“The farming communities were the bedrock of revolution, in the countryside,” Aiden muttered. “They were burning manors well before the uprising here.”
Emily nodded, remembering the ruined estates they’d seen on the drive from Dragon’s Den. She could understand how tempers had been running hot for years, but... she shook her head. The farmers and the aristocrats needed each other and yet neither side was prepared to admit it and treat the other with proper respect. And... she had to admit, as the farmer continued to condemn the practice of forced labor, that she was inclined to side with the farmers. The local aristocrat was little more than a parasite, taking a vast share of the harvest and leaving the peasants with almost nothing. Why should they produce anything more than the bare minimum when they didn’t get to enjoy the fruits of their labor? Food production had quadrupled in Cockatrice after she’d ruled the farmers could keep most of their crop.
She said as much to Aiden, who nodded. “There’s a movement afoot to ban taxes completely,” she said. “And there’s a very good chance the entire city will support it.”
Emily made a face. “And then who’ll pay for the infrastructure?”
“That’s the question,” Aiden said. “We don’t have a good answer.”
Emily kept her thoughts to herself. The city was bursting with life and enthusiasm, but it felt like the calm before the storm. Crown Prince Dater was only a few short miles away, gathering his forces; the remainder of the Allied Lands were probably already cracking down on the Levellers and making plans to assist Dater in regaining his throne. And even if Dater didn’t make a move, the council would find itself struggling with the problem of actually governing. It was easy, in her experience, to carp and criticize. It was easy to say that one would do a better job, if one became the government. But it was a great deal harder to actually do the job. The council had made itself the new government. It could no longer avoid the hard decisions...
She tensed as they rounded a corner and approached a row of shops. A crowd of women were gathered outside one of the shops, shouting at the shopkeeper. The man looked scared out of his wits. Emily gathered the women were demanding food at reasonable prices, paid for by promissory notes, but the shopkeeper didn’t seem to want to take them. She shuddered as Aiden put a hand on her arm, guiding her around the crowd. It looked as if all hell was going to break loose. The women could steal the food, if they wished, but it was going to run out very quickly. There were hard limits on just how much could be stored and produced within the city itself...
“The food shortages are going to bite soon,” Aiden said, grimly. “We’re trying to bring more food in from the countryside, but negotiations aren’t going well.”
“And food is in short supply anyway, because of the drought,” Emily added. The noise was growing louder. A squad of rebel soldiers ran past them, heading towards the crowd. “What are you going to do about that?”
“I don’t know,” Aiden said. “Right now, there’s no hope of rationing anything.”
Emily glanced back, then allowed Aiden to lead her further down the road. There were no good answers. Perhaps... she toyed with the idea of opening a portal to Cockatrice and buying food there, but it would be difficult to establish the gateway without help. And it would be taken as a breach of her neutrality. She wasn’t too concerned about that, but... she shook her head. It was impractical unless the rebels had enough skilled sorcerers to help her open the portal, then close it before Alassa had to take official notice...
A crash ahead of them interrupted her thoughts. She frowned as she saw another mob gathered outside a middle-class house. Aiden stopped and watched from a distance as the door was broken down, the mob screaming and shouting as it burst into the house and rampaged through the interior. Windows were smashed, pieces of glass crashing to the ground far below. The shouting grew louder as the crowd burst out again, carrying a badly-beaten man and his wife. Emily shuddered, watching helplessly as the crowd started to erect a makeshift gallows. They were going to execute them on the spot.
She swallowed, hard. “Why...?”
Aiden’s voice was heavy with satisfaction. “They were amongst the worst landlords in the city,” she said, darkly. “They bought entire blocks of apartments and slums, then hired thugs to break legs or evict tenants when they couldn’t pay. People on the run from the farms, people who would be executed if they were returned to their lords, had no choice but to pay or be thrown onto the streets. They had a piece of all the dark dealings in the city... and now judgement has finally come.”
Emily looked away as the couple were hung from the lamppost. She wanted to do something, but what? She was supposed to be neutral. And besides, if Aiden was right... the couple deserved it. She’d seen enough predatory landlords back home. The crowd cheered, mocking the dead bodies. Their home was ransacked, the crowd carrying away anything of value before tearing the door off its hinges and leaving it as a warning to others. Emily was surprised they didn’t set fire to the house. It wasn’t as if it wouldn’t have burnt nicely.
She shook her head. “Did they deserve to die without a trial?”
Aiden met her eyes. “Ask their victims.”
She studied the bodies, grimly. “They were landlords and loan sharks who squeezed their victims mercilessly,” she said. “You cannot ask their victims to give them a fair trial.”
Emily winced as they resumed their walk. Everything the landlords had done had probably been perfectly legal, at
