Chapter 1774 - 494: Yet Castles Stand Unfallen Amid the Ruins (Part 4)

Are they the people by the Rushing River?

As he thought of the reed marsh stained with blood, Laman felt a moment of disorientation, with many nameless faces flashing through his mind.

Suddenly, he thought of something else.

"So, are we going to... punish them now?"

"Don't overthink it," the soldier with glasses chuckled, "We're just staying a few days, waiting for the Duke's men to take over the Baron's estate."

He seemed to have seen through Laman's thoughts and continued, "Actually, I prefer living with these peasants without stance over the servants who have clear positions. At least, we don't have to worry about them poisoning us at night. We might even hire them to help catch some wild game since the forest doesn't have a master for now... What, are you afraid of them?"

Laman shook his head.

Although he was not as cunning as this fellow, able to discern who would employ the Black Hand and who wouldn't, he truly hadn't felt any fear.

He was just a bit anxious about the Centurion's last remark, "All good."

In wars between nobles, it's common to allow one's soldiers to pillage the defeated "enemy's village."

Perhaps it's because he's been away from the Barons' villages for too long, and his edges have been worn smooth by the "decay" of Thunder City, he feels that people shouldn't be treated like cattle.

They are all Campbell people.

Just like that beautiful lady said, the civil war is over, and no one should die for the ambitions of these grand figures anymore...

...

Laman's worries are evidently redundant; their lord isn't a Baron, and his Centurion and Deputy Officer all come from the same place as he does.

The ones with more medals on their chests have higher standards than him.

The soldiers, leading the carriages of supplies, entered the villages under Baron Lukeville's territory, settling into the temporary dormitories used by farmers during busy seasons.

The rows of longhouses beside the granary are simple, but at least they can block wind and snow. Though straw stacks aren't as soft as beds, they're better than sleeping bags used during marches.

A young man from Thunder City brought a pile of dry straw, throwing it on the ground as a mattress, and jested in the midst of adversity.

"This place isn't bad; it's way more spacious than the factory dormitory I worked at before."

The person beside him chuckled and said a phrase.

"Are you moving here then?"

"I'm just saying," he laughed sheepishly and turned his head, changing the subject.

He's not foolish.

The citizens of Thunder City probably only have nostalgia for the grapes of Silver Pine Town and the wild game poached by the villagers.

The rural idyll sounds poetic, but if it were an exchange for beer, he still chooses to be that "sardine in a can."

It's human nature to say one thing and mean another.

This applies not only to the seventh regiment's ordinary soldiers but also to their Centurion.

That imposing man's intimidating remark turned out to be just "Tonight's meal will use the stored grain in your master's granary."

However, when the stern man opened the granary and saw the food piled up like a mountain, he remained silent for a long time and sighed.

There's too much food.

When they leave this place, the old Steward probably won't even notice the reduction in the granary's stock...

The soldiers began to build fires and cook.

Thick smoke rose, and the villagers also noticed these unexpected guests.

A few bold young men came forward, carrying vegetables and pumpkins, summoning the courage to ask if they were needed.

Laman was surprisingly amazed that the copper coin, which was almost worthless in Thunder City, still has a market here?

Moreover, its purchasing power is not weak!

Watching the Centurion exchange a heap of vegetables and pumpkins for a few copper coins, and the villagers leaving happily, he found it simply incredible.

In fact, it's rather normal.

The peasants' time is inherently worthless, and this winter, the caravans that used to come to purchase grain haven't appeared due to the civil war.

The vegetables and pumpkins painstakingly dug out from the "intercropping" fields wouldn't attract merchants willing to risk the fire of war to buy, nor would they themselves dare to risk being enlisted forcibly, to earn those copper coins in a town dozens of miles away.

Uneaten winter stock would rot by spring, so they might as well sell cheaply to these soldiers of the Grand Duke.

They knew very well that these guys had severance pay, unlike them who couldn't even hear the sound of coins clinking.

Just like Glasses said, these villagers are different from the stubborn servants; they have no stance.

Thus, the monotonous wheat porridge in the pot quickly turned into golden pumpkin porridge.

The aroma of stew mixed with the smell of firewood spread around the granary, causing quite a few young soldiers to swallow involuntarily, thinking of their hometown's pumpkin soup.

Amidst this rare tranquility, a haggard-looking woman wandered in, entering everyone's view.

Her hair is withered, and her face wan, resembling a wandering ghost in a cemetery, initially startling a few young men, thinking an undead had wandered over.

Until she spoke, tremblingly asking.

"Sir... have you seen a man named Sarve? He enlisted too; he was taken by the Lord in the fall..."

Those young men who had been startled had slightly awkward expressions, exchanged glances and shook their heads, saying they hadn't seen him.

"...I don't know, I'm enlisted for the first time; go ask the old soldiers over there, they might know more names."