In Kas Village, near the southern border of Arda, the atmosphere today was extremely tense.
On the main road south of the village, several roadblocks made of wooden fences were placed in succession, blocking the road tightly.
Makarov, who had been promoted to sergeant, led a hundred Militia to form a cordon and stood ready facing the south.
Today is the day the refugees arrive, and Staff Department ordered them to line up here to "welcome" them.
However, their welcome method was a bit special. Many of them were holding swords, guns, swords and spears, and those without weapons also held farm tools such as pitchforks and iron drafts.
Everyone had a sullen face, as if they were about to fight.
There were several tents set up at the entrance of the wooden fence, with tables and chairs inside. In each tent were two people who were fully clothed and wearing large masks. They even wore gloves on their hands, and their eyes were exposed all over their bodies.
"When the refugees come, please cheer up!"
Sergeant Makarov yelled at the Militias.
"Remember, be serious! Try to look as scary as possible. You must make them afraid of you and give them a strong sense of psychological oppression."
"Don't let them have the illusion that they are here to enjoy themselves! Do you hear me clearly?"
Militias shouted in response to him, "Yes! Sir!"
Susan in the tent nearby was speechless after hearing this. "Is this necessary? Those outsiders have suffered from war and are displaced. Shouldn't we give them the warmth of family?"
She, her teacher Physician Wade, and several other doctors who participated in "Medical Training" in Lakeheart Town were recruited and sent here by Government Affairs Council to "quarantine" the refugees.
Her tent was dedicated to examining women, while her teacher examined men in another tent.
A Militia ran over from the south road.
"Report, Sergeant Makarov!"
After standing still, he saluted and said, "The refugees are here."
Makarov raised his hand. "Pay attention!"
Soon on the road leading to the south, a large group of people appeared in everyone's sight. They should be the refugees Government Affairs Council received in the south.
As they got closer and closer, the Militias could clearly see what these refugees looked like. What kind of people they were. They were thin and shabby, and their clothes were ragged. They were even more miserable than the beggars of Northwest Bay.
Several people on horseback ran out from the refugee group. They rushed to the roadblock and saluted Makarov with a military salute.
"Sergeant, these people will be handed over to you first. We have to return to Lakeheart Town to recover. This is the first batch, a total of 357 people."
Makarov responded to them, "Don't worry, we will strictly control the situation here."
These people on horseback belong to Internal Guard Unit. This time they went south with Hansel. They are responsible for guiding the refugees to Northwest Bay, handling customs clearance procedures in the territories along the way, and trying not to let the refugees starve to death on the way.
After the handover was completed, they bypassed the roadblock and continued on their way north.
Makarov gave the order to Militia, "Go and line up the refugees according to the previous groupings."
"Yes!"
Half of the Militias were divided into five teams and rushed toward the crowd in the south.
When the refugees saw a large group of people who were armed with swords, guns and clubs running toward them, they suddenly became frightened and frightened, stopped and whispered to each other in confusion.
"Listen to me!"
Militia Josse put on what he thought was the scariest expression and yelled at the refugees with a "ferocious look": "You must line up in a column now. Have you seen the entrance to the wooden fence in front of you? When you get there, pass by each other and go to the tent designated by Sentinel. Don't rush past or disturb the formation."
Perhaps in the eyes of these southern refugees, Josse's northwest accent paired with his "ferocious" look was a bit funny. Not only were some of them not shocked, but they burst into laughter.
Josse looked depressed, and several other Militia immediately took out their whips and swung them hard at the laughing refugees.
"You're laughing your ass off! If you laugh again, I'll beat you to death, you foreigner."
"Ouch! Please forgive me, sir!"
The refugees who were beaten begged for mercy.
After some threats of whips, the refugees became honest.
However, it was not easy to get them to line up. It took the Militias a long time to form a column.
The column moved on and came to the roadblock.
Militia, who was guarding the roadblock, let the six people go and drove them into six tents respectively.
The refugees who continued to wait suddenly smelled a fragrant aroma that made their index fingers tick. They followed the scent and saw that a large pot was burning in a large tent on the other side of the roadblock, with hot steam rising from it. It looked like something was being cooked.
"There is something to eat! There is something to eat!"
"Food! Real food!"
The news spread quickly, and the refugee team was suddenly in chaos. There was a lot of noise, and many people ran from the back to the front of the team..
The fragrance that wafted over was much better than the messy things they used to satisfy their hunger on the road. The adults who led them on the way were only responsible for preventing them from starving to death.
"What are you doing? What are you doing? Don't you know you have to queue up?"
Militias came running over, shouting loudly, and waving their whips at those who were running around, trying to restore order.
"My lords, please give us a bite of food first!"
Josse blocked the entrance with his body and shouted loudly, "Get in line. As long as the doctor checks your body, you will have something to eat."
But his voice was soon drowned in the noise of the refugees.
"Sir, we have been eating pig food for nearly half a month. No, even pigs can't eat those things."
"Yeah, and it's just that little every day, and we're starving to death."
More and more refugees gathered in front of the roadblock, and many people began to try to climb over the roadblock.
Seeing that the situation was about to get out of control, Makarov shouted, "Everyone is here! Prepare!"
There were 50 Militia standing beside him, each holding a long wooden stick with the front end wrapped in thick cloth.
Militia stood neatly in three rows. After hearing the sergeant's order, they immediately flattened the wooden sticks in their hands. People in the second and third rows stretched their wooden sticks forward through the gaps between their teammates in front.
Makarov gave the order, "Assault!"
They started running quickly, and the wooden sticks in their hands soon stabbed the refugees.
The refugees near the roadblock were caught off guard and were stabbed down in large numbers.
For a while, the sound of crying for father and mother could be heard endlessly.
Militia turned around and pointed their sticks at the remaining refugees who were already stunned.
"Old... Master, please spare your life!"
The man at the front knelt down and begged for mercy.
With one leader taking the lead, the people behind also knelt down.
Makarov came to stand in front of them. He was tall and had his hands behind his back, and the muscles on his face were tense.
Unlike the Militias, the sergeant had personally killed a large number of pirates, and his whole person exuded a chilling aura.
He glanced at the unlucky ones who were still groaning on the ground.
"Restore formation within 10 minutes!"
"Everyone who was at the roadblock just now should go to the end of the queue!"
The sergeant's terrifying voice struck everyone's eardrums hard.