Chapter 482 — The Newspaper Comes First
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
The clergy of Frostgate knew nothing of what was happening beyond the sealed city walls. In truth, even without the blockade they would not have noticed the infiltration and subversion rising from the lowest of the common folk. Since that day of public burning at the stake in the square, Frostgate had fallen into a temporary calm. The prelates of the Great Cathedral believed that burning those propaganda materials had solved the problem—that at the very least they had halted Cecil's further sabotage in time. In reality, a far more turbulent force was brewing beneath that illusion of calm, brewing in every corner of the blockaded city.
Rumors of uncertain origin began to spread through the city. After nightfall people gathered furtively in their homes, discussing the dwindling rations and the locked gates of the cathedral district. Some said they had seen cartloads of grain hauled into the cathedral quarter; some said the vaults beneath Frostgate Cathedral held enough food to feed the whole city for a year; and other, more disturbing reports claimed that the city's clergy had already begun making preparations to flee. Rumors of every shape and color seemed to sprout overnight, blossoming everywhere, then spreading swiftly through the entire outer city.
And more leaflets and pamphlets still, amid this surging undercurrent, found their way into the city by hidden channels.
The burnings and executions in the square had indeed produced a powerful deterrent effect. A great many commoners were cowed, and when the new leaflets appeared, many promptly chose to hand them in of their own accord—but others chose to secretly keep them. In this second batch of leaflets there was not only exposure of the Daylight Church, but descriptions of another, better life: a more enlightened faith, a more prosperous life, and the Holy Light that belonged to everyone. To the people of Lu'an, already enduring a long life of high-pressure blockade, these things held an indescribable allure.
Thus, even as great numbers of leaflets were voluntarily surrendered, others passed into more secret channels of circulation. They spread through neglected alleys, spread through dim nights, spread among a hungry and frightened people. Their passage may have been harder, yet they left a deeper impression in people's hearts—and in the process, Frostgate was quietly splitting apart in ways almost impossible to perceive.
The prelates in the Great Cathedral would likely never understand why those leaflets held such allure for commoners. But the Military Intelligence agents carrying out sabotage within the city understood it perfectly: before Cecil's rise, no group of extraordinary beings or nobles in this world had ever spoken to the people with the attitude of addressing a "person"—even if that address was only a few lines printed on paper, only a few greetings, a few words of encouragement, a few promises. The warmth they carried was precious beyond measure in this cold age.
The commoners of Frostgate counted among the upper tier of commoners. They were wealthier, more respectable, more literate than ordinary folk—but commoners they remained. In an age where every person knew their rank, they were still the lowest stratum within Myrjade. In peaceful and prosperous times they might live better than people elsewhere, but once times grew hard, their living conditions would plummet—and that vast落差 only deepened the discontent in their hearts, widening the gulf between them and the city's clergy.