Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

We must separate the refugees, but we cannot spread them too thin, otherwise it would be inconvenient to manage.

Dividing them into sixteen sub-camps based on their places of origin became the most reasonable strategy.

Moreover, staying with fellow townspeople, the refugees would feel more secure.

Winters didn't know exactly how the White Lion "organized the population", so he could only proceed according to his own thoughts.

"To organize the population like weaving a basket," he first needed to know how many people there were.

Winters registered all the refugees outside the city by family, logging their [gender], [age], [place of origin], [physical health], and [family members and property].

All of his literate soldiers were pulled in to register the refugees, including Winters himself taking to the field.

He also borrowed thirty-three accountants and scribes from various businesses within the city.

When the Blood Wolf spoke, the merchants happily sent over their employees.

Winters even held temporary classes for some of the sharp soldiers, teaching them to recognize the most basic words.

For example, the soldier guarding the Qingfeng Town camp, he couldn't read at all—sending a literate soldier for such a task would be too wasteful.

Yet he was still able to fulfill his duties well because Winters taught him to recognize the word [Qingfeng Town].

After leaving the main camp, the refugees went through screening and registration before entering the various town sub-camps.

This process had its hiccups but was generally orderly.

As everyone gradually became familiar with their jobs, efficiency also increased.

Moreover, compared to the dirty and grimy refugee camps, the sub-camps, planned like temporary military camps, were obviously more comfortable.

Winters even personally supervised the digging of latrines for each camp—prevention of epidemics was of utmost importance.

Upon entering the sub-camps, the first thing was to distribute food to the refugees.

Not watery porridge, but bread; with full stomachs, they wouldn't panic.

After all, the refugees didn't have much in terms of possessions; everything they owned was either carried on their backs or in their hands, moving wherever there was food to eat—somewhat like the nomadic Herders.

Winters hated repetitive labor.

Registering the refugees until he was dizzy and writing letters until he hardly recognized the words, he couldn't help thinking, "How great it would be if the refugees could read and write! They could do it themselves, and I'd just need to have a look."

But he quickly dismissed that idea.

How could everyone read and write? That would be heaven, wouldn't it?

"Or should I teach all the soldiers?" Winters came up with an alternative plan, "Let them do this work, and I wouldn't have to."

While he was thinking this, Xial ran over, out of breath.

"Why are you still here?" Xial asked, gasping for air and leaning on his knees, "Did you forget who's coming today?"

"What?" Winters asked in return, his movements continuing unfettered, deftly placing a registration paper into one of the sixteen wooden cases.

"Miss Navarre is coming to Revodan today!"

Winters stood up abruptly, knocking the chair backwards.

"Xial!" Winters picked up the chair, pushed Xial into the seat, and thrust the feather pen back into his hand, "You take over!"

That said, he leapt onto the saddle and galloped away as if flying.

...

Although bringing his family to Revodan in haste before getting settled was very unwise.

But Winters missed Anna so dearly, and Anna missed Winters just as much.

So when Pierre came to Revodan to meet them, he also escorted the female family members.

Winters should have gone to meet them, but when he saw Anna, she was already waiting for him at the officers' residence in the garrison.

"The honor you bestow upon me and my sister by taking the time to visit us in the midst of your busy schedule is truly humbling," Catherine said with a sunny smile, curtsying toward Winters. Unwilling to leave her sister behind, she had also come to Revodan.

Winters could already ignore such a degree of sarcasm.

He went straight up to Anna and hugged her tightly.

Catherine let out an exclamation and indignantly kicked Winters on the shin before turning and leaving the room.

"You shouldn't have come; it's too dangerous here," Winters held his beloved firmly.

Anna wrapped her arms around her lover's neck. "But you are here, aren't you?"

…

Winters found Pierre and Scarlett in the stables.

Tess and Botayun were also brought to Revodan; Scarlett was nursing Tess, while Pierre kept his sister company.

Upon seeing Winters, Scarlett's first words were, "Botayun isn't producing milk. I want to feed Tess goat's milk and cow's milk."

Tess already somewhat resembled a little pony, shedding some of the fragility of a newborn.

Winters stroked Tess. "Alright, I'll go look for some."

"A horse raised on goat's milk?" Pierre joked. "Can it still be ridden? You should find another Dusack mare with a foal."

Leaving Scarlett in the stable, Winters and Pierre needed to discuss a matter of great importance.

"There's a task only you can do," Winters said to Pierre.

"I'll go," Pierre replied without hesitation.

Winters didn't mention anything else. Between him and the young Dusack, nothing much needed to be said.

He didn't need to explain how important the matter was, or why it had to be Pierre.

Pierre wouldn't complain about the exhausting travel back and forth between Revodan and Wolf Town, never having had a moment's rest.

"Berlion Soya," Winters said a name.

"Blacksmith, cook," Pierre nodded.

"He's being held by the Blue Rose, that is, in Alpad's hands," Winters looked at Pierre. "I need you to confirm his location."

Pierre nodded calmly.

Alpad had a large number of Dusack Cavalry at his disposal, so the steady and savvy Dusack, Pierre, was the only one suitable for this mission.

"Who do you want to take with you?"

"Vashka, and another Dusack who's a bit older."

"What else do you need?"

"Gold Coins, a lot of Gold Coins."

"Go find Lieutenant Bard. Whatever you need, you can ask him."

"Yes."

"Be extremely careful," Winters squeezed Pierre's shoulder. "Just confirming the location is enough. There's no need to force a rescue; I'll go in person."

"Please rest assured," Pierre said with a hint of a smile.

This was one of the rare times Winters said "for me" rather than "with me," but he was no longer a Centurion; he had to adapt to letting subordinates work on their own and learn to trust and rely on them.

Winters wanted to give a few more words of caution.

But the hasty sound of horse hooves interrupted him as a red-maned warhorse galloped into the courtyard, and upon it was Anglu.

"Centurion." Anglu dismounted quickly, handing Winters two letters, "Mr. B wants you to have these."

Two letters, one bearing the seal of the New Reclamation Legion, the other marked with a black cross—signifying extreme urgency.

Winters read the letter from the New Reclamation Legion first, his eyebrows slightly raised as he did.

Then he glanced at the letter with the black cross.

"What is it?" Pierre asked with some concern.

Winters handed the letters to Pierre.

The first letter came from Maplestone City, the headquarters of the New Reclamation Legion.

It did not specify the recipient but used the term "The Garrison of Revodan."

The content was simple; the legion headquarters was requesting the autumn grain tribute owed by the Garrison of Revodan for that year.

The second letter was from Major Moritz.

The content was even simpler: the New Reclamation Legion troops of Mont Blanc County and Vernge County were assembling.