Seraphs of the Emperor’s Judgment

Chapter 73: Within the Human Heart

The morning sun had yet to dispel the chill of the night, and the early morning breeze still felt somewhat freezing.

Outside the wide-open city gates, a group of hunched figures walked in slowly under the vigilant gazes of the guards.

Most of their faces had already turned an ashen yellow, deeply lined with wrinkles. Their eyes were narrowed into slits, the surrounding areas swollen and red.

People who tiled the land, exposed to the wind and sun all day long, generally looked like this.

At the lead was an old man wearing a tattered felt hat and a single, extremely thin set of work clothes. Trembling all over, he held up a filthy, ragged white cloth propped on a tree branch.

His hands were not the ruddy, plump hands of the landowners, but rather thick, clumsy, and split-open claws resembling dead bark.

Looking at this group solely from their appearance, it was already very difficult to tell their ages; there were probably no youths among them.

Upon entering the city, they were immediately surrounded by the guards, who stepped forward attempting to search them.

"Let them approach."

A metallic voice rang out from the plaza. The guards scattered like a cloud in all directions, parting a path.Filled with trepidation and unease, the people walked to the center of the plaza.

There, a giant standing as tall as an iron tower towered before them. Beside him was another warrior wearing a sword, with ten more identical giants forming a semicircle behind him.

The giants were all encased in thick, silver-grey armor, their tabards and sashes fluttering gently in the morning breeze. Staring from the pitch-black eyepieces of their helmets was an evaluating gaze.

An invisible, oppressive force emanated from them. The group halted their steps when they were fifty meters away.

A look of both joy and bleakness appeared on the leading old man's face. His lips trembled slightly, but he made no sound.

After someone suddenly cleared their throat, his attitude instantly became deferential. He shakily dropped to his knees, prostrated his upper body, pressed his forehead flush against the ground, and spoke distinctly:

"The sinner Chris is extremely honored to be able to gaze upon the exalted visage of the God-Emperor's Angels."

He was speaking High Gothic. Although it was very broken, they could barely understand it.

This somewhat surprised Soshyan.

As the old man knelt, the people accompanying him also paid their respects to the Angels in the exact same posture, praising the name of the God-Emperor.

Soshyan had many words he wanted to say, but felt as if they were blocked by something, merely hovering in his mind, unable to be spoken.

"You traitors! Rebels! Thieves! Murderers!"

At that moment, however, West spoke up first. He directly spat a torrent of curses at the people kneeling on the ground.

"How brazen can you be, to still have the nerve to come before the exalted Angels! You should have your eyes gouged out and your tongues cut off! Hanged from the city gates!"

As West's curses rang out, the landowners watching nearby also began to clamor in agreement. The appearance of the Angels gave them the ultimate backing. Having previously been cowering in the city in fear, their hearts were now filled with courage. They only wanted to capture the rebellious serfs as soon as possible and torture them ruthlessly so they would never dare harbor rebellious thoughts again in this lifetime.

"Aiyee!"

Suddenly, West flew backward through the air, then curled up on the ground, rolling in agony.

Armin retracted his chainsword and hung it back on his waist. He had just "gently" tapped the man's chest with the hilt of his sword to make him shut his mouth.

Seeing the Angel grow furious, everyone else instantly shut their mouths.

The people on the ground remained prostrate on the cold stone bricks.

Subsequently, a quiet voice drifted from the vox-grille of Soshyan's helmet.

"Rise."

In this place, his command was absolute. The people subsequently stood up, sluggishly, one after another.

The old man in the lead only managed to stand firm with the support of another person.

"Why did you orchestrate an uprising."

Soshyan's next sentence nearly made them drop to their knees again.

"Stand straight!"

Armin's reprimand forced their already bending knees to straighten out once more.

"This sinner dares not hide the truth; we truly had nothing to eat, nothing to wear, and couldn't survive any longer... but we are still obedient subjects of the Imperium! We are not rebelling against the Imperium!"

By the end of his sentence, the old man was already choking back sobs.

"My Lord! My Lord! They are lying!"

West, who had been knocked flying earlier, actually bounded back up and scrambled over near the demigods, pointing at the old man and lambasting:

"To actually speak such blasphemy! What do you take the Angels for? Fools!?"

He turned around to face Soshyan, bowed, and pointed his finger at the rebellious serfs.

"Supremely honored Angel, you may not know this, but these unruly peasants are the most cunning of all; they often put on a pitiful act! Even though they farm the God-Emperor's land, every time taxes are collected, when asked for grain, there is no grain, and when asked for livestock, there is no livestock. In reality, they have everything! If you pry up their floorboards or smash open their walls, it's either underground or in a secret storage room! Also, in the valleys and deep ravines, they secretly hide unregistered farmland!"

Soshyan caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. The man was speaking until he was hoarse, filled with righteous indignation, just like an Inquisitor judging a heretic.

"My Lord! They may appear loyal and honest on the surface, but in reality, they are the best liars! They will lie about anything! The slightest dissatisfaction and they besiege the cities and tax collection agencies! Calling themselves obedient subjects—they are simply the stingiest, most cunning, most cowardly, most malicious, and most faithless! Every single moment they are thinking about how to undermine the authority of the Imperium, destroy faith in the God-Emperor, and satisfy their anarchistic desires!"

"You're talking nonsense!"

"You are the real liar! Murderer!"

West's words instantly provoked opposition from the serfs. Their necks and faces flushed red with anger. Had they not been afraid of the Angels' presence, they would have charged forward long ago to brawl with the landowner.

"You work people like animals! But feed us worse than animals! The taxes get heavier every year!"

A relatively thick, stocky man pointed at West and roared furiously:

"A few years ago, you took seventy percent! A year later, it became eighty percent, then eighty-five percent! In the end, it was ninety percent! How is anyone supposed to survive like that! How!"

"Why don't you mention you delayed your tax payments previously! I even advanced the money for you! Is it wrong to charge a little interest!?"

"There were torrential rains and floods that year—"

"Bullshit! The tax collectors don't care about that! We're the ones being pressured for taxes! Us! Not you! Yet you, you show no gratitude whatsoever!"

"Silence!"

With a stern shout, all the mortals simultaneously lowered their heads and shut their mouths.

Soshyan's gaze swept over the rebellious peasants, and then he said:

"Paying taxes is the eternal obligation of Imperial citizens. This point is irrefutable."

"Yes..."

The peasants' heads drooped even lower.

"But guaranteeing the most fundamental right of Imperial subjects to survive is also the responsibility of the Imperium."

Soshyan turned to West.

"Why did you sit by and watch Imperial subjects starve to death."

"No, no, no... I..."

West wiped the sweat from his forehead and responded in a low voice:

"We... we have always provided basic relief rations..."

"My Lord, he's lying!"