Chapter 49 Cleverly Managing the Refugees

"My good master, I have already told you, we are genuinely heading to Tinitz to find someone. He is the owner of a grain shop in the northern part of the city. Please, I beg you to let us pass. Or, if you prefer, take whatever you wish from my belongings, I will give you all of it." The plump old man began to bend down, opening his pack to reveal a few rye loaves and a handful of loose coins.

"Enough, enough! What am I supposed to do with your trash? I want your people, nothing else."

The old man dropped heavily to his knees, and the two fellows behind him quickly followed suit.

This was already the second group of refugees who had rejected Ron's recruitment. The previous batch, who had been drinking wheat porridge around the bronze pot, learned that Art intended to send them to a fortified village beneath Mount Pogu on the southeastern border of the County of Burgundy. Terrified, they dropped their wooden bowls and fell to their knees begging for mercy. They regretted letting the fragrant porridge blind their eyes, and were convinced that these men offering them free food were human traffickers tricking people into slavery. Though they had now been reduced to landless vagrants who had lost everything, they at least retained their status as free citizens. If they were tricked into becoming serfs or slaves, it would truly mean eternal darkness.

Art was feeling somewhat discouraged. Ignoring the kneeling refugees, he walked over to Jason, who was sitting by the campfire sharpening his sword. "Master, how is this so different from when we recruited refugees before? Look at how eager they were back then."

Art slid his gleaming knight's sword back into its scabbard, stood up, and brushed the dirt from his seat. Staring at the refugees under Jason's "guard," he said, "Ron, think about it. If you were in this desolate, uninhabited place and a group of armed men suddenly popped out, telling you—a lone traveler—that they were going to take you to a completely unfamiliar place to live a good life, would you go?"

Ron thought for a moment and shook his shake. "Probably not. If they were villains, I wouldn't even be able to run away by myself."

"What if someone said the same thing to a large group of you?"

"Then I would consider it. After all, there are many of us. Even if the other side were villains, they would fear our numbers and wouldn't dare act recklessly."

Art turned and looked into Ron's eyes. "Right now, we are those road-blockers regarded as 'villains'."

A sudden realization dawned on Ron. "No wonder the last few times we mentioned providing food and drink, they rushed to be selected. It turned out to be because there were many wolves and little meat, and numbers gave them courage."

"But Master, we've waited for so long, and yet no large groups of refugees have passed by. The occasional two or three who wander past don't even dare to answer the call." Ron began scratching his head again.

"I didn't expect things to turn out like this either. I originally planned to follow the experience of our previous recruitments—boiling a pot of steaming wheat porridge where a crowd of refugees would pass, waiting until their drool reached their chins, and then announcing the recruitment of refugees to clear wasteland and farm. After that, we'd take the recruits and deliver them to Fort Andermatt to hand them over to Baron Antayas and collect the bounty."

However, the current situation differed significantly from Art's expectations. He did not know that Provence had strictly ordered the various regions in the northern border to halt any large-scale northward flight of refugees. Substantial refugee groups in the eastern region had already been blocked at the crucial northeastern stronghold of Kitzbühel. During this period, most of the refugees escaping along this trade route into the County of Burgundy were scattered stragglers, with only a small portion being "wealthy" refugees who truly had relatives in the north to depend on and were able to bribe the checkpoints to let them through.

"Ron, let's change our approach." Art pondered for a moment and walked over to the refugees.

"Alright, you can all get up. I don't plan on keeping you anymore."

The plump old man looked up at Art and asked, "Great master, you are willing to let us go?"

"What else can I do if I don't let you go? However, you've eaten my food, so you can't just leave like this."

With a look of understanding, the plump old man pulled a few copper pennies from his pack, intending to hand them over to Art.

Art waved his hand in refusal. "Do I look like a man coveting your few copper coins? See that little stream over there? Go and collect stones from it, pile them onto this earthen mound, and work until dusk. Then I will let you go, and before you leave, I'll even let you have another bowl of wheat porridge on the house."

The plump old man did not understand what Art was up to, but since the man was willing to let them go, he had no choice but to comply.

Art turned to the handful of earlier refugees still being temporarily guarded by Jason and said, "The same goes for you. If you eat my food, you must work for me. Go move stones, and I swear by God I will let you go by evening."

Simon watched the five or six refugees heading down to the stream to pick up stones, shuffled over to Ron, and asked with a puzzled expression, "Brother Ron, what is the lord trying to do? We came here to recruit refugees, not to dredge river channels. What is the use of this?"

"I don't know what the master is planning either, but since he's doing this, there must be a reason..."

While the two were whispering, Art had already returned to the fireside.

"Simon, go keep an eye on those fellows and make sure they don't slack off."

"Jason, keep boiling the porridge. Toss some cured meat and salt into the pot and bring out that rich aroma."

"Ron, go stand at the head of the bridge. If any passing refugees come by, tell them we need hands for labor here, and anyone willing to put in effort will receive a full meal. They can leave as soon as they finish eating and working. Do not mention the recruitment of refugees."

............

Thus, by midday, a few more freeloaders who had eaten their fill were added to the "construction site" moving back and forth between the stream and the earthen mound.

Before evening fell, there were already seventeen or eighteen refugees scattered around the earthen mound. Upon learning that they could obtain food simply by performing some simple labor for these lords, they descended to the streamside without the slightest hesitation and began moving stones...

After dinner, the first five or six refugees to arrive departed. However, a dozen or so refugees chose to remain behind at the mound to continue working. The "benevolent men" who provided their food and drink had told them that tomorrow they would still need people to gather stones and cut timber. They decided to stay here for a few more square meals and leave only after the work here was finished. In any case, the next place they reached might not necessarily have food, and such "good fortune" was rare and hard to come by.

As night fell, two campfires flickered around the earthen mound by the stream. One fire was surrounded by refugees crowded together, having eaten and drunk their fill. By the other fire sat Art, skewering pieces of cured meat on wooden sticks and roasting them over the flames, the savory aroma already drifting through the air.

Ron returned to the fireside after tethering the horses and pack mules. "Master, the warhorses and mules have been fed. Tonight Simon and Jason are responsible for watching the livestock and supplies. Those refugees all seem quite honest; I doubt any of them will harbor malicious thoughts."

"Mm, tell Simon to remain vigilant nonetheless."

Ron continued, "Master, this method of yours is truly brilliant. With just a bowl of wheat porridge, you've managed to keep these scattered refugees. At this rate, within two days, a hundred or so refugees will gather here, and by then we can recruit enough refugees and soldiers for Baron Antayas from among them. Moreover, we've conveniently collected enough stones and timber in advance, which will save us a lot of trouble when we build the outpost later."

"But Master, we only brought four hundred and fifty pounds of grain this time. Adding the rations each of us carries, it's only enough to supply fifty or sixty people for about ten days, not to mention we still have to lead the recruited refugee soldiers to Fort Andermatt."

Art tore off a large chunk of sizzling, roasted cured meat and handed it to Ron to take to Jason and Simon. Once Ron returned, Art tore off another piece for him, took a fierce bite of what remained in his own hand, chewed for a long time, and finally replied, "Ron, I know the food isn't enough, but we can purchase supplies along the way to Fort Andermatt. As long as we recruit enough refugee soldiers, Baron Antayas will pay according to our agreement. We don't need to save money for him."

............

By the afternoon of the second day, the earthen mound had transformed into a timber and stone yard. Ron and the others led seventy or eighty refugees back and forth between the mound, the stream, and the dense forest at the foot of Mount Carmel, one and a half miles away, to cut and transport timber and stone. On top of the mound, seven or eight slightly frail refugees and young children were working hard to neatly stack fifty or sixty logs of varying thicknesses and large piles of stones at the summit.

Five large pots brought by the refugees themselves had been set up at the base of the mound, with a few elderly women tending the firewood as fragrant wheat porridge bubbled inside.

On the sixteenth day since leaving Fort Andermatt, with only four days remaining until the deadline agreed upon with Baron Antayas, Art decided to recruit new villagers and garrison soldiers for the baron from among these seventy or eighty refugees.

Dusk had not yet descended, but the fiercely burning campfires stood out particularly clearly across the somewhat dim wilderness.

Ron stood atop the earthen mound, speaking in a loud voice to the refugees gathered around the campfires waiting for their porridge: "Brother refugees, the wheat porridge will be ready shortly. Our master says thank you for your hard work over the past two days; your labor is done, and tonight's porridge has minced meat added to it. Once everyone has eaten and drunk your fill, you are free to leave."

A stir rippled through the crowd. Over the past two days, they had been performing light tasks here yet managed to secure three square meals of porridge a day—such a bargain was rarely encountered on the road of exile...

A lean, elderly man squeezed his way out from the crowd and called out loudly to Ron on the mound, "Little master, could you speak with your great master and let us work a few more days? I see the great masters intend to build houses here, right? We can do the heavy labor for you, as long as the masters can provide us with a full meal."

Ron put on an expression of extreme difficulty upon hearing this. "This—in a few days, we'll have our own people coming here to construct buildings, and we won't need anyone else. Look at how much food you consume in a single day; this grain was originally intended for the workers coming to build the houses. My master showed mercy and diverted it for you to eat. But now there are too many of you, and we truly cannot afford to feed you. Eat this bowl of porridge, take advantage of the early evening, and be on your way. If you head north for another three to five days, you'll encounter civilization again. Although there are plenty of rogue outlaws, bandits, and robbers along this road, you're already so poor you have nothing left, so I suppose you needn't fear being robbed by bandits. These fellows generally don't kill people; at most, they'll just scare you and hack off an arm or a leg..."

The lean old man's face began to pale with terror.

"Right, I must warn you: it's best not to stop at a village called Lane, which is four days' journey north from here. The lord there is a bloodthirsty demon. I've seen with my own eyes several groups of passing refugees slaughtered by him, and those who survived were sold to slave masters."

"Also, Tinitz is currently short on grain as well. You'd best not linger in Tinitz; bypass it entirely and travel north for another ten days or so. You might find a way to survive in the city of Lucerne—the people there are slightly better to refugees and beggars from the south, at least not slaughtering the elderly and weak refugees from time to time the way Tinitz does..."

A sharp intake of collective breath swept through the crowd. They had already mentally prepared themselves for the hardships of fleeing northward, but they had never imagined it would be fraught with such peril.

"Little master, please stop talking! Over the past two days, I've watched the actions of you and the masters; you must all be benevolent men. If the great masters pity us poor souls who have lost our homes and land, please point a way out for us." The lean old man took the lead in pleading with Ron, and a chorus of entreaties instantly arose among the refugees who had recovered their wits.

Unmoved, Ron shouted loudly, "How can you act like this? Do you expect my master to feed and support you every single day? Everyone, say no more! Eat your food and leave immediately."

"We still have to hurry south to Kitzbühel tomorrow to recruit farming households!"

Ron's second sentence was not said loudly, but the lean old man certainly heard it. "Little master, did you say you're going to Kitzbühel to recruit farmers to till the land?"

"Mm, yes, we're recruiting on behalf of a noble master. This year, that master's domain had a bumper harvest, and he plans to recruit more farmers to work the fields. Therefore, that noble lord entrusted us to recruit a batch of refugees from the south to cultivate his land. Those masters are kind-hearted; they've stated that anyone who goes will be allocated land, grain, and farming tools, and in the future, if they wish to return home, it's not entirely out of the question. However, because the conditions they offer are so generous, the requirements are high—they must be vigorous, able-bodied farmers and wives."

"Little master, why travel all the way to Kitzbühel to recruit farmers? Aren't we right here, ready-made?" said the lean old man, with several people around him chiming in fragmentarily.

Ron wore an expression of utter disdain. "The noble lord specified that they must be strong men and women. Look at you all, as thin as dry firewood! It's only because my master is kind-hearted that he gave you some work and rewarded you with a few full meals. Right now, Kitzbühel is full of robust farm laborers; it'll be much easier for us to recruit there."

At this point, another slightly sturdier fellow shouted, "Little master, the court of Provence no longer permits refugees to flee north; we all sneaked out secretly. Besides, we're only this thin from hunger. If we could eat a few full meals, we'd be robust men just like anyone else."

Ron grew somewhat impatient. "But my master has already made prior arrangements with the magistrate of Kitzbühel to recruit peasants there; he never intended to recruit people here."

The lean old man grew anxious. "Little master, please beg the great master for us! We are all strong laborers, we only appear frail because we've wandered too long and struggled for subsistence. As long as we can eat our fill, everyone will have their strength back in less than half a month."

"This—I—how can I bring this up? You'd better finish your porridge and leave quickly." With that, Ron jumped down from the mound and headed to the large pots to begin distributing porridge to the crowd.

Several refugees who believed they stood a chance of being selected crowded around Ron, each expressing their pleas and begging him to put in a good word on their behalf.

Just then, Art returned from hunting "by sheer coincidence." Unable to withstand everyone's tearful pleas, Ron finally agreed to speak on their behalf, and Art, after several feigned rejections, ultimately "reluctantly" consented to recruit farmers and soldiers from among these refugees...

And thus, after two days of waiting and a clumsy performance, Art successfully recruited thirty-six refugees and ten soldiers—a number that basically met Baron Antayas's requirements. However, Art was not particularly picky about physical fitness; anyone willing to stay was recruited.

As for the lean old man who had played along with Ron in their double act, once they arrived at Fort Andermatt, he would receive a "labor reward" of ten pennies and twenty pounds of grain from Art...

That night, the refugees who were unwilling to be enlisted finished their evening meal and departed with reluctance.