My Declaration

"In this world, just staying alive is already hard enough."

"We live in an abandoned mine from before the war. With the shoddiest tools—or even our bare hands—we dig up minerals and trade them to other survivor camps for scraps. We've never hurt anyone. We only want to survive, yet even so, some people have set their greedy eyes on us."

The gaunt, dark-skinned man kneeling before Gu Hang was named Patel. He was neither tall nor sturdy. Beneath his thin, filthy clothes was rough skin. From his appearance, he really did look like someone who scraped by working in a derelict mine, just as he'd said.

Patel continued, "Eight days ago, a group of wasteland bandits calling themselves the Prisoner-Dead killed seventeen of us and kidnapped forty-two. God-Emperor above, the youngest was only four! They demanded a ransom, and we paid it, but they only grew more brazen. They didn't release anyone; they demanded even more."

"I went to Revival City and found an official from the Alliance, begging them for help. They sent someone to issue the Prisoner-Dead a written warning, telling them to stop their reckless behavior..."

"Heh. A warning... The day before yesterday, those bandits slit the throats of two children right outside our home, then used their blood to tear that worthless piece of paper to shreds. They said we had three days to pay twice the ransom, or they'd attack our mine, kill everyone, and take everything we had."

"We're desperate. Some say we should run. Others say we should fight those bandits with guns and cannons, even if all we have are picks and fists. But I know we're not out of options. This world has a new governor now. I had to come beg you for help, Governor. I beg you to save us."

Patel lowered his head, his manner sincere. From where he knelt, all he could see were Gu Hang's boots. They were soft leather, with satin ribbons fastened by golden buckles, elegant and ornate.

The more than nine hundred people of the Waste Mine Society would have to work themselves to the bone without food or rest for who knew how long to afford a pair like those.

The boots moved before his eyes. Gu Hang crossed his legs, settling into a more comfortable position before asking, "Why didn't you come to me before you went to the Alliance?"

Patel froze for a moment, then could only stammer out an excuse. "We're members of the Alliance. The Alliance should be responsible for handling this..."

Gu Hang shook his head. "You think you're part of the Alliance, that it'll protect you, while I'm just some governor dropped in from elsewhere—someone who might not even last two years in this position before meeting the same fate as the governors before me, executed for failing to pay the Empire's taxes. You think I don't matter. It was only when the Alliance wouldn't help either and you had nowhere else to turn that you came to me."

"I swear, I never thought that!" Patel denied in alarm. He clenched his back teeth, steeling himself to make a major commitment. "If you save us, we'll give everything we have! In two years, we'll pay the Empire's tax at an even higher rate!"

Gu Hang looked even more disappointed. "Let me put it this way, Patel. You know perfectly well that I arrived on this planet a month ago. My camp is right here, not far from you. But you never came to see me. You waited until trouble struck, then knelt before me and said, 'Governor, please save us.' Deep down, you never considered me a real governor. You weren't even willing to believe the declaration I made on my first day here."

"I said I would rebuild the entire wasteland and give everyone who submitted to me a good life. But you didn't believe me. Many of you never did. You only saw me as an obnoxious tax collector. You want to pay taxes in exchange for me saving your people, but how do you think you'll pay? By the Empire's tax standards, everyone in the Waste Mine Society could work themselves to death in the mines and still not earn enough."

Patel's dark, sharp-featured face was taut with anxiety. "Governor, I believe you. Please save us."

As he spoke, he started to slam his forehead against the ground.

But Gu Hang stopped him.

A pair of hands gripped Patel's shoulders and lifted him to his feet, leaving him no room to resist.

Gu Hang put an arm around Patel's shoulders, not caring in the least about the grease and dust on his clothes.

"No need to bang your head or kneel. I'll help hardworking, honest people like you. Those who produce nothing and prey on others are our common enemy. But they're only a minor problem. Rebuilding the world is what matters. I'm not just saying that. Since you've come to ask for my help, I'll save your people completely. I won't just wipe out the Prisoner-Dead; I'll help you build up your territory and live in comfort and plenty. Now tell me—do you believe me?"

Tears ran down Patel's face. It was hard to say how many came from gratitude, how many from relief at being saved, and how many were for show. "I believe you! I believe you completely! From this day on, the Waste Mine Society will fight for your ideals!"

"This should be our shared ideal."

Gu Hang patted Patel on the shoulder. "Go get some rest. It won't be long before I personally lead my troops to rescue your people."

"God-Emperor above, my people and I are deeply grateful for your help!"

After watching Patel thank him profusely as he left the barracks with a guard, Gu Hang turned to the uniformed man standing ramrod straight behind him and to one side. "Captain Yan, your eyes tell me something's bothering you."

Yan Fangxu saluted him, then hesitantly said, "Are we really going to help the Waste Mine Society? Things like this happen almost every day on this wasteland planet. We can't help everyone."

Gu Hang said regretfully, "I see you don't believe in my declaration either, Captain Yan."

"I wouldn't dare say that." Yan Fangxu said it, but he did have his doubts. "But... with all due respect, Governor, you only have two years. In that time, we need to pay at least the minimum Empire tax for all of Nuxiao Planet. Otherwise..."

Gu Hang picked up where he left off. "Otherwise, I'll be removed from office and executed. I know. But, Captain Yan, we've been on this planet for a month now. You've seen what it's like. This place suffered an apocalyptic catastrophe. Most of the land is uninhabitable, and the Wasteland Energy Storm still rages. Mutated Xenos monsters and bandits who can't survive any other way are everywhere. The remaining survivors hide in scattered settlements, struggling to stay alive."

"They're already having a hard enough time surviving. They can't possibly afford taxes that high. Collecting taxes is the same as taking their lives. The conflict between the Empire's tax demands and the planet's development is Nuxiao Planet's central problem. The governors before me focused on taxes. The Empire's tax collection every two years was like a death sentence, and in the end, it took their lives. But I'm different. I'll take a different approach. Development is what matters. If we make Nuxiao Planet more prosperous, taxes will be a minor burden, and we'll have succeeded."

Yan Fangxu sighed. "You're right. Development is the way forward. But it takes time, and time is exactly what we don't have. Your first term is only two years. We need to pay at least a quarter of the Empire's standard tax, but Nuxiao Planet has always managed only an eighth. We're still short by half. To double the planet's output in two years... that's..."

"That'll depend on what I can do." Gu Hang smiled. "Fortunately, I have some confidence in that."

As he spoke, a phantom message appeared before his eyes, visible only to him:

[1st Servitor Light Infantry Battalion (300 men) has completed training. Unit level increased to T5.]

[Due to limitations in equipment and personnel quality, this unit cannot undergo further training.]

Gu Hang's smile widened. He patted Yan Fangxu, who was still full of worry, on the shoulder and said, "Muster our troops. It's time we got our neighbor some justice."

A new book is here!

P.S. It's not Warhammer—not entirely, at least.