Глава 11

Gotta be a weapon, right? We've been pumping out auto-crossbows for the Sarkaz the last few days in the workshop.

Could only be. Still got so many ducal armies outside eyeing us.

Be ghastly letting the Sarkaz get away with this, I tell you.

We've got to stop them, Patto. We can't be helping the Sarkaz fend off our own.

Think it'd be any use if we destroyed this batch of prep? Think we'd get sentenced?

I'll step up if that's what it comes to. I'm not afraid of being taken in.

You can't do that.

...Granny?

Grab 'em.

Patto—do it!

Eh—?

On the fly, she grabs a small file and throws it.

With a clang, the worker's spanner flies out of his hand and onto the ground.

Ugh...

Do you know what it is you're doing?

I'm stopping the Sarkaz!

You're making a scene.

I've got it all planned! It won't drag any of you in. I'll tell the Sarkaz I did it, and then—

—and then you'll die at the Sarkaz's hands. You're making yourself out as a hero, aren't you?

I'll try and flee. I've been planning this forever—

You're using the crawler you modified. You're hiding on the cargo track, and slipping out of Highbury that way.

So you knew...

I've been living in this industrial park for over fifty years. Whatever silly business you try, it won't slip by me.

Granny, listen to me.

I received some news. There's a rebel organization active in Sudean right now. They've rescued a whole number of people from the Sarkaz, and they've even taken back some plates!

They call themselves the Londinium Citizens' Self-Salvation Corps—we're going to meet them!

Are you now?

And then?

Er... what?

Are they lacking for smiths? Are you going to assemble and automate production pipelines for them, maybe design the next generation of crawlers?

I...

You can't even put a single armament together. You're going to go up to the people at this Self-Salvation Corps and tell them you want to bash Sarkaz heads in with spanners?

I'm learning!

I know the stories you've told me, like how you got selected to build steam armor when you were young, and I've heard you spending night after night polishing at power conduits.

I don't get it... We're Londinium workers, you've been teaching me that since I was little. You've told me how our factory built modern Victoria—

But now? We're lowering our flag at a handover ceremony, and raising the Sarkaz ensign.

And then? We're taking the assembly line we're so proud of and producing weapons for the Sarkaz with it, and those weapons will end up pointed at Victorians!

How can you bear life like this?

Like what?

Life like this <i>is</i> our life, the life you and your parents have always been living.

Look at this factory.

Nobles with titles longer than their surnames, business tossers with lives built on trade, even the Sarkaz... we've had people posing as its master come and go.

But the assembly line's still there. The machines still haven't come to a halt. Each rivet that's passed through our hands is still in the place it's meant to be.

Whoever might be occupying that palace in the middle of Londinium, this city we built will still see tomorrow and the day after that.

But I don't want a tomorrow like this!

What kind of life is a life without freedom? It's being alive at most, that's it.

If this factory... if Londinium isn't ours any longer, then what was the point of everything we made for it?!

You know, Feist...

Twenty-five years ago, that night when the flames lit up the sky, your dad said much the same thing to me.

Boss, the Sarkaz are almost back—

You're free to go wherever you want.

But from this moment on, you are forbidden from ever setting foot in the factory again, Feist.

A worker who won't finish the job with his own hands <i>isn't fit for the job</i>.

Anyone who wants to go with him, I won't stop you either.

Just remember—you step out of this door, and you are no longer one of us.

Several days later...

Well?

Inventory check. This lot of factories has handed in its designated amount of material.

Excellent.

Ms. Catherine, as you know, taking on Londinium's hundreds of factories and ensuring their smooth operation is by no means a simple feat.

Thus, my only option is to personally see every handover completed.

Some unpleasantness always comes part and parcel, but this handover, out of this final set of factories, has been the smoothest.

I must thank you for your willing cooperation, and for sparing me so much time.

I just don't want to do anything that'd be of no avail.

I admire your attitude, Ms. Catherine.

But I'm afraid your heart of hearts doesn't agree with you.

You mean...?

I hear a few days ago, some workers fled your factory. Being the case, I'd like to take stock of personnel while I'm here, and have a look at your factory's names.

...It was my grandson who ran.

Catherine...

Oh?

Young 'uns tend to do without thinking.

Very plain-dealing of you, Ms. Catherine, but frankness alone will not quell this matter.

Sir, I can't guarantee you everyone under me is of one mind. I don't have that capacity.

I can only guarantee this factory hands in its designated material quota.

Could I ascertain—are you asking me to let him go?

He's a single tyke, every hair on his head out of place. He's hardly going to affect this factory's operation.

But you could.

I've heard about your past deeds, Ms. Catherine.

No wonder you were chosen as a workers' representative. A woman of honor. I esteem you for it.

But we always must nip these things at the bud. Or are you able to guarantee me that your grandson won't become a traitor to us, such as... if he joined that Self-Salvation Corps that's all the vogue.

I've no need to guarantee it, Sir.

Young 'uns always think they can do something.

But it always turns out they don't know what it is they're facing.

They'll... nip themselves.

...I understand your sentiment.

Indeed. Pursuing a single escaped worker pales in comparison to the gravity of ensuring a dozen factories continue to stably operate.

I can overlook this affair, Ms. Catherine.

But I do hope you're able to keep your promise.

As long as I'm in charge of this factory, there'll never be a problem.

Excellent. In that case, it's time we get on with the handover ceremony.

*sigh* Just our goddamned luck. I wanted to go to the factory too and watch the flag raising.

Quit griping. You can see it from here anyway. Just tough it out.

There's none of the gravitas here that you get watching on-site.

Man, who the hell knew we'd actually take Victoria's capital? Dream of that in the past and you'd kick yourself.

True enough.

Still, next comes the hardest period. The dukes are all eyes on us.

Hmph. If they were good for anything, we wouldn't have seized Londinium so handily.

That was close...

Phew. Lucky these mercs have no idea the plate has a gap you can get into here.