Oren City.
As the spatial passage slowly closed, Grand Duke Oren looked at the vast quantity of supplies delivered into the city, and his awe of that Empire deepened even further. Oren City could be sold three or five times over and still not be worth all of this, yet to the Empire, it was merely a small-scale act of support for a distant war. Looking at sack after sack of grain, the large number of metal tools, and those bewildered-looking craftsmen, Grand Duke Oren could not help but indulge in the extravagant hope that all of it belonged to Oren City.
Following the Grand Duke's gaze, several figures stood out from the crowd, towering above the rest. They came from the Frozen Earth Territory.
"Everyone, everyone come line up over here! Register your names. Only those whose names are recorded will be assigned housing, and we will ensure your three meals a day are delivered."
More words were useless. The Magistrates held purses of Gold Coins in their hands, and the glittering Gold Coins drew the eye more than anything else.
"Every craftsman will receive two silver coins a day, one Gold Coin every ten days, three Gold Coins a month. The most outstanding craftsmen will receive an extra reward of five Gold Coins each month."
"After the war ends, you will return to the Empire, and you will return to the Empire with the payment Ryan Clayton has given you."
"Now, line up at once!"
The surging crowd finally gained some order. Soldiers stood outside, blocking many interested people inside Oren City from approaching.
"Are all of these people craftsmen? That's impossible, right?"
"But those Magistrates said they are. There are way too many of them."
"They do look like it. Look at them. They're different from commoners.