The air was filled with an anxious aura.

The militia had just returned to Wolf Town from the Saint Gith Valley, and more than seventy labour criminals were gathered in the old square.

They were not told what they were going to do, only fully armed militias guarding them with fear.

The waiting process was extremely tormenting, and some timid laborers had already begun to wipe their tears.

The labourers also knew that Wolf Town was short of food - the militia who were guarding them only had two pieces of shredded bread for each meal, and the labourers only had a bowl of mixed wheat porridge to drink.

But at least they live a stable life, with sheds and food, so they don’t have to kill and rob. The daily work is cutting trees, burning charcoal, and building houses.

But now, no matter how you look at this situation, it seems that you need to completely solve them.

"My father said." A man said to the person beside him in fear: "Whoever the noble Magyar wants to kill, I will give him a shovel and ask him to dig a hole. When it is dug to a depth of one person, fill the soil back from it..."

"Damn it! Look! Old... I won't wait to die!" The person who answered was also trembling.

Someone shouted in despair at the militia: "What do you want to do? Why to torture people? Give me some pleasure!"

The militia held the weapon expressionlessly, and no one answered him.

The man wanted to continue shouting, but suddenly he closed his mouth tightly because he saw the Montagne garrison coming towards them.

Winters walked into the town square, and he noticed the strange atmosphere, so he waved his hand to comfort everyone: "Sit down, sit down and say."

He also found a stump to sit on, but no one of the servile prisoners moved.

Winters kindly repeated the order: "Sit down."

Just like a sickle mowed the wheat field, the people in the square were all shorter and sat on the ground in a sensation.

"How many of you are landless hires or sharecroppers?" Winters didn't like to talk nonsense and asked straight to the point: "Hold your hands up."

His hands were raised one by one, and only two of them were present without raising their hands.

Winters asked the two, "You two are self-cultivating farmers?"

"No, sir." The tall and thin man shook his head quickly, and his answer was very organized: "My brother and I burn bricks. No one bought bricks and tiles, so our brother could only escape from the famine, and then... we are here to you."

"What's your name?"

"Sean, Sean Bricklayer."

Winters nodded, took the man into his mind, and asked again: "As far as I know, in Wolf Town alone, there are more than two hundred households of employers and tenants. Where have all the famine fled? They have all become bandits?"

The servile prisoners were at a loss and some were muttering in a low voice.

In the end, the kiln maker Sean gave an unexpected and reasonable answer: "Refodan."

If there is nothing to eat everywhere, people will follow the food, and there will be people wherever there is food.

Where is the most food in the entire Revodan jurisdiction now?

It is the city of Revodan.

It's ridiculous to say that in February, Revodan had to send troops to conquer.

Five months passed in a blink of an eye, and Revodan no longer had to worry about the source of the army.

Because most of the refugees have already gathered in Revodan City with their families, begging for the army to earn a living.

So recently, Rewodan's garrison only sent a grain recruitment team, and never sent a den team again.

Winters asked again: "Except for the two brickmakers, are the rest of you originally farmers?"

A group of labor criminals nodded.

"If I provide you with land." Winters asked word by word: "Would you like to farm in Wolf Town?"

The town square was in an uproar, and the labor prisoners were dumbfounded and muttered.

"Quiet." Winters patted his palm lightly.

The town square suddenly became silent again as if it was dead.

"Will? Or don't?"

An old man with gray hair stood up with a grim temper and plucked up his courage to explain: "Sir, it's not that we don't want to farm. But you give us the land, and we can't plant it now..."

"Old man, sit down and talk." Winters asked in doubt, "Why can't you plant it?"

The old man was still standing. He organized the language for a long time before speaking: "Sir, how can a long-term worker not want to have his own land? But the farming time... has passed."

The old man gestured and explained for a long time, and then the sea blue man Winters understood what the other party meant.

Simply put, the farmers in Paratu generally use rotary farming system, with two agricultural cycles each year.

The planting cycle of staple food is from the autumn of this year to the early summer of the following year, and winter wheat is mainly grown.

The planting cycle of auxiliary grains is from spring to autumn this year, mainly oats, rye and beans.

If there is excess farmland in the corner, plant some vegetables to replenish the dining table.

It is July now, just between the two agricultural cycles, and I missed the farming time.

Moreover, crops will not ripen overnight. If you want to farm, you must at least have food storage that can last for one agricultural cycle.

"Even if we go to plant winter wheat, we will starve to death until the wheat is ripe." The old man became sadder and sadder the more he said: "The land is sticky, and the land must be reclaimed with heavy plows of four horses, otherwise the soil cannot be turned over. We have no horses and no plows. Even if you give us land, we cannot reclaim the land..."

The remaining farmers nodded as well.

Winters listened carefully, he didn't bring a paper, pen and ink bottle, otherwise he would have written it down.

He had considered this issue, but he couldn't think so deeply - because he didn't know how to farm.

The old man finished talking in a nagging manner and wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes with the back of his hands.

After listening to the old man's words, Winters had made up his mind.

He took a deep breath, then took a deep breath, and asked sincerely: "What if I give you land, oxen and horses, plows, and then give you wheat and grain that will last until next year, and give you everything you need... what?"

The old man was stunned, the other farmers were stunned, and even the militia around him were stunned.

...

The fourth day of returning to Wolf Town from the St. Gees Valley, at noon.

In the barracks, Winters was sawing wood.

He was naked, but wearing a pair of gloves, looking extremely funny.

But you must not wear gloves. Working without gloves will cause blisters to be ground out - this is Winters' labor experience.

He had mastered the trick of sawing wood, pushed forward gently, and pulled back hard.

Winters' arms went back and forth mechanically, and the wood chips fell down, and the other two were not as fast as he did.

Well, I tried my best to raise a little bit of fat for him, but now I quickly fell back.

Compared to when he first left school two years ago, his figure did not change significantly, and he even reduced a little, but his muscle lines became more symmetrical and obvious.

Pierre rode into the barracks and found the centurion among the working people at first sight.

He waited quietly until Winters finished his work before speaking: "My mother invites you to my house for dinner."

Winters took off his gloves and replied with a smile: "Okay, but I have to wait for me to change my pants."

Winters is now wearing a pair of worn-out coarse trousers for work, and is soaked in sweat that it cannot tell the original color.

"Scarlett also asked me to measure your size, she wanted to make you a dress."

Winters smiled and shook his head. He walked to the bucket, picked it up, and drank light salt water with "gudonggudong".

He was not happy to drink it alone, and the remaining water in the bucket was poured on his head.

"Huh!" Winters wiped his face and smiled and raised Pierre's body with water: "Nothing is more comfortable than drinking water after finishing work."

Pierre wiped the water droplets on his face helplessly.

Winters grabbed his top: "Samujin! Tamas!"

"yes!"

"I'm leaving it to you here!"

"yes!"

"Let's go!" Winters greeted Pierre: "Go to the blacksmith's place to check it out."

The Lang Town Military Camp is diagonally opposite the former church site, next to the town square.

At this moment, the military camp was like a large construction site, with militia and labor prisoners everywhere.

The previous seventy labourers have been pardoned by Winterstead, and the current labourers are the thirty accomplices in the town of St. Gith.

Lang Town is rich in forest resources and is not short of wood.

Winters is not short of manpower, he has many "slaves" - although he is nominally called a labor prisoner.

He could neither let the prisoners go, nor could he kill the prisoners indiscriminately, nor could he raise the prisoners for nothing.

Winters' solution at present is: he provides food and shelter for the prisoners, who provide him with work and loses his personal freedom.

Nominally called labor prisoners, they are essentially slaves - but at least they still have one life.
To be continued...