After reading out the order, the city defense officer left with the soldiers without lingering for even a second, much less offering any detailed explanation.
All that remained were the uneasy poor folk, trembling with fear as they discussed it anxiously.
"My lord... what does this mean?" a somewhat younger poor man said bitterly. He was barely considered young and strong; if the lord intended to conscript commoners into the army, he would most likely be among them.
"What else could it mean? They're rounding up servant soldiers." An older poor man sighed helplessly. "Everyone, pack your things. We may have to leave the city."
"Leave the city?!" a woman cried out. "It's practically snowing weather already—how are we supposed to survive if we leave the city now?!"
"We can't stay in the city either. What do you think servant soldiers are for? Suffering and exhaustion are one thing; hunger and starvation are a certainty. Worst of all, whenever danger is involved, servant soldiers are always sent in first!" The older poor man had seen much of the world, and his face was so bitter it seemed ready to drip bile. "The worst part is that you get no benefits at all, yet you're still bound by military law. When the time comes, the baron won't even need to say a word—a probationary knight can casually find some charge and chop your head off... I was a servant soldier once. I personally saw a strong man with land, children, and elders at home get executed on some made-up charge of 'shrinking back in the face of battle' because he refused to remain a soldier forever and wanted to go home to farm. When he came back, his land had already been confiscated, and that winter, every old and young person