"My suffering compatriots, those greedy nobles and merchants have shamefully stolen our only sustenance to satisfy their own desires, allowing famine and plague to spread unchecked across the kingdom, letting our children die of hunger and pain!"
"And those very culprits who are to blame are now comfortably residing in their estates, before warm fireplaces, being waited on by servants, enjoying fine wine and meals, and using the most malicious tones to mock the hardship you and I face at this moment!"
"For centuries, those nobles have held themselves above us, trampling on our dignity as if we were no more than cattle, my fellow compatriots, the Kingdom should not have been this way... Now is the time to take back what is ours!"
In the Kingdom North Border, Ryder stood on a three-meter high boulder, fervently delivering a pre-war speech.
Below was a sea of disheveled poor people, whose anger visibly grew on their faces with each word Ryder spoke.
As Ryder had said, the wheat they had tirelessly grown was forcibly taken by those noble lords at extremely low prices, then sold for hundreds to thousands times more, and they, even after selling everything they owned, couldn't afford a few pieces of black bread, surviving only on grass roots and bark.
The ones who caused all this were earning a fortune, hiding comfortably in their estates.
Seeing the fury rising in the crowd's eyes, Ryder pressed on, fervently detailing their successful experiences of resisting noble tyranny elsewhere.
For instance, the miners in the southern territories had been oppressed by the nobles, forced to spend every day in dark, sunless mines, enduring beatings and exploitation from overseers, and even facing the constant risk of mine collapses.
But, with the Wizards' help, they had bravely stood up, killed the mine overseers, defended their rights in blood, and even captured the local Baron to publicly judge his misdeeds!
"Good!" "That's right, let those despicable nobles get what they deserve!" "They should be thrown into hell!"
Listening to Ryder's vivid recounting of the nobles being hanged and executed in fear, the gathered poor people found their bitter satisfaction, loudly cursing, although many also showed hesitations and couldn't help but ask.
"Lord Ryder, I heard that the Wizards have established many workshops in the capital, not only offering several silver coins a month but also three meals a day, is this true?"
"Of course, it's true, I assure you that as long as everyone works hard, no one will have to endure hunger again!" Ryder confidently declared, then started to explain the various welfare policies set by the council.
To the gathered poor, this seemed as wondrous as paradise in a dream, almost too surreal.
Luckily, due to the smooth trade, many had heard merchants in taverns boast about the prosperity of the capital, and many vouched that Ryder's claims were not fabricated.
One step back was hell, one step forward was paradise. Seeing the timing was ripe, Ryder immediately had several hundred matchlock guns distributed, then cried out with all his might.
"Now, everyone, take up the weapons in your hands, and reclaim what belongs to us!"
"Make those bastards pay the price!" "Send them to hell!"
A procession of thousands, chanting their slogans, marched mightily toward the nearest Marquis's territory.
And this scene almost replicated itself in every territory throughout the Kingdom's northwest border!
Ryder had dispersed ten thousand elite musketeers into hundreds of teams, and within a month, stirred up the oppressed local populace to rebel, all to launch a simultaneous strike today!
Though the peasants wielded only outdated matchlock guns and had barely a week's training each, sheer numbers and fueled by hatred and rage made them overwhelmingly powerful, even managing to turn some of the nobles' regular troops...
"Rabble, these damn rabble!"
In Hellder City of the Kingdom North Border, Duke Gard hid in his fortified stronghold, staring out the window at the shouting mob that wanted him hanged, his face filled with both fear and rage.
He had barely escaped capture by the Wizards, using a family heirloom Holy Artifact, fleeing back to his territory in panic, only to face this damn mob, who had him trapped in this fortress.
Luckily, lacking powerful siege weapons, the mob had given him a slight chance to breathe.
"Send an urgent letter for help immediately, these damn rabble, I want them flayed alive!" Gard, the Duke, ordered through gritted teeth.
The castle harbored a few gray crows used for sending messages, the only creatures now able to fly out of the fortress. His Holy Artifact had been used once already and wasn't suited for confronting a mob. His hope now rested on the minor nobles under his command who could bring an army to rescue him.
However, that last hope was shattered by a sudden voice within the fortress.
"Don't bother, by now the entire Kingdom North Border has probably fallen. The local lords are overwhelmed by their troubles and won't be able to come to your aid."