Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The council hall erupted into chaos, councilors expressing shock, doubt, or rage.

Old Priskin's words landed with a thud, "With the hoofbeats over our heads and scimitars at our necks, whoever dares to hoard or speculate is a criminal! They should be stripped of their property and have their families wiped out!"

Some councilors turned angry, others panicked, and still others had already left their seats, nearly ready to flee the scene.

Winters looked around the hall, taking in everyone's expressions, and suddenly burst into laughter, slamming his hand on the table.

Caman, Xial, and the councilors were all baffled, not even old Priskin understood.

"Mr. Priskin, let's not bring up such a method again. If I had wanted to kill someone, I would have done so already; why would I need to call you all to a council meeting?" Winters laughed heartily, leaning forward and back, pointing at the people in the hall, "Look, they all think I've conspired with you in advance, putting on a show."

Old Priskin turned to look back, and the other councilors, not daring to meet his gaze, bowed their heads.

"I swear to Saint Peter, I never discussed today's matter with the lord protector in advance," old Priskin glared at the other councilors, "You short-sighted fools. Revodan may be short on grain, but it's not to the point where one Malte of rye costs one kilogram of silver!"

Old Priskin grew angrier as he spoke, his face turned as red as blood, and the tips of his mustache trembled, "This year's wheat harvest was already low, and grain prices soared, the poor haven't been able to afford bread for a long time!

And look at you! The barbarians haven't even arrived, yet you dare to raise prices without restraint! If you really push the Lower City's people to a dead end, you, me, do we still have lives to live? There's no need for barbarians' intervention, Revodan will immediately descend into chaos..."

The council hall fell silent, only the old man's thunderous roar could be heard.

"That's enough," Winters gestured for Priskin to stop, "I have other matters today and don't want to waste time. Please, just state your solution directly."

Old Priskin gave a deep bow to the protector, "Please confiscate all the property of those speculators, and the grain price issue will resolve itself!"

"No, that won't do," Winters waved his hand, "find another solution."

"Then there's only one option left," Priskin said.

"Speak," Winters said.

Old Priskin, gritting his teeth, said, "Please allocate military rations to relieve the poor."

Xial glared at Priskin, councilors who had just relaxed tensed up again, and even Father Caman was somewhat surprised.

Winters was not angered; he asked calmly, "How many days will my military rations last? When the rations run out, what will my soldiers eat?"

"Please establish a relief granary!" Priskin pressed his right hand to his chest, "The military and the Revodan city government should jointly supply grain, sharing the responsibility of aiding the poor."

"Can you represent Revodan?" Winters asked.

"I am the mayor of Revodan, of course, I can represent," old Priskin's hawk-like gaze swept over the councilors, "If anyone thinks I am not qualified, please, stand up now."

Winters chuckled coldly, "I am willing to supply grain, but are the people of Revodan willing?"

"Of course, they're not willing!" declared old Priskin openly, "That's why we can't take it for free, it should be bought in the form of a loan, at prices referenced from previous years. The military supplies one Malte, and the Revodan city government two Maltes. All the grain going into the relief granary should be considered a debt of the Revodan city government, to be repaid slowly over time."

"Where there's a buyer, there's a seller," Winters stroked his chin, "Given the current situation, how do you plan to sell? As much grain as you release will be bought up. Meanwhile, the price of flour will not come down. To just give it away? How much grain is there to give out?"

"Gathering grain is only the first step! The key is in the second step!" old Priskin once again bowed deeply, raising his voice to petition, "I, Priskin, beg the lord to allow work-for-relief!"

...

...

Xial, clutching a letter from Colonel Bod sent back from Mont Blanc County, braved the early winter chill as he crossed the church bridge to the south bank.

What used to be woods, wastelands, and farmlands on the south bank had now turned into a bustling construction site.

The men and women laboring numbered over three thousand, including more than thirteen hundred captives from Vernge County, and many unemployed people and farmers hired from Revodan and nearby villages.

On the construction site, every two hundred people were divided into a team, with designated primary and secondary captains, responsible for different work sections.

Men dug trenches and built walls, women carried soil, and the elderly who couldn't work were gathered to cook.

There were also several teams in charge of leveling land and cutting down trees.

The last five teams, behind on progress, could only claim half the food, other teams received full rations, and the top three teams even had meat supplies.

"Team performance assessment" was a lazy approach, but it was highly effective in the short term. Like being whipped by an invisible force, every team worked hard.

Besides "food", the reason people worked so hard was something else—"The barbarians are coming to kill us."

No matter how eloquently Winters spun words, they paled in comparison to the raw impact of the blood-soaked heads from Terdun.

Confronted with the rotting, stinking, twisted faces of barbarian heads, even the most numb, bravest, and most dismissive of the Iron Peak County people realized, "The barbarians really are coming."

The impact of Winters' display of "heads across fifteen towns" had its pros and cons.

The good: he no longer needed to urge and advise, the farmers of Iron Peak County, like squirrels preparing for winter, spontaneously began frantically digging cellars to hide grains and valuables.