CHAPTER 108: CHAPTER 108: THE CARAVAN_1

At the same time, housing prices in the Inner City District were incredibly expensive. An ordinary person couldn’t afford property there even if they saved for a hundred years without eating or drinking.

The boundary between the Central City and the Outer City was the city wall built during the second expansion. The environment in the Central City District was relatively ordinary. However, because it was the main area for commercial activities, it was very prosperous. But due to the dense population, there were also many petty thieves, so public security was only average.

As for the Outer City, it wasn’t really part of Totnes; it referred to everything outside the city walls.

The thriving economy had attracted too many people seeking a living, but not everyone could enter and live inside the city. Those who were unwilling to leave and remained outside the city gradually gathered, eventually developing into the Outer City.

Because of this disorderly expansion, the Outer City was very chaotic. Most of it consisted of haphazardly constructed shantytowns, and its edges no longer had clear boundaries.

It was said that even the Emperor of the Empire couldn’t control the areas furthest from the city center. The real rulers there were the gangs, and very few good people lived among them.

Barton couldn’t help but become emotional as he spoke of this.

"You could say that if you ask anyone in Totnes what their wish is, it’s definitely to move into the Inner City District.

Because I thought so too. But even after I became a Non-commissioned Officer, I still didn’t have the privilege to stay in the Inner City..."

Lance understood what he meant. He wasn’t from the Nobility, so no matter how hard he worked, he couldn’t climb into that circle. Sometimes, the gap between classes was even greater than that between species.

"Do you know any craftsmen who make firearms, or even artillery?"

His trip to Totnes was not solely for refugees. If it were that simple, he could easily find plenty. The real key was talent, and such individuals could only be found in large cities.

Barton wasn’t stupid; he clearly understood what the Lord meant and looked surprised. After all, he had only recently recounted the failed war where both the musket corps and the artillery—two units backed by huge investments and high expectations—were crushed by monsters before they could prove their worth. The governor might even reconsider continuing to invest in this direction after hearing such news. And yet, the Lord was now daring to invest in this very direction!

"The wars of the future will be waged with firearms," Lance stated, looking at Barton and giving a decisive nod, confirming the man’s unspoken deduction. "I will rebuild the artillery, and you need to be prepared for this."

"I need you to face those monsters with the artillery again. This time, I want you to prove to me that it wasn’t the artillery that lost before."

These words seemed to bore into Barton’s mind like magic, filling him with a rush of hot-blooded excitement.

"Yes!"

Barton had climbed from commoner to captain through the artillery’s selection system. His status as an artilleryman had allowed him to prove he was no less than the Nobility; indeed, he had to be exceptionally strong to wrest that rank from their grasp.

Thus, he had always carried a sense of pride, a pride shattered by the defeat in that battle. His prized artillery had failed to play a significant role, failing the expectations of the higher-ups and implicating many others.

He longed to prove himself and to vindicate the artillery.

He was not defeated!

Lance had captured this emotion and was willing to give him another chance to prove himself.

Talented individuals are common, but true judges of talent are rare...

Unfortunately, while Barton knew some craftsmen, his interactions with them were limited to firearms and artillery maintenance, so he wasn’t aware of their exact circumstances. However, he was certain these craftsmen were all employed by the academy.

After a moment’s hesitation, Barton finally mentioned a name.

"My Lord, you might try to find my teacher, Dean Stuart."

The name sounded familiar to Lance. After a moment’s thought, he blurted out, "Is that Stuart, the commoner General of the Empire?"

"Indeed. General Stuart of the Empire, now the Dean of the Gun and Cannon Academy. It was with his help that I was able to become a Non-commissioned Officer."

Lance’s expression became amused. This was a significant figure, someone even his uninterested predecessor had heard of. The reason, of course, was that Stuart, a commoner, had risen to the rank of General through military achievements on the battlefield. His deeds inspired all Imperial People. No wonder Barton, a commoner barely over twenty, could become a captain. Without some backing, it would have been inexplicable.

"Do you think it’s okay for us to approach him?"

Lance was very rational. If Barton’s identity were clean, such a connection would be crucial. But the problem was that Barton was now compromised; rashly making contact could be risky.

Barton furrowed his brows. He wanted to trust his teacher. Yet, he knew with chilling certainty that if news of his survival leaked, those Nobility would hunt him down. They wouldn’t let him live.

Suddenly, Barton realized his once seemingly solid network of contacts was collapsing. There was no one he could trust.

"I don’t know..."

After a long hesitation, Barton finally spoke, his expression dim.

Upon hearing this, Lance also fell silent. He knew it was unrealistic to rely on Barton’s old connections to enter Totnes. They would have to start everything from scratch.

In this era of difficult transportation, human activity was confined to the areas surrounding settlements. Many people lived their entire lives without ever leaving the town or village of their birth.

Likewise, the scarcity of information exchange confined news locally, creating ’information cocoons.’ Many people toiled day after day, unaware of the changes in the world outside.

This limited people’s perceptions. They struggled to understand things beyond their own experience, which naturally made them less receptive to the unfamiliar.

「Consider the present moment, for example.」

"Is this really salt?"

A villager stared at the refined salt in the bag, unable to comprehend.

The salt they knew was usually gray and pebble-like; some merchants even mixed in impurities like sand and dirt. But this salt was as fine as snow and looked nothing like the salt they were used to.

"Could our caravan be selling you fake salt?"

"I’m asking if this salt is guaranteed to be real."

"Are you deliberately trying to find fault?" Dismas, who had a fiery temper, immediately glared. "Do you want it or not?!"

"If it’s real, I definitely want it."

Their village wasn’t near the sea, so salt was a rare commodity. They usually had to wait for passing caravans to buy it. However, they didn’t know what had happened recently. The familiar caravan hadn’t come; instead, this new one had.

"What’s going on here?" Lance asked, looking over when he noticed the dispute.

When he understood the situation, he smiled, took a pinch of salt from the bag, and handed it to the villager.

"Why not taste it to find out? If it’s not salty, you don’t pay."

Lance let all the onlookers try a little. After tasting it, they confirmed it was indeed salty, though it lacked the familiar bitter, unrefined aftertaste they considered ’authentic.’

Soon, people brought containers from their homes, along with coins. For those without money, Lance readily accepted payment in grain or other valuables he deemed acceptable, such as animal hides and hemp cloth.

"Line up, line up! Slowly now," Lance called out.