As the dawn light appeared in the sky, the backs of the refugee column disappeared where the trade route turned around the foot of the mountain to the north.

This border hill, which had been bustling for several days, finally became quiet, leaving behind only neatly stacked piles of wood and stones, and a few piles of still-warm bonfire embers…

When the sun rose, south of the border, three riders, mounted on warhorses, clad in iron armor with sharp swords, and carrying brown banners with a flying horse emblem, galloped from the southern trade route towards the border hill.

Upon reaching the foot of the hill, one rider dismounted and reached into the bonfire embers by the roadside, feeling them.

He then stood up and said to Baron Belian, who was still mounted behind him, “Sir, the ashes are still warm; they shouldn’t have left too long ago.”

Another rider jumped down from the hill and said, “Sir, those piles are wood and stones; there’s nothing else.”

Belian looked around and muttered to himself, “Who would pile wood and stones in this place? Are they planning to build a castle here? This much wood and stone isn’t enough though~ How inexplicable!”

With that, he reined in his horse, turned in a circle, looked around, and shouted to his two riders, “Alright, never mind these things, let’s continue on our way and try to reach Tinietz by tomorrow.”

The three warhorses neighed and galloped north along the trade route.

Baron Belian’s journey north to recruit Soldiers and procure provisions had been quite unsuccessful.

Kitzby had gathered a large number of fleeing refugees, but no one was willing to return with him to Kalk Fort, which was already engulfed in war, to face death.

As for raising provisions, it was even more difficult.

Kitzby, which already lacked food reserves, was forced by strict orders from the Court to house a large number of refugees fleeing north.

To prevent refugees from continuing their flight north, they had to provide food to satisfy their one meal a day of clear soup and wheat porridge, which was barely enough to sustain life, only allowing them to cling to life while waiting for death.

With no success in procuring food, Baron Belian had no choice but to leave two guards in Kitzby to continue recruiting Soldiers, then took his two subordinates and most of his money across the border into the southern territory of Burgundy County to seek provisions…

Several miles east of the trade route, in the Giant Stone Pile, Simon left the eastward bound group and rode back to Wood Fort.

Art had ordered him to return to Wood Fort as soon as possible to discuss the construction of the border tax station with Cooper.

At the Giant Stone Pile, Ron and Jason were distributing sharpened long wooden sticks to ten men selected as Soldiers and three slightly stronger farmers.

These wooden sticks had been cut by the refugees from the dense forest at the foot of Lamel Mountain two days prior.

Last night, Ron had led them in hastily crafting fifteen wooden spears, about seven feet long, with spearheads hardened by fire.

Those who received wooden spears were gathered in an open area, where Art planned to teach them how to appear as if they had some combat ability.

“Folks, I won’t hide the dangers we might encounter these next two days.

Although this road won’t attract the attention of bandits and robbers as easily as the trade route leading to Tinietz County Seat, it’s close to the mountainous dense forest, so there might be scattered mountain bandits appearing.

That’s why I’m distributing wooden spears for your self-defense and courage.

Of course, if we truly fight with mountain bandits, I don’t expect you to sacrifice yourselves in vain.

I only need you to try your best to appear as if you have considerable combat ability.

There are dozens of us in this group, plus more than a dozen ‘Soldiers’ and three cavalrymen; ordinary mountain bandits would have fled for their lives upon seeing us.”

The thirteen young and strong men nodded in agreement.

They had been somewhat afraid before, but now with a weapon in hand for each person, plus the protection of three cavalrymen, they naturally felt much safer.

Art continued, “Until we reach Andermatt Fortress, you thirteen will temporarily be divided into two teams, led by Ron and Jason respectively.

Don’t let their young age fool you; they are both brave warriors who have fought tough battles and killed mountain bandits and brigands.

You must obey their commands.”

“Furthermore, since you are to act like Soldiers, you cannot casually discard your weapons while marching, and your formation must be orderly.

Soon, Ron and Jason will teach you how to carry your spears and maintain marching formation.”

After Ron and Jason conducted simple “training” for the two temporarily formed small teams in the open area next to the Giant Stone Pile, the group continued their journey.

Three days later, in Tinietz City, Baron Belian had just emerged from Viscount Pierre’s office.

His plan to purchase grain during this northern trip was not as smooth as he had imagined.

Tinietz City had become a gathering place for Provence refugees.

In the year and a half since the large-scale outbreak of war in the south, nearly a thousand refugees had gradually gathered here.

Tinietz’s food supply was originally only enough to sustain the castle and a few surrounding estates.

With a sudden influx of over a thousand people, these thousand extra mouths had already depleted Tinietz.

Viscount Pierre had sent three urgent letters to Besançon, but the four southern border counties were all overwhelmed with a large influx of refugees, and Besançon was also struggling to cope.

They had only allocated thirty thousand pounds of mixed grains to Tinietz before winter last year, stating that Tinietz would have to raise the rest on its own.

Raise it on their own!—The various Lords, who usually wouldn’t even pay their taxes on time, now all chose to protect themselves.

They hoarded their harvested grain in granaries, waiting for the hordes of grain merchants to come and purchase it once trade resumed.

As for the County Magistrate’s order to collect grain, they either ignored it or handed over one or two carts of old mixed grains to perfunctorily deal with the matter.

“Sir, what should we do? Since Viscount Pierre is unwilling to help, should we continue north to Lucerne or Besançon?” Back at the inn in the south of the city, the attendant asked a worried Baron Belian.

“It takes three days to ride from here to Lucerne, and if we buy grain, it will take even longer to return.

Kalk Fort probably can’t hold out that long, we must return with food and Soldiers as soon as possible.”

Baron Belian stood up, gripping the hilt of his sword at his waist, and looked at the sky through the latticed window on the second floor of the inn.

After a long period of thought, he said, “We will go throughout Tinietz County ourselves to purchase grain.”

No sooner had he spoken than news came from downstairs that the Grand Duchy of Swabia was deploying troops, intending to invade the eastern border of Burgundy County.

The Court’s conscription order had already been sent to various counties, and war was about to ignite.

“Sir, it seems the north is about to become chaotic too…”

“Burgundy County is about to be drawn into war?”

In Andermatt Fortress, Art was surprised by the news provided by Baron Antayas.

News had already come from the Court that the mountain bandits and brigands who had been attacking and occupying villages, castles, and outposts in the eastern border of the Earldom recently were pawns hired by the Grand Duchy of Swabia to test Burgundy’s reaction.

At the beginning of the month, the Grand Duchy of Swabia had mobilized over two thousand Soldiers from its central region and began deploying them along the border.

Various military forts and strongholds along Burgundy County’s eastern front had all heightened their alert, ready at all times to resist enemy incursions.

“Art, the Court already knows about the fall of Ars Fort, but because I recovered it in time, I am not being held accountable.

Now the border is in crisis, and the Court has strictly ordered me to intensify the collection of provisions, train Soldiers, and prepare defenses.

We are close to the mountains here, so the possibility of a large-scale enemy invasion is small, but we must also prepare for the worst.”

To cope with a potential border war, Baron Antayas had already granted Ars Fort, which had lost its heir, to his Internal Affairs Knight, Druid, with Druid Knight fully responsible for its defense.

Furthermore, Baron Antayas had issued conscription orders to all the village forts, estates, and settlements in his territory.

In the coming months, he would assemble over forty regular Soldiers and more than sixty conscripted peasant Soldiers.

Adding the Soldiers stationed at Ars Fort and the conscripted laboring farmers, Baron Antayas would forcibly conscript nearly two hundred Soldiers and peasant Soldiers, which would almost exhaust all the human resources and wealth within his territory.

Baron Antayas stood on the watchtower at the top of the stone house, turned his head, and stared at Art, who stood behind him, saying, “Art, I am extending my invitation to you once again.

Right now, I lack elite Soldiers, and even more, I lack a Commander like you.

If you are willing to fight under my banner, I promise to promote you to Knight Baronet within three years.

Although you always emphasize that you are just a commoner official, I can see that you carry the honor of a certain family.”

Art was tempted for a moment.

In the past six months since his awakening, he had buried the weak soul of his previous life, picked up everything of this body’s original owner, and continuously killed and fought, all to gain a foothold in this era, to live a different life in this unusual era.

Such a heaven-sent opportunity lay before him, and he should have accepted it.

However, after a year of rushing and fighting, Art had already opened up a de facto controlled “territory” and nearly a hundred “subjects” in the ownerless land of the valley.

Although his current identity was only a temporarily appointed commoner official, he had a premonition that he could carve out a dawn in this world that was about to fall into chaos.

If he were to fall under the wing of Baron Antayas, he would have to abandon everything he currently possessed, and from then on, he would be restricted everywhere.

“Baron Sir, forgive my impertinence.

I assure you, if one day you need my humble strength, I will fight alongside you under your banner.”

Baron Antayas’s disappointment was evident, but he did not try to persuade him further, and as agreed, paid Art five hundred fenny as compensation for helping to recruit refugees.

With many matters at the fort, Art did not stay long.

After a simple lunch at the military fort, Art, along with Ron and Jason, rode away from Andermatt.

“Ron, you heard Baron Antayas today; do you think I shouldn’t have refused his offer?” On the way back from Andermatt, Art asked Ron, who was riding beside him.

Ron answered without any hesitation, “Master, I think you were wise.”

Art reined in his horse, looked into Ron’s eyes, and said, “Why? Do you know what being enfeoffed as a Baronet means to a commoner? It’s a lifelong dream for so many.”

“Master, an ordinary commoner would certainly not refuse such a great honor, but you are no ordinary commoner.

The Old Butler once said that from the moment you began recruiting a large number of refugees to reclaim the Valley Land, you were destined to no longer be a common forest hunter.

What you seek is not merely the title of a lifelong Knight, is it?”

“Oh? You can tell?”

“Master, it’s not just me; even Odo and the others have discussed this privately.

The ‘territory’ and ‘subjects’ you possess are already everything a Knight has.

You just lack a formal title now.”

“Since following you north last year, in just seven or eight months, we have experienced four battles, and four familiar brothers have successively left us forever.

Sometimes I am afraid, afraid that I will not be able to stand up again in the next battle.

But I always feel that risking my life with you is worth it, because you are a rising noble, and I will also be a warrior guarding by your side.” Ron spoke excitedly, his voice trembling slightly.

Art listened to Ron’s words for a long time without a reply.

“Ron, how old are you this year?”

Ron’s thoughts were disrupted by Art’s sudden change of topic, and it took him a while to react.

“Master, I… I… I’m almost eighteen this year.”

“From what you’re saying, I thought you were twenty-eight.”

“Huh? Master, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Alright, Ron the Warrior, let’s continue on our way.”