The Speech

Peter soon joined the surging crowd on Tunbao's streets, his pack stuffed full by his mother and sister, alongside many comrades who had hurriedly said goodbye to their families.

Like the many families gathered to see their loved ones off, they were surrounded by muffled sobs, anxious reminders, and heavy footsteps, woven together into a scene of parting in troubled times.

Though Tunbao's officials loudly explained and offered reassurances nearby, they still could not calm the fear and reluctance in the hearts of the families.

Peter did not dare look back. He merely waved forcefully before following the column toward the barracks at the center of Tunbao. He knew he had to go.

The atmosphere on the open ground outside the barracks was already entirely different.

The officials of each Tunbao worked with remarkable efficiency, gathering, forming up, and calling the rolls of their militia units.

What inspired awe was that despite the tense atmosphere and uncertain future, every militiaman on the rolls had arrived. Not a single one was absent.

This was no coincidence. Under Carnford's system, these soldiers' families, land, property, and even their hopes for the future had all been tightly bound to the land beneath their feet. Fleeing meant losing everything and even endangering their families. Not one person chose to become a deserter.

The Tunbao leaders meticulously counted and handed over their personnel to several officers from the Main Corps, checking the rosters and confirming their equipment.

At last, Oliver, the company commander, stood to one side with a grim expression and one hand on his sword, signing to confirm receipt of each man.

The entire process was rigorous and efficient, filled with the grim atmosphere of a campaign on the eve of war.

Once the handover was complete, a young man in a crisply