A Treacherous Courtier Manages the Empire Well

55 – Unbelievable Rebellion

“Rashid, what’s going on?”

Sultan, who was researching weapons capable of piercing the scales of dragons with his second son Amir, was taken aback when he saw his eldest son suddenly appear. He had said he was going to negotiate with Randor, so did he bring some good news?

Rashid’s expression seemed more serious than ever before.

“Sultan.”

“Speak. My son Rashid.”

“Sultan, are you going to stop sending spies?”

Sultan’s eyebrows twitched at Rashid’s words.

“What do you mean? Did Randor figure something out?”

“He couldn’t have missed it.”

“If he did, you should have threatened with the herbs you developed! If you said you would stop the spice trade, they wouldn’t dare to move either!”

Rashid bit his lip at Sultan’s words. Truly, this man did not understand economics. Conquest. He only knew conquest. While Rashid did not deny the progress achieved under such tendencies, the country could no longer function that way.

“Sultan! You must stop now!”

Both Sultan and Amir were surprised at Rashid’s shout. They had never seen Rashid, who had never raised his voice, display such intense emotions before.

“The war with Aylam will bring ruin, not prosperity to Karamba! Have you not realized that a war with more losses than gains is imminent!”

“The Rako Mountains, dragons, and solving food problems are all that matter, Rashid!”

“No! That’s not true! The enemies have developed powerful weapons! We won’t win easily as in past wars! If only we could coexist peacefully! If only Sultan’s lust for conquest fades, think about how much this country could develop!”

Sultan’s face began to turn red as Rashid spoke.

“Are you saying I am wrong now!”

“Yes! You are wrong! Conquering Aylam is a different issue from unifying the small nations of Karamba! Even if you complete the conquest, can you absorb the magic civilization of that country? Will their wizards and people who have burned lands and slaughtered neighbors pledge allegiance to Sultan!”

“Then they too will be trampled by my elephants!”

“Aylam is overwhelmingly colder than Karamba. The Sultan’s army will never be able to conquer every part of Aylam! Sultan! Please come to your senses! Further war is more poisonous to Karamba!”

“You!”

In the end, enraged Sultan drew his sword and charged towards Rashid, but Rashid just stood still. Sultan could only stagger at his confident son, unable to take any action. If he were to strike Rashid, who would manage Damqba?

There was no alternative when thought upon.

“Leave it to me. Do not let Sultan’s wars interfere any longer with the economies of Damqba and Karamba! Instead of sending spies and preparing for war! It is time to search for and find ways to coexist for a long time! Sultan!”

“Can’t you shut that mouth?!”

Finally, Sultan, in his anger, slapped his son’s cheek. As Rashid fell to the ground, Sultan, in his fury, called for the execution squad.

“Lock this man in the underground prison! Lock him up in the deepest place, and when he regains his senses, then release him!”

“Yes!”

Rashid began to be dragged away. However, he had a strangely confident expression. Amir, while feeling betrayed by his brother’s treason, couldn’t understand why he was acting that way.

But both Sultan and Amir realized the next day.

They could see why Rashid dared to defy the absolute ruler of Karamba.

“Sultan.”

“What is it?”

“The merchants of Damqba are on a large-scale strike.”

“What did you say?”

“All logistics and economy have come to a halt, especially the grain imports and soda imports to the nomadic tribes in the wastelands have stopped.”

The day after Rashid was imprisoned.

The imperial economy of Karamba came to a standstill.

The ruling class of Karamba consisted of military generals and shamans.

As Sultan’s empire was built through conquest wars, it was a structure where those who stood at the forefront of war naturally seized power.

Thus, to shake Sultan’s power, one had to shake the army or the shamans.

From that perspective, the strike of Rashid’s merchants seemed like a futile rebellion that couldn’t shake Sultan’s power at first glance.

But to cut to the chase, it was not.

The merchants’ strike brought a dangerous crack to Sultan’s power.

And at its core were the nomadic warrior tribes, accounting for over 40% of Sultan’s army.

“We can’t use the air conditioner and refrigerator anymore?”

“Yes! We need to buy elixirs from Aylam to charge the magic stones, but because of the merchants’ strike, it seems like the refrigerators and air conditioners will stop working!”

“This is insane! What about the soda?!”

“Of course, we can’t drink it! Father! It seems like there’s a fight over grains in the nearby market due to rumors of bankruptcy!”

The nomadic tribes of the wastelands.

People who lived in harsh lands and deserts, unlike other nomadic tribes with fertile lands. To them, air conditioners, refrigerators, and soda were highly popular products.

And the grain imported from Aylam to Damqba was an indispensable lifeline for them.

“Why on earth did they go on strike?!”

“It’s because Sultan imprisoned Prince Rashid! Chief of the tribe!”

“What will happen if we run out of food? Chief of the tribe!”

“We can solve the food problem by plundering the Golden Plains!”

“Grains can be solved that way. But isn’t the Golden Plains the territory of Lord Randor of Aylam?”

“If we plunder that place, will Randor sell us elixirs and soda again after the strike is over?”

“We may not know about grains, but soda is only produced in Aylam! Chief of the tribe!”

A national snack for the soul.

Cider.

Now, the people of Karamba had become bodies that couldn’t survive without cider.

From the perspective of a bystander watching from afar, it might seem truly amusing, but wasn’t it said that life is a comedy from a distance and a tragedy up close?

“Damn it. Why should we suffer not being able to drink our beloved cider because of the Sultan’s judgment!”

It was absurd that the military power symbol, which could be said to be the symbol of the Sultan’s power, was beginning to waver, but it was all because of cider.

The nomadic warriors of the barren lands, who made plunder their livelihood, were quick-tempered and fiery.

It was the third day of the strike led by Dagamba.

The warriors of the nomadic tribe, who were residing in their homeland, began to gather at the Ururu Crescent Triangle to confront the Sultan for an explanation.

Naturally, the Imperial Guards and sorcerers who protected the Crescent Triangle had to urgently send forces to confront them. The Sultan himself was on the verge of panic.

“Chief. Why on earth have you led the army up here? Don’t you realize this could be considered treason?”

The Sultan had no choice but to meet with Shahrakh, the chief representing the nomads of the barren lands.

But Shahrakh was not to be underestimated.

“We’ve come here laying down all arms, Sultan. We didn’t come for war. We merely came to demand. They say Dagamba’s merchants have gone on strike. That’s why our people are deprived of cider.”

“It’s because of Rashid. He has betrayed me.”

“Betrayal or whatever it may be. That’s a matter within the Sultan’s household, and I can’t say anything about it. But the fact that the tribespeople can’t use air conditioning and refrigerators or drink cider is a serious issue. Sultan. We need the elixirs of the alchemists that can power refrigerators and air conditioners, and cider.”

The Sultan had to feel the headache of the anticipated situation. Rashid must have known this situation was bound to explode. He must have calculated and decided to rebel.

As the forces that were indispensable in the Sultan’s army, the Sultan was inclined to try to accommodate Shahrakh’s sincere demands.

But this time, it was different.

What Rashid had demanded from him was to cease the elixirs and the war altogether. From the Sultan’s greedy perspective, agreeing to such terms was out of the question.

“I cannot grant Rashid’s request. He has committed a great betrayal against me. He will serve as an example.”

“Sultan.”

“I will send sorcerers and the Imperial Guard to Dagamba’s merchants. I will forcefully disband the strike. Wouldn’t that solve the issue?”

“How long will you keep this up? Sultan! Don’t you know better than anyone how devoted the merchants are to Prince Rashid? Moreover, with Dagamba lacking a supreme authority figure, it won’t function as efficiently as before!”

Prince Rashid was the one who provided a political foundation for the merchants and scholars to thrive in Karamba, where soldiers and battle sorcerers had seized power.

In reality, forcing merchants and scholars, who essentially represented the middle class, to work under such circumstances would only increase the merchants’ resentment towards the Sultan. Moreover, Shahrakh’s words were valid.

Without a supreme authority figure, even if forced, Dagamba would never return to its previous state.

The Sultan felt a headache coming on.

“Step back, Shahrakh. I will talk to Rashid.”

Killing was out of the question.

The Sultan was determined to somehow persuade Rashid.

But Shahrakh was not a patient man who would wait for that.

They had survived by preying on other tribes if they had nothing to eat. In essence, despite being part of the Sultan’s army, they were nothing but thieves.

“How long will you keep this up! Sultan! Why did you imprison Prince Rashid? Specifically, what did he rebel against? Even if you don’t understand what he said, please listen!”

“Shahrakh! That is for me to judge! Do not overstep your bounds!”

“Sultan!!!”

Shahrakh raised his voice in front of the Sultan. It was a tremendous disrespect. In a normal situation, if it had been anyone else, their head would have been on the line by now. But this was not a normal situation.

“Do you not know what my tribespeople are like! If they are denied what they desire, they are the kind who will forcefully take it! If they are deprived of cider in a few days, it means my head will roll!”

Shahrakh was also in a precarious position.

If Shahrakh disappeared, the barely unified nomadic tribes of the barren lands would scatter once again, and there was a high chance they would start plundering once more.

If that happened, from Karamba’s perspective, there was no such headache.

The Sultan realized that he was no longer in a position to postpone his response.

“Randor….”

Randor must have said something to Rashid.

Once again, Karamba was being played by his schemes.

But what could be done.

As the Sultan, he had no choice.

In the future, this historic event, recorded under the laughable name of the “Cider Uprising” in Karamba’s history books, would ultimately come to an end.

“Understood. Shirah. Tell the people of Dagamba that within a few days, things will return to normal. I will release Rashid.”

It ended with the Sultan’s surrender.