Reincarnated with the Country System

The streets of Lata were alive with a fury that hadn't been seen in years. People were packed shoulder to shoulder, shouting with hoarse voices, their faces twisted with anger.

Signs that once boasted slogans of national pride now hung in tatters—"Down with the Empire," "Bernard's Taxes Will Kill Us," "Not a Slave to Imperial Gold." The air buzzed with friction, the sharp, sizzling heat of resentment.

Eric stood on the balcony of what used to be the royal palace. His gaze swept over the crowd like a predator surveying prey. The protests, though ragged and disorganized, had a pulse—unlike the kingdom that had once stood proud, crushed under the iron boot of the Bernard Empire. The anger was raw, like a wound still open and bleeding.

"Idiots," Eric muttered to himself, his fingers curling into fists.

He could hear the chants echoing from the street below, a growing crescendo of defiance.

"FUCK THE EMPIRE!" they screamed, their voices seething like a boiling cauldron.

"WE WILL NOT PAY!"

He heard the unmistakable sound of a bottle smashing somewhere in the distance, followed by a burst of yelling.

"Damn it." Eric spat over the edge of the balcony, the words tasting sour on his tongue. His kingdom had been dragged into this hellhole, shoved beneath the weight of the Empire, and now the people were suffering for it. The taxes were crippling, the land was being torn apart for mines and factories, and the once-pristine fields were now choked with dust and machinery. The Empire was bleeding Latvia dry, and all Eric could do was stand there and watch, impotent.

Then an officer came there and said, "You can go inside now."

Eric nods and walks in. He's here to meet Hans, who is now in charge of Lata.

He entered Hans office

"General," Eric began, his voice tight.

Hans didn't look up. His pen scratched across parchment. "You're interrupting."

A muscle twitched in Eric's jaw. "The protests are spreading. Your tax collectors just seized the last grain stores from the—"

"As per Imperial Decree 44-A." Hans flipped a page. "Your people owe back payments."

Eric's knuckles whitened on the doorframe. "They're starving. The fields your factories poisoned won't yield. You're bleeding them dry for a war they didn't start!"

Hans finally lifted his gaze. Cold. Dispassionate. "And?"

The word hung like a guillotine.

Eric stepped forward, planting his palms on the desk. "Call off the garrison. Just for a week. Let me distribute what's left in the—"

"No."

"Damn it, Hans! They'll riot!"

Hans set down his pen. "Let them."

Silence.

Somewhere outside, a bottle shattered. The distant chant of "BURN THE PALACE!" seeped through the windows.

Less than a month ago, they had been celebrating the conquest of Latvia, a proud nation under the banner of the Bernard Empire. Now? Now it was just a broken shell, a place where people were too hungry and too proud to accept their new masters.

Eric exhaled through his nose. "You're not just killing them. Your greed is suffocating this place. You've raised taxes to the point where these people can't even feed themselves. And for what? To pay for your damn war machines and their factories? The taxes are breaking them. They're pissed off about their land being destroyed. They can see the factories being built on what was once their fields. The food that fed their families is now feeding the Empire's machinery."

Hans leaned back, A humorless smile in his face. "We didn't come here for loyalty, Eric. We came for iron. For coal. For the docks that'll ship cannons to the front." He tapped the ledger. "Your people are a line item. Nothing more."

Eric's breath came ragged. "Then you're a fool. Starving men don't fear bullets. They'll tear this city apart."

Hans stood, adjusting his gloves. "Then we'll rebuild it. With fewer mouths to feed." He moved toward the door, pausing beside Eric. "Go home. Play the grateful collaborator. Or don't." A shrug. "The Empire won't notice either way."

The door clicked shut.

Alone, Eric stared at the map of Lata on the wall—his kingdom, now crosshatched in red ink, marked for demolition.

Outside, the crowd's roar crescendoed.

"Crush them," Hans said flatly. "No warnings. No mercy."

His officers saluted, their faces expressionless, and turned to carry out the command. Within moments, the garrison moved.

Eric leaves Hans' office and hears more commotion outside. He goes to the balcony. What had once been a crowd of angry but unarmed civilians had transformed into a battlefield. Armored soldiers pushed into the mass of protesters, their shields forming an unyielding wall.

Then the batons came down.

Cries of pain split the air. People staggered and fell, some trampled beneath the weight of the advancing troops. A woman cradled a child, screaming as a soldier ripped the boy from her arms. A man lunged at a guard with a broken bottle—he was shot point-blank. The smell of blood mixed with the stench of sweat and smoke.

A young man climbed onto a toppled cart, waving a makeshift flag—the old Latvian banner. His face was twisted with defiance. "We are not slaves! We will—"

A rifle cracked. The boy fell, the banner slipping from his fingers, darkening with blood.

The crowd erupted. If fear had held them back before, now it was gone. They surged forward, hurling stones, bricks, whatever they could find. The garrison faltered under the sudden aggression.

Then the fires began.

A torch flew through the air, crashing against the side of a factory. Another struck the governor's office. Flames leapt to life, licking at the wood and stone like hungry beasts. Smoke curled into the sky, blotting out the setting sun.

Eric then enters Hans' office again.

"What are you doing?!—This is a massacre."

Hans reappeared, utterly calm. "This is necessary."

Eric rounded on him. "Necessary? This isn't governance—it's extermination!"

Hans exhaled, as if exhausted by Eric's naivety. "This country belongs to the Empire. We do whatever we want!"

Eric stared at him, realization settling like ice in his veins. There was no negotiating with Hans. No appealing to reason.

The Empire didn't care about Lata. They want their resources

And they would burn the rest to the ground to get it.