Chapter 414

What could be the worst curse in not just Tartar but in most countries?

It differs all over the place depending on each nation’s culture and language, but the harshest insults often boil down to one thing.

[Parasite-like scum]

Just one word, “parasite,” is worse than a hundred petty insults.

This is tied closely to religion, as it directly offends Gaia, the god of life.

What exactly is a parasite? It’s a creature that needs to cling to another life to sustain its own.

And in this world, there’s only one species that needs to latch onto others to survive: the “Demon.”

It’s the ultimate insult, denying the purpose of life while also insulting both character and divinity.

Even a seasoned saint would often contemplate life and death after hearing such an insult.

That’s why most countries avoid using the word “parasite” carelessly, opting instead to “soften” it.

Words like mosquito, maggot, pest, tick, etc. They even cleverly rephrase it as “spine breaker.”

Sometimes, some folks may doubt this. Isn’t life, by nature, dependent on consuming other lives?

Aren’t parasites doing the same thing? It might seem valid.

Scholars have pondered this, and ultimately concluded it has a lot to do with the “Demon.”

Using the word “parasite” directly is something we try to avoid as a rule.

“P- parasite…? Did you say parasite?”

Thus, even Uro, who got hit with insults, couldn’t hide his embarrassment.

To call someone a parasite means you don’t regard them as life, let alone a person.

It’s as if they are lesser than livestock, being something close to a complete denial of personality.

“What’s the problem with calling a being that doesn’t sweat or bleed a parasite? What’s wrong with that?”

“Y- Your Majesty…!”

“Enough. I don’t want to hear it anymore. It seems you still don’t realize what you did wrong, despite the chance I gave you.”

Hector waved his hand dismissively. It was essentially a death sentence.

Uro’s expression twisted in horror. Not only was his grand plan ruined, but he also faced annihilation of his dignity.

All this happened in front of numerous noble heads, in front of a king who achieved mythical feats. He had no place left in Tartar.

“To you, Bouar noble, who does not know the weight of blood or the value of sweat, I pass my judgment.”

“Your Majesty! This is too much…!”

“For drawing blood with your reckless tongue. For offering disrespect instead of respect to those who labor. For making impossible promises and failing to acknowledge the consequences.”

With each charge listed by Hector, Uro’s face changed dramatically.

His bronze skin turned blue, then pale white in an instant.

There was nowhere left to flee. If he felt like rebelling, his body was already wrecked.

Even if he did rebel, the gathered nobles and royal guards would easily subdue him.

“You sit in the seat of the head of the Bouar tribe solely because you are the bloodline of the former chieftain who fought at the Tribe Unification War. However, you’ve disgraced the blood he spilled.”

“W- w- what…”

“Tartar sprouted from blood. A nation founded on the blood drawn from the sand. Ironically, that blood’s value is insulted by its own offspring.”

Who could stand against Hector, sharpened by numerous diplomatic battles? At least in this room, there was no one.

Every word he spoke carried an undeniable weight and power, a force that none could challenge.

It was the spirit only a king and hero could possess.

“Bring forth the executor.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

At Hector’s command, the executor stepped forward. If Uro had repented of his mistakes, he wouldn’t be needed.

But the executor’s presence was synonymous with punishment. Hector immediately issued his command.

“Cut off the tongue of the Bouar noble, no, the criminal.”

“I will obey.”

“Wait! Please! I beg for mercy! Your Majesty!”

Uro, wrapped in bandages like a mummy, began crawling on the floor. The chair arranged for his convenience lay overturned.

The spectacle drew various reactions from the nobles.

Some tsk-tsked, relishing the sight. Some looked at him with pity. Others stared in fear.

But none stood up for Uro. There was far too much karma accumulated, compounded by Hector’s overwhelming presence.

“You shall be deprived of your tongue and thrown into forced labor for thirty years. A lesson must be taught to those who do not appreciate sweat.”

“Y-your…! Ugh! Uhhh!”

No matter how hard Uro struggled, it was futile. The executors had already grabbed his mouth.

One forced his mouth open while another prepared a vessel for the blood to spill.

Finally, a third executor stepped in to carry out the sentence.

Thus, the fate of one who’d carelessly wagged his tongue was sealed.

– Chomp!

“Uuuuuuuuh!!!”

He received the punishment of never being able to speak freely again. Blood poured down as his tongue was sliced in half.

Fortunately, the filthy blood didn’t stain the audience room; the executor managed to catch it all in the vessel.

Normally, such behavior would be deemed ‘barbaric,’ but Tartar was a freshly founded nation. This wasn’t barbarity; it was a public execution.

At the same time, it served as a warning from the king to all the nobles.

– Drag, drag, drag

Uro was being dragged out by the executors. They had to treat him to prevent shock after cutting off his tongue.

Well, treatment might be a soft term; in reality, it was torture. They’d be burning him with hot metal.

And if he died from the pain? No need to worry! They planned to disinfect him with potions.

Disinfection and stemming the blood flow were separate issues. Disinfection was achieved with potions, while stopping the bleeding would be via fire.

“I will advise you all. Only those who understand the value of blood may discuss death, and only those who know the worth of sweat may stand tall.”

“We will remember, Your Majesty.”

At Hector’s straightforward advice, the nobles bowed deeply, showing their respect.

It was a crucial point for Tartar, which was entering a transitional phase. Based on those words, Tartar would continue to develop.

“Your Majesty, I have a suggestion to offer.”

“Speak.”

“The Bouar noble has been stripped of their title. And the noble’s sister has also faced punishment for her insults.”

“Hmm.”

Hector showed recognition at the middle-aged man’s remark. This meant the Bouar would be left vacant.

One certainly couldn’t install a mute as a noble. Additionally, their poor reputation would likely lead to discontent.

“You mentioned there’s a younger sister?”

“Yes. She is the priestess of Gulrak, so I’m not sure if she’ll accept.”

“Send her a letter, at the very least. If she has wants, we will listen and decide.”

“Thank you for hearing my plea.”

The treatment regarding the next Bouar noble was now concluded. Hector turned his head.

Young nobles gathered who had supported Uro were watching cautiously, each one busy gauging the atmosphere.

They couldn’t help being stirred up, but they’d also shown signs of agreement. Hector spoke sternly to them.

“I will not hold you accountable. However, I shall remind you all how precious blood and sweat truly are.”

“If so…”

“From now on, Tartar will require every citizen, regardless of gender, to undergo a rite of passage to become a warrior.”

In other words, every citizen would be conscripted into service.

While previously it was only those who desired to join the military, now there would be a proper justification to build upon.

“This doesn’t mean that everyone must become a soldier. Those who don’t wish to or have families will be exempt. However, from now on, none may speak of blood and sweat.”

Tartar’s economy was fundamentally based on trade. If trade faltered, the whole nation would shake.

And to bolster that trade, military power was essential. Tartar’s desert was vast, leaving adventurers inadequate.

Hector’s underlying message was clear: those who wish to engage in politics must become warriors who bleed and sweat.

It was a matter that everyone had to concede to, and no one dared to object.

“That’s about all for our discussion. Is there anyone who wishes to speak further?”

“… …”

The audience chamber fell silent, not even a mouse could be heard. No one dared to speak up.

With a clean judgment matched by swift follow-up, there was nothing problematic to be found.

Hector looked around the still room and sighed deeply.

“Then I shall take my leave.”

Tartar was left with only the path of continuous development ahead.

*****

‘What happened here?’

Princess Kara of Tartar sensed a peculiar atmosphere as she entered the palace. Today, she was not joining the palace but cooperating with the Academy.

As a priestess of Tartar, she had the role of guiding the altar. For the record, she wasn’t in her priestess attire.

The ceremony being conducted today was led by another priestess, not Kara. She only presided over the ceremonies on founding day.

‘Those priestesses have captivated them all.’

Kara giggled to herself, recalling how the academy students, especially the boys, were utterly smitten with the priestesses.

The female students weren’t much different. They seemed entranced by the priestesses’ naturally beautiful faces and figures.

Sivar seemed to show interest in the priestesses, but it was just that—interest. Just a curious gaze at best.

He gave Kara more looks. Seeing him so coy was quite adorable.

‘He certainly has an eye for beauty.’

How proud she felt knowing that she surpassed the dancing priestesses in his eyes.

After the ceremony ended (thankfully, there were no lightning strikes), all schedules were wrapped up and it was time to return to the palace.

‘By the way, the atmosphere feels strange.’

Kara looked around. The palace always seemed the same, yet there was something oddly different in the air.

It was as if it had become more sophisticated or sprightly. Naturally curious, Kara set her direction toward the office.

– Knock knock

[Come in.]

Upon reaching the office, Kara was greeted by a familiar yet bizarre sight.

The Ragnarok hanging on the wall was out of her attention. Instead, it was Hector at the desk that seized her interest.

‘Is that a book? What book is it?’

Hector was reading a book. It looked quite small in his impressive arms.

Since ascending to the throne, he had been buried in work and neglected reading. It was only natural for Kara to feel curious.

“Yes. What brings you here?”

Hector closed the book and welcomed her with a smile of relief on his face.

It seemed he had finally put down the emotional burden since the duel with Sivar. Now, he could lift Ragnarok as well.

‘Yes, this looks much better.’

Kara smiled softly. This looked far more appealing than him being lost.

Tartar would surely achieve boundless progress in the future. That’s what Kara predicted.

“It feels like the atmosphere in the palace has shifted oddly. What happened?”

“It did. We executed punishment on the Bouar noble.”

“Ah.”

So that’s why the atmosphere felt different. Kara nodded, understanding.

She didn’t bother to inquire about the details of the punishment. She would find out naturally.

At the very least, she assumed he probably wouldn’t have cut off his tongue. Uro had been quite free with his tongue, so a fitting punishment would follow.

“That’s good news. You stripped him of his title as well, right?”

“Indeed. The next noble will likely be Iol.”

“Iol? Wasn’t she a priestess?”

“Just because she’s a priestess doesn’t mean she can’t be head. In fact, they seem to be welcoming it. Plus, she had an interesting proposal.”

“A proposal?”

How dare the Bouar noble make a proposal to the king! The gall! Were all Bouars this audacious?

While Kara was thinking this, Hector shrugged and revealed the proposal.

“She proposed that I marry her.”

“What?”

Kara blinked in disbelief. It was something she couldn’t wrap her head around.

Seeing her reaction, Hector confirmed it.

“It seems she wants to bear my strongest seed from Tartar. After hearing that, I put it on hold for a moment.”

“… It’s not a bad idea.”

In truth, it wasn’t a terrible proposal. Before being a Bouar noble, she was the priestess of Gulrak.

Moreover, Iol had participated in the duel. Although she had lost to Sivar, she had sufficiently demonstrated her might.

Above all, it was necessary for the survival of Tartar. Currently, only Hector and Kara were the royal bloodline of Tartar.

Part of a king’s duty was also to produce many offspring.

“I thought so too. But I can’t forget my wife, and considering my age, things might complicate lineage.”

“I could refuse the throne.”

“Think of your legitimacy. You must become a royal to establish a solid base.”

“… …”

Kara found it hard to argue. The logic was flawless.

But what followed in Hector’s next words left her more stunned.

“And if you want to marry someone you like, you have to consider that too. Even if you share skin color, they’re still an outsider, right?”

“Y-yes?”

“So, I’m studying hard too. It’s oddly simple but complex, this whole system.”

Hearing this, Kara turned to the book Hector had been reading. The title came into view.

As she glanced over the title, she checked other books piled on the desk.

With each title she read, Kara’s face became redder. Trembling, she quickly asked Hector.

“W- what is all this?! Why are you reading this?!”

“What do you mean? These are the great systems of civilized nations. Don’t you think we should at least follow their lead?”

“No, even so, this…!”

“Think about my age, but more importantly, think about yours. Once you graduate from the academy, you’ll be in your mid-twenties. That’s quite late to be unmarried.”

“I’ll take care of my own marriage! You don’t need to worry about it!”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m saying I’m preparing this for you.”

The father-daughter debate stretched longer than either expected.

For reference, the titles of the books Hector had read included:

[History of being a son-in-law]

[The Dignity of State Documents]

[Who was the first queen?]

Hector was slowly but surely laying the groundwork.

A paragon of an excellent king.

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