Kamlin stared at the man who claimed to be an official of the Explorers' Association, and suddenly remembered the comment the short-haired girl had made about Pejite when they chatted on the way.
It was a "nation" with a permanent population of at most a few thousand, but the number of explorers and mercenaries far exceeded the number of citizens.
On the surface, it appears glamorous, bearing the title of "second strongest nation," but in reality, it has long been out of the king's control.
The entire country was controlled by several major expeditions, or " Explorers' Association," and even the king, who was nominally the highest leader, had to act according to the associations' wishes.
Perhaps King Deus saw this clearly, but was powerless to change it, which is why he devoted himself to his beloved exploration career.
"Status, privileges?"
"Then why didn't you visit through formal diplomatic channels? Why did you insist on mingling with the refugees?"
Kamlin asked expressionlessly.
The man's lips moved a few times, but he didn't make a sound.
Nonsense. If the country weren't in such chaos, with even the association's top brass struggling to survive, who would willingly come out to suffer?
They originally planned to take their belongings to Pejite, use money to open doors, and continue living a respectable life.
Little did they know that they would be ambushed by Insect Claw halfway there, and everything was reduced to nothing.
But they dared not say these words to each other's faces.
Kamlin waited a few seconds, and seeing no response, stopped looking at them.
He turned to the other refugees who were registering, and said pointedly:
"The rules of the Valley of the Wind are simple, I'll repeat them again."
"No one here can get something for nothing. If you don't have a skill, learn it. If you can't learn it, do the most basic manual labor."
"If you feel wronged," he pointed towards the valley entrance, "You can leave from there. Goodbye."
Having said that, Kamlin left the thirty-odd people standing there and went to assist the others.
"This..."
The nobles exchanged glances, all filled with anger and resentment towards Kamlin.
The gods have already accepted them; how dare a mere militia leader be so arrogant and domineering!
Despite their anger, not a single person actually turned and left.
To enter the desert without any food or equipment—what's the difference between that and suicide?
Having witnessed the divine punishment on the city walls firsthand, they too lacked the courage to express their dissatisfaction openly.
"Don't be afraid, let's protest as a group, I don't believe they won't do anything about it!"
Ultimately, they chose the most "respectable" way --
They sat on the ground and began a silent protest, demanding that the Valley of the Wind treat them in accordance with their status.
Now that they've saved us, are they really going to just stand by and watch us starve to death?
Even if we starve to death here, our " Protest Alliance " will never bow down!
Time flies, and it's already the second evening since the refugees arrived.
Dozens of tents have already been set up on the open ground at the bottom of the valley.
Some of the items were gray-brown marching tents seized from the bandit camp, while others were coarse hemp sheds supported by simple wooden frames.
The tents were packed tightly together against the cliff faces on both sides for wind protection and warmth.
The entire valley floor is olive-shaped, with city walls and sand-control dams cutting off its east and west ends, and towering cliffs to the north and south.
Even in its narrowest part, it is nearly 500 meters wide, and its total area is comparable to that of a modern large stadium, making it very suitable for temporary accommodation for refugees.
Almost all the tents were empty; almost everyone had gone inside the Valley of the Wind, either to observe and learn or to get started helping out.
They need to familiarize themselves with the environment and understand the work processes first.
Only members of the " Protest Alliance " remained in the tent area.
They sat or lay down, crammed into two adjacent tents, their faces even more haggard than yesterday.
From noon yesterday until now, more than 30 hours have passed, and they haven't eaten a single grain of rice.
Kamlin kept his word and never gave them any more food, completely ignoring their protests.
A sense of oppression filled the tent.
"Hang in there a little longer," the thin man said in a low voice. "They won't let us starve to death in order to keep the other refugees on their side. Once they can't withstand the pressure and come to us on their own, we'll have leverage."
"Yes, that's right," another, younger man with sunken eyes chimed in. "We've all been sincerely praying to the Divine Tree. The gods are merciful and will surely bless the devout..."
This remark drew several echoes, even though none of them had actually seen what the Erdtree looked like, they still fantasized that their devout prayers would earn them a hot meal.
Just then, footsteps and laughter could be heard, and people who had gone out to work were returning.
In stark contrast to the deathly atmosphere inside the tents, most of the returning refugees wore expressions of joy.
Valley of the Wind truly lives up to its reputation as the most bountiful land among the kingdoms of the Sea of Corruption.
They saw real farmland, with fields of crops swaying in the wind.
The vastness and vitality of that place are incomparable to the Liquid Field grown in cold pipes.
They also entered a real forest, where the trees were tall, their branches intertwined, and birds sang and animals roamed.
The air was filled with the complex scents of earth, grass, decaying wood, and wildflowers, a thousand times more vibrant than the pitiful "greenery" outside the walls of the Pejite Royal Garden.
Most importantly, the work itself went much more smoothly than expected.
Although the nations of the Sea of Corruption have different political systems, their technological systems all originated from the Ancient Kingdom of Eftal.
In addition, since countries have been exchanging goods and supplies for many years, the tools, materials and parts used are largely the same, so whether you are a blacksmith, weapon maker or textile worker, you can get the hang of it after a little adaptation.
Finally, they also received those small wooden pieces marked with gold rings, which were work points.
Because the refugee housing has not yet been built, they cannot cook for themselves for the time being, and their food is still being supplied by the Valley of the Wind.
With just one work point, you can exchange it for a "meal voucher," which you can use to receive three meals a day.
Dinner time arrived quickly, and several handcarts were pushed to the front of the nearly completed office building.
Several large wooden barrels were placed on the vehicle; with the lids off, a fragrant aroma wafted out.
Those who had already eaten in the valley immediately crowded around, waving their meal tickets and starting to queue.
They knew very well that the food in the Valley of the Wind was completely different from the thin meat porridge they had drunk on their escape route a few days ago.
The thick vegetable porridge swayed gently in the bucket, the wheat grains, diced carrots, and chopped onions almost dissolved, its flavor even richer and more fragrant than meat porridge.
There were also several bowls of mashed potatoes with pepper and salt on the side, which were so tender they melted in your mouth.
Add to that stacks of wheat cakes, the perfect complement to the two.
Food made from crops grown with Blessed Crops far surpasses food made from contaminated grains in terms of nutrition, taste, and appearance.
Even royalty and nobility could never have tasted such delicacies.
The crowd lined up in an orderly fashion, receiving their dinner under the direction of the peasant women.
The refugees... or rather, the "immigrants," ate with relish.
I've almost forgotten who I am, where I came from, and what I've been through.
The feeling of my stomach being filled with warm, substantial food dispelled all negative emotions.
What excited them even more was what Nausicaä said during her personal inspection this afternoon:
"Once you accumulate 100 work points, you can apply to own a house and become a full member of the Valley of the Wind of the Wind."
"Your children can attend the castle school, read and write, and learn skills; your families can live in houses that shelter them from the wind and rain, and no longer have to wander."
"When you get old, the Valley of the Wind will ensure you a peaceful old age based on your past contributions."
"This is your new home."
The reactions of others were heard through the gaps in the tent by the " Protesters' Alliance."
The aroma of food permeated everything, seeping in and tantalizing their empty stomachs.
Laughter and cheers felt like fine needles, pricking their tense nerves.
Finally, someone made a gurgling sound in their throat.
He was the young nobleman with sunken eyes who had previously claimed to be praying sincerely.
He suddenly stood up and pulled back the tent flap.
"I know some winemaking techniques, perhaps... they just need them?"
He stared at the group of people sitting around eating in the distance, their faces beaming with happiness, ignoring the pleas of his "companions" behind him to stay, and resolutely walked toward the office.
Once one emerged, a second and a third followed, and others came out one after another.
"I... I went to school for a few years, I can write, and I can do accounting..."
"My father was a stonemason, and I worked as his assistant when I was a child..."
"I..."
The so-called " Protest Alliance " collapsed Silencio at that moment.
From the top of the wall, Kamlin took in everything, a slight smile playing on his lips.