My Players Are So Fierce

1234: 417.

Basic labor force +60000, if this continues, Murphy is going to get rich overnight_2

1234: 417.

Basic labor force +60000, if this continues, Murphy is going to get rich overnight_2

“This won’t trouble you all.”

Colonel said in a heavy tone:

“We will choose our own place to stay.”

“Um, that’s not up to you all,” said Maxim expressionlessly:

“Transylvania is not a colony of the Goldenrod Kingdom, and after a decade-long war, this land never submitted.

Since we didn’t surrender to you in the toughest times, you can’t expect us to turn into shrinking turtles when things are getting better.

Please take your officers to Crimson Castle to discuss this face to face with the Governor and Governor Your Excellency, Colonel.

Your Soldiers must stay here until both parties reach a unanimous agreement!

Transia People do not have the tradition of allowing other countries’ armies to operate freely on our soil.

Take note!

This is not a request.”

Such a tough reception caused a stir among the young observers, and Major Ron, the deputy to Colonel Fraser, was about to retort but was suppressed by a gesture from the colonel.

He looked at Maxim, with whom he had previously cooperated, and saw the stern light in his bloody pupils.

He knew there was no room for negotiation.

Unless the Exploration Corps intended to fight against the Transia People here and completely take control of this land, they would have to accept these arrangements.

“Alright, your arrangements are fine.”

Colonel Fraser nodded, but then turned the conversation, saying:

“But all the damage incurred by my soldiers while they stay here must be paid by you, since you claim to be the hosts of Transylvania, show some hospitality!”

“Transylvania might be poor, but we can manage to host some unwelcome guests.”

Maxim said softly:

“Please calm your soldiers down, the reception of prisoners has already started.

Also, where is the ‘supply’ the Half-Dwarf Marshal has provided us?

Our representatives from various industries are ready to choose ‘talents’.”

“They are people, scum maybe, but I hear a lot of foreboding in your words.”

Colonel Fraser responded:

“Although I have no good feelings for them, out of fellowship, I still hope you don’t treat them as vampires’ fodder to be used at will.”

“You’ve been away from Transylvania too long, Colonel.

Your understanding of the vampires on this land is outdated; we no longer engage in such foolish acts as killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.”

Maxim, holding his riding whip, casually said:

“Treating people as blood bags is too wasteful.

Their talents need to be unearthed, whether they like it or not.

Only those who are utterly worthless can become slaves who provide fresh blood.

This will also be their last use in Transylvania.”

Meanwhile, as the senior leaders conversed, those who had come with Maxim had started their actions.

Colonel Flanders, the wartime hero of the once Armed Blood Servant Third Brigade, had chosen to retire.

He did not join Cadman People’s Army as Maxim’s deputy.

Instead, he returned to civilian life and was elected as the leader of a refugee band that was about to go to Dark Baron Territory to clear the land.

However, since his former comrades were returning to Transylvania, the colonel in his prime did not decline Maxim’s invitation and came here as a representative of the Armed Blood Servants.

Accompanied by several officers of the People’s Army, he arrived at the column of ten thousand Armed Blood Servants captured by the Goldenrod Kingdom.

He looked at his compatriots, who were worn out, with no more light in their eyes, feeling quite emotional.

After their capture, the Third Brigade was sent to the Great Wilderness to build a steam railway that continuously claimed lives, and the blood servants of the first and second brigades in the East Prussia prison camp had not had a good time either.

Colonel Flanders saw whip marks on everyone he saw, their ragged clothes devoid of any military demeanor, and some disabled ones were placed on carts, unkempt and looking like beggars.

Some of them had seen Colonel Flanders, the war hero, and some officers, barely maintaining their dignity, strained to salute him with respect.

Flanders responded one by one and then, with everyone’s attention, he shouted:

“Where are your leaders?

Where is General Berkeley?

Is Colonel Macken still here?

Is Colonel Mario alive?

Make a sound!

Don’t hide behind your own people like a coward!”

No one responded, only numb eyes conveyed their silent suffering.

Several minutes later, a major with a broken leg was carried to Colonel Flanders by his own soldiers.

The guy had become extremely thin, his once well-fitting uniform now hung loose on him like a flour sack.

He spoke weakly as he lay on the soldier’s back:

“Salute to you, Colonel.

I am Major William Scott, Commander of the First Brigade Assault Squadron.

The commanders you sought are no longer here.

After capturing us, the Goldenrod Kingdom sent us to the mines in Anjou, they didn’t kill us but what awaited was over two years of hard labor.

General Berkeley died in a suspicious mine accident.

Colonel Macken was swept into a cliff in a mudslide while trying to save his soldiers, as for Mario…

that bastard betrayed us.

He took fifteen hundred elite Blood Servants and joined the Wolf Vulture sect of the Wolfsbane Clan.”