Xiwalka gathered several sturdier civilians.
"We can't trust them."
"Before our fellow believers from the church arrive, we can only rely on ourselves."
Xiwalka pointed at the guards stationed outside the shantytown and lowered his voice.
"Mr. Xiwalka, what should we do?"
The leader among the civilians asked in the same hushed tone.
Everyone had witnessed Xiwalka's actions last night. Aside from those two lifesavers, Xiwalka had become the person these civilians trusted most.
Coupled with his identity as a mercenary, he was even more convincing.
As for Aitandinburg's guards?
They had not appeared last night.
Now they had appeared.
All that awaited them was indifference and hostility.
Even children knew these people could not be trusted.
"We need to arrange patrols and sentries."
"I'll find a way to get weapons."
"Has anyone here studied swordsmanship or fighting?"
Xiwalka asked.
Seeing everyone shake their heads, Xiwalka was not disappointed. This was all within his expectations, and he asked again, "You can shoot a gun, right?"
"Yes!"
This time, everyone nodded.
"Good!"
"Now follow my assignments."
"You few will form the patrols, rotating in four shifts. You few will be fixed sentries..."
Xiwalka made the arrangements in meticulous detail.
He swore that even when he had been a mercenary, he had never put this much care into anything.
Yet he had no complaints.
Because...
Once a heart had been warmed, that feeling was simply too wonderful.
He did not want to lose that warmth.
He had nearly lost it last night.
He had been terrified.
He had been afraid.
He had nearly despaired.
Fortunately, everything had been regained.
What could be better than that?
Naturally, keeping it that way forever.
Keeping that warmth.
Protecting that warmth.
Whoever dared touch the warmth in his heart, he would make them cold forever.
After