Chapter 431: Household Registration and Land Distribution!
In a chaotic yet solemn atmosphere, the work of registering the identities of the hungry people began.
The next morning, at the porridge distribution center outside Quemu Fort, a strange checkpoint appeared in front of the big pot of porridge being cooked.
It was a table made of two wooden boxes. A Salvation Army soldier sat behind it, holding a quill instead of a rifle.
A ledger was spread out in front of him, and his face was filled with an expression of facing a great enemy. He seemed even more nervous than the soldiers on the castle.
The same thing happened to old Hank, who was standing at the table.
He staggered to the table, holding the broken wooden bowl in his hand, wondering what drama these soldiers were going to perform.
He just wanted to eat.
Looking at Hank approaching, the soldier straightened his expression and spoke in a businesslike tone.
"name?"
"Han, Hank!" Old Hank stood up straight and responded as if reporting.
"Village?"
"Village, village?"
"That's where you used to live!"
"Wheatfield Village..."
The soldier was silent for a moment, tapping his quill on the table, and looked up at Old Hank.
“…How is it written?”
Old Hank was dumbfounded.
For most of his life, he had only known himself as Hank, a name he inherited from his deceased grandfather.
No one told him how to write this word?
"How would I know... Anyway, this is my name!" He was so anxious that his head was sweating, fearing that if he couldn't write his own name, he wouldn't be able to eat this bowl of porridge.
The soldier in charge of registration also looked troubled. He didn't know what to do when he saw the anxious Hank and the agitated crowd.
He also only recently learned how to spell his own name, so how could he know how to spell other people's names?
The two men stared at each other, one was in a hurry to eat, and the other was in a hurry to complete the task. The situation was at a stalemate for a while.
Just then, a thin, gentle-looking man squeezed to the front and whispered to them.
"Sir... well, I know how to write it."
He was probably very hungry and couldn't wait any longer, so he took the initiative to step forward.
The soldier felt as if he had been pardoned when he heard this. He turned the account book over in surprise and pushed it in front of the man.
"Come here!"
The gentleman quickly took the account book and quill, completed the registration in no time, and then returned the account book and quill to the soldier.
"It's done..."
The soldier took the account book and took a look at it. He saw that the handwriting was beautiful and neat, with smooth lines. It didn't look like a farmer's name at all. He couldn't help but look at the man suspiciously.
"Is that really his name?"
The gentleman was stunned for a moment, and was puzzled by this question. He said with a helpless smile.
"Well... I don't know what his real name is, but 'Hank' is what it's written as."
"My name is Hank!" Old Hank blushed and declared again.
“…” The gentleman didn’t say anything. He just felt like he was caught between a chicken and a duck.
The soldier had an idea.
"Write me another 'Slok'."
The gentleman immediately did as he was told and wrote another name on the account book handed to him by the soldier.
The soldier knew the name, for it was his own. He had learned how to write it from a caravan clerk not long ago, but the dog-chewed scribbles were nothing compared to the "work of art" before him.
The soldier didn't expect that his own name could be written so beautifully. He liked it so much that he wanted to copy it several times and imprint the painting in his mind.
Of course, this can wait until work is done.
Seeing the man who wanted to retreat back into the team, he quickly grabbed the man's shoulder and said with a smile.
"Come help me register! I'll teach you how to do it! Don't worry about getting the porridge, just eat with us!"
The gentleman was stunned for a moment. He didn't expect that he would suddenly receive such a task, so he quickly accepted it with a nod of agreement.
“Yes, yes!”
How dare he say no?
However, thinking that he had nothing to do anyway, and that this army that had changed its flag seemed not bad, he sat in the seat vacated by the soldiers and cooperated with the registration work.
With the help of this suspected intellectual, the team's progress finally sped up.
The impatient old Hank finally got his oatmeal as he wished, and also had a wooden sign with words engraved on it in his hand.
That was after he completed the registration. The soldier handed him an "identity card" with a line of words scribbled on it, including his name, the village he lived in, and his number.
According to the soldiers, starting from tomorrow there will be no need to register, and instead food will be collected according to the ID card.
To be honest, he quite likes this "ornament" engraved with his name.
Squatting in a corner of the camp, Old Hank picked up the bowl full of oatmeal, took a sip, and mumbled something incoherently.
“…It turns out my name is so beautiful.”
On the other side, the registration line reached the end, and the gentle man finally received his food.
Besides the porridge there was a piece of bacon as a reward for his work.
He thanked him and was about to leave when the soldier stopped him.
"Wait a minute, your name isn't written yet."
When he heard that he had to register his name, a moment of panic flashed across the man's face. After hesitating for a long time, he whispered.
“Why are you registering this?”
The soldier did not hide anything and spoke directly.
"This is what the Saint Lady intended. Firstly, it is for easier management, and secondly, it is to allow you to return to your original village in an orderly manner."
"……go back?"
"That's right. Staying here isn't a solution. The land around the castle can't support so many people."
Didn't you drive us here?
This is like breaking someone's leg and then giving him a crutch.
The man complained in his heart, but did not dare to say it to her face. He just expressed other concerns in his mind.
"But what about famine?"
The soldier said with a smile.
"Her Highness the Saint is addressing this very issue! To avoid missing the spring plowing window, we must quickly restore the abandoned farmland... Don't worry, we won't let you go hungry during this time. We will ensure a steady supply of food."
The man nodded, feeling a little relieved. After hesitating for a long time, he finally wrote his name in the account book.
He did not believe in those demons wearing green turbans, but he was the one who helped the priest copy scriptures, and he still had faith and awe in his heart. He believed in Saint Sis, and also believed in Her Highness the Saint and the oracles she spoke.
As long as it wasn't for the sake of making a list for future reckoning, he didn't seem to have anything to be afraid of...
Just trust them again.
…
Although old Hank's registration went smoothly, not every old farmer is as lucky as him.
Except for the neatly written account book handed in by Slok's registration point, most of the registration points handed in a book of cryptic symbols that was more obscure than a magic book.
There must be deception under reconciliation.
Faced with the impossible task assigned by their superiors, the soldiers turned a blind eye and got away with it. The hungry people queuing for porridge just used a pen to draw their names twice.
By the way, due to his clever performance at work, the soldier named Slok has been promoted to centurion, responsible for managing the hastily established household registration department.
Now there are only two people in the entire department, one is Slok himself, and the other is the hungry man who is responsible for copying for him... It is said that the man used to be a monk in the church, responsible for copying scriptures.
The monk was quite courageous for stepping forward to help at this moment. After all, just a week ago, those guys in green turbans were a group of "ogres" who threatened to massacre the castle and the church. It seemed like their conversion to the Holy Light was just yesterday.
Inside the military tent, the atmosphere was mixed.
The officers of the Salvation Army seemed to be divided into two factions. One faction was the "returning home faction" who supported Her Highness the Saint. Most of them were of peasant origin and they strongly supported Her Highness the Saint's decision to distribute land to everyone.
After all, they had rebelled in order to divide the land of the nobles, but they were so blinded by rage that they were busy robbing and forgot their original purpose.
As for the other faction, it is the "decisive battle faction" that is still loyal to Kailan's will.
But rather than being loyal to Kailan, it would be more accurate to say that they were loyal to reality. After all, any general with a strategic vision knew that farming was meaningless without finishing the war.
Three cavalrymen charging forward and setting fire to the land cultivated by three hundred men with their toil and sweat could completely destroy it. Without stable order, production would be impossible.
This metaphor might be a bit exaggerated, but the truth is there. When they were fighting guerrilla warfare, they often set fire to the nobles' granaries. Although these granaries were said to belong to the nobles, they were basically located in various villages. The ownership of the granaries is actually not something that can be explained in one sentence.
"This is sheer nonsense!" a captain slammed his hand on the table, spit flying everywhere. "We're here to attack the city, not to write! What have we been doing standing outside the castle for so long? I bet the count in the castle is probably laughing at us for not being able to build ladders and battering rams!"
Faced with the centurion's anger, Brennan said nothing, but just waited quietly for Kallen's reaction.
He was also very hesitant.
He actually wanted to ask about the siege at yesterday's meeting, but he didn't find the opportunity to speak until the end.
On the one hand, he thought Kallen's idea was a good one, and he'd been considering the future of his brothers for a long time. But to be honest, he didn't have any ideas himself. Before becoming the leader of the Green Army, he was just a hunter. He learned how to lead troops in battle by doing, and governing a region... he hadn't even started yet.
On the other hand, he felt that this was not a solution. After all, Count Theron's castle was still there. While kindness could unite people, it could only unite people and could not replace force.
All eyes turned to Kallen, or rather, to the gods behind her.
They are waiting for a new oracle.
Kallen's eyes were calmer than ever before. Everything was just as Mr. Colin had said. As their strength gradually expanded, they were no longer satisfied with patiently waiting for God's blessing. Their originally dim ambitions were beginning to stir.
That is human desire.
After all, they now have an army of 100,000, and mobilizing another 100,000 cannon fodder is not a problem at all.
"The God never promised to lead you to attack the city. He only promised to open the gates of the castle and not to tamper with your wishes. Instead, you promised to obey me until our contract is completed."
Looking at the speechless centurion, Kallen continued.
"Also, I'd wager that the Earl in the castle isn't laughing at us. He's more afraid than anyone else right now...even his own soldiers."
The centurion's dissatisfaction was obviously not appeased, but he really couldn't think of any rebuttal. He could only convince her from another angle, trying to make her know that what she was doing was unrealistic.
"But... there's chaos and war outside. No one would settle down to farm in such a situation! I just want to say that you are doing something meaningless—"
"Then it's up to you to reassure them," Kallen looked at him calmly, "and make them believe that the swords in your hands are not tools to enslave them, but weapons to defend them."
These words made the whole tent fall silent.
The centurion's throat seemed to be blocked and he couldn't utter a word.
Thomas, who was standing aside, had his eyes slightly lit up, as if he had seen something wonderful, although his poor language could not describe what it was.
Saint Sis, this sounds absolutely wonderful!
The lord's sword should not be a tool to enslave his people, but a weapon to defend them!
He had never heard any priest or lord actually say this, but he hoped to write it down in the Book of the Holy Word!
"...Let's discuss something practical."
The other centurion, who had been silent all this time, slowly spoke and cast his gaze towards the saint who seemed to be glowing.
"I admit your idea is good, but it's too difficult to execute. Not to mention the starving people and my brothers, even I only recently learned how to write my own name, not to mention the names of those villages. Some of the remote villages aren't even called the names on the map."
"This is indeed a problem," Kallen nodded slightly, looking at the people around her, "and what I want to discuss with you today is how to solve this problem."
Everyone exchanged glances, all with helpless expressions.
At this moment, Thomas, who had been silent, suddenly cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"I am... a merchant from the Kingdom of Rhodes. Logically, I shouldn't interfere in your affairs, but I am a devout believer after all. I cannot just sit back and watch my blood-related brothers fall into hell."
He paused here and quickly got to the point.
"Many of my caravan servants are literate, and handling accounts is our specialty. I can assist you with the registration work, including the paper and pens needed... Let's find a solution."
Anyway, the soldiers had taken his paper and pen, so even if he didn't give them up, he would have suffered a loss.
It would be better to say it here and now, which can be regarded as a favor, and then be returned after the war is over.
If order could be restored in the Dusk Province, it would certainly be a good place to run.
Kallen gave him a grateful look.
"Thank you. The people of Twilight Province will remember your efforts for them."
After saying this, she looked at the pragmatic captain and continued, "Mr. Thomas can help you. Not only that, his people can also teach you simple spelling. I know it's difficult, but for the sake of our future, I hope you will humbly learn from his people."
The pragmatic centurion looked at Brennan silently. Seeing that the latter did not object, he looked at Kallen again and said in a deep voice.
"I have no objection..."
Kallen nodded, then turned her gaze to Slok, the "Head of the Household Registration Department," who was standing in the corner of the tent.
Until yesterday, Mr. Slok was just a private and obviously never thought he would have the opportunity to stand in this tent.
"Besides Thomas's caravan, I believe there must be literate people among our starving people. They may have been innkeepers, adventurers, merchants selling timber for the lord, or monks in the church..."
"Out of fear, they dare not reveal their identities, worried that the knowledge they possess will bring about their own deaths. What we must first do is to dispel their fears and make them believe that we are not the destroyers of order, but the builders of a new order."
"In this way, they will naturally join our ranks one after another, just like the gentleman who assisted Sergeant Slok in completing the registration. From now on, we won't have to rely on others. We can use our own strength to restore the order that we destroyed."
This sentence touched Brennan so deeply that he fell into deep thought. Just like the military meeting yesterday, he did not ask about the siege until the end.
Wait a little longer...
Perhaps, as Her Highness the Saint said, they can take the castle without bloodshed?
Moreover, his thoughts were no longer on the castle, but drifted to somewhere farther away.
He once firmly believed in the justice that Kailan talked about, and everything would be fine as long as the castle and the church were demolished, but all he seemed to see along the way was blood and death.
On the contrary, now he saw colors in people's eyes that he had never seen before.
That seems like hope...
…
It wasn't just Brennan and the starving people who saw hope; the soldiers on the city walls did the same.
The siege has lasted for several months. The harsh winter did not starve the rebels outside to death. Instead, it allowed them to wait for the light of Saint Sith before them.
That was a rumor circulating in the army.
It is said that a saint was born among the rebels, and used the "truth" to influence the murderous thugs, making them take off the damn green turbans and believe in Saint Sis again.
This in itself is not surprising. The farmers of the Kingdom of Ryan are cunning and flexible creatures. Whoever gives them food is a saint, and whoever gives them food is a witch.
The soldiers on the city wall were not surprised by this, but they were still worried about why Saint Sis chose a group of murderous thugs.
In their view, they were of course the righteous side. After all, they only took the grain that belonged to the lord from the village. They did not lift the lids of the farmers' pots or pick up the wheat bran they had pasted on the walls.
The main reason is that they can't find the food hidden by the farmers at home, but those green-headed people who are farmers know very well where the good things in their neighbors' homes are hidden.
An oppressive atmosphere hung over every besieged soldier.
Even though the priest in the castle told them that the so-called saint was just a self-proclaimed village girl by the rebels, even the priest could not explain where the food in the hands of the rebels came from.
It can't be given by the devil, right?
That's too blasphemous.
It is worth mentioning that although the people in the castle are separated from the people outside the city by a moat, the information between them is not completely blocked, and the orders of the officers alone cannot restrain them.
When the rebels first surrounded the castle, both sides were in a state of standoff, but as time went on, the castle could not be captured, and the rebels adopted a siege tactic, and the constraints were not so strict.
Some soldiers would secretly throw stones wrapped in paper outside, and secretly give the saved rations to their family members, neighbors, and even old lovers who were unable to hide in the castle.
However, recently the situation seems to be reversed.
The hungry people outside were no longer hungry, but the soldiers in the castle could only eat cold, hard, dry bread, watching the people outside making fires and cooking porridge, drooling with envy.
There wasn't much firewood in the castle, so it was impossible to waste it on making fire and cooking. It was all stored as supplies for the winter.
Regardless of whether porridge or bread is more nutritious, the way other people eat looks more delicious...
"Dear Camille, the Salvation Army's 'chaplain' has recently started teaching us how to write. This letter was written by the chaplain, but I signed it myself. Doesn't it look nice?"
Also, please don't worry about me, we are no longer hungry. Those soldiers you call rebels registered our names and decided to send us back to our hometown in batches so that we can start cultivating the land there again.
They also said that the land would belong to us from now on and we would no longer have to work for the lord. As for the seeds, they would take care of it and we just had to focus on our own lives.
I really hope the war ends soon. I miss the old days so much. Back then, we'd lie on the haystacks, basking in the sun, drinking pumpkin porridge and milky fish soup my mother made. Remember when I said I'd make it for you? I've never forgotten.
—Judy, waiting for you to come home.”
Sitting on the top of the city wall, a soldier named James was looking at the wrinkled letter in his hand, with a complicated expression on his face.
His name was not Camille, and he didn't know any Judy. He just happened to know how to spell because his family had served the lord for generations.
As for the letter, he picked it up while on patrol. It was wrapped in a piece of hard bread with a copper coin as a bribe stuffed inside... It seemed that he wanted to bribe the person who picked up the letter.
Of course, he couldn't be bribed by a mere copper coin and risked a huge risk to find that lover named Camille, but he couldn't help but feel confused...
"Pastor? How could that group of rebels have a pastor?" He muttered softly, reading the not-so-long letter in his hand over and over again. He could no longer tell whether he was trying to convince himself or reminisce about the good old days that had passed.
Life was going well for them until the Chaos horde approached the Brass Pass.
No one went hungry.
No one ever died because of another person's ambition.
At that time, he never thought that before fighting the demons of Hell and the devils of Chaos, he would one day fight the people of his hometown.
"What are you doing?"
A majestic voice came from behind, startling James who was immersed in the letter.
He subconsciously wanted to hide the letter, but met the Knight Commander's stern gaze.
Without any hesitation, he immediately stood up straight and reported loyally.
"Sir, I found a letter!"
"Give it to me!"
"yes!"
James handed over the letter in his hand tremblingly, and silently prayed for the soldier named Camille in his heart.
The Knight Commander finished reading the letter in his hand with a dark face, and read the words in the letter again and again, but to James's surprise, he did not get angry, but just put the letter away silently.
"Where did you pick it up?"
Jaime swallowed and pointed to the battlement next to him. It faced a rough slope of earth covered with trees and bushes, making it difficult for the watchtower to see it.
"It's right here...it might have been shot with a slingshot."
The Knight Commander nodded and spoke expressionlessly.
"Keep patrolling and don't miss any movement. If you pick up anything again, hand it over to me immediately."
James breathed a sigh of relief and said respectfully.
"yes!"
…
On the other side, Camille's letter went through many twists and turns and finally reached the hands of Commander Knight Reden.
Upon seeing the letter, the loyal knight came to the lord's hall without any hesitation and handed it to Earl Theron Gard who was pacing back and forth on the red carpet.
After reading the letter in her hand, Charlize Theron was so angry that her lips turned pale and her shoulders trembled.
Finally, he crumpled the letter in his hand into a ball and threw it to the ground, angrily saying.
"Pass my order down! Find this Camille for me!"
"Sir, absolutely not!" Leiden was shocked when he heard this, and hurriedly bowed his head and said earnestly, "This soldier named Kamil has done nothing wrong. We can't punish him just because someone wrote him a letter. He didn't even pick it up! Morale in the castle is already low. If we lose our composure, it will only give the rebels outside an opportunity to take advantage!"
Although Count Theron was not a lord who was good at business, he was a man who listened to advice.
He obviously realized that it was pointless to vent his anger on an insignificant soldier.
It is even possible that this was a trick of the rebels, and it is not certain whether Camille actually exists.
His heaving chest gradually subsided, and he waved his hand, signaling the guards who were ready to take action to return to their original positions.
However, the anger that gathered in his chest did not dissipate.
He couldn't figure out how the hungry people outside were fed, and how many forces outside were sponsoring this stupid and meaningless uprising, providing them with food and weapons.
"...I didn't expect these rebels to be so cruel and think of dividing the land."
Regardless of whether they finally fulfill their promise, this promise is enough to drive the peasants who follow them crazy.
"That's exactly what I'm worried about. The letter in your hands is probably just the tip of the iceberg. And in places we haven't discovered, I'm afraid the rumors have already spread."
Leiden looked gravely at the stiff-faced Earl and continued in a serious tone.
"If the situation continues to develop, not only will the people outside the castle, but even those inside will probably be unable to sit still..."
(End of this chapter)
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