Fangzhou Xier, starting with failing the art exam

"In the Four Emperors War, our Letanian soldiers shed the most blood and suffered the greatest losses, but what did we gain in the end? A few dilapidated mobile cities! The real spoils were divided up by the jackals of Ursus and Victoria!"

"We will settle this score sooner or later! We will take back the glory that was stolen from us! We will reclaim the benefits that were seized from us, tenfold!"

He raised his hand high.

"Long live Letania!"

Long live the Workers' Party!

"Long live victory!"

boom!

A thunderous cheer erupted from the audience, with thousands roaring along.

"Long live victory!"

"Long live victory!"

In a corner of the crowd, Serafina quietly watched the radiant man on the stage.

In her perceived world, Lacey was like a sun at this moment, with countless points of light representing "expectation," "faith," and "anger" converging from all directions, enveloping him, and making him radiate an unprecedentedly dazzling brilliance.

……

Holy Leitanian Empire: Chapter 8: Lord Leisi has arrived, and the blue sky has appeared!

"Hey, old Martin, who's already 34 years old and has abandoned his personal life, is going to listen to that Mr. Lacey's speech again?"

In the early morning in the Salem slums, the fog was mixed with the smell of coal dust, and two men in worn-out overalls were walking together toward the factory.

The speaker was a tall, thin man named Pete. He was breathing out white vapor and nudged his stocky companion with his elbow.

“What’s wrong with going to listen? Isn’t it better than going to the tavern and losing all the money your wife and kids have for bread the next day?” Old Martin glared at his companion, his dark face glowing red.

“You didn’t go, so you don’t know! Mr. Lacey’s words were like hammer blows to my heart!”

Pete curled his lip: "Anyone can say such nice things. What's with all this talk about overthrowing the mountains and taking back everything? Do you think we poor folks can do that?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I only care about whether I get paid on time this month. I don't want to lose my job because of a few words from him."

"You don't know anything!" Old Martin's voice rose. "Back in the day, who cared whether we lived or died in this area?"

"Thieves and thugs run rampant. Last time, your daughter was cornered in an alley by those bastards. If the patrol hadn't passed by, have you thought about what would have happened?"

"Even someone as kind-hearted as Miss Serafina has encountered something like this!"

Pete shrank back and didn't say anything.

Old Martin took a deep breath, his tone softening slightly: "Things are different now."

"Ever since that workers' party was formed, Mr. Lacey organized patrols, and those thugs and ruffians either kept their tails between their legs or were driven away long ago."

"Haven't you noticed how much cleaner the streets are? Even the children are daring to go out at night now."

“That’s true…” Pete muttered to himself.

"Also, my son used to just roll around on the ground, but now he goes to the warehouse with a few older kids every day to learn to read."

"Mr. Lacey said that knowledge can change destiny. He hired several literate tutors to teach the children to read and write for free, and even provided lunch!"

Old Martin's face lit up with pride. "Just for this, I, Old Martin, would sell my life to him!"

The two walked in silence for a while, the outline of the factory appearing and disappearing in the morning mist.

"Really...really meals are provided?" Pete's voice was very soft.

"Black bread and vegetable soup, served hot."

Pete stopped and looked at old Martin's retreating figure with a complicated expression.

He thought of his emaciated daughter at home, gritted his teeth, and turned to run in the opposite direction from the factory.

"Hey! Pete! Where are you going? We're going to be late!" Old Martin called out as he turned around.

"I need to take leave! Fine, deduct my pay if you want!" Pete's voice came from afar. "I also need to take my daughter to learn to read!"

Old Martin stood there stunned for a moment, then grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, and laughed.

……

The formation of the Workers' Party stirred up unprecedented waves in the stagnant waters of Salem.

The slums seemed to come alive overnight, and the people's eyes were no longer filled with numbness and despair.

They walked with their backs straighter and spoke in much louder voices.

Even the drunkards on the street corners who drank all day long put down their bottles and began discussing new terms like the Workers' Party and its platform.

The abandoned warehouse became the de facto headquarters of the Workers' Party.

During the day, this place serves as a literacy class and meeting hall; at night, it becomes the dormitory for more than 300 core members.

Lacey kept her word.

He purchased large quantities of grain and cloth at low prices from the countryside and opened discount stores in the slums.

The price was less than half that of the unscrupulous merchants in the city, and it was only available to families who had joined the Workers' Party.

This move struck at the heart of the plight of the poor, and more and more people flocked to the Workers' Party's recruitment points in order to have enough to eat and wear.

In just over ten days, the number of members of the Workers' Party rapidly expanded from the initial three hundred to nearly a thousand.

"There are more people, but problems have also arisen."

Late at night, only Lacey and Serafina were in the headquarters.

Serafina pointed to a hastily drawn map of Salem, her brow furrowed. "Our food supplies won't last long."

"Moreover, with such a commotion, the big shots in the city can't just sit idly by."

Lacey nodded; he certainly understood the point.

The Workers' Party today is like a rapidly inflated balloon; it looks powerful, but it's actually fragile and could burst at any moment.

Enthusiasm and slogans alone are not enough; they need a real victory to unite people's hearts and minds, and even more so, a stable source of income to feed these thousands of mouths.

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." Lacey's finger moved across the map, finally landing on a spot.

Salem is famous for its textile industry, and the largest industry in the west of the city is this "Golden Scissors" dye house.

“I know this place,” Serafina said immediately.

"The boss is called Ferlinan, a fat, bloated fellow who is said to have close ties with the city's tax collector."

"He paid the lowest wages to his workers in the city, and the working conditions were the worst. The toxic water discharged from the dyehouse dyed the nearby rivers all sorts of colors, and the surrounding residents complained bitterly."

"Not long ago, a child laborer fell into a dye vat and was scalded to death due to overwork. In the end, his parents were only compensated with a few pitiful silver coins."

“That’s him.” A cold glint flashed in Lacey’s eyes. “Make an example of him. This chicken is fat enough.”

However, he did not intend to lead his men in directly and resolve the issue with violence.

That's the behavior of bandits, no! It's something a legitimate political party should do.

“Serafina, I need you to get me a list of all the workers at the dye house, as well as their employment contracts with Ferlinan.”

"It's not difficult. I know a few women who work there."

Lacey nodded: "Also, notify Taylor the blacksmith tomorrow and have him take his men to all the blacksmith shops in town and collect as much scrap iron as they can find. We need to make a new batch of tools."

Taylor the blacksmith is now the captain of the Workers' Party action team.

"What tool?" Serafina asked curiously.

Lacey smiled mysteriously: "You'll find out when the time comes."

……

A few days later, a fierce argument broke out in front of the Golden Scissors Dyehouse.

Hundreds of dyeing workshop workers gathered at the entrance, making the place completely crowded.

They held up various makeshift signs:

"Give me back my hard-earned money!"

"Down with the heartless boss Ferlinan!"

"We want to eat!"

The workers were very agitated, but no one took any action.

Because opposite them stood dozens of menacing dyehouse guards wielding clubs.

Ferlinan, the owner of the dye shop, a fat man who looked like a ball of flesh, stood behind the guards, pointing his finger at the workers and cursing them:

"You've rebelled! You bunch of lowly people, do you all want to rebel? Who gave you the guts to strike my job?"

“I’m telling you, anyone who dares to cause trouble today, I’ll break their legs and kick their whole family out of Salem!”

Although the workers were angry, their momentum noticeably weakened under Ferlinan's threats.

They all had families to support, and being kicked out of Salem meant certain death.

Just as the two sides were deadlocked, a commotion suddenly came from the outer edge of the crowd.

Lacey, along with the blacksmith and others, pushed several creaking carts, parted the crowd, and walked to the front.

“Mr. Ferlinan, don’t get so worked up.” Lacey said with a warm smile, as if she were a guest rather than a troublemaker.

"What are you?" Ferlinan squinted at Lacey.

"Oh, I remember now, you're that leader of the Workers' Party?"

"What, you want to stand up for these lowly people?"

“No, no, no.” Lacey waved her hand. “I’m here to reason with you.”

As he spoke, he pulled out a stack of papers from his pocket, which were the employment contracts signed between the workers and the dyehouse.

"According to Article 12 of Chapter 3 of the Letanian Labor Law, employers must provide workers with a safe working environment and pay them wages no less than the city's minimum wage."

"But as far as I know, your dye shop just scalded a child laborer to death last month, and the wages you pay your workers are less than half of the minimum standard."

Upon hearing this, Ferlinan burst into laughter as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world: "Law? You're talking to me about law?"

"In Salem, my word is law!"

"Even the city's guard captain has to treat me with respect. Who do you think you are?"

Lacey's smile remained unchanged: "I'm just a reasonable person. Since you're unwilling to talk about legal principles, then let's talk about another kind of principle."

He winked at the blacksmith behind him.

The blacksmith grinned and lifted the tarpaulin off the cart.

Wow!

A blinding flash of cold light streaked across the sunlight.

The cart wasn't loaded with scrap metal at all, but with rows of gleaming sickles and axes.

Although they were all farm tools, the sight of hundreds of sickles and axes piled together created a chilling atmosphere that made everyone present gasp.

The guards at the dye shop instinctively took a step back, their palms sweating as they gripped the sticks.

Ferlinan's laughter abruptly stopped, his fat face jiggled, and he roared, his voice trembling with barely concealed bravado, "What...what do you want to do? Gathering a crowd with weapons, this is rebellion! Guards! The guards are on their way!"

“Don’t be nervous, Mr. Ferlinan.” Lacey picked up an axe, weighed it in his hand, and then casually handed it to a worker next to him.

“Our Workers’ Party is the most law-abiding party, and these are just gifts we give to new members when they join the party.”

"After all, everyone needs to work to make a living, how can we do without a handy tool?"

As he spoke, he handed out sickles and axes to the workers present.

The workers straightened their backs instantly as they received these heavy "gifts".

The anger that had just been suppressed reignited.

"Ferlinan, pay salaries!"

"Otherwise, we'll just go in and get it ourselves!"

Seeing the hundreds of angry workers wielding sharp weapons before him, Ferlinan finally became afraid.