Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 350: Chapter 26 Gold Bars and the Draft Lottery_2

“The village of Wolfton under the jurisdiction of the Federated Counties is obliged to provide militia as support troops when the New Reclamation Legion needs them,”

Stripped of its verbose formalities, the specific content of the request was that Wolfton provide a full hundred-man militia, with no weapons required on their part, and conscription limited to able-bodied males between the ages of 15 and 35.

The muster rolls had to be sent to Revodan town’s garrison by October 15, with the exact assembly location and time to be notified separately.

The tone of this levying order didn’t seem to come from the Republic; it rather resembled the demands of a noble from the old times, requiring his vassals to fulfill their fealty.

They were only concerned with taking men, with no regard for anything else.

It’s known that the less detailed the instructions and the broader the mandate, the more leeway is left to the executors.

Apart from quality control in conscription, the order signed by General Adams had no restrictions. In the hands of some with ill intentions, it wouldn’t be difficult to ruin ordinary farming families.

Winters found this surprising, but Gerard and the commoners from various villages in Wolf Town had grown accustomed to it.

After the orders were read aloud in the villages, the villagers had no objections to the method of conscription; their only concern was the number of conscripts.@@novelbin@@

Many villagers murmured, “Last time they only levied forty, why are they taking eighty now?” A few literate villagers even plucked up the courage to ask to see the original drafting order.

However, the commands were clearly written in black and white on the sealed order, and though there was dissatisfaction, people merely complained a few words. In front of Winters and Gerard, no one dared to openly oppose.

Winters hadn’t expected the people of Wolf Town to accept so naturally the necessity of conscription. The reading of the orders went very smoothly, hardly needing him to say a word.

Back at the security office, Winters invited Gerard, Father Caman, and Brother Reed to discuss conscription methods.

“Don’t worry too much; Wolfton has experienced many conscriptions before, everyone is used to it,” Gerard sensed Winters’ unease: “If you ask me, we should stick with the old way, drawing lots.”

Father Caman shook his head: “Drawing lots alone probably won’t do. Previously we only conscripted forty, which wasn’t too many. This time we need to take eighty, all young and strong men from the villages. If a family has two members drawn, the remaining elderly, women, and children will have a hard time. There might be some who desert.”

Gerard, in thought, said: “What about drawing lots, and those not drawn contribute some money as compensation?”

“That might work,” Father Caman said, holding his necklace: “But we need to get the compensation amount right. Some families are poor, some are rich, we should take that into account.”

Gerard and Caman discussed back and forth.

But what Winters was more curious about was what Gerard had mentioned, “Wolfton has experienced many conscriptions before.”

“What was the previous conscription like?” Winters asked.

“Ah,” Gerard sighed, “Every time we fought with the Herders, be it a large or small skirmish, we had to conscript. Before we had a Garrison Officer here, I was the one leading our men.”

The new lands were not only heavily taxed, but the corvée was more frequent than Winters had imagined.

Seeing Winters’ furrowed brow, Gerard quickly added: “They say militia, but actually it’s just laborers, hardly ever having to go into battle. Mostly doing odd jobs, carrying things, escorting supply materials.”

“Fighting the Herders? What do you mean?” Winters’ focus was not on what Gerard said: “You’ve fought them many times?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” snorted Brother Reed: “On the east of Palatu lies Vineta and The Federated Provinces, and to the west the Herder tribes. If we don’t fight the Herders, do we make war with our allies instead?”

“Why didn’t I hear much about Paratu fighting with the Herders while I was in The Federated Provinces and Vineta?”

“Would everyone buzz with excitement over a dog biting a man?” the old monk scoffed, “It’s only notable when a man bites a dog. What’s so special about highlanders and Herders fighting? Especially for you Venetians, what do you care about other than money? Have you ever cared about Paratu, unless, let’s say, Paratu discovers a gold mine one day? I guarantee by the next day every Venetian would know.”

Winters disregarded the old mystic’s sarcastic tone and pursued, “What I mean is… why fight?”

“Why fight?” Reed laughed as if he had just heard the funniest joke, “You should ask, when have they ever stopped fighting?”

He stood up, dipped his finger in the liquor, and began to trace on the table, quickly sketching the rough outline of the Paratu plateau.

“The Herders are not a monolith; various factions and the Paratu People fight small battles every three years and large ones every five, with a history of warring back and forth for at least several hundred years. If we go back to the westward expansion of the Ancient Empire, it’s been over a thousand years. Today’s Paratu People are just Empire-ized Herders, originally one of the factions themselves. It’s just that the Paratu People don’t acknowledge it.”

As the old monk drew on the table, he continued, “In the last hundred years, there were times that Paratu People and the Herders had their victories and defeats. The factions even once made it all the way to Kingsfort, with the Duke of Paratu shivering in the castle, letting the Herders burn, kill, and loot at will.”

The old mendicant suddenly stopped, calculated with his fingers, and sighed, “Come to think of it, that was sixty years ago.”

Winters, Gerard, and Father Caman were all listening intently.

“And then?” Winters asked.

“Then the Herders played themselves to death. Internal strife, division, disputes over clan leadership, the same old story,” the old monk sneered, “while the Paratu People received arms from The Federated Provinces and gold from Vineta. Given the situation, the balance tipped, and of course, the Herders couldn’t hold out. The place where you’re sitting right now used to be the land of the Herder’s Suta Faction, and now it has become the Paratu Newly Reclaimed Land, hasn’t it?”

The old monk tilted his head towards Father Caman, “The church in Wolf Town was a chapel built by heretic missionaries who came to the Suta Faction in the early years. That’s why the wall paintings depict Arianism. Didn’t you know?”

“What are you saying?” Father Caman was stunned.

“Go back and have a good look. See if the depiction of the divine child on the paintings gradually changes from beardless to bearded. This implies that the divine child is a man, which is the doctrine of Arianism.” The mendicant chuckled, “Those who came to take over the church property didn’t know a thing. They took over as is, and the paintings remained unmodified. I didn’t have the heart to mention it to old Anthony; it would have killed him.”

“Where did the Suta Faction go?” Winters asked.

“Where else? They’re all in heaven now.” The old monk pointed at Gerard, “Mr. Michel here contributed his part as well.”

Gerard, who was initially absorbed by the conversation, jumped, startled at being called out, and after a moment slowly answered, “When we Dusans first arrived in Paratu, the Newly Reclaimed Land was indeed not reclaimed yet.”

Remembering the Herders on Red Sulfur Island who were desperate to return home and were fearless in death, Winters couldn’t help but sigh, “You mean the war between the Kingdom of Galloping Horses and the Herder factions has never stopped?”

“Pretty much,” the old monk blinked, “There’s been fighting and pauses in between. Overall, it’s never really stopped.”

Winters thought of the war between Vineta and the islands, “Are the Herders wealthy?”

“No, on the contrary, the Herders are poor. So in the past, it was always the Herder factions attacking and the Paratu People defending,” the old monk explained, pointing at the map on the table, “But now it’s different; now it’s the Paratu People attacking and the Herders defending. The Kingdom of Galloping Horses craves more land and can’t attack The Federated Provinces or Vineta, so naturally, they move westward.”

“Isn’t there unclaimed territory further west?” Winters had been to the west bank of Big Horn River not long before.

“I think this time they want that hundred-kilometer-wide unclaimed area,” the old monk stroked his beard, “The Paratu People rely on plunder to wage war. The more they fight, the more they need the spoils of war, and the more they need the spoils, the more they have to continue fighting, like rolling a snowball… But this doesn’t concern you. Rest easy, the people of Wolf Town will definitely support the war against the Herders. If the compensation is reasonable, it won’t be hard to put together a hundred-man militia.”

“Why?” Winters grew more puzzled, “Are there still people willing to fight? I mean, the poor… Even the poor are willing to fight?”

“Kid, you’ve got it all wrong,” Reed narrowed his eyes and spoke mysteriously, “In the Republic of Paratu, those most eager for war with the Herders are exactly the ‘poor families’ you’re talking about.”

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