relatively mild-mannered warriors, mainly centaurs, snake people and some werewolves. After simple training, they are now having limited contact with local residents to help distribute supplies, answer simple questions and show their friendliness."
"The effect... is alright, at least it makes the human cubs less afraid of us."
At this point, Iron Dragon Sorog tilted his head, the scales on his neck rubbing together with a soft rustling sound.
He looked at his blood brother and asked the question that had been lingering in his mind for some time.
“Garos, what I don’t quite understand is why we place so much importance on propaganda? The funds allocated to the propaganda department could be used to arm our soldiers or to build fortifications and reinforce the city walls.”
Sorog flicked its tail and continued to express its thoughts.
"I believe that true rule relies on claws and power."
"As long as the army is strong enough, the laws are strict enough, and the rewards and punishments are clear enough, people will eventually get used to it and obey, just as the dire wolves in the wilderness will eventually bow down to the stronger alpha wolf."
"As for songs and stories, they are embellishments after a victory, pastimes during leisure time, and entertainment at banquets."
"Why spend so many resources to actively develop this kind of thing? I feel it's not worth it. Our soldiers need new armor and weapons more."
He frankly shared his views.
Galos remained silent for a moment.
A gentle breeze swept across the terrace, carrying the scents of distant cooking smoke and the city. He slowly spoke into the wind.
“Sorrog, my brother, you’re half right.”
“Strong military force and strict order are indeed the cornerstone of rule and an unshakable bottom line. Without them, everything is empty talk, and any beautiful promises will turn to dust in chaos.”
"We are able to stand here because of our strength and power."
“However,” Red Iron Dragon turned to look at Sorog, “these alone are not enough to ensure a long and stable reign.”
"Especially given that the image of our dragons, monsters, and savage races is deeply ingrained in people's minds."
"Fear can make people obey, but it can also breed hatred and brooding rebellion. When the main force of our army turns to other fronts, this hatred may erupt."
"The voice of the people, the bards, the stories and songs, their existence is very important and indispensable."
“Power tells them ‘what not to do,’ order tells them ‘what to do,’ while the mouthpiece and public opinion tell them ‘how to think,’ and make them believe it comes from the heart.”
“If we don’t take this position, someone else will.”
Galos raised one of its front paws and gently tapped the side of its head with a sharp hooked toe, the scales making a crisp tapping sound.
"The most important change here is in mindset."
Iron Dragon Sorog listened quietly, the confusion in his eyes gradually replaced by contemplation.
He wasn't stupid; he just had never thought about the issue of governance from this perspective.
In the wilderness, power is everything, and the wild creatures are used to being ruled by power. But now they rule not only the wilderness, but also human cities with complex social structures.
In the future, there will be more places like this.
"Therefore, these expenditures are not used to support useless singers."
Tie Long said thoughtfully, "This is the forging of another kind of weapon, a weapon about consciousness and thought."
"It fights on the battlefield of the mind, aiming to deprive resistance of its soil, allow loyalty to grow spontaneously, and make submission the natural choice. It will save us countless losses in our true rule, and in the long run, it is the most worthwhile investment."
Sorog's eyes grew brighter as he spoke.
“When people accept us from the heart, the cost of maintaining order will be greatly reduced, recruiting soldiers and collecting supplies will be much smoother, and even... the next generation of humans may be proud to be citizens of Aura and forget Theo.”
"That's exactly right."
Galos nodded in satisfaction.
His brother was extremely talented in military affairs and quick to grasp other skills as well. He was very reliable and lived up to his bloodline.
Immediately, Hong Tielong turned his gaze back to the city in the twilight and changed the subject.
"Has the draft demand for peace talks been prepared?"
Sorog nodded, his expression turning serious: "The basic framework has been drafted."
"The claims for compensation in gold coins, land, and mineral resources are all negotiable, and the amounts can be adjusted. The key point is the restrictions on Theo's future military equipment."
His tone turned cold: "I have two core demands that must be written into the treaty."
"First, the Kingdom of Theo is strictly prohibited from building, developing, or possessing any strategic weapons similar to satellites in the future."
"Secondly, their investment of resources in cultivating legendary-level powerhouses is strictly limited, including but not limited to research funding for spellcasters, supply of secret medicines for warriors, and any rituals or experiments that could potentially give birth to legendary creatures."
"We need to appoint inspectors to conduct regular checks."
These two restrictions are tantamount to directly strangling Theo's future military development.
Without strategic weapons and top-tier experts, Theo will find it difficult to pose a substantial threat to Aura.
Galos listened quietly.
He knew very well that the ruling class of the Kingdom of Theo would probably not easily agree to such terms. Even if they were forced to agree on the surface, they would never cooperate honestly in private. They would do everything they could to preserve the spark of a counterattack, hoping to one day overtake Aura.
Galos didn't seem to care much about this.
future?
He slightly parted his lips, revealing a serene smile befitting an immortal being.
It should be noted that those favored by time are always long-lived species like dragons.
Human kingdoms can cultivate a legend in just a few decades or even a hundred years if they are lucky. This is their advantage. However, the peak of a human legend will soon pass, while a dragon, once it becomes a legend, can live for thousands of years and remain at the peak forever.
Theo can pin his hopes on the future.
But Aura, especially him, the future belongs to him.
(End of this chapter)
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com