Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World

TL: Etude Translations

On a day in late October of the year 1994 of the Holy Calendar, the chilly winds of autumn filled the Northwest Bay.

In an open field next to the village of Totor, a herdsman, clad in thin clothing, was cautiously tending to several cows.

Not far away, an old cow swished its tail and, with a rustling sound, a large pile of greenish-brown cow dung landed on the ground, resembling a steaming heap of hay.

The herdsman’s face lit up with joy. Without any hesitation, he ran over and plunged his bare feet into the pile, immediately feeling as if the whole world had warmed up.

Just as he was basking in this rare moment of bliss, the sound of galloping horses and the ensuing cloud of dust approached from the road in the distance. A group of riders was hastening towards Totor village.

“Dressed so properly, they must be from the city. Perhaps friends of Lord Fubinen from Port Fran,” the herdsman guessed.

As the riders drew near and halted, seemingly engaged in a discussion, the herdsman was startled. “Have I offended them in any way?” he wondered, frozen in place.

“Hey, you there!” shouted one of the approaching riders.

The rider in black scoffed, “Of course, who else would I be calling, the cows? Listen, I…”

He then noticed the herdsman’s peculiar way of warming himself.

“Good heavens, what in the world is this bumpkin doing?”

Suppressing his discomfort, he frowned and asked, “Who are you in this place?”

Shivering partly from the cold and partly from fear, the herdsman replied, “I’m a farmer living here.”

“Are these cows your own?”

“No, they belong to Lord Fubinen.”

“Hmph! A mere country squire dares to call himself a lord. Is that arrogant fellow in the village?”

Realizing that the visitors harbored ill intentions towards Lord Fubinen, the herdsman decided it was best to stay out of matters concerning such important people.

“He should be at his home right now,” he said, pointing towards a large house at the center of Totor village.

The rider in black turned his horse and rejoined his group.

“Sir Hayden, that Fubinen should be in his house. Shall we storm in and arrest him?” he suggested.

“Not so fast!” the head of the Department of Public Safety, Russ Hayden, said, stroking his beard. “Let’s wait for the others to arrive. We need to make a grand entrance to demonstrate Lord Grayman’s wrath.”

As Russ Hayden finished speaking, a group of policemen in uniformed black attire arrived, panting from their brisk pace.

Seeing his team assembled, Russ Hayden turned to a young man and said, “Lieutenant Makarov, watch closely. Soon, we’ll give our brothers in the army an explanation.”

Lieutenant Makarov silently saluted in response.

The military had been riled up by the events in Totor village, incensed by the thought of their own families potentially facing a similar fate if such criminals were not punished. Fortunately, their commander, Count Paul Grayman, had assured them of serious action. Many soldiers had volunteered to partake in Fubinen’s arrest, but Count Grayman had only allowed a few representatives, including Platoon Leader Makarov, to witness the trial.

That day, the villagers of Totor witnessed a scene they could never have imagined in their wildest dreams.

A large group of people, all dressed in standard black uniforms, surrounded Lord Fubinen’s mansion, sealing it off completely.

As the servants and guards inside attempted to come out and intervene, they were quickly subdued, bound, and controlled by the men in black, who brandished their shiny swords with a menacing air.

At the main entrance, Russ Hayden, mounted on a tall horse, addressed the villagers, who had gathered around out of curiosity: “Respectable villagers who abide by the law, I am Russ Hayden, the head of the Department of Public Safety under Count Paul Grayman. I am here not for any trivial matter, but to administer justice. The case of Fubinen seizing the land meant for soldiers’ compensation has been thoroughly investigated by Lord Grayman. Today, I, along with the judge sent by the Lord’s court, will hold a public trial here to judge this criminal.”

Upon hearing Hayden’s announcement, the villagers were stunned.

“Is the lord really going to deliver justice for us, the common folk?”

Soon, several raggedly dressed men and women ran forward, kneeling before Hayden, crying and shouting, “Long live Lord Grayman!”

Makarov, who was by Hayden’s side, immediately dismounted to help them up, offering words of comfort.

Hayden, observing them, thought, “These must be the real victims of this incident.”

While Hayden was addressing the crowd, Fubinen’s mansion was in chaos, and several people with their hands bound were escorted out.

The last to be brought out was the main culprit, Fubinen himself, who was carried out in a drunken stupor, oblivious to what was happening.

“Ha ha! Is this some new kind of drama? So many people… urgh!”

Hayden dismounted, pinched his nose, approached Fubinen, grabbed his collar, and said, “Fubinen, you’re in deep trouble now!”

“Trouble? What trouble?” Fubinen slurred, still unaware of the impending doom.

With a snort of disgust, Hayden tossed him aside and ordered, “Gather all the villagers. The public trial starts immediately.”

Thus, in the village’s threshing ground, a unique trial began.

The judge, who came with the police, first listed the major accusations against Fubinen in the land seizure case, including the abuse of his position as a tax collector, usury, and bullying the families of martyrs.

Then, the judge loudly encouraged everyone present to report any of Fubinen’s misdeeds.

A man emerged from the crowd, wearing a patched priest’s robe. It was Father Hersh, the village priest Paul had met in Port Fran. Overwhelmed with emotion and trembling with excitement at the opportunity to bring down the tyrant, he stood up when no one else responded to the judge.

“Fellow villagers, trust in the Lord’s court. Speak up if you have any grievances!”

Still, no one dared to come forward until the judge announced something crucial. By order of Lord Grayman, Fubinen’s lands would be distributed to landless and less fortunate families in the village, with those who exposed Fubinen’s crimes receiving a larger share. This announcement ignited a fervor among the crowd.

The trial quickly turned into a session of grievances, with long-hidden atrocities coming to light.

Hearing that his lands would be distributed, Fubinen’s family protested loudly, demanding to see the lord to plead their case, but no one paid them any attention.

In the end, the judge quietly asked Hayden, “What should the verdict be?”

Hayden grunted, “Just as Lord Grayman ordered.”

Paul had instructed that if Fubinen’s crimes were limited to those already known, he would be spared his life, but any additional proven offense would result in a death sentence.

Given the revelations from the trial, several crimes involving loss of life were indisputably proven.

Fubinen, still drunk, was sentenced to death, perhaps regaining sobriety only when the noose tightened around his neck, but by then it was too late.

Along with Fubinen, several of his henchmen, guilty of murder, were also executed.

Fubinen’s other family members and servants were punished according to their crimes, with the rest dispersed or assimilated as ordinary villagers.

Thus, a family that had “shone” for generations was utterly ruined.

The public trial concluded amidst praises for the lord.

After Hayden announced the establishment of a traveling court and related matters, the eagerly anticipated land distribution began. This process, however, would not be completed in a day or two. Officials from Lakeheart Town would arrive to audit Fubinen’s assets and oversee the distribution.

The news of Fubinen’s family’s downfall spread throughout Alda and even other territories with the cold winds.