I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 423 Bitterness

Having empathized with Chris, Diu Ni Rem finally managed to get everything sorted out within the time limit, "coaxing" the Holy Expeditionary Army out of Bagnia's territory and heading towards the coastal region of the Kingdom of Minicia—the Suvano region.

Not long after they left, the Holy Expeditionary Army encountered resistance from the Minieses, but this resistance was completely unexpected.

Refugee crisis.

Riding a tall horse, Diu Ni Rem stood by the roadside with his mouth agape, staring at the muddy dirt road ahead with an incredulous expression.

Before him stretched an endless line of Miniese civilians, men, women, and children, families in tow, pushing creaking wheelbarrows, carrying bulging bundles, and some even holding crying babies in their arms, all moving at a steady, slow pace toward Bagnia, where the Holy Expeditionary Army had just left.

Everywhere Rem looked, he could see exhaustion, terror, and an almost numb will to survive written on everyone's face.

This wave of refugees collided head-on with the vanguard of the Holy Expeditionary Army.

This massive, silent wave of refugees, exuding an aura of despair, crashed head-on into the orderly ranks of the Holy Expeditionary Army's vanguard, like a viscous mudslide.

The expected shock, screams, and shoving did not occur. Instead, a more bizarre and suffocating scene unfolded.

When the murky eyes of the refugees at the front met the gleaming armor, the fluttering double-headed eagle, and the gear flag, the refugees said nothing. They remained silent, with only the sound of wheels rolling over the sticky mud and suppressed gasps echoing in the air.

Then, in the next second, Rem saw the silent torrent begin to split.

There were no commands, no shouts, only a tacit understanding honed through countless escapes, almost instinctive.

Almost instinctively, those at the front of the refugee wave desperately pushed their way through the muddy ridges and bushes on either side of the road, trying to make way for the army that represented the kingdom's authority.

Those behind, unaware of what was happening, were pushed and shoved, surging to both sides.

The chaos began.

But this chaos is not a disorderly collision, but a silent, oppressive avoidance.

An old man pushing a wheelbarrow frantically tried to drag the heavy cart off the main road, but the wheels got stuck in the mud. He hunched over, using all his strength to push and pull, his chapped lips tightly closed, only murky sweat rolling down his face.

The woman, carrying a huge bundle that almost covered her entire upper body, staggered to the side.

During this process, the package accidentally scraped against the thorns by the roadside, tearing the fabric and revealing a pitiful little bit of food inside, which might be the only food the family had left. She didn't dare to look at the fallen grains of wheat, but just protected the package even tighter and shrank into the crowd.

The mother, holding her baby, clutched the child tightly to her chest in terror, covering the baby's face with her tattered clothes, as if the gleaming armor and weapons were more terrifying than the snake-man behind her.

The baby's cries were tightly muffled by her chest, leaving only muffled whimpers.

Several teenagers were frantically pulled by the adults, falling into the mud and water, only to be quickly pulled up again. Their faces, covered in mud, showed only confusion and fear, and they dared not cry out.

The entire refugee crisis was like a huge, viscous, living curtain, torn open by an invisible hand.

The soldiers of the Holy Expeditionary Force's vanguard, along with their commander Diu Ni Rem, were thus abruptly and awkwardly placed in the middle of this narrow, muddy passage formed by a silent human wall.

The players reacted much like Rem, their hands gripping their weapons at a loss, their faces showing embarrassment and surprise.

They had envisioned resistance, battle, even massacre, but never this…silent retreat.

This kind of evasion is more effective at piercing their armor than any sword or blade.

There was no attack, no insults, and not even pleading. They simply expressed through their actions that they feared them far more than they feared the disaster itself, and asked them to leave and not block their only way to survive.

The air seemed to freeze, save for the refugees' heavy breathing, suppressed sobs, the rubbing of their bodies, and the struggling sound of wheels.

The Holy Expedition players, mounted on their horses, felt like uninvited guests who had stumbled into a massive funeral, surrounded by countless empty, weary eyes filled with deep fear.

Those gazes were like cold needles, piercing their proud armor and flags.

Deunirem's mouth was still slightly open; the initial shock had transformed into an indescribable sense of heaviness and absurdity.

He looked at the old man with the wheelbarrow stuck in the mud, at the mother who held her child tightly, afraid to cry, and at the children who fell down but silently got up again...

These were supposed to be protected by the Minieses, and were also the enemies that their holy army was nominally meant to attack.

Now, they avoid it like the plague, silently sinking deeper into the mud, rather than hiding or running away.

"What the hell is this ridiculous nonsense?"

Diu Ni Rem's voice was terribly dry, almost unlike his own. Born under the red flag, his first reaction to such a thing was not to feel proud, but rather to feel subconscious fear and discomfort.

Why the fear?
Why do I feel so bad?
It's hard to say for sure. When he was an official in Bagnia, he was always diligent in his work and rarely went out to show off his power to the common people. Besides, the people he often came into contact with were all players.

Diu Ni Rem knows what kind of people the players are. The former are all smiles and laughter, and they are high-ranking officials in real life. They seem to have some respect for them. What are players who are officials in the game? It would be strange if they had any respect for them.

Therefore, although Diu Ni Rem enjoyed the power he wielded as an official in the Kingdom of Bagnia, he did not actually prey on the people.

Deunirem instinctively waved his hand forcefully, not pointing at the refugees, but signaling to his subordinates.

"Brothers, move aside and let them pass first."

His command jolted the players awake, and with a hint of barely perceptible panic and confusion, they clumsily maneuvered their warhorses, trying to squeeze to the edges of the road and widen the passage cleared by the refugees.

The refugees seemed not to understand the order, or perhaps they couldn't believe it.

Their movements to avoid him stopped, and countless eyes, filled with deeper doubt and vigilance, focused on Deunirem.

Only when the players, fully armored and clearly knights, actually began to move to the sides, and a few even jumped off their horses to help push the wheelbarrow stuck in the mud, did the frozen crowd begin to move again, extremely slowly and cautiously.

They remained silent, numb, and terrified, but their direction was resolute as they flowed toward Tavitsky, toward the land of the Kingdom of Bagnia, which their master considered an enemy.

The players of the Holy Expedition were squeezed to the side of the road, becoming an awkward footnote in this massive and desperate migration.

Diu Ni Rem, riding his horse, stood by the roadside, gazing at the silent, flowing river of people before him, scratching his head vigorously.

"What's going on here... A few people, go and ask those refugees what happened to them and why they're fleeing?"

According to what I know, the autumn harvest in the Kingdom of Minicia is pretty good this year!
When the traveling merchants from the Kingdom of Minicia came to buy goods this summer, they didn't buy much grain. They preferred things like oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, needles, and thread.

As for the large grain purchase lists of those Minesian merchants and caravans, they are not of much reference value, because their ability to arrive in Tavitsky in broad daylight means that they are acting on orders from the state or certain Minesian nobles.

These large merchants and caravans made purchases under orders, not based on market trends.

As for the Minisian caravans that openly entered Tavitsky to purchase large quantities of grain under the guise of royalty or nobility.

Diu Ni Rem scoffed, because those dozens or even hundreds of cartloads of grain couldn't possibly represent the needs of the lower classes.

Those were military rations, ordered by Charles and the nobles below him to feed their troops, or to hoard and manipulate grain prices.

On the contrary, if street vendors also start buying food through cross-border smuggling, that's a sign that a natural disaster is coming.

The reason is simple: these traveling merchants had a limited capacity to carry goods. They relied on human labor, a donkey, or a handcart to transport their goods. Given the limited transport capacity, they would calculate the cost-effectiveness of their goods to the greatest extent possible.

Compared to grains, small commodities like oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, needles, and thread have the highest profit margins. They are small in size and light in weight, and one person can easily carry a large quantity. Moreover, these items are not outdated in rural areas, so there is no worry about selling them or stockpiling them.

Therefore, Diu Ni Rem was completely baffled by the emergence of the refugee crisis.

The player soldiers who were called out immediately sprang into action. They put away their weapons, tried to make their expressions less intimidating, and approached the refugees struggling to make their way to the roadside. "Hey, wait a minute!"

One player stopped an old man pushing a wheelbarrow, the same one whose wheel had gotten stuck in the mud earlier.

The old man's body stiffened abruptly, his cloudy eyes instantly filled with terror, and he instinctively tried to dodge to the side, almost causing the car to tip over again.

"Don't be afraid...don't be afraid, we just want to ask, what's wrong with you?"
Why are we heading towards Bagnia?

The player quickly explained and even reached out to help steady the swaying cart shaft.

The old man nervously licked his chapped lips, his eyes darting around, his voice hoarse.

"Master, if we don't run, we'll die..."

After saying that, the old man lowered his head and tried to push the car away, clearly not wanting to say anything more.

Another player approached a woman carrying a tattered bundle and whose face was deliberately smeared with mud and ash.

"Auntie, what happened up ahead?"

The woman being questioned visibly trembled and clutched the tattered bundle in her arms even tighter, as if it were her only lifeline.

She glanced quickly at the double-headed eagle and gear insignia on the soldiers' armor, then lowered her head again, her voice barely audible: "N-nothing...we just...wanted to go somewhere else..."

Her eyes darted around; she was clearly lying.

The player soldiers looked at each other, somewhat helpless.

Although these refugees knew from Chris's reputation and the discipline of the Bagnian army that they were unlikely to harm civilians, this was why they dared to remain silent and avoid the situation instead of scattering and fleeing.

But their deep-seated fear of the soldiers and the cautiousness instilled by years of oppression were deeply ingrained. They dared not easily trust these soldiers in the armor of a strange kingdom, fearing that saying the wrong thing would cause trouble or be detained, delaying their precious time to escape.

"Fellow villagers, we really mean no harm, we just want to know what happened up ahead."

One player should try to use a softer tone of voice.

"Tell us, maybe we can help?"

His only response was silence and an even more determined effort to keep going.

The refugees were like tightly closed clam shells, their inner fears wrapped in numbness and vigilance.

Just then, one of the players had a sudden inspiration.

He remembered that he still had several cans of marching meat issued by the Bagnian army in his backpack in the car. They were good stuff, sealed with horseshoes and weighing three kilograms.

This stuff is plentiful and juicy, and while it's not exactly rare among players, it's an unimaginable delicacy for these emaciated and starving refugees.

He immediately turned and ran to a supply wagon by the roadside, took out a can from it, and ran back to the refugee line. The tin can made a crisp clanging sound as it clattered against his gauntlet.

The sound stood out starkly in the otherwise somber atmosphere of the fleeing crowd. Several refugees nearby instinctively looked over, their gazes falling on the gleaming iron can with a mixture of bewilderment and a barely perceptible longing.

"Hey, fellow villager, look this way..."

The player deliberately raised his voice to attract more attention, then skillfully found the pull tab on the can and hooked it with his finger.

"Shoot..."

A sharp metallic tearing sound rang out, accompanied by a rich, unique aroma that blended with the scent of oil and meat, which quickly spread throughout the air.

This strong, authentic, and meaty aroma was the most tempting and direct shock to refugees who had been on the verge of starvation for a long time and could only eat coarse black bread or even grass roots.

The surroundings became much quieter instantly.

The people who had been walking numbly with their heads down suddenly slowed down, and countless eyes focused on the can that the player soldier had opened.

Inside, there were chunks of stewed meat, glistening with oil, and thick gravy. The aroma was so strong that it filled everyone's nostrils, even overpowering the smell of soil and sweat.

The mother holding the baby seemed to be stimulated by the fragrance, and the child's muffled whimpers turned into clear, hungry cries.

The old man's throat visibly moved, and his cloudy eyes were fixed on the jar of meat, unable to look away.

The woman carrying the bundle forgot to dodge and stared straight at it, her grip on the bundle loosening slightly.

"Please...please give me something to eat...sir..."

The old man's voice was terribly hoarse, carrying a humble plea; his previous fear seemed to be temporarily suppressed by the overwhelming hunger.

"Food is available,"

The player soldier holding the can immediately spoke, carefully scooping out a small piece of meat and handing it to the old man.

"But first tell us, why are you running away?"

The irresistible aroma of the meat was simply too tempting. The old man looked at the piece of meat handed to him, swallowed hard, and, without thinking twice, began to speak rapidly, as if afraid that the meat would disappear if he spoke too slowly.

"Snake people, so many snake people crawled up from the sea. They came from Suvano and are killing, capturing, and eating people. I heard that the place there is completely rotten and has turned into a stagnant mud pit bubbling with poison!"

"Then why not run to the capital? Or find another lord?"

The player soldier pressed for answers while stuffing a piece of meat into the old man's hand.

The old man practically grabbed the meat and stuffed it into his mouth, swallowing it whole without even chewing. He greedily sucked the oil off his fingers while saying resentfully.

“No, sir Bagnia, they are not like you. When you questioned me, you were willing to give me a piece of meat, but when we go to them, we will only be whipped.”

They hit us so hard, so fiercely, one lash could kill a sheep..."

Seeing that the old man had received the food, the woman next to him mustered her courage and added urgently, her voice trembling with tears.

“Bagnia, we have heard that His Highness Chris of Bagnia is a good man. My brother has been there and knows that only he would truly take in refugees.”

"His Highness Chris provides us with food and shelter, and as long as we work, we get food. Unlike our own masters... who treat us like stray dogs on the street!"

As she spoke, her eyes were fixed on the opened can of meat.

The middle-aged man also squeezed through, nodding vigorously and pointing to the endless stream of people behind him.

"Everyone has heard the news. We've learned from our experience of fleeing; we know where we can survive and where we can't. Right now, only Bagnia! Only His Highness Chris offers a glimmer of hope."

"Sir, please have mercy and give me some food..."

The aroma of canned meat and the desperate yet hopeful cries of the refugees struck the hearts of all the Holy Expeditionary soldiers present like a heavy hammer.

Diu Ni Rem watched this scene from afar, watching the player soldier silently hand the opened can of food to the mother holding the crying baby, and watching the other soldiers also take out their own rations and share them with the refugees who had gathered around.

His previous doubts were resolved, but what followed was an indescribable sense of absurdity.

(End of this chapter)