Yes, although Harvest Watchers required a great deal of Garrison Resources to produce, if he could find Harvest Golems—even discarded ones—and modify them, he could save most of those resources.
After all, Harvest Watchers were upgraded Harvest Golems. The foundation was still there.
There was no other way. Shawn returned to Saldean Farm, moved the three discarded Harvest Golems from the warehouse into the Space Garrison, spent a small amount of Garrison Resources, and selected the modification option.
The modification took one day. Since production ran on an assembly line, all three Harvest Watchers could be produced at once; there was no need to make one first and then start on the next.
Shawn spent the day with nothing to do. When he got up early the next morning, he found that a lot of people had appeared at Saldean Farm.
Looking closer, he saw they were a formidable, well-trained group. They all wore the same equipment and carried identical two-handed greatswords on their backs. And those armor sets and swords looked awfully familiar.
"So those are Guard Sets! The ones the Argus Blacksmith Shop made for Gryan Stoutmantle? So these are all soldiers from Sentinel Hill? They've come all the way out here. Looks like they're planning to make a move!"
Shawn muttered to himself.
There were at least a hundred and fifty soldiers—half the force at Sentinel Hill.
There was only one major event that could have driven more than half the soldiers at Sentinel Hill to action lately: the extermination of the Murlocs and Kobolds. And wasn't that the main reason Old Grian had commissioned those Guard Sets?
That meant the great battle against the Murlocs and Kobolds was about to begin.
Shawn felt a little restless.
In the past, whenever a battle like this broke out, Shawn would have stayed as far away as possible. But now he was skilled and bold, a young calf unafraid of tigers. The Murlocs of Murloc Shoal had emboldened him, and he felt like Zhao Zilong incarnate. He wanted to charge into battle on his pig and throw himself into the fray.
Besides, he had his Domesticated Sow and three Harvest Watchers. Surely the Kobolds and Murlocs couldn't stop him.
And he still hadn't used up the Kobold War Horn (Westfall). If he didn't use it now, what good would it be once all the Kobolds in Westfall had been wiped out?
Might as well get some more use out of it.
Shawn wanted a share of the action, and Old Gryan had thought of him, too.
Although the interrogation last time hadn't yielded any useful information, Old Gryan's decades of keen instincts had still picked up a scent on Shawn.
He had a vague feeling that the little brat was definitely hiding something from him. There was no way he could go after the Kobolds and Murlocs without bringing that kid along!
And so, it was like kindling meeting flame: one old fox and one young fox, each with their own little scheme, came together. After the group replenished their food and water at Saldean Farm, they set off in grand procession.
Yes, Old Saldean was very worried about Shawn's safety, but Shawn had thumped his chest and promised he was "just going to broaden his horizons," while Old Gryan had thumped his chest and promised that "Shawn won't lose a single hair." In the end, Old Saldean agreed.
The force of a hundred and fifty men trailed behind them. Shawn rode his Domesticated Sow, while Old Gryan rode a warhorse, the two of them running side by side at the front.
Old Gryan's eyes suddenly shifted as he launched into his art of persuasion. "Shawn, you're something else! I'd never have guessed. In just a few days, you've somehow become a disciple of that old mage Theocritus. You've even gotten your hands on several fine magical items and tamed such an impressive mount. This old man can't help but envy you."
Shawn sensed something was off. In fact, he'd been on guard against the old fox beside him the whole time, so he immediately replied, "Not at all. I could never compare to you, Lord Gryan! With that silver tongue of yours, you talked Saldean and the others out of five thousand gold coins. You had a few shabby Guard Sets made, and the rest went straight into your own pocket. Tsk, what a phenomenal con artist. It'd be a shame if you didn't become a merchant."
Old Gryan had been rather pleased with himself at Shawn's opening words, but the longer he listened, the more something felt wrong. When he heard the last part, his face immediately went from red to black, and he snapped, "Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit! What do you mean, shabby sets? What do you know? Listen, those Guard Sets may not look pretty, but they're far more useful than all that flashy gear! And another thing—what do you mean, 'the rest went into my own pocket'? I didn't embezzle a single coin!"
Shawn hurriedly nodded. "Right, not a single coin. Just a few thousand gold pieces." Old Gryan immediately looked ready to fly into a rage and curse him out.
But just as the words reached his lips, Old Gryan suddenly stopped. He stared at Shawn, eyes wide. "You little brat, don't change the subject and throw me off track! I want an explanation today. Why would the Kobolds be bored enough to go to Gold Coast and pick a fight with the Murlocs? Don't tell me you don't know. I've had people investigate it carefully these past few days, and you're a suspect!"
Shawn curled his lip and thought, If you really knew what was going on, I'd write my name backward. And the Space Garrison wouldn't be a cheat.
Aloud, he said, "Don't try to fool me, Lord Gryan. I really don't know anything."
Old Gryan stared at Shawn for a long while. Shawn's face didn't flush, his expression stayed calm, and his unfocused eyes darted around as if to say, "What are you going to do about it?" That kid's got nerves, Old Gryan thought. His face changed like an actor's in Sichuan opera, and he put on a broad smile.
"Now, Shawn, you know it wasn't easy for your old pal to put this force together. It wasn't easy to—well, to beg and plead for those five thousand gold coins, either. And it wasn't easy to travel all the way to Goldshire to get the equipment made. We can't afford to lose too many men fighting the Kobolds and Murlocs, right? Besides, the men under my command have all had hard lives!"
Miraculously, Old Gryan's eyes grew moist, and two streams of tears rolled down his cheeks. "Listen, there's a fellow in our force named Ryan. His father died when he was three, his mother when he was four. At five, he was out fending for himself; by six, he was swindling, cheating, and robbing... He had to survive somehow! Later, he joined my force because he hated the Kobolds and Murlocs, but he can't get enough to eat or wear. It weighs on my heart!"
"Listen, Kelt in our force has had a dream ever since he was a child: to wear the finest equipment and become the greatest hero, protecting Stormwind City and the whole world! He's right here in this force. If we fight the Kobolds and Murlocs head-on, his short life might come to an end, and his dream of becoming a hero would be shattered..."
"Listen, Samakeli in our force is such a lovely girl. Life has ravaged her once-beautiful face, and the wind and sand have weathered her soft skin. Even when she shivers in the cold wind and trembles in the rain, she still wants to wipe out the Kobolds and bring prosperity to the people of Westfall."
"Listen..."
Before you continue