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The Tyrant’s POV

Ernest Teucher was a tyrant that ruled over an empire that dominated the world through culture, politics, and technology. He reigned supreme, and other countries could only bow their heads as he dictated every move on the global stage. Ernest Teucher's rule was marked by an iron grip, but even tyrants are not immune to the ravages of time. As he aged, his control wavered, and whispers of rebellion began to stir in the shadows of his empire. Nonetheless, Ernest died peacefully in his sleep, a rarity for one of his reputation, at the ripe old age of 92. His death, however, was not the end but a peculiar beginning. Ernest found himself transmigrated into another world. He awoke in the dirty backstreets of a war-torn city as a teenager with memories of it serving a country in the war that was defeated disastrously. The peace treaty imposed crippling reparations, plunging the already struggling nation deeper into economic despair. The streets became rife with poverty, homelessness, and a palpable sense of defeat. Amidst this chaos, Ernest believed that he could change the fate of his new country by becoming the ruler of it. Follow the story of Ernest Teucher as he began his quest for power and restore his glory in another world.

SorryImJustDiamond · Sejarah
Peringkat tidak cukup
18 Chs

The Growing Influence

The Crentian Tribune Newspaper company that the Crentian Workers Party had acquired has proved to be an effective tool for spreading their words to the people of Crentis. The number of attendees grew exponentially and there were also a lot of people signing up to join the fledgling party.

Even the Party leaders are starting to notice Ernest's crucial role in the party.

"Without Ernest, I don't think we'd grow to this number," Kleist said. 

"That's true," Weber agreed. "But who knows what he'll do in the future. He is a man that we can't seemingly control. He is a smart man and a man like him can be unpredictable," Weber continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. "It's good that he's on our side, but we should keep an eye on him."

Kleist shrugged. "The important thing is that he's helping us grow. We wouldn't be able to gain this much momentum without him." He paused for a moment, then asked, "What do you think, Hoffman? Should we be worried about Ernest's influence on the party?"

Hoffman, the party's finance handler, leaned back in his chair. "He's valuable, no doubt about that. But there's a fine line between being an asset and becoming a liability. If he starts to think that he's indispensable, it could create tension within the leadership." 

"You guys are overthinking it. We found the man we are looking for, the Messiah, the one who would bring the Kingdom of Crentis back to its former glory," Karl Schmidt said, his voice firm. "Sure, he has a lot of influence, but that's what we need right now. If we start questioning his methods, we'll undermine our own progress."

Weber frowned, not entirely convinced. "I just think we should be cautious. Too much influence in one person's hands could lead to power struggles down the road."

"Or it could lead us to victory," Schmidt countered. "Look, Ernest has the charisma and the vision to unite the people. That's what we need right now. If we start doubting him, we might lose the momentum we've gained."

Kleist nodded, still undecided. "We can't forget that he's part of our leadership. We'll just have to monitor the situation closely and make sure he doesn't overstep his bounds. As long as he's aligned with our goals, we should be fine."

Weber agreed, albeit reluctantly. "Fine, let's keep an eye on him. But let's also make sure we don't give him too much autonomy."

With the leaders reaching a tentative agreement, the discussion shifted to other matters.

"Now, I have a proposal for you everyone, one that can strengthen our party," Weber said, steepling his fingers. 

***

January 26th, 1946. At one of the Beer Halls in Crentia.

Ernest was on a platform, delivering a speech about the former glory of the Empire of Crentis and how he planned on regaining it through impassioned and fervent efforts. The hall was packed with supporters of the Crentian Workers Party.

But then, amidst the growing cheers and applause, a sudden commotion erupted near the entrance. A group of intruders, wielding batons, pushed their way through the crowd, knocking over chairs and shoving people aside. The mood in the hall shifted from enthusiasm to chaos, with shouts and screams filling the air.

Ernest paused, scanning the room to assess the situation. It became clear that these interlopers were intent on disrupting the gathering. They moved with aggression, swinging their batons wildly at anyone in their path. Several party members attempted to intervene, but they were quickly overpowered, leaving them bruised and injured on the floor.

One of the assailants, a tall man with a scar running down his face, made his way toward Ernest, baton in hand. The crowd around the platform dispersed, leaving a clear path between them. The man lunged forward, aiming to strike Ernest across the chest.

Ernest, however, was no stranger to physical confrontation. With quick reflexes, he sidestepped the incoming blow, his body shifting smoothly to the left. As the assailant stumbled past him, Ernest grabbed his arm and applied a swift joint lock, twisting it sharply. The man let out a pained grunt as the baton fell from his grip, clattering to the ground.

Without hesitation, Ernest kicked the man's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. The other intruders, seeing their comrade subdued, turned their attention to Ernest, their expressions turning from confidence to uncertainty.

Ernest picked up the fallen baton, gripping it firmly as he faced the remaining assailants. His stance was steady, his eyes gleamed coldly. 

"Leave now, or you will regret it," he warned.

The assailants hesitated, realizing that Ernest was not someone to be trifled with. The man on the ground groaned, clutching his injured arm. The leader of the group, sensing the shift in momentum, gestured for his comrades to retreat.

One by one, they backed away, carefully maneuvering through the scattered crowd. With them gone, Ernest turned his gaze to the man who lunged at him.

"Who sent you?" 

But the man didn't speak. So Ernest had to guess.

"Are you an Equitariats?" 

Equitariats, it's a kind of political movement advocating for a communal society where wealth and property are shared equally among its members. The Equitariats believe in abolishing private ownership, promoting collective ownership of resources, and establishing a classless society.

Equitariats often clash with nationalist movements like the Crentian Workers Party, seeing their rhetoric as a threat to the communal ideals they uphold. The intrusion at the Beer Hall suggested that the Equitariats might be aiming to disrupt the Crentian Workers Party's rise and prevent their nationalist ideals from gaining traction.

The man remained silent, glaring defiantly at Ernest from the floor. It was clear he had no intention of revealing his affiliations. Ernest shook his head, knowing the Equitariats' tactics typically involved disruption and violence to destabilize groups opposing their ideology. 

"Your political ideology is flawed," Ernest said with a hint of disdain. "Communal societies sound great in theory, but they rarely work in practice. The idea of equality is noble, but when everyone owns everything, no one takes responsibility for anything. It creates a lack of accountability, and without incentives to excel, productivity plummets."

The man on the floor remained defiant, his silence betraying no emotion. Ernest continued.

"You see, Equitariats often overlook human nature. People need a reason to work hard, to innovate, to strive for something better. When you take away the possibility of reward, when you strip away personal ownership, you end up with a stagnant society. Without competition, there's no drive to improve. And without property rights, there's no sense of security."

The crowd in the hall, having gathered around to witness the confrontation, listened intently to Ernest's words. He could sense their curiosity and used it to drive his point home.

"In an Equitariat system, the state controls everything. It decides who gets what, when, and how much. This centralization of power leads to corruption and abuse. Those in charge become the new elite, making decisions for the masses without accountability. There's no room for individual freedom, no space for personal growth. It's happening in the Empire of Orosz, and it's ugly. I don't want it happening in Crentis, so long as I live."

Hearing that, the crowds cheered and applauded, their approval echoing through the beer hall. 

"Looks like I'm going to need soldiers for the party," Ernest uttered.