Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Botar was first taken aback, then elated, "That's great!"

"You still need to send someone to respond," Mr. Alpha politely added.

In his excitement, Botar had forgotten the original purpose of his visit to Mr. Alpha and assured with a slap on his chest, "Your Excellency, please rest assured, I will personally lead people there!"

"Is there any movement from Revodan?" Mr. Alpha asked.

Snapping out of it, Botar hurriedly took out a crumpled piece of paper from his bosom, "The Rebels have sent three notices."

Botar tried to unfold the notices, but his fingers were too clumsy, and he inadvertently tore a big hole in one. Mr. Alpha took over, smoothing out the crumpled trio of papers.

"This… why is it written like this…" After reading through the notices, Mr. Alpha couldn't help but laugh, "Why is it written in this manner?"

Botar immediately echoed, "It shows that the Rebels are unpopular, just a bunch of illiterate hooligans."

In fact, Botar thought the notices were rather well written. At least he, who only recognized simple words, could understand them.

"The Rebels might be unpopular, but they are not illiterate hooligans," Mr. Alpha corrected him. He tapped his fingers on the windowsill and narrowed his eyes, asking, "Do you think what the Rebel leader said is true?"

"Which matter? Sending sheep to graze on wheat seedlings?" Botar scoffed disdainfully, "Unheard of."

"About the Herders possibly returning."

"That… might be true. Indeed, this winter has not been as cold as in the past years. But it could also be false... who knows?" Botar replied.

After thinking for a moment, Mr. Alpha nodded, "Since the Rebel leader wants the villages to form militias, we can use the militia as a cover to train the refugees. As for signal fires, we can set up a few. Since the Herders might come back, we should prepare. Send someone to Revodan for a message, requesting weapons and food from the Rebels, saying the militia needs them."

"Will the Rebels provide them?"

"It's good if they can provide; it doesn't matter if they don't."

"All right," Botar nodded emphatically.

"Go now."

Botar saluted and turned to leave.

Mr. Alpha looked out of the window and let out a nearly inaudible sigh.

...

Meanwhile, more than a hundred kilometers away in the Blackwater Town office, a messenger Cavalry was handing over a letter personally written by Winters and three notices to Lieutenant Bard.

Bard broke the seal, carefully read the letter, and then skimmed through the notices.

He sighed deeply as well.

Lately, he had been running between the farms, dealing with all kinds of significant and minor issues.

Over here, he was even more short-staffed than Winters, almost every task requiring his personal attention.

He had to manage the distribution of farming tools, draft animals, and seeds, as well as supervise and inspect the autumn farming conditions of each farm.

In less than a month, the settled refugees and local farmers had already broken into several violent fights. It was only due to his mediation and decisions that further escalation was avoided.

As the weather grew colder, the farms needed to repair houses and gather fuel, and he had to arrange and plan for that as well.

Bard had visibly become more fatigued and even seemed to age.

Seeing the farms gradually getting on track, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief and take a good rest, but...

Dwelling on it was useless, so Bard calmly accepted reality. After composing himself, he opened the window and called out loudly for the stable boy.

Hearing the call, Anglu, who had been brushing horses in the backyard, ran into the office, still holding the grooming brush.

"Gather the horses that have been sent to each farm," Bard instructed.

"Gather them?" Anglu asked, puzzled, "Wasn't it said that the horses would stay at the farms for the winter?"

Bard handed Anglu the letter and notices, his heart ached but his tone was flat, "After gathering them, arrange for them to be kept close, on the farms at Blackwater Town. Let the horses graze on the wheat seedlings. I will also allot you some concentrated feed."

Although Anglu had been learning to read, he still struggled with it. Only after looking at the notices did he understand what had happened.

"There is too little time," Anglu said bitterly, "The horses won't be able to put on much fat."

"They'll put on as much as they can. Call Ish over," Bard instructed.

Anglu saluted and ran out to prepare the saddles.

Before long, a sweaty Ish walked into the office.

"You called for me?" Ish had been chopping wood. Upon learning that the Lieutenant needed him, he had hurried over.

"Gather all the adult men from the farms and prepare weapons," Bard said sternly, "It's time we defended ourselves."