That's not how you use a witch!

Chapter 24 What are you daydreaming about? Get to work!

The next morning, the reclaimed area of ​​Thornholde was crowded with people.

Not only were there defeated soldiers who were housed here, but also local residents who came to see what was going on.

An extraordinary scene is unfolding here: the former bullies and tyrants are now bound hand and foot and led to an open space in the center of the crowd, most of whom are actually officers and knights.

Look at how terrified they are, their pants are even wet, where is their usual arrogance?

The militiamen pressed the heads of these serious criminals one by one onto the execution platform, where executioners carrying large knives had been waiting for a long time.

In front of everyone, Ronan announced the crimes of each serious offender one by one, none of which were supported by conclusive evidence and beyond question.

"Ready—Chop!"

"Thump!" "Thump!"

As the machete fell, steaming human heads rolled off, spraying blood that stained the newly reclaimed land.

The crowd gasped in surprise, then clapped and cheered.

The defeated soldiers had long suffered under these tyrants and had never considered them as their own. Now that they were finally being beheaded, they were overjoyed!

At the same time, a few well-informed defeated soldiers also developed a pessimistic sentiment similar to "the rabbit is killed and the hound is cooked," and Fermi was one of them.

He was in his early twenties, not very old, but he had a wealth of experience, having fought in battles large and small and met all sorts of people.

Although the machete didn't fall on his neck today, there's no guarantee it won't fall tomorrow or the day after. They were surrendered, defeated soldiers, and defeated soldiers have no human rights.

Receiving over four thousand people at once is no small number for any territory. When a lord cannot afford the expenses of an additional population, he tends to resort to physical solutions.

Even if they don't use machetes directly, they'll most likely be made to work themselves to death.

However, to their surprise, although Ronan then announced that they should get to work, his next words seemed different from those of any other lord they were familiar with:

"You may be spared the death penalty, but you will not escape punishment. You will not have to die, but you will need to correct your mistakes through labor. If you wish to become members of the Thorn Territory in the future, you will also need to prove yourselves through labor. I will arrange for my people to guide you, and what kind of treatment you receive will depend on how well you are reformed!"

When Fermi was given a pickaxe and assigned to a "labor reform group" led by farmer Carter, he was completely bewildered.

He had never used such a fine pickaxe before he joined the army, when he was cultivating his own land!

"What are you daydreaming about? Get to work!"

The local farmer, Carter, urged, "It's simple. Just clear away the weeds and thorns from the wasteland, then loosen and level the soil. Our area is from here to there, so finish quickly so we can eat!"

Fermi found it unbelievable: "It's that simple? And you can even eat afterwards?"

Carter looked at him like he was an idiot: "Of course! The lord said, 'Man is made of iron, food is made of steel!'"

Fermi remained silent.

After a moment, he managed to stammer out, "Are all the farmers in Thornlands this carefree?"

Seeing Carter shake his head, Fermi thought that the young lord was indeed putting on an act for them; but Carter then proudly raised his head, indicating that the locals lived a much more comfortable life than this.

"After you finish your work, all you get to eat is thick porridge, and even that's limited. You can only eat a maximum of two bowls per meal, and you can only have a bowl of soup with egg drop once a week. You usually have to live in shacks in the reclamation area, and you have to find your own firewood to keep warm—most importantly, you work to atone for your sins, and you don't get work points!"

"Not only can we eat bread until we're full, but those who work fast also get eggs. We get to eat eggs at every meal! In addition, we get work points as long as we finish the assigned work. Ten work points can be exchanged for a pound of iron, and we can buy whatever we need directly."

Carter, oblivious to Fermi's jaw-dropping expression, continued muttering to himself, "But we're not the most carefree. The militia are the real elite! Not only do they get eggs and meat at every meal, but they also get more work points every month. They're so much more glamorous than us; even the kids are clamoring to join the militia when they grow up. Sigh, that guy Payne has been bragging to me about his life ever since he joined the militia. Next time the militia expands recruitment, I'm definitely going to squeeze in!"

Fermi's worldview was challenged; he could understand each word individually, but not when they were put together.

Is this some remote border town in the west, or the legendary paradise on earth?

At the same time, he also keenly sensed the hidden meaning in Ronan's words. Years of experience told him that the words of important people should be interpreted in reverse: as long as one reforms through labor, one will have the opportunity to become a member of the Thorn Territory and receive the same treatment as the local residents.

"Of course there's a chance. I myself came from being a homeless person."

When Fermi asked for confirmation, Carter patted him on the shoulder earnestly.

"It's not easy for anyone, and you didn't have a choice. Coming to our Thorn Territory is your good fortune. As long as you seize the opportunity, Lord Ronan will certainly not treat you unfairly."

"Um!"

Fermi excitedly raised his hoe and dug into the thorny thicket.

He's really getting excited! He wants to live a life where he can have eggs to eat and iron ingots to collect!

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While the forced labor reform program for defeated soldiers was in full swing, Ronan was also engaged in diplomatic work—receiving envoys from other territories.

After news of the two leaders' joint efforts to resolve the war crisis spread, many small and medium-sized territories sent people with gifts to express their gratitude.

For these lords, war and banditry were undoubtedly the most troublesome things, and many territories suffered as a result.

They lacked sufficient troops to protect themselves, and faced with such a situation, they could only follow their hearts, just like Vance.

If you're lucky, you might escape; if you're unlucky, you'll be lifted into the air along with the ground.

Ronan made a tremendous sacrifice and contribution in quelling the mutiny. Those who were protected by him should, both morally and logically, express their gratitude.

"My wise and mighty Lord Thorn, this is a small token of my master's appreciation for your heroic deeds."

"You are too kind, sir. Thorn Territory and White Sand Territory are friendly partners for generations and should help each other and work together to create a more peaceful and stable Western Territory."

After seeing off another envoy, Ronan felt that his rhetoric was becoming increasingly fluent.

This is the fifth messenger he has received today.

More olive branches are undoubtedly a good sign, but so far the friendly signals are coming from small, weak territories, which are only about the same strength as the original Thorn Territory.

The truly powerful territories, on the contrary, subtly remained silent, or rather, simply didn't care.

Ronan was not discouraged; on the contrary, he was quite satisfied—this was the effect he wanted.

In this world of limited information, news is mostly passed down by word of mouth. These lords, who are far from the Thorn Territory, probably only know that "a northern calamity has been quelled by the Thorn Territory," and at most believe that the young lord pulled in his down-on-his-luck old neighbor and together they quelled a small group of bandits.

In this way, their vigilance and caution will be minimized, which will help Thorn Territory continue to develop steadily.

Of course, that wasn't enough—so a few days earlier, Ronan had sent the letter of credit that Vance had helped him draft to the Duke who ruled the western border.

If all goes as expected, the duke should have received it by now...

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