Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Winters now awoke to the food, drink, and bodily needs of dozens of people.

He had taken in the people and horses from Guoquan.

He had also experienced the pain of Guoquan.

Before this, he had never worried about logistics.

Logistics were a concern of senior officers, and Winters was just a Centurion. Whatever was sent down to him, he would send on down the line.

Not enough, he would go to the logistics department to ask for more. If they couldn't give any, there was nothing he could do.

As long as he did not embezzle or line his own pockets, his soldiers would be extremely grateful.

But now things were different, he was an officer without a superior, leading a troop with no rear support—although there were only thirty-eight people at present—everything was up to him.

Without mincing words, if everyone had nothing to wipe their butts with, Captain Montaigne would be the first on their minds.

Intercepting the food requisition team solved Winters's urgent crisis, but it also put this fledgling group before a difficult decision.

Should they return the food?

Winters gathered the key members of the group for a meeting beside the fire.

Pierre, Anglu, Vashka, and representatives from several other villages sat around the campfire in a circle, as Winters laid out the current situation for everyone.

Twigs crackled and popped in the fire.

Anglu timidly said, "Give it back to the villagers. This food belongs to them; it was taken from the villagers of Wolf Town."

Winters nodded, encouraging Anglu to continue. He wanted to hear the others' thoughts.

He was currently using the firelight to whittle wood, planning to carve a few chess pieces.

"Give it back?" Pierre sighed, retorting, "Then what would we eat?"

Anglu was at a loss for words. He was naturally gentle and disliked thinking about complicated matters. So he lowered his head and started fiddling with sticks at his feet.

Pierre bit his lip and said harshly, "Just don't return it, not a single grain! If any family truly has nothing to eat, we can help them a bit, and they would still thank us."

Winters's knife paused, and he nodded, "That's one solution."

The representatives from the other villages dared not interject, but their expressions showed they agreed with Pierre.

Although they sympathized with the farmers from Wolf Town, filling their own stomachs was ultimately more important.

"The food requisition team goes to rob the villagers of their food, then we go and rob the requisition team, how are we any different from them?" Anglu suddenly raised his head and said sadly, "Are we to just wait by Wolf Town, and once the requisition team has stripped the villagers bare, we go and rob them? Wouldn't we then become carrion-eating crows, hyenas?"

This time Pierre was left without a reply. He crossed his arms and muttered, "It's still different."

"No need to argue," Vashka stepped in to mediate. He tried to balance the two viewpoints, tentatively asking, "How about... we return half of it?"

Winters nearly cut his hand when he heard that while he was carving his chess pieces.

For an instant, he truly wanted to pry open Vashka's skull to see how the lad could come up with such an ingeniously absurd idea.

But then he remembered Colonel Jeska's attitude towards the lieutenants—listen more, speak less, make decisions.

He mustn't discourage the others too much, or else no one would dare to speak up again.

Before Winters could say anything, Pierre shot back, "Return half? Might as well not return anything at all! Return half? Everyone would hate us!"

Vashka also sheepishly closed his mouth.

"That's enough, set the night watch, the rest of you rest. Anglu, stay behind." Winters brushed the wood shavings off his body and pocketed a carved horse-head chess piece, "We're leaving for Wolf Town tomorrow."

The Dusack men rose swiftly, having grown accustomed to obeying orders.

But the representatives from the other villages were a bit flustered. Winters's troop had still been camping in the bandit camp in the forest these past few days.

Going to Wolf Town suddenly, they were somewhat unaccustomed.

"We can't stay here any longer." Winters thought to himself, "Otherwise, we'll really become bandits."

The bandit camp had no walls, no barracks, no watch posts, not even many tents.

Even Winters was just spreading a wool blanket by the campfire to use as a bed.

Living in such a place could even change a person's mindset.

As everyone else walked away, Anglu nervously clutched the hem of his clothing, "Did I say something wrong just now?"

"You didn't say anything wrong, you're a good kid," Winters whispered to Anglu—actually they were not even four years apart, "I just wanted you to understand that, now get some good sleep."

Anglu saluted, then walked away in a daze.

Winters pulled out two blankets, using one as a cover and one as a bed, and quickly fell asleep.

No sooner had he fallen asleep than Vashka's excited voice woke him up.

Winters's head ached, "What now?"

"Centurion, I've got a great idea!" Vashka reported immediately, his voice full of joy, "This time we'll give it back to the villagers of Wolf Town. Later we can just stay beside some other village, and once the food requisition team has stripped them bare, we rob the team, isn't that perfect?"

Winters had overestimated his patience. He kicked over Vasya.

The roar of fury awoke every creature in the forest, "Get out!"

...

The troop of about forty men, twenty or so large carts.

They haphazardly bundled up everything they could take from the camp and threw it onto the carts, and Winters's force moved out.

The convoy stretched out in disarray on the road.