Chapter 413

Even though Sivar is a fiery Tartar in every sense, he doesn’t just go around pulling tongues unless it’s a serious insult.

However, there are moments when saying something bluntly is less insulting than saying it in a roundabout way.

It’s an ability that serves as a borderline between civilization and savagery, almost like a cunning strike. Currently, Tartars are gradually developing in this aspect.

Hector is one of those living witnesses. Traveling abroad for diplomacy has inevitably sharpened his eloquence.

And it’s not just his speaking skills. His political judgment has drastically improved by cleverly exploiting situations.

Though he wandered countless times due to his ‘identity’, there’s no longer a reason to stray. He simply needs to fulfill his duties as a human.

In that sense, Hector’s plan also included reprimanding Uro.

‘That guy will definitely lose. So, he will have to apologize to me.’

Before his identity was established, Hector’s strategy was straightforward. First and foremost, Uro was destined to get thrashed by Sivar.

Having shouted about proclaiming Tartar’s greatness through war, it was certain that he would be facing quite a lot of beating by now.

Some young lords who had been defending him could only zip their lips after witnessing Sivar’s strength.

To top it all off, he even had a duel with Hector that ended in a tie, so he’d have nothing to say even if he had ten mouths.

‘If he keeps talking nonsense… well, it can’t be helped.’

If Uro realizes he’s a frog in a well and begs for forgiveness, Hector would be willing to forgive him.

But if he is too dazed after taking such a beating, then that’s just plain foolishness.

From ancient times, respect and manners have emerged from violence, and Hector firmly believed in that saying.

There was a time when he was brash and reckless, but someone’s sword and another’s fist taught him the meaning of etiquette.

Thanks to that, he has managed to survive till now. Sometimes you need to crack the whip.

“…Your Majesty.”

“Speak.”

“I cannot accept this.”

“…”

Yet occasionally, there are people who are stubborn not out of pride but pure obstinacy. Hector narrowed his eyes.

Before him sat a bandaged mummy, wrapped up to the nines. They had even been provided a chair for comfort.

At first glance, it looked more like a scene of a sinner being reprimanded than a minister talking to a monarch, but this was indeed a palace.

As you might have guessed, this mummy-like figure was Uro, who had just gotten the stuffing beat out of him by Sivar.

After experiencing such humiliation, he was still spewing nonsense, which was utterly ridiculous.

“What nonsense is he spewing now…”

“Still being stubborn even in this state…”

Some lords seemed to share similar feelings, tsk-tsking softly. Most of them were middle-aged.

Younger lords, on the other hand, just stood back and silently observed the situation, eager to hear what was being said, irrespective of any support.

“Hah.”

Unsurprisingly, Hector let out a quiet sigh at how the situation wasn’t going as expected.

It was a soft sound, but everyone in the palace could hear it distinctly.

In an instant, the atmosphere grew tense. Hector then opened his mouth.

“Alright. What is it you want to say? Make sure you choose your words wisely this time.”

That was practically a final warning. If he said something weird, he might just end up tongue-less.

Uro, who by now had amassed quite a dislike even before bringing Kara into the conversation, knew that war was essential to establish the prominence of Tartars. Tartars were strong, so victory would come easy.

In fact, before the unification of tribes, they had ample opportunity to rob neighboring countries. Their infamous reputation wasn’t just a rumor.

Towns trembled with fear just from their plundering, so how could there be no war, and so on.

While this made sense on the surface, it garnered quite a bit of agreement from the young ones.

“Beloved King! The one who has been most insulted here is surely Your Majesty!”

“This fool again…!”

-Swish

Just as one lord was about to blow his top over Uro’s nonsense, Hector raised his hand to stop him.

The lord swallowed his anger and stepped back. It was a simple gesture he couldn’t refuse.

Eventually, Hector maintained his expressionless face and subtly nodded for him to continue.

“The nations that take pride in being civilized are all hiding their vile tongues.”

“Like you.”

“I won’t deny that. But Your Majesty knows how deceitful that vile tongue is, and how relentlessly it hurls insults.”

“I know well.”

He knew it too well. It was back in the days when he couldn’t yet establish a proper diplomatic corps.

Normally, it was rare for the king to personally step out; it was a huge burden on both sides.

However, not only were the Tartars’ misdeeds horrific but also Hector found ‘survival’ to be his biggest assignment.

How could he make those nations refrain from attacking Tartars? How could he build friendly ties with them?

It might have been bearable back in the tribal days, but Tartars were in a precarious position since establishing their kingdom.

No matter how strong Hector was, enduring assaults from all sides was impossible.

Thus, even when despised as savages or pricked by the thorns within their words, he endured firmly.

“Enduring such insults is essential for building resilience and becoming stronger.”

“But if you just endure everything, they will end up looking down on you. It’s inevitable that you’ll collide eventually.”

“So you mean to strike first, huh? Regardless of which country.”

“Yes. That’s…”

“On what justification?”

Hector snapped back coldly. A heavy atmosphere began to envelop the palace.

Uro sensed this tension and took a moment to hold his tongue. Once it relaxed, he finally spoke up.

“It’s for the greater good.”

“The greater good…”

“Yes. Our united people are strong. We need to strike first before they do so we can unite both internally and externally.”

In a way, it sounded plausible. Let’s strike first before they do.

No need for justification. As long as you use the term ‘greater good’, uniting the people is quite possible.

“Hah.”

Hector let out a mock laugh. It seemed he couldn’t find words due to sheer astonishment.

Those who had experienced the trials of battle, especially the lords who went through the tribal unification wars, immediately caught the meaning of that mocking laugh.

It was a habit of Hector’s that appeared just before he got as mad as a hornet. A sign that bloodshed might be around the corner.

“The statement from Buaar is correct. Why should we feel afraid?”

“With Your Majesty’s power and wisdom, victory is surely within reach!”

“The empires quaked merely at the thought of being plundered!”

But the clueless young lords, still new to societal norms, pounced on this opportunity to express their opinions.

Of course, such comments were more than enough to poke Hector’s temper.

So it was only natural for the other lords to vehemently counter them.

“Didn’t you see clearly? How strong the Academy Students are!”

“They can’t even beat the Academy Students, what war? Are you treating war like a game?”

The lords’ rebuttal drew an intense reaction from the younger crowd.

“I can’t understand why you respond like that. Are you scared of dying?”

“What?”

“I asked if you’re afraid of death. Didn’t they say Tartar warriors fear no death?”

Indeed, that was the lesson. However, regardless of what they teach, death feels inherently void.

The young and brash don’t know how terrifying the fear of death can be. That’s why they spout pride and whatnot.

Of course, even seasoned warriors harbor a sense of pride in their hearts. But it’s more akin to a form of ‘self-defense’.

Having witnessed too many deaths, if they didn’t harbor pride in anything, they’d abandon the will to live altogether.

The young who had yet to taste battle were probing at the wounds of those who wore scars.

And Hector happened to be one of those carrying those scares.

“…What? You mean to say you could die for the sake of pride?”

“Your Majesty?”

“Repeat that. Did you say you could die for pride and honor?”

Hector’s voice was low and filled with intensity as he asked again. The young lords flinched at the question.

The energy emanating from his green eyes was absolutely frightening. Yet if the king asked, they had to answer.

Then, Uro, who had been silently observing, answered, his voice trembled, possibly from his own surprise.

“That’s right, Your Majesty. Warriors who hold pride will…”

“If you want to die that badly, why not just hang yourself instead?”

The biting criticism came round. It was neither a roundabout way nor a joke; it was direct.

Uro’s face, along with those of most lords, was shocked. They never expected such words to come out.

Hector looked at the lords he perceived as foolish, expressing their strong will, with pity. Then he asked.

“Let me ask you. Do you know what shedding blood means?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. I asked if you know what shedding blood signifies.”

To shed blood. A figurative expression everyone understands.

A sacrifice that accompanies life. It carries a meaning beyond the negative; it’s steeped in tragedy.

“Do you understand why I shed blood to unify the Tartar people? The honor you mentioned? The pride? Ha!”

Hector spoke with an air of disdain. There was a mere sliver of a smile on his face.

But that smile slowly faded away before transforming into a fierce expression.

“No. I simply fought to survive. The sand. The plagues. The heat! The hunger! To die for honor? To sacrifice for pride? Don’t make me laugh! There’s nothing after death! The dead leave, and only the living carry on!”

The depth of his chastisement was filled with searing experience. No one dared to rebut this reprimand.

The younger lords were overwhelmed by Hector’s intensity, while the others agreed profoundly with his words.

The values held by those who have witnessed war and those who haven’t cannot be the same.

However, even if values changed, there are necessary things to live, at least for survival.

“Don’t you know how precious it is to shed sweat instead of blood? Even now outside, there are those shedding blood, isn’t that right? Are you trying to dishonor their blood?”

“Your Majesty, we…”

“Am I afraid of death? Yes. I fear death.”

The shocking statement left the lords wide-eyed as they looked at Hector. He sat proudly upon his throne.

Even after claiming to fear death, he showed no sign of being daunted. Instead, it radiated dignity.

“I fear the sorrow of those left behind. The cry of the people clutching their family’s corpses terrifies me, and the thought of shedding more blood for revenge frightens me.”

“…”

“That’s why I bow. If I bow and shed sweat so the people don’t bleed, isn’t that more worthwhile?”

Those who don’t bow or shed sweat should refrain from speaking of blood. That was Hector’s blunt remark.

Some accepted that candid statement, while others, lacking wisdom, misunderstood it utterly.

“However, Your Majesty, the people wouldn’t favor you dishonoring yourself.”

“So, I should strive to avoid dishonor?”

“The Empire is rude.”

“We are violent.”

Hector quickly countered. His rebuttal silenced even those who dared to object.

It was a valid point. The fact that the Tartar people are known for their belligerence was already common knowledge.

To change that public perception would require decades. It would likely take at least a whole era.

“Stealing? Sounds convenient, huh? Were we holding out just to become filthy thieves? Is that truly what you call honor?”

“…”

“Civilized people shed sweat, and savages shed blood. But there are also those who shed neither. Do you know what such people are called?”

Hector fixed a cold stare at Uro, who couldn’t respond.

He’d been devoured by both logic and intensity since the moment he lost to Sivar.

Hector then bore right into Uro’s eyes and declared,

“Parasite.”

An entity that does nothing but leeches off others.

“They are called parasites, existing only to take without shedding blood or sweat.”

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