Ivanov

Hearing Ivanov's stark account of the soldiers' deplorable conditions, Dutch was greatly astonished, his eyes widening in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair, a profound shock registering on his face.

"Oh, sh*t!!!" he burst out, his voice a low growl of outrage. He had genuinely thought he possessed a deep, nuanced understanding of the rapacious capitalists of this era, believing he had seen the worst of their exploitation. But as Ivanov spoke, detailing the brutal realities, he realized his understanding was tragically shallow, barely scratching the surface of their cruelty!

An American soldier, dedicated to protecting his home and country, earned a paltry thirty cents a day, amounting to only nine dollars a month. It was a pittance, barely enough to starve on, yet a large group of desperate, patriotic men still joined, driven by sheer necessity. No wonder the gunmen of the Van der Linde Gang worked like madmen, risking their very lives, enduring hardships for a comparatively princely sum of a hundred dollars a month! And they were emotional, their faces alight with zeal every single day, constantly supporting him, offering terrifying declarations like making him the American President.

Even paying those female workers a seemingly meager twenty-five dollars a month made them secretly run to the factory to work in the middle of the night, driven by a desperate hunger for opportunity, and they couldn't be driven away, clinging to their jobs with fierce determination!

Damn it, Dutch thought, a wave of profound empathy washing over him, let alone them, if Dutch himself were in that horrifying position, he'd break the rifle bolt, he'd resort to desperate measures to escape such a life!

"F*ck! This is too brutal! Mr. Ivanov, these damn capitalists are simply sucking blood, they're not treating people as human beings! They're monsters!" Dutch cursed loudly, his voice rising with righteous indignation, his face contorting in a grimace of anger. So agitated was he that he even stood up abruptly from the sofa, his movements sharp, placing his hands firmly on Ivanov's shoulders. He leaned in, his eyes burning with conviction, and said earnestly, "But, now. You don't have to continue living such a terrifying, dehumanizing life, Mr. Ivanov. Not anymore."

He squeezed Ivanov's shoulders, his gaze unwavering. "Starting today, the soldiers' pay in Lemoyne will increase to thirty dollars per month, a living wage, a fair recompense for their sacrifice. In addition, each soldier will have two days of rest per month, a chance to recuperate, but the guard duties cannot be left vacant, requiring your meticulous coordination and planning. At the same time, after each soldier honorably retires, they will directly qualify to join the Van der Linde factory, a secure future awaits them. If their marksmanship is up to par, becoming a gunman, their pay will increase to a generous one hundred dollars per month. Even if they cannot pass the marksmanship assessment, they can still become a diligent worker, earning thirty to fifty dollars per month! Along with free food and lodging, ensuring their comfort, and plenty of tobacco and alcohol for their leisure."

Dutch took a deep breath, his voice swelling with his vision. "At the same time, they can also choose to settle in Lemoyne or New Hanover, becoming permanent residents. No matter which state they settle in, their children will be able to attend school for free, receiving an education, and after graduation, they will be qualified to enter the Van der Linde factory, securing their future! A cycle of prosperity!"

"In addition, the Saint Denis Government will bear the daily living expenses and military equipment procurement for the soldiers of Lemoyne, ensuring they are well-equipped and cared for, and a batch of new uniforms will be distributed to the barracks soon, so they may wear their pride. Damn it, the treatment of these soldiers must not be like before! Their dignity will be restored!" Dutch finished, his voice booming with authority.

He then snapped his head towards Arthur, his eyes blazing. "Arthur, go now and have Mayor Henry Lemieux draft the document, this very decree, and make those damn senators pass it within half a minute! No delays, no arguments! These damned beasts, if you don't beat them a few times every day, they have no sense of urgency, no sense of morality!"

The finances of the Van der Linde Gang and Saint Denis were, for strategic purposes, kept separate, so the pay and benefits were also meticulously separated, which could effectively avoid a large part of the political and logistical problems that might arise from such massive expenditures.

Dutch's words were generous, powerful, and utterly captivating.

His expression, radiating absolute conviction, his expansive body language, commanding attention, and his eyes, burning with a zealous fervor, all seemed to be filled with an almost hypnotic, convincing power. He was a born leader.

In just a few simple, carefully chosen words, his natural leadership aura had completely subdued Mr. Ivanov. The man stood transfixed, caught in Dutch's powerful spell.

His eyes were fixed, unblinkingly, on Dutch's imposing figure; his entire being had been completely captivated by Dutch's overwhelming leadership charisma, his very soul drawn in.

And if you added the profound content of Dutch's words, this subduing power would undoubtedly rise ten thousand more levels, reaching an almost divine level of influence!

Mr. Ivanov was thoroughly, utterly convinced! His entire body trembled, not from fear, but from overwhelming emotion, and his eyes reddened with unshed tears of gratitude.

His lips quivered, struggling to form words, and he tightly gripped Dutch Van der Linde's hands, his grip desperate, moved to his core. "Sir… Mr. Van der Linde! Oh!!!" he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "From now on, the Lemoyne army will only listen to you, Mr. Dutch Van der Linde! Our loyalty is yours!"

He paused, a new, fierce light entering his eyes. "No, we are not the Lemoyne army anymore, we are the Van der Linde army!!! We fight only for Mr. Van der Linde, for your vision, your cause!!!" Ivanov suddenly snapped to attention, his back ramrod straight, and raised his hand in a crisp salute to Dutch, his arm rigid, his fingers touching his temple. At the same time, he shouted out with high, unrestrained emotion, his voice ringing with absolute devotion!

His face was contorted with pure fanaticism, his eyes when looking at Dutch had already started to become unusual, almost worshipful, reflecting an unwavering faith.

Oh, damn it, Ivanov thought, a wave of exhilarating joy washing over him, he was sure that if he brought this news, this incredible promise, from Mr. Van der Linde to the army, the soldiers would definitely go wild! But it wouldn't be a tense or angry camp riot; it would be a jubilant explosion of joy, a group of people gathering together, shouting and screaming madly, praising Mr. Van der Linde, their savior.

Because now he, Ivanov, was already so excited that he wanted to tear off his own clothes and run wildly through the streets of Saint Denis, howling with sheer delight, to vent the sudden, overwhelming joy and excitement in his heart.

"Oh no, no, no! Mr. Ivanov, you can't say that, you truly mustn't!" Dutch interjected, a knowing, almost mischievous smile on his face. He waved a hand dismissively, subtly deflecting the praise. "After all, this document was officially issued by Mayor Henry Lemieux, signed with his very own hand, it has nothing to do with me. I'm just a humble observer."

Dutch then leaned in, his voice dropping to a serious, confidential tone, his eyes locking onto Ivanov's, conveying a profound, unspoken promise. "However, from now on, I can guarantee that as long as I, Dutch Van der Linde, exist, as long as my Van der Linde Gang exists, the treatment of the Lemoyne army will only get better and better, improving constantly, and will not diminish in the slightest, not by a single penny! It is my personal vow."

His gaze became even more intense, encompassing not just Ivanov but the unspoken multitudes. "Mr. Ivanov, I always say this to my workers: Everyone has the right to a happy life, a life of dignity, and these soldiers, too, should have a sufficiently happy, fulfilling life! It is their birthright!"

Dutch concluded, his voice swelling with powerful conviction, his arm sweeping in a grand, encompassing gesture that seemed to embrace the entire world. "This is what I, Dutch Van der Linde, promise you, and what I, Dutch Van der Linde, am bound to achieve for all who follow me!"

Dutch's voice was resounding, deafening, resonating through the very foundations of the villa, filling every corner of the room.

Not only was Mr. Ivanov's emotion at its absolute peak, his body trembling with fervent loyalty, but the gunmen in the villa room, their faces etched with awe, the cleaning women, who paused their work, their eyes wide, and even the stern security personnel outside, standing rigidly at their posts, were all instantly overwhelmed by his powerful words. They stood transfixed, their faces reflecting a profound sense of pride and belonging.

Oh, this is Mr. Van der Linde, they all thought, a silent, shared realization, this is Mr. Van der Linde who personally put happiness, tangible prosperity, into their very hands!

A group of people quietly wiped away tears, their faces streaked but glowing with pure, unadulterated pride at being Mr. Van der Linde's loyal workers, his devoted followers. Their lives had been transformed, their future secured, by his word.