The Piña Forest.
Currently, there were conservatively estimated to be over two hundred thousand Estalian refugees present. If counting the tribal Beastmen, whose numbers were continuously growing and had now broken the forty thousand mark, there was a population of nearly three hundred thousand.
This was also a very heavy burden for the not-fully-developed Piña Forest.
Al had already ordered people to constantly harvest Troll meat, boiling it thoroughly until it was mushy before allowing adult humans with stronger constitutions to consume it.
Outside the main tribal camp, "the people looked malnourished, soldiers and civilians alike were exhausted." Even worse, they had completely transitioned from refugees to famine victims, busy every day just to beg a bite of food for themselves and their families.
And in these places, there was one group living much more comfortably than before.
After all, resources were scarce, but it hadn't reached the point of unsustainability. As for where the "missing" food went, a vague seed of suspicion had already sprouted in the hearts of the refugees.
However, it wasn't unlivable in most places yet. After all, compared to dying by Greenskin slaughter versus going hungry in the forest, most people still knew which was worse.
The Beastmen's food was also being reduced. However, the reduced portion was genuinely reallocated and sent to support other places, rather than being hidden in Al's warehouses to be used for pools of wine and forests of meat to line his own pockets—though, to some extent, the tribe was Al's "private property." He was a supreme ruler combining secular leadership, religious faith, and public support, a three-in-one entity.
This kind of thing was just moving from the left hand to the right hand anyway. Regardless, Al wouldn't go hungry.
The Everchosen is personally going out to hunt, isn't that enough! (Annoyed)
Khorngor Bodyguards, move out!
Of course, no one, at least no Beastman, would question Al.
He was a transcendent arbitrator.
However, when an order, with the help of the tribe, was transmitted by the heralds of the "Kingdom of Estalia - Northern Council - Southern Theater Piña Forest Vanguard Legion" to every refugee settlement in the forest, it still caused a commotion among the starving populace.
"We're going hungry, eating leaves and digging up earthworms, and the Kingdom not only doesn't give us food aid, they want to drag our men to die on the battlefield!"
A man with sunken eyes, starving and visibly thinner than before he entered the forest, stood among the gathered crowd. Listening to the Northern Council official on the hastily built wooden platform reading from the thick conscription order in his hand, he angrily thrust his fist into the air.
At the same time, countless fists were raised, all expressing dissatisfaction with the Kingdom's orders.
"Let us eat full, and we'll go serve!"
"Right! If the Kingdom doesn't supply food, I'd rather go dig up earthworms than go to the battlefield!"
"Starving to death in the forest, at least I can be with my family; if I die on the battlefield, my corpse will have no family to bury it!"
Public outrage flared.
The herald from the Vanguard Legion had an ugly expression, continuously speaking up to explain and pacify them. However, the emotions grew increasingly agitated. As if affected by the atmosphere of the scene, his pupils turned red, and the fire of anger surged up.
"Enough!"
The herald standing on the high platform suddenly drew his sword, the gleaming blade flashing coldly.
"What I bring is an order from the Kingdom! And you—if you have even a shred of honor left, Estalians, then obey the Kingdom's order! If you are still children of the Goddess, then you should take up your weapons and return to the battlefield that was stained with the shame of defeat because of your cowardice!" The herald roared somewhat uncontrollably, bellowing at the crowd.
"Use blood
to wash it all away!"
"As for the food problem, that is not what you should consider first! The massive Greenskin army is at our doorstep, the Kingdom is in imminent peril, every man should take up weapons to defend civilization!"
"The colonial heroes of Estalia once ventured deep into the jungle with only enough dry rations for one man for a week, and found treasure!—And you, surrounded by a dense forest, tell the Kingdom you lack food?" He used the words spoken by that illustrious Military Tribune during the council discussion regarding the arrangement for the Piña Forest refugees before departure, but it completely enraged the masses whose dissatisfaction was already on the verge of erupting.
"Fuck your mother, let the councilor lords come and emulate the colonial heroes themselves!" A man grabbed a handful of loose gravel and dirt from the ground and threw it at the herald.
"My grandson already starved to death, and now you want to drag my son away to die!" A white-haired old man, already skin and bones, his bulging eyes burning with rage.
The herald was caught off guard, hit in the eye, and instantly screamed as he stumbled backward.
Seeing this, the supply officer standing next to him turned pale with fright. He hurriedly called for the guards, surrounding the herald in the middle. But the refugees, pressed together like a human wall, quickly trapped them in the center. From all directions came angry faces, spit, and curses.
The herald covered his eye, streams of blood sliding down his face. Meanwhile, the supply officer—who had enjoyed three months of luxury while the refugees suffered for over three months—panicked, not knowing what to do.
Surrounding him were faces filled with anger, faces that not long ago had greeted him respectfully, ingratiatingly, and subserviently, begging him every day.
Many people were even willing to work their lives away for him, and even tacitly allowed their wives, daughters, or sons to "serve the supply officer."
Once upon a time, he had always thought that this group of commoners, of refugees, were just a flock of weak, powerless lambs, and that he would be the undisputed "shepherd" of this sheepfold.
It wasn't until now that he realized, in comparison, his power—relying only on a small number of guards and lackeys who were already starting to waver—was so weak.
"They're going to rebel!"
Something unexpected happened again.
The herald lowered his hand, one eye socket completely covered in blood. Ignoring it, he violently swung his longsword and chopped off the pointing arm of a male refugee.
Half his face was covered in blood, full of rage, looking as hideous as a Greenskin ghoul.
"Are you rebelling! Defying the Kingdom's conscription and attacking an officer of the Kingdom!"
This angry shout, the accusation of treason, combined with the herald's sudden act of drawing his sword and committing violence, instantly intimidated the crowd.
The crowd that had begun to riot and edge close to danger suddenly went quiet.
A man was holding a crying baby who was wailing from hunger. His wife had previously gone to a farther place where no one had been to gather food, and disappeared. Werewolf scouts tracked her for a while and found that the blood trail ended at a bear's den, inside which were the torn remains of his wife's clothes and limbs.
Holding his child, he thought about how, according to the Kingdom's orders, all able-bodied adult males were to be conscripted, organized into army training, and sent south to fight the Greenskins.
Based on the Estalians' record of continuous defeats in the past few major battles, and the enemy's soaring momentum and massive army, if their group went to harass the enemy's rear, an isolated force deep in enemy territory, it was highly likely they would inevitably be defeated and killed. Thinking of his wife who died for food, and his wailing baby, grief and anger surged together.
"If the Kingdom doesn't provide food aid, we will starve to death sooner or later; responding to the conscription to march south and attack the Greenskins will also end in death!"
Al, through the eyes of a Sagegor mage, watched the development of the situation from afar.
Behind the neck of the man holding the baby, a blood-red symbol flickered faintly. Endless anger and courage turned into a thunderstorm, exploding in his ears.
"The council doesn't want us to live! Left is death, right is death. Rather than waiting for death—what about rebelling and dying!"
He shoved the baby into the arms of the woman beside him, who was weeping continuously because of his words, parted the crowd, and strode forward, a short knife already clenched tightly in his hand.
"Who! Who said that! Arrest him immediately, punish him for the crime of rebellion!"
The herald held up his bloodstained longsword, keeping his injured left eye tightly shut, turning around within the encirclement, searching for the figure of that audacious "rebel."
Suddenly, the sound of rushing wind came, but before he could turn around, a powerful arm pressed against him.
A short knife, not particularly sharp but enough to pierce the defense of mortal flesh, was plunged into his back.
The herald let out a gurgling sound from his throat and was shoved to the ground by the man.
The supply officer was already scared silly. He flopped down beside the Kingdom envoy with a thud and, with trembling hands, rolled him over.
His eyes were wide open, staring straight ahead, already dying.
"Compatriots! We bitterly defended our cities to the very last moment, only abandoning our land and fleeing with the help of our tribal allies, hiding in the forest. We have already completely fulfilled our duty to the Kingdom!"
A young man, dressed filthily but unable to hide his heroic spirit, stepped onto the high platform built for the Kingdom's special envoy and shouted to the crowd:
"I heard the people of Cerebrio surrendered to the Greenskins and helped them attack our tribal allies, yet the tribe was magnanimous, treating them as allies and rescuing them all the same; compared to them, we have given our all to the Kingdom!"
"But now the Kingdom wants to force us to our deaths. They give no grain, yet forcibly conscript men into the army, demanding they use their lives to consume and delay the Greenskins. We refugees, in the eyes of the powerful elites and wealthy merchants of the council, are nothing but dead men walking! Coming here to recruit troops is
nothing but recycling trash!"
"Resist the royal command, it's equivalent to rebellion; men join the army, ten deaths and no chance of survival; sit and wait for death, everyone will starve to death sooner or later!"
"Now, if we submit, we die; if we rebel, we die. Left and right are both dead ends, there is no chance of survival!" He suddenly covered his face and wept bitterly, choking on his sobs. Amidst their anger, the refugees in the crowd completely empathized with him, feeling utterly grief-stricken.
They finally managed to escape the Greenskins' butcher blades, enduring hunger and starvation, just hoping for the Kingdom to come save them.
In the end, the grain didn't arrive, and instead they wanted to conscript all the men among them! Sending them south to fight a formidable enemy that even the Kingdom's legions had repeatedly suffered crushing defeats against—if this isn't sending them to die, what is!
Now they had even killed the conscription envoy, bearing the infamy of rebellion. Many people, thinking of their tragic future, were already weeping uncontrollably.
"If I knew it would come to this, I'd rather have died by the Greenskins!" Someone was furious beyond belief, the resentment in their heart finding no outlet.
Al felt the atmosphere was about right; it was time to make the next move.
Sure enough, suddenly someone shouted from the crowd:
"Everyone! I... I heard that the Beastmen of the tribe have always said that their ancestors were also humans, sharing the same bloodline origin as us."
"Moreover, the Four Goddesses they worship are merciful and magnanimous, willing to tolerate and accept all believers; as long as you share their faith, you can be treated as a member of the tribe, viewed as kin!"
Just as the crowd barely heard these words clearly, another person shouted loudly from the other side: "That's right! When I was at the main tribal camp before, I saw some Estalians who had converted to the Four Goddesses. The tribespeople treated them completely as their own, hunting and working together, helping each other! Much better off than ordinary refugees!"
"Even so!" The young man on the stage feigned anger; "Even if we face death by famine, death by royal command, or death by Greenskins, must we turn our backs on the teachings of the Goddess Myrmidia!"