Regressor Of The Fallen Family [EN]: Chapter 111

Logan leaned back in his chair, the wooden frame creaking slightly. Papers covered his desk, filled with numbers and reports that seemed impossible just weeks ago. He sighed, then looked up as Dwayne spoke.

“So,” Dwayne said, his voice serious, “it’s come to this.”

“I will entrust Kai with the training. Instructors from the Logan Mercenary Corps will also be dispatched to each castle to oversee the training,” Dwayne continued.

“Very well,” Logan replied.

“Surely, you’re not shocked, are you?” Dwayne asked.

“Ah, no. It’s a good thing. I’ve learned a thing or two,” Logan said with a chuckle. “Dwayne, haha.”

Logan laughed, realizing something from the absurd outcome report. He had expected something bad, but something good happened unexpectedly because of human desire.

Human desire sometimes takes precedence over everything else.

Logan etched this newly realized truth into his heart.

The instructors from the mercenary corps, led by Kai, were put in charge of training the new soldiers. They were experts, but it was still hard work. The number of new soldiers had suddenly doubled! And that wasn’t all.

Kai read the notice again, his eyes widening. “Self-defense forces… in every village? Volunteers… crossbow training?” He looked up at Logan, confused. “Young Lord! How many soldiers are you planning to create!”

“My goal is 10,000 for now,” Logan answered.

Kai’s jaw dropped. He stared at Logan, speechless for a moment.

“10,000?” Kai finally asked.

“Yes,” Logan confirmed.

“Excluding the soldiers, 10,000 just for the self-defense force?”

“That’s right.”

“Why?!”

It was a question he’d heard often.

“You sound just like Dwayne! Why do you think? Because it’s necessary,” Logan explained.

“But you said we’re not going to war anymore?!”

“Well… the future is uncertain.”

War, again.

This man, he’s thinking of war again.

“10,000 crossbowmen. Yes, very good. But we don’t have enough crossbows right now, and we don’t know how many crossbow bolts they will need. Have you thought about that?” Kai asked.

“How curious,” Logan replied.

“Yes?”

“You sound exactly like Dwayne. Are you two brothers?”

Kai felt his strength draining away at Logan’s absurd remark.

“Ah. Ahem, just kidding. Don’t worry. I’ve already thought about that. I have a plan,” Logan said confidently.

“You’re saying you’ll figure it out somehow.”

“Yes. I’ll assign senior soldiers as assistant instructors. Tell me how many you want.”

“Even so……”

“I’m not kidding, a war we don’t want might happen. At that time, they could be our lifeline.”

“What kind of situation are you imagining……”

Kai shook his head in disbelief, but Logan didn’t laugh. Logan’s eyes were serious, and his voice was low.

This was still the beginning of the civil war. Kai and most people couldn’t imagine how long it would last, or how terrible it would become. They didn’t know that the war would change. It would start with trained soldiers, then turn into a war of mercenaries, hired with gold. And when the gold ran out, lords would force ordinary people to fight with spears and swords. It would become a total war. A living hell.

Logan was preparing for that time.

And even if that hell were to befall them again.

‘The 10,000 crossbowmen will only come from our territory.’

No matter how much the design of the rapid-fire crossbow is released, other rulers will not release it to the common territory people.

Logan was sure of that.

‘No matter how urgent the situation…….’

Other lords would not allow commoners to carry weapons that could kill knights.

‘They’ll think it could be poison that undermines the very foundation of the kingdom, a society with a firm class system.’

An absurd, selfish delusion.

If you make the territory people live well, a rebellion will not occur even if they carry something more than a crossbow.

‘From the beginning, the fundamental idea itself is wrong.’

He was using their flawed thinking against them to create a large army that others can’t even imagine.

That was one of the measures Logan had in mind to overturn the civil war.

And the first measure for that had already been taken.

The cart rattled and bumped along the rough road. Inside the iron cage, the dwarves were jostled together.

“I-is this the place?” one dwarf asked.

“Disgustingly many, these human blokes,” another grumbled.

“Shh. Watch your mouth. Who knows what kind of bloke the owner here is,” a third cautioned.

“Hmph, who cares. I’d rather die… Oh? Don’t tell me, you, a dwarf in name only, are going to throw away your last bit of pride and grovel to a human?”

“Eh, surely not. I’d rather die than do that.”

“Did you lose your pride because you lost an arm? Surely not?”

Clang!

“Oi, you dwarves, quiet down!”

The dwarves, who had been talking loudly all at once inside the iron cage, suddenly became quiet when a hand banged on the bars.

And Tamer, reading the atmosphere, scoffed inwardly.

He may have had an iron hook attached to his left arm instead of a proper hand, but they were not right in the head.

‘You think you’re protecting your pride just by not using honorifics, you blokes. Why don’t you realize that it only makes your situation more miserable.’

He, too, had tried to protect his pride in that way before losing this hand.

Only after losing an arm, and his blacksmithing skills declining because of it, was he able to abandon that useless pride.

That was why a dwarf who couldn’t even do blacksmithing properly had survived until now.

But the end of the thought that came to mind whenever he saw that iron hook hand was always the same.

‘Why. Why didn’t my ancestors leave during the Great Exodus and remain…….’

Was it because they couldn’t foresee the plight of their remaining descendants?

Or was there another reason?

A sense of skepticism about his own existence and a fundamental doubt about the current situation of the race.

The end of self-reflection always led to such frustrating imaginings with no answers.

And eventually.

‘Should I just…… die?’

It always ended with a thought that he couldn’t put into action.

As Tamer was once again thinking about his despair, the cart lurched to a stop. Tamer could hear voices outside, and the sound of horses. He peered through the bars and saw…

Neigh!

“Whoa, whoa. Here we are.”

“Oh. Welcome. Here’s the balance.”

“One, two, three……. That’s right. Thank you for the good deal.”

“No, we should be thanking you. Tell Hamar! Tell him the folks he mentioned have arrived!”

Tamer’s ears perked up as he listened quietly.

‘Hamar…… Sir?’

He clearly said ‘Sir’ just now.

The man who traded a large sum of money to buy them attached an honorific to a title that sounded like a dwarf’s name.

Curiosity arose at something he had rarely heard.

The eyes of the other dwarves, taken out of the cart’s iron bars and lining up in a row, were also shining with curiosity.

“Hey, human. Did you just say Hamar Sir?”

“Oh, dwarf. Do you know Hamar Sir?”

“Ah, no. Not that. Is that… person a dwarf?”

“That’s right. He’s the best craftsman in our territory.”

The eyes of the ten dwarves who had been dragged along lit up at the same time.

‘A dwarf is the best craftsman in a human territory?’

‘Does that mean he’s not being forced to work?’

‘Or is his skill so great that he’s amazing even if he’s forced to work…….’

While they were imagining many possibilities, the cart door opened.

“This man is truly amazing. He has changed this whole land with his inventions. That’s why everyone expects great things from you.”

The furry guide’s words made the dwarves even more excited.

“Just imagine! A human land where dwarves are treated well!”

“If it’s here, maybe we can finally be respected as true artisans!”

“There must be a powerful dwarf here, someone who understands us.”

A paradise where they would be seen as artists, not just machines making things.

Hope filled each dwarf’s heart. They imagined a new life.

Suddenly, a voice with a different accent than the humans reached their ears.

“Ah… You’ve come at last, my kin.”

Tamer and the other dwarves all turned to look.

They saw an older dwarf walking towards them. He looked strong and serious, even for a dwarf. He wore simple work clothes.

His work clothes had many pockets for tools.

His eyes shone with pride, not the sadness of a slave.

“Really, we can be respected here too….”

The dwarves’ eyes were full of hope as they looked at him.

“Welcome, slaves.”

……Huh?

“If you do exactly what you are told, you will be safe.”

Seeing his grinning fellow dwarf, Tamer felt a chill in his heart.

Just a few days later, Hamar’s workshop in McLaine Town was much bigger.

Five human artisans and their helpers were already working there. Now, ten new dwarves joined them. Almost thirty people were soon working in the workshop.

Luckily, the workshop was built outside town and had space to grow, so it was easy to make it bigger.

Also, Hamar had promised them the same thing he promised himself: “Work hard for 20 years, and you will be free.”

This promise should have made the new dwarves hopeful.

But the first thing the new dwarves heard in Hamar’s workshop was not what they expected.

“From now on, you are not artisans. You are… parts of a machine.”

Lines?

The dwarves were all bewildered by the word they were hearing for the first time in their lives.

Hamar ignored their confusion.

“Each of you will make only one part. You will repeat the same task over and over. This is what I call ‘division of labor’.”

“What is that…….”

“This way of working is proven to be faster. So, no arguing.”

They had to make almost 20,000 repeating crossbows, plus extra parts, and magazines – very quickly.

Hamar thought only of the deadline. ‘Just three months. If I fail…’ He shivered, remembering his master’s words: “Succeed, and you get a long holiday. Fail… well, you can imagine.”

He pictured his master’s devilish smile. He couldn’t make any mistakes.

But his fellow dwarves, whom he hadn’t seen in years, argued back.

“Make only the same parts. What are you talking about!”

“Why should we do work that any fool can do?”

“We are proud artisans! Even if you are a master, we cannot accept this kind of work!”

“Huh…….”

Hamar’s hand naturally clenched.

“So, you’re saying you are *too good* for this work?”

“No, we can’t! We are better off making whole crossbows ourselves, not just pieces….”

“Exactly! Give us a chance to show you what we can do! We will make amazing crossbows!”

“We need 200 crossbows *every day*, and three times as many magazines! Even with the human artisans and helpers doing all the extra work, do you think you can make 20 crossbows and 60 magazines *alone*? In one day? Even *I* can’t do that!”

His eyes gleamed, almost crazy.

The dwarves, about to shout back, fell silent when they saw his eyes.

But then Hamar said, “Artisan pride, eh? Fine, if you’re so sure of yourselves, I’ll give you a chance. But if you don’t make enough, be ready for the consequences.”

Hamar’s words challenged their pride, and the dwarves couldn’t back down.

But then, one dwarf spoke up.

“I will do as Hamar says!”

“Hmm?”

Everyone looked at the dwarf who had raised his hand.

Then they saw his steel hook, where his left hand should be, and they nodded, understanding.

Hamar nodded too.

“Temar, right? Yes, line work would be hard for you with that hand…”

“I believe dividing the work will be the fastest way to make crossbows.”

“Oh?”

“If someone keeps doing the same job, they will get better at it and faster too.”

“…That’s true.”

“Why make things harder than they need to be? I will be a line worker, not an artisan.”

Hamar nodded, pleased that Temar liked his system, and didn’t even mention his missing hand as a problem.

The other dwarves started to avoid Temar.

‘A dwarf who sucks up to humans,’ one thought. ‘He’s not one of us anymore,’ thought another. ‘He lost his pride, not just his hand. Shameful.’

As the other dwarves thought these things, Temar spoke again.

“But, to really understand how well this division of labor works, we should make a whole crossbow properly, just once. Please, let us try it, so we can see for ourselves.”

“Hmm?”

Now all the dwarves listened to Temar again.

“If everyone really sees how different this new way is from how we used to work, I think they will work much better.”

“So, this isn’t just about your pride, but about learning a new way of working?”

“Yes.”

Hamar looked at Temar, surprised.

“…You care about your fellow dwarves. That’s… good. I’ll give you one week to try it.”

“Thank you.”

“You have three days to learn how to make a whole crossbow. Then four days to make one yourselves. After that, anyone who wants to work alone must meet my daily goals.”

“What if we fail?”

Temar asked again. Maybe he was asking for the others, who were too afraid to ask themselves.

Hamar watched Temar closely. He seemed surprisingly helpful and kind for a dwarf.

“…No food or sleep until you make enough crossbows each day. And if that keeps happening, you will be ‘returned’.”

‘Returned.’

The dwarves all gulped at the cruel word. They looked at Temar, grateful he had asked.

Temar was now the most important dwarf among the newcomers.

Hamar was pleased. He thought Temar might be useful.

But later, Temar came to Hamar alone and asked something that changed Hamar’s good mood.

“Hamar, as you see, I only have one hand. I think I would be a better supervisor than a line worker…”

Hamar hid his disappointment and said sharply, “Absolutely not. No.”

“I, I’m sorry! I asked too much…”

Temar quickly stopped talking when Hamar’s face suddenly became angry.

“Supervising is *my* job. Forget about it.”

“……”

*This bastard…*

Both dwarves thought the same thing: *He’s cunning.*