The wait wasn't long. Afternoon soon arrived.
Some political commissars showed up looking dusty and disheveled, while others sent officers. Once everyone had arrived, they began their discussion.
There were a lot of them—dozens of people.
You wouldn't know until you talked to them, and then it was a real shock.
The guerrilla zones covered Karrilin Province, Kuliade Province, Altz Province, and Usuk Province, basically occupying the northern region of Holy Sword Mountain.
Their actual forces had already grown to 40,000.
A political commissar could recruit a few hundred people. With dozens of commissars, it was no surprise they'd raised tens of thousands, or even a hundred thousand, especially with nuns, monks, and officers helping out.
They had all the basic personnel in place.
Well, that explained why they kept saying the supplies they'd been issued weren't enough. They'd been expanding everywhere, following the original instructions exactly: increase the numbers first, then improve their quality.
Unlike the uprising's forces, which were divided among rival factions, with no one willing to take orders from anyone else and internal strife running rampant,
these forces all answered to the central government. They'd come from the north, and people in the rear were transporting supplies to them every day. Before the land route was cut off, hundreds of weapons had been shipped over each day.
Supplies were still being sent to them every day.
The main force wasn't far away, either.
So there wasn't much to argue over, and they all followed orders from above.
Through all his experience, Jacques had become skilled at winning people over and building connections. He seemed to have become a sort of linchpin, though he didn't want to be the forward command's chief of staff. He wanted to be its intelligence chief instead.
So choosing a chief of