The sun rose as usual the next day, but Montelupo had changed.
Fear enveloped every corner of the city.
But spreading alongside the fear was an unprecedented order.
On the streets, Leithanien soldiers patrolled in neat formation. They were stern and unsmiling, yet they did not harass civilians.
Overnight, the once rampant family thugs had vanished without a trace.
Governor Herlinmarte's iron fist had shattered the old world's rules.
Now, it was time for Emperor Lacey's grace to take the stage.
In the morning, a notice titled "Siracusa Land and Property Redistribution Act" was posted in front of the council hall and at every street corner in the city.
This act was more shocking than last night's gunshots.
The notice declared: All confiscated family lands, manors, factories, and shops were to be nationalized under the "Schtong Grand Region" and redistributed.
The distribution principles were specified as follows:
First, suburban farmlands would be divided into standard-sized farms and leased free of charge to landless or smallholding peasant families, as well as former family armed personnel who registered voluntarily and chose to transition to civilian life.
The lease term was thirty years, requiring only a minimal annual land use tax.
Those who farmed continuously for ten years and met output standards could gain permanent ownership of the land.
Second, urban manors and mansions would be converted into public schools, people's clinics, affordable housing, and public libraries.
Third, all confiscated factories would be taken over by imperial specialists and reorganized into new state-owned enterprises.
Priority would be given to producing military uniforms, canned goods, building materials, and other supplies to support the empire's people's infrastructure plan, gradually integrating into Leithanien's economic cycle.
All unemployed citizens of Montelupo could apply for factory jobs, with priority for veterans and former family members who passed political review.
If yesterday's governor's order was hell's verdict, then today's redistribution act was heaven's gospel.
Word spread, and Montelupo's underclass boiled over.
Thousands of citizens surged to the notice boards, reading the text over and over, as if every word gleamed with gold.
Many wept uncontrollably as they read.
They had toiled for the families their whole lives, receiving only meager wages and the constant threat of disaster.
They had never imagined owning their own land one day, or their children entering bright classrooms.
Lavinia Falcone stood among the crowd, watching it all.
She had been selected by Herlinmarte and appointed as one of the Siracusa representatives on the "Asset Liquidation and Redistribution Committee," responsible for the area once dominated by her own family.
Before her knelt several collateral relatives of the Falcone family.
These people had sneered at her as a traitor yesterday, but today they wept and begged, pleading for her to allocate more property for blood's sake.
"Lavinia, for the uncle who held you as a baby, give that manor to our family!"
"And me, cousin! I'll do anything for you! That silk shop in the city was always ours!"
Lavinia looked at their ugly faces, her last trace of family attachment vanishing.
"Per the act, you can apply for land and jobs like all citizens." Her voice was resolute.
"But expecting privileges from the 'Falcone' name is impossible from today onward."
Ignoring their curses, she turned and left.
Meanwhile, in an office converted into the "Temporary Medical and Education Department," historian Giancarlo was vexed over another matter.
He had been appointed head of the Siracusa new textbook compilation team.
Now, he argued heatedly with an education specialist from Trullinczentyr.
"Commissioner, I understand emphasizing the historical ties between Leithanien and Siracusa is important, but..."
"Are you sure you want to include the 'Painting Hero incident' in our elementary history textbooks?"
Giancarlo pointed at the draft, exasperated.
"As far as I know, this incident happened on the Leithanien border, resisting someone named... Bach? What does it have to do with Siracusa?"
The Leithanien specialist with gold-rimmed glasses pushed them up seriously.
"Mr. Giancarlo, you must understand education's essence."
"History serves politics."
"The 'Painting Hero incident' was a resistance struggle personally experienced by His Majesty the Emperor, symbolizing the first cry against old oppressive forces."
"Teaching it to Siracusa's children helps them understand His Majesty's revolutionary cause has always aimed to liberate all oppressed peoples, including them."
"But... it doesn't fit the textbook content!"
"We can handle it flexibly." The specialist waved dismissively, as if Giancarlo were naive.
"We can write: In our neighbor Leithanien, when brave Mr. Lacey rose for the people, Siracusa's people suffered similar hardships."
"That builds emotional resonance, doesn't it?"
Giancarlo opened his mouth, then gave up.
Looking out the window, in the square, workers were laying the foundation for a massive white stone monument.
That was the "Liberation Monument" ordered by Emperor Lacey himself.
From the design he'd seen, the main statue depicted a tall Leithanien soldier bending down, handing a piece of bread to a gaunt Siracusa child.
Giancarlo suddenly understood.
The Leithanians weren't just conquering land; they sought hearts.
With bread, land, and a new history, they would fully integrate Siracusa into Leithanien for the next century.
...
In the evening, an ordinary train pulled slowly into Montelupo Central Station.
Few knew of its arrival.
The doors opened, and Lacey, in dark casual attire, stepped down accompanied by Serafina and several guards.
He did not go to the council hall but walked directly to a nearby newly opened people's clinic.
Inside, citizens queued for free medicine.
Seeing the emperor appear suddenly, all were stunned and knelt.
"Rise, everyone." Lacey's voice was gentle.
"On Leithanien soil, no one needs to kneel."
He approached an Infected receiving treatment—an elderly man whose Originium crystals had spread from his arm to his neck.
In old Siracusa, he wouldn't have been allowed near noble streets.
Lacey showed no disgust, inquiring about the man's condition from the military doctor and personally handing him a cup of warm water.
The elder clutched the cup, staring at the young man with watery eyes, lips trembling, speechless.
This moment was forever captured by the accompanying reporter's camera.
That night, Lacey went to the suburban military camp, lining up with the engineers responsible for city infrastructure to get food.
He carried a tray with the same oatmeal porridge and stew as the soldiers, sitting casually on a bench, chatting with the young troops beside him.
"Where's home?"
"Report, Your Majesty! Trullinczentyr workers' district!"
"Oh? Are the new houses there built? Moved in?"
"Moved in! Two bedrooms, one living room! With private bathroom!"
"My sister says it's better than the old nobles' houses!"
The young soldier's face beamed with genuine happiness and pride.
Lacey smiled.
He could clearly feel warm, pure power surging from these reborn soldiers, workers, and civilians, flowing into him.
His arrival, every action, spread rapidly through newspapers, radio, and soldiers' word-of-mouth across all of Siracusa.
________________________________________
Get rewarded for helping with our community goals!
🎯 Reward for all: +1 bonus chapter at 50 Powerstones.
🚀 Tier Reward: Help us reach 20 members for +5 chapters on all stories!
👻 Join the crew by searching Ms. Medusa on (P). You know the spot! 😉