"Hey, Old Martin, off to hear that Mr. Lacey speak again?"
In the early morning of Salem's slums, the fog mingled with the smell of coal ash as two men in shabby work clothes walked together toward the factory.
The one who spoke was a tall, skinny man named Pete. He exhaled a puff of white air and nudged his stocky companion with his elbow.
"What's wrong with going to listen? It's better than going to the tavern and gambling away the money for your wife and kids' bread tomorrow, isn't it?" Old Martin shot his companion a glare, his dark face flushed red.
"You weren't there, so you wouldn't know! Mr. Lacey's words, they're like a hammer striking your heart, one blow after another!"
Pete pursed his lips. "Anyone can say nice-sounding things like that. 'Overthrow the mountains,' 'take back everything'—with a bunch of poor sods like us?"
"Don't make me laugh."
"All I care about is whether I'll get my wages on time this month. I don't want to listen to a few of his words and end up losing my job over it."
"You don't know shit!" Old Martin's voice grew louder. "Before, who in this district gave a damn if we lived or died?"
"Thieves and thugs ran rampant. Your daughter was cornered in an alley by that gang of bastards last time. If the patrol hadn't passed by, have you ever thought about what would have happened?"
"Even someone as kind-hearted as Miss Serafina has run into that sort of trouble!"
Pete shrank back and said nothing.
Old Martin took a ragged breath, his tone softening a little. "It's different now."
"Ever since that Workers' Party was formed and Mr. Lacey organized the patrol teams, those hooligans and thugs either walk with their tails between their legs or have been beaten and driven away."
"Haven't you noticed the streets are much cleaner? Even the children dare to go out at night now."
"That's true..." Pete muttered under his breath.
"And my boy, he used to do nothing but roll around in the dirt. Now he follows the older kids to the warehouse every day to learn to read."
"Mr. Lacey said that knowledge can change your destiny. He's invited a few literate masters to teach the children to read and write for free, and they even get a hot lunch!"
A look of pride appeared on Old Martin's face. "For that alone, it would be worth it to sell my life to him!"
The two walked on in silence for a while. The silhouette of the factory was faintly visible in the morning mist.
"Do they... really provide food?" Pete's voice was very quiet.
"Black bread and vegetable soup. Hot."
Pete stopped in his tracks. He looked at Old Martin's back, his expression complicated.
He thought of his own sallow and skinny daughter at home. He bit his lip, turned, and ran in the opposite direction from the factory.
"Hey! Pete! What the hell are you doing? You're going to be late!" Old Martin shouted back.
"I'm taking the day off! Dock my pay if you want!" Pete's voice came from the distance. "I'm taking my daughter to learn to read too!"
Old Martin stood frozen for a moment, then broke into a wide grin, revealing a set of yellow teeth. He laughed.
...
The establishment of the Workers' Party stirred unprecedented waves in the stagnant waters of Salem.
The slums seemed to come alive overnight. The look in people's eyes was no longer the numbness and despair of the past.
They walked with their backs straighter, and their voices were much louder when they spoke.
Even the drunkards who used to drink all day on street corners put down their bottles and began to discuss new words like 'Workers' Party' and the 'party's platform.'
An abandoned warehouse became the de facto headquarters of the Workers' Party.
During the day, it was a literacy class and a council hall. At night, it became a dormitory for the more than three hundred core members.
Lacey did not break his promise.
He purchased large quantities of grain and cloth from the countryside at low prices and opened affordable stores in the slums.
The prices were less than half of what the city's unscrupulous merchants charged, and the stores were only open to families who had joined the Workers' Party.
This move hit the poor right where it hurt. In order to eat their fill and wear warm clothes, more and more people flocked to the Workers' Party recruitment points.
In just over ten days, the party's membership swelled from the initial three hundred to nearly a thousand.
"Our numbers have grown, but so have the problems."
Late at night, only Lacey and Serafina were in the headquarters.
Serafina pointed to a rough map of Salem, her brow furrowed. "Our food supplies won't last much longer."
"Besides, there's no way the big shots in the city will just sit back and watch us make such a big commotion."
Lacey nodded. Of course, he understood this.
Right now, the Workers' Party was like a rapidly inflating balloon. It looked impressive, but a single poke could burst it.
Passion and slogans were not enough. They needed a real victory to unite the people, and more importantly, a stable source of income to feed these thousands of mouths.
"'Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.'" Lacey's finger moved across the map, finally stopping on one spot.
"Salem is famous for its textile industry. The largest business in the west side of the city is this 'Golden Scissors' Dyehouse."
"I know that place," Serafina said immediately.
"The owner is named Ferdinand, a fat, greasy fellow. I hear he has close ties with the city's tax collector."
"He pays his workers the lowest wages in the entire city, and the working conditions are the worst. The toxic water discharged from the dyehouse has stained the nearby river all sorts of colors, and the residents in the area are full of complaints."
"Not long ago, a child laborer died from overwork, fell into a dyeing vat, and was scalded to death. In the end, his parents were only compensated with a few pathetic silver coins."
"He's the one." A cold glint flashed in Lacey's eyes. "We need to make an example of someone. This chicken is fat enough."
But he didn't plan to just charge in with people and solve the problem with violence.
That was what bandits did, not something a proper political party should do.
"Serafina, I need you to help me get a list of all the workers at the dyehouse, as well as the employment contracts they signed with Ferdinand."
"That's not difficult. I know a few sisters who work there."
Lacey nodded. "Also, tomorrow, tell Taylor the blacksmith to take some men to all the blacksmith shops in the city and buy up as much scrap iron as they can find. We're going to make a new batch of tools."
Taylor the blacksmith was now the captain of the Workers' Party's action team.
"What kind of tools?" Serafina asked curiously.
Lacey gave a mysterious smile. "You'll see when the time comes."
...
A few days later, a fierce argument broke out in front of the Golden Scissors Dyehouse.
Hundreds of dyehouse workers had gathered at the entrance, surrounding the place completely.
They held up all sorts of crude signs:
"Give us back our hard-earned money!"
"Down with the heartless boss Ferdinand!"
"We want to eat!"
The workers were agitated, but no one had started a physical fight.
Because opposite them stood dozens of menacing dyehouse guards armed with clubs.
The dyehouse owner, Ferdinand, a man as fat as a meatball, stood behind the guards, pointing at the workers' noses and cursing loudly:
"Rebellion! Are you scoundrels trying to rebel? Who gave you the guts to go on strike against me?"
"I'm telling you, anyone who dares to cause trouble today, I'll break their legs and then drive their entire family out of Salem!"
Although the workers were furious, their momentum clearly weakened under Ferdinand's threat.
They all had families to support. Being driven out of Salem was a death sentence.
Just as the two sides were at a standstill, a commotion suddenly erupted from the edge of the crowd.
Lacey, leading the blacksmith and others, pushed several creaking carts, parted the crowd, and walked to the very front.
"Mr. Ferdinand, no need to be so angry." Lacey wore a gentle smile, as if he were here as a guest, not to cause trouble.
"What are you?" Ferdinand squinted his small eyes, sizing up Lacey.
"Oh, I remember now. You're the head of that Workers' Party, aren't you?"
"What, you want to stand up for this bunch of lowlifes?"
"No, no, no." Lacey waved his hand. "I'm here today to reason with you."
As he spoke, he pulled a stack of papers from his coat—the very employment contracts the workers had signed with the dyehouse.
"According to the Leithanien Labor Law, Chapter Three, Article Twelve, employers must provide a safe working environment for their workers and pay wages no lower than the city's minimum standard."
"But as far as I know, your dyehouse just scalded a child laborer to death last month, and the wages you pay your workers are not even half of the minimum standard."
Hearing this, Ferdinand laughed as if he had heard the world's greatest joke. "The law? You're talking to me about the law?"
"In Salem, my word is the law!"
"Even the captain of the city guard has to be polite to me. What do you think you are?"
Lacey's smile didn't falter. "I am merely a man who likes to reason. Since you are unwilling to reason with the law, then let's reason another way."
He gave the blacksmith behind him a look.
The blacksmith grinned and pulled the tarps off the carts.
Clang!
An eye-stinging glint of cold light flashed under the sun.
The carts weren't loaded with scrap iron at all, but with rows of freshly sharpened sickles and axes.
Although they were just farm and work tools, the sight of hundreds of sickles and axes piled together created a murderous aura that made everyone present suck in a cold breath.
The dyehouse guards subconsciously took a step back, the palms of their hands holding their clubs beginning to sweat.
Ferdinand's laughter died abruptly. The fat on his face trembled as he roared, bluffing, "What... what are you trying to do? Assembling with weapons, this is rebellion! The guards! The guards will be here any second!"
"Don't be nervous, Mr. Ferdinand." Lacey picked up an axe, weighed it in his hand, and then casually handed it to a worker beside him.
"We at the Workers' Party are most law-abiding. These are just initiation gifts for our new party members."
"After all, everyone has to work to make a living. How can you do that without a proper tool in hand?"
As he spoke, he handed out the sickles and axes to the workers present.
As the workers received these heavy 'gifts,' their backbones instantly stiffened.
The anger that had just been suppressed now blazed fiercely once more.
"Ferdinand, pay our wages!"
"Or we'll go in and take it ourselves!"
Looking at the hundreds of angry, armed workers before him, Ferdinand was finally scared.
He knew that things were not going to end well today.
Sure enough, not long after, a squad of city guards arrived on the scene.
The leading guard captain's scalp tingled at the sight of the tense standoff.
"What's going on? All of you, stop!" the guard captain shouted sternly.
Ferdinand, as if seeing his savior, scrambled over to the captain, crying, "Help! This mob is rebelling, they're trying to kill me!"
The guard captain frowned and looked at Lacey. "Lay down your weapons and disperse immediately, or I will arrest all of you on the charge of 'rebellious assembly'!"
Lacey, however, didn't look at him. Instead, he looked at the guards behind him.
"Brothers of the city guard," he said in a clear voice, "how much are you paid a month? Three gold coins? Five? Is that enough for your wives to buy a new dress? Is it enough to send your children to school?"
"While you stand guard on the city walls, enduring the wind and sun, this Mr. Ferdinand is sitting in the bathtub of his mansion, drinking red wine shipped from Victoria!"
"While your families suffer because they can't afford medicine, he uses gold coins to make collars for his pet dogs!"
"He evades taxes, withholds the hard-earned money of his workers, and makes a fortune, and you have to risk your lives for a man like him?"
"You tell me, is that fair!"
His words silenced the guards.
Though they were guards, they were essentially commoners too. Every word Lacey spoke struck a chord with them.
The guard captain's face turned extremely ugly. He roared, "Nonsense! Seize him!"
However, not a single guard behind him moved.
They looked at the workers, who, like them, were being crushed by life, their eyes filled with sympathy and hesitation.
[Your words have shaken the enemy's will.]
[The effect of United We Stand has been activated. The workers and guards present now have a greatly increased sense of approval toward you!]
Lacey could feel a more powerful force surging into his body.
He took a step forward, looking directly into the guard captain's eyes. "Captain, we did not come here today to rebel, but only to seek justice."
"Whether these workers live or die rests entirely on your decision."
"Are you going to make your brothers raise their blades against their own countrymen for a fat man who reeks of money?"
The guard captain looked at Lacey's determined eyes, then at his own hesitant subordinates. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
He knew that if he gave the order to attack today, these guards would very likely mutiny on the spot.
Finally, he gritted his teeth and growled at Ferdinand, "Ferdinand! This is a dispute between you and your workers, solve it yourself! We are only responsible for maintaining order, we do not get involved in your financial disputes!"
After saying that, he actually led the guards back a hundred meters, striking a pose as if they were just passersby watching the show.
Ferdinand was completely stunned.
His last line of support had collapsed.
Looking at the hundreds of pairs of fiery eyes and the gleaming sickles and axes in their hands, his legs went weak, and he collapsed to the ground.
Half an hour later, the gates of the Golden Scissors Dyehouse were opened.
Ferdinand was forced to produce all his account books, publicly pay all the workers' back wages, and sign a new, fair employment agreement.
The Workers' Party, in turn, sent representatives to be stationed at the dyehouse to supervise the execution of the agreement and the factory's production.
It was a bloodless victory.
When the news spread, all of Salem was shaken.
The prestige of the Workers' Party had reached its peak.
________________________________________
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