The operation to rescue the Infected lasted roughly half a day, but most of that time was actually spent clearing the battlefield after the combat had ended. The corpses of the soldiers were either reduced to ash by Talulah's flames or tossed aside to serve as dinner for the starving beasts of the tundra; regardless, many felt these bastards were far more useful dead than they had ever been alive.
"It really is strange. Where did the people responsible for guarding this place go? Why leave behind only this group of obvious greenhorns?"
FrostNova looked at the lit bonfires. Judging solely by the arrangement of the wood, these people clearly hadn't lived here for long; a fire built this way consumed twice the necessary fuel. Gathering firewood in this season was no small feat, as one wrong move could alert hungry Fangs, leading to a likely death under the assault of a pack. Besides, who would want to venture out in this season?
"According to the Infected, most of the guards were transferred some time ago. It's possible that because we've been striking so frequently, those guys are pulling back their forces to defend the larger mining districts," Talulah said with a sigh as she walked back. Perhaps their recent string of attacks on the mines had truly spooked the mine owners.
"They didn't even leave much food behind... and this is supposed to be a mine garrisoned by the Imperial Guard."
Looking at the supplies they had scavenged and comparing them to the number of Infected and guards, the rations wouldn't have lasted a month. If the intelligence they received was correct, the stored grain should have been at least four times this amount. Were these people pigs? How did they eat through it so fast?
"Forget it, don't dwell on it. Let's get the people back first. For those unwilling to come with us, give them a few days' worth of dry rations."
The "dry rations" Talulah spoke of were actually a type of coarse biscuit made from a mixture of wheat and beans. Not only were they convenient to carry, but in a pinch, they were hard enough to be used for self-defense. Then again, those unwilling to return with them had long since vanished; those who remained were either numbed by despair or too weak to flee. Very few wanted to run once Reunion's identity was made clear. To them, compared to being caught by the Guards or roving bandits, it was better to follow these fellow Infected—at least they had just provided a hot meal.
"You're back. It looks like the battle went smoothly."
On the way back with the rescued group, Talulah ran into Patriot's unit. They had been patrolling the surrounding villages to monitor the local situation.
"By the way, Talulah. Regarding your previous proposal, I've already contacted the other squads. A few of them do have the intention and want to meet you face-to-face in the coming days."
Talulah had mentioned before that she intended to integrate the various scattered teams in the snowlands. Even if they didn't officially join Reunion, they should at least have a network for sharing information. This way, compared to the previous situation where every squad fought in isolation, they could coordinate their actions.
For instance, there was a time when a mining district was a full three-day journey from Talulah's position. If there had been a contactable team nearby, they wouldn't have had to waste supplies trekking back and forth. However, other teams had either been dismissive of the idea or worried about traitors; in short, they didn't believe it could work.
"Frostwolf and Spent Shell are planning to join us. After all, many of their members were wiped out by the Emperor's Blades. Several other squads that were crippled by the Blades have the same intention."
Ever since those Emperor's Blades had rampaged through the tundra, the various roving bands in the snowlands had suffered varying degrees of loss. The unluckier squads hadn't found a single survivor—not even corpses, only tattered remnants of supplies. After all, those were the strongest combatants in Ursus; you couldn't expect everyone to be like Talulah and her group, pinning those monsters to the ground and beating them to death.
However, while having people wanting to join was a good thing, Patriot did not believe these men—who had been scared out of their wits by the Emperor's Blades—could still muster the courage to fight. They might just be looking for a free meal. In the past, the idea of such a demoralized squad collaborating with Patriot's Guerrillas would have been a daydream, utterly unthinkable. Members of such teams were fine for a winning battle, but in a difficult fight, the chance of them standing their ground was lower than Kashchey helping an old lady cross the street.
But this time, they had faced the Emperor's Blades. To survive under such monsters was already an achievement in itself, and Patriot didn't intend to compare them to his Shieldguards.
"It's good enough that they want to join. If they truly can't handle the battlefield, they can handle logistics and transport. But it's still best to vet them; I don't want to recruit a bunch of raiders."
Though Talulah was glad people were responding to her idea, she wanted to ensure these weren't violent thugs, as adding them would only smear Reunion's reputation. Talulah had heard plenty of stories in the villages about well-armed groups roaming the snowlands, stealing grain and seeds from villagers. Rather than resisting Ursus tyranny, they were essentially bandits living quite comfortably since no army bothered to clear them out.
"In addition, there is a squad composed of Sarkaz that also intends to cooperate. But you must consider this carefully. They are likely mercenaries who fled from Kazdel to Ursus years ago. They are dangerous!"
Though it was somewhat awkward for a Wendigo to speak this way about his own kin, Patriot knew all too well what his fellow countrymen were like. How could he trust them easily? Even in Kazdel, two Sarkaz meeting wouldn't dare trust each other fully, fearing that the moment they relaxed, a knife would be driven into their heart. After all, almost every Sarkaz out making a living was a mercenary; you couldn't expect them to have "loyalty." Or rather, the only thing they were loyal to was money.
Add to that the derogatory slur "demon" and basically no nation viewed a Sarkaz as an equal. Even Ursus, which had personally recruited Patriot, had only done so because they valued the extraordinary power of the Wendigo.
"Sarkaz? There are actually Sarkaz in the Ursus snowlands?"
Talulah was quite curious to hear there was a Sarkaz unit in the North. She hadn't heard of such a group being in the snowlands before. What were they doing in this godforsaken place? There was nothing here, and a Sarkaz looking for a merchant to do business with would likely find no merchant brave enough to accept.
Talulah held no prejudice toward the Sarkaz race. In her eyes, they were just like the Infected—products of demonization by various nations. Look at Patriot; wasn't he a Sarkaz? Talulah saw very little in him that matched the rumors of his kin, aside from an appearance that might startle a stranger.
"Originally, there weren't any. I heard they fled to Ursus to escape the war. After being hunted and blocked all along the way, many died. In the end, they had no choice but to run in here."
Speaking of war, Patriot's gaze turned toward his homeland, and he couldn't help but sigh inwardly. While he could understand the war sparked by two kings vying for power, it didn't mean he approved. The Sarkaz had experienced too much upheaval; their once-glorious history had perished in the river of time, forgotten by all. Aside from those of ancient bloodlines like himself, even in modern Kazdel, one could hardly find a scholar who understood Sarkaz history. How tragic was that for a race?
Yan had its own oral traditions, Victoria recorded the chapters of the Draco and the Lion, and Laterano was an earthly paradise unchanged for a millennium—but what about the Sarkaz, who were just as ancient? What had they left behind besides a fearsome reputation? The children today probably couldn't even read the Sarkaz language.
"They sound like pitiful people as well. I'll make time to contact them. By the way, Captain—when dealing with Sarkaz, what should I be mindful of?"
Hearing Patriot's account, Talulah felt they hadn't had it easy. If possible, she was willing to accept these poor souls who had fled here.
"Dealing with Sarkaz is simple. First, make them believe in you. Then, beat them into submission. It's as simple as that."
Patriot spoke of the ancient traditions of the Sarkaz—and perhaps the tradition of all Terra: that the one with the biggest fist calls the shots.