Three days later, outside Freedom City.
Leon stood atop the city wall, watching the approaching procession in the distance. His expression grew increasingly grim.
That was not an army. Those were refugees!
Tens of thousands of refugees, hauling their families along, carrying tattered bundles on their backs and leaning on wooden sticks like livestock being driven away.
A few old soldiers shuffled at the front of the procession, wearing battered armor and clutching rusty spears.
Behind them came old people, women, and children. Those who walked too slowly were shoved from behind, stumbling forward.
Leon's fists clenched.
"Anvil City... Riverbend Town... Graystone Fortress... What are they trying to do?"
Sophia stood beside him, watching the procession as well.
"They have certainly made a clever calculation. Sending all the refugees here saves them food and gets rid of their trouble."
"What I need is soldiers! Soldiers who can fight!" Leon kept his voice low, but the rage within it was unmistakable.
"Can these old people, women, and children fight? They can barely even hold a blade!"
Sophia said nothing.
The procession drew closer and closer, and unrest began to spread around the city gate. The soldiers guarding the city had no idea how to deal with these people.
If they let them in, the city had no room left. If they refused them entry, they would sit outside the city, crying, shouting, and begging.
Leon descended from the wall and went to the city gate.
When the refugees saw him, some dropped to their knees, some called him "savior," and some stretched out their hands, begging him for something to eat.
An old man knelt on the ground, his forehead pounding against the stone slabs with loud thuds.
"My lord... save us... Anvil City doesn't want us anymore... They said we