Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 242 Registered Households
"Are you going to kill us or let us go?!" Lieutenant Adam kicked the door and roared at the guards, yelling angrily, "Just do it already! Why torture us like this, you bastards!"

Unfortunately, the soldiers outside seemed deaf, ignoring the enraged lieutenant prisoner.

This fueled [Lovrensis Adam's] rage, and he pounded on the door, yelling, "Open the door! Open the door! Open the door!"

The roof trembled with his impact, and fine dust fell, dancing in the sunlight.

The soldiers outside remained silent, only bringing over some logs to prop the door shut.

"That's enough!" Major Ronald from next door shouted at the lieutenant, "Save your energy! Don't hurt yourself."

Upon hearing the major's words, Adam stopped, panting heavily.

The officers were held in solitary confinement in a farmhouse outside Zhevodan.

They were neither killed nor released, and were kept locked up with two meals a day.

Initially, some people thought Winters was trying to recruit them, and everyone even made a pact not to betray him.

But that junior student never showed up.

Then, some people thought that Winters wanted to use them to exchange for ransom or as bargaining chips.

But the guards outside never showed any such intention; to be precise, they didn't talk to them at all.

As a result, the captured officers' anxiety and unease grew day by day.

"Senior!" Adam walked up to Captain Epper. "Say something! What's the situation outside? When will General Adams send troops? What's wrong with you?"

The farmhouse was small, with only two rooms. Major Ronald had one room, and the other lieutenants had one room.

Among the junior officers, Epel was originally the major's deputy, so the other junior officers naturally regarded him as their backbone.

But ever since the captain was imprisoned, he hasn't said a single word.

He became a body that could only walk but had no soul, feeling neither worry nor anger, only numbness.

Adam yelled and screamed, but Eppel didn't even glance at him, continuing to hug her knees and stare out the window.

“That bastard Montagne, how did he manage to get you into this state?” Adam was both distressed and angry. He rushed to the window and yelled at the guard, “Bring Winters Montagne here! What kind of evil magic did he cast on Senior Eppel?! [Severe regional discrimination against the Venetians]!”

“Adam,” Epel suddenly spoke, “come here.”

Adam was startled at first, and subconsciously walked to his senior's side.

Epel patted the floor: "Sit down."

Adam obediently sat down.

Then, Epel returned to her previous state, gazing out the window without saying a word.

Adam sat for a while, then stood up angrily.

“I have a rough idea of ​​what Winters is up to.” Lieutenant István crossed his arms and leaned against the window, carefully observing the outside of the farmhouse. “It’s quite interesting.”

When officers didn't want their conversations to be understood by the guards, they would switch to old phrases.

"[Old saying] Do you know what he's up to?" Adam asked in surprise.

István uttered a single word: "[Old language] Reclamation decree".

"[Old saying] What?"

"[Old saying] The Legion Headquarters' 'Reclamation Decree' is to recruit refugees to clear land. Haven't you noticed that we haven't seen a single refugee outside these past few days?"

“[Old saying] What Montagne is up to is irrelevant.” Adam’s mind was entirely on something else: “[Old saying] Senior Epper’s mind has been corrupted by witchcraft. You take the lead, and we’ll figure out a way to escape!”

“[Old saying] There’s no way to escape. You don’t even have a horse. How can you escape?” Istvan chuckled. “[Old saying] But you can try.”

……

Winters wasn't deliberately ignoring his seniors; he was simply too busy to notice them.

Winters dispatched all his scouts to the neighboring counties of Mont Blanc and Vernge to monitor the New Reclamation Legion's every move.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Colonel Moritz, Lieutenant Juan, and Andrei are leading cavalry to patrol the roads leading in and out of Iron Peak County day and night, setting up a net to intercept scouts entering Iron Peak County from White Mountain County and Vorgie County.

Winters issued a [lockdown order]: no one may leave Iron Peak County or enter Iron Peak County without the approval of the garrison.

He wanted to keep Tiefeng County hidden in the fog as much as possible.

Winters is currently focusing all his energy on the refugee camps outside the city; he even eats and sleeps there.

Bard spent most of his time in the city, handling all the affairs of Zhevodan.

As for Captain Richard Mason, the second-highest-ranking officer in the military, Mason was nowhere to be seen all day. He would ride out of the city early every morning and return at night, supposedly to search for a bell foundry.

……

The atmosphere in the refugee camp was somber.

Large numbers of refugee farmers came to Revodan to beg, but Revodan did not allow the refugees to enter the city. Instead, they distributed porridge outside the city every day and even temporarily built city walls to block the refugees.

The refugees outside the city managed to set up tents with a few sticks to make do with their homes. As they gathered, they eventually formed a huge, dirty, and muddy camp.

This so-called camp had no walls or "boundaries" at all.

But now, it exists.

After Moritz and Don Juan stormed into Gevodan, they immediately dispatched troops to take control of the refugee camp.

After arriving in Zhevodan, Badr intensified his control over the refugee camps.

The once boundless refugee camp is now surrounded by two concentric "walls" made of wooden stakes and ropes.

There was a gap of about six meters between the two walls, and soldiers in full armor patrolled between them.

Any vagrant who trespasses into the open space between the two walls will be whipped, and a second offense will result in hanging—this was a rule personally established by Bader.

"No escaping! No arguing! No grabbing when the porridge is served!" These were the three rules that Bader set for the refugees, and the punishments were very simple, with only two options: three lashes for the first offense and hanging for the second offense.

The corpses hanging from the wooden stakes in the open space are the most direct warning.

Even Andrei and Don Juan felt that Bader had gone too far, let alone Winters, Moritz and Mason.

But Bader insisted on doing so.

Major Ronald didn't have a good way to deal with the refugees, so he selected young and strong men to be soldiers and left the rest outside the city, giving them some boiled and reheated wheat porridge every day.

He's just stalling.

Winters and Bard, on the other hand, need to solve the problem completely.

……

"What's your name?" Winters asked without looking up.

The fleeing farmer answered tremblingly, "Peter."

Behind Peter, a long line of ragged refugees stretched as far as the eye could see, extending deep into the refugee camp.

It wasn't that they lined up voluntarily, but rather that the whips and sticks hurt too much.

Winters felt a splitting headache when he heard the farmer call himself "[Peter]", because this was the fourteenth Peter he had met that day.

There was no other way; from commoners to royalty, everyone used the same common names over and over again.

Not to mention that some church nobles would restrict the choice, stipulating that their subjects must choose names from the scriptures.

Many farmers never leave their small villages in their entire lives; the population is limited, and it doesn't matter if names are repeated.

However, Winters now needs to be registered as a commoner, and the duplicate names have become a major problem for him.

Fortunately, he has already come up with a solution.

"Which town and village are you from?" Winters asked the farmer.

"Qingfeng Town," the farmer replied softly, "Shibi Village."

He dared not speak loudly, because the refugee camp enforced military law and strictly prohibited noise.

Anyone who dares to make a loud noise will be immediately dragged out and whipped.

It was only through such ruthless methods that fewer than three hundred soldiers were able to temporarily suppress the refugees who outnumbered them by several dozen times.

This is not a long-term solution; Winters must depressurize before the explosion.

Looking at the farmer's face, tanned dark from years of hard work, Winters said helplessly, "You're dark-skinned, so you'll be called Peter Black."

The farmer named Peter was stunned for a moment before nodding.

Winters quickly scribbled a few lines of letters on the paper: “You are Peter Black from Windsor, Stonewall Village. Don’t confuse him with any other Peter Black.”

“Sir…” Peter asked timidly, “Are there any other Peter Blacks?”

“Yes,” Winters scoffed. “There are plenty. Age?”

"what?"

"How old are you?!"

"thirty-one."

Do you own any land?

"No, I farm for Master Kwa."

"Married?"

"No."

"So you don't have any children either, right?"

"No."

"Father, Mother, are you still there?"

Peter's nose stung with tears: "They're all gone."

"Please accept my condolences." Winters sighed. "Live well, there will be a way out."

Peter, puzzled, nodded blankly.

Winters then took out a small wooden plaque, wrote "[Peter Black of Qingfeng Town, Shibi Village]" on it, and handed it to the other person.

“Your name is on this. You’ll need this to get your food from now on.” Winters pointed behind him: “Go over there and show this to that person. Go to the camp in Qingfeng Town.”

Peter hadn't reacted yet; he stood there dumbfounded.

“In the past!” Winters’ eyes widened involuntarily.

Peter understood now, and he ran ahead.

He couldn't resist taking out the small wooden sign to look at it. There was a line of letters and a string of numbers on it. "Is this my name?" Peter thought to himself. Someone had taught him to recognize names, but he could never remember them.

He hadn't run more than a few steps when he was stopped by another soldier.

The other party rudely snatched his wooden sign, glanced at it, and then roughly shoved it back at him.

"You're from Qingfeng Town! Go to the southernmost camp!" the soldier warned gruffly. "If you go the wrong way, you'll get whipped!"

Peter Black from Qingfeng Town and Shibi Village walked all the way to the southernmost point.

After the wooden sign was checked again, the soldier in charge of the gate let him into the Qingfeng Town camp and even gave him a large piece of black bread.

In the camp, he unexpectedly met his fellow countryman—another Peter.

Prior to this, he didn't even know that his fellow countryman, known as "Fish-Eyed Peter," was also in the refugee camp.

"What's your name, Peter?" Fisheye asked eagerly. He replied happily, "Adults say Fisheye sounds awful and is hard to pronounce. So now I'm not called Fisheye anymore, I'm called Peter Fisher!"

“My name is now… Peter Black,” Peter Black replied with a hint of pride.

On the other side, another farmer came to Winters.

"What's your name?" Winters asked without looking up.

“Peter,” the farmer answered softly.

A groan escaped from the deepest part of Winters' chest, and his head throbbed even more.

……

The six-person group unanimously agreed that the refugees must be separated and never allowed to gather in groups.

For refugees, numbers are courage.

One disaster victim may be timid and cowardly, but a hundred disaster victims dare to loot a village, and ten thousand disaster victims can plunder a city.

The refugees must be separated, but not too scattered, otherwise they will be difficult to manage.

Dividing the troops into sixteen sub-camps based on their place of origin would be the most reasonable strategy.

Moreover, being with fellow villagers makes refugees feel safer.

Winters didn't know how the White Lion specifically "registered households and subjects," so he could only proceed according to his own ideas.

To "weave the people together like weaving baskets," one must first know how many people there are.

Winters registered all the refugees outside the city in five categories: [male/female], [age], [place of origin], [physical condition], and [family members and property].

All his literate soldiers were mobilized to register the refugees, including Winters himself.

He also borrowed thirty-three bookkeepers and scribes from various shops in the city.

When "Blood Wolf" spoke, the merchants happily sent over their employees.

Winters also gave impromptu lessons to some bright and quick-witted soldiers, teaching them to read the most basic words.

For example, the soldier guarding the Qingfeng Town camp couldn't read at all—it would be a waste to send a literate soldier to guard the gate.

But he was still able to perform his duties well because Winters taught him the word [Clearwind Town].

After leaving the main camp, the refugees were screened and registered before entering the branch camps in various towns.

Although the process had its share of bumps, it was generally well-organized.

As everyone gradually became more familiar with their work, their efficiency increased.

Moreover, the new camp, planned according to the temporary military camp design, was significantly more comfortable than the dirty and filthy refugee camp.

Winters even personally led a team to dig toilets for every camp – epidemic prevention was of paramount importance.

Upon entering the branch camp, the first thing they did was distribute food to the refugees.

It wasn't porridge, but bread; once you're full, you won't panic.

In any case, the refugees had no property; all their possessions were carried on their shoulders and in their hands. They went wherever there was food—somewhat like the nomadic Hed people.

Winters despises repetitive work.

He was so overwhelmed with naming the refugees that he was almost forgetting how to write words. He couldn't help but think, "If only the refugees could read and write! They could write it themselves, and I could just glance at it."

But he quickly dismissed the idea.

How could everyone possibly be literate? That would have to be in heaven!
“Or should I teach all the warriors?” Winters came up with another alternative: “Let them do the work, then I won’t have to.”

Just as he was thinking this, Charles came running over, breathless.

"Why are you still here?" Charles asked, leaning on his knees and panting heavily. "Have you forgotten who's coming today?"

"What?" Winters asked back, his hands moving without stopping as he accurately placed a registration sheet into one of the sixteen wooden boxes.

"Miss Navarre is in Gervodan today!"

Winters jumped up, causing his chair to tip backward.

"Charles!" Winters pulled up a chair, pressed Charles into a seat, and shoved a quill into Charles's hand: "Here you come!"

After saying that, he leaped onto the saddle and galloped away like the wind.

……

Although it was very unwise to rush to bring one's family to Thevadant before establishing a firm foothold.

However, Winters missed Anna terribly, and Anna missed Winters too.

So when Pierre came to meet them in Gevordan, he also brought his female relatives with him.

Winters was supposed to go to greet her, but when he met Anna, she was already waiting for him at the officer's residence in the garrison.

“We are truly honored that you could take time out of your busy schedule to come,” Catherine said with a radiant smile, curtsying to Winters. She didn’t want to leave her sister and had come to Gévordan as well.

Winters is capable of ignoring this level of sarcasm.

He walked straight to Anna and hugged her tightly.

Catherine gasped, angrily kicked Winters in the shin, and turned to leave the room.

“You shouldn’t have come here, it’s too dangerous.” Winters hugged his lover tightly.

Anna wrapped her arms around her lover's neck: "But aren't you here?"

……

Winters found Pierre and Scarlett in the stables.

Changsheng and Bottayun were also taken to Ghevorden. Scarlett was breastfeeding Changsheng, while Pierre stayed with his sister.

When Scarlett met Winters, her first words were: "Bottayun isn't producing milk, so I want to feed Changsheng goat's milk and cow's milk."

Changsheng already resembles a little foal, having shed some of the fragility it had when it was first born.

Winters stroked Changsheng: "Okay, I'll go find it."

"A horse raised on goat's milk?" Pierre joked. "Can it even be ridden? Let's find a mare with a foal."

Winters and Pierre had something very important to say, leaving Scarlett in the stables.

“There’s something I need you to do,” Winters said to Pierre.

“I’ll go,” Pierre answered without hesitation.

Winters didn't say anything else; there was no need for him and Dussac to say anything more.

He didn't need to explain how important the matter was or why Pierre had to go.

Pierre never complained about his long journeys between Gévord and Wolf Town, never having a moment's rest.

“Berion Sawyer,” Winters said, uttering a name.

“Blacksmith, cook,” Pierre nodded.

“He’s being held by Blue Rose, which means he’s in Arpad’s hands.” Winters looked at Pierre. “I need you to pinpoint his location.”

Pierre nodded calmly.

Arpad had a large number of Dussac cavalry at his disposal, so the calm and quick-witted Pierre Dussac was the only one suitable for the task.

Who do you want to take with you?

“Washika, pick another Dusak who is a bit older.”

"What else do you need?"

"Gold coins, lots of gold coins."

"Go find Lieutenant Bard. You can go to him for anything you need."

"Yes."

"Be extremely careful." Winters patted Pierre's shoulder. "Just confirm the location. There's no need to force a rescue; I'll go myself."

"Don't worry," Pierre said with a slight smile.

This was one of the rare times Winters said "Go for it" instead of "Follow me," but he was no longer a centurion, and he had to adapt to letting his subordinates do things independently. He also had to learn to trust and rely on his subordinates.

Winters wanted to say a few more words.

The rapid sound of hooves interrupted him as a red-maned warhorse galloped into the courtyard, ridden by Anglu.

“Centurion.” Anglu dismounted and handed Winters two letters: “Mr. B wants them for you.”

Two letters, one bearing the insignia of the New Reclamation Legion, the other with a black cross drawn on it—meaning extremely urgent.

Winters first read the letter from the New Reclamation Corps, and as he read, his eyebrows twitched slightly.

Then he glanced at the black cross letter.

"What's wrong?" Pierre asked with some concern.

Winters handed the letter to Pierre.

The first letter came from Maplestone City, the headquarters of the New Reclamation Army.

The recipient was not identified; only the name "[Zevodan Garrison]" was used.

The content was simple: the Legion headquarters demanded that the Zhevodan garrison pay the grain tax due this autumn.

The second letter came from Lieutenant Colonel Moritz.

The details are simpler: the newly established army units in White Mountain County and Vaughan County are assembling.

[The last part of the previous chapter has been slightly revised.]
[For surnames and given names to truly enter every household, the policy of a "population census" needs to be introduced first; population "surveys" are not new, for example, William the Conqueror's *Last Judgment*. However, a true "population census" would take a long time to arrive; the "migrant check" system can be considered a precursor to a population census.]
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
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(End of this chapter)