Warhammer Divine Throne

The city was in utter chaos, with countless people from nearby villages flooding into the city, making it extremely crowded. If some self-sufficient farmers, small landlords, or merchants with savings might still find a place to stay, then those poor tenant peasants were not so lucky. They could only rest on street corners and roadsides, shivering in the cold wind.

In contrast, Count Albert's messengers were continuously shuttling through the city.

"All males between the ages of sixteen and forty-five must go to the armory to receive weapons!"

"Lord Albert has issued a national conscription order! Every male must accept the draft! Please proceed to the military camp for training immediately!"

"Those who do not accept the draft will be punished as traitors!"

Meanwhile, soldiers were constantly gathering in various parts of the city and collectively made their way to the barracks.

From the Church of Justice and the Life Church, cartloads of grain were being transported out. Both churches had established relief points specifically to supply these fleeing refugees. The priests and paladins were striving to maintain order, and the priests and fathers kept comforting and advising the refugees to remain calm and restrained.

Of course, the two major churches were simultaneously spreading their doctrines.

At the same time, many soldiers walked among the refugees, searching for all eligible males. Every time a man was taken from the crowd, cries would erupt in many families.

At this moment, an unexpected guest arrived at the Church of Justice.

Dressed in a black diagonally cinched long skirt with silver buckle studs and wearing black rhinoceros leather high-heeled boots, Teresa leaned on a magic staff as she walked into the crowd. Her alluring figure was wrapped in a long brown coat made with camel wool, and the female sorcerer's face was like eternal ice, exuding an aura that warned others to keep their distance. Seeing this, the refugees hurriedly made way for her.

Only a handcart blocked Teresa's path forward. On the cart, a boy and a girl were desperately gnawing on black bread. From their greedy demeanor, it was clear they were desperately hungry.

The female sorcerer noticed that the black bread in the hands of the refugees was of the poorest quality. These hard objects mixed with sawdust and dirt were their food, yet many refugees were crying, repeatedly thanking the Church of Justice for its aid. Many peasants, having fled for only two or three days, were already out of food.

The fragility of the small-scale farming economy in Nord was thus evident.

The words Laine had told her, "I hope you can treat everyone fairly," echoed in Teresa's ears. The female sorcerer took a deep breath and said with as pleasant an expression as possible, "Make way."

"Oh! What a beautiful big sister!" The little boy looked up and, seeing a beautiful big sister standing before him, said with shining eyes.

"Oh! Lucas!!!" The children's mother, seeing this scene, was horrified. She hurried over to protect her child behind her: "Madam Witch, I'm sorry, truly sorry, we meant no offense! We will make way right now, make way immediately!"

The female sorcerer said nothing and walked straight into the Church of Justice.

Paladin Alfred was having lunch, holding a bowl of meat soup with a large piece of white bread, eating with great relish. Seeing Teresa enter the Church of Justice, this paladin almost spat out his food: "Lady Trovik?! What... are you doing here?"

"While the refugees outside eat black bread, you're here drinking meat soup and eating white bread?" Teresa didn't answer his question but instead mocked him.

"Justice comes at a cost. If we give them the same white bread and meat soup, it will not only harm them but everyone else." Alfred wiped his mouth: "Alright, what's the matter?"

"I would like to consult about some matters concerning Laine..."

Mijordenhaven, the barracks.

The barracks were bustling with people.

"Sir, these are your things!" A piece of chest armor and a uniform were thrown in front of a teenage boy, followed by a war axe almost as tall as him.

The boy received the weapon, looking dazed at the war axe taller than himself, not knowing what to do.

An elderly farmer also took a long spear from the soldier's hand. His hair was already graying, his body bent, and he sighed softly.

Laine stood by, watching the militia and conscripts temporarily drafted receive weapons in the barracks. Carts of coins belonging to Count Albert were being transported out of the lord's warehouse. Every conscript received some silver coins as military pay and a few days' worth of rations.

It's just that the price they might pay is their lives.

The half-elf stood beside Laine. As the immediate combat force within the city, he and Fake, Rost, and the others were all forcibly conscripted by the lord. Estelle stood by Laine, shaking her head: "I don't see the necessity to conscript them. Sending these people to the battlefield is just sending them to their deaths."

"Coachmen, tenants, workers, cooks, they're not soldiers," Laine shook his head, but he continued: "Yet we still need them. The enemy is a barbarian army of over four thousand. We have only three hundred standing soldiers and a few hundred conscripts... These people are no match for the barbarians. And unlike you elves, our population... is a resource that can be sacrificed."

Estelle was speechless. The half-elf had faced the barbarians before. Under Chaos's protection, the barbarians' fighting strength far exceeded that of ordinary people.