Chapter 46: Rebuilding the Territory

When the bishop of the Truth Church learned of his brother's death, he fell off his horse while fleeing.

His subordinates hurriedly rushed over, helping him up and quickly finding some herbs.

"No need, help me back onto my horse," the bishop said, his expression extremely pained, but his determination unwavering despite his grief. "We must continue moving south."

What lies to the south of the Southern Empire?

It is the vast, expansive desert known as the Sanara Desert, also called the Land of the Grim Reaper or the Bronze Desert.

For thousands of years, countless adventurers and travelers have perished beneath the scorching sands, their small lives rendered insignificant before the endless expanse of the desert.

But to say that this place is devoid of life would be incorrect. In fact, there exists a powerful nation here—the Sanara Tribal Kingdom, or more aptly, a tribal alliance.

Though the desert is largely barren and harsh, not every part is filled only with sand. Abundant underground water has created many oases in low-lying areas, where ancient tribes live.

Of course, where there are people, there is conflict. These Sanara tribes have fought long and hard wars over the few available oases.

The victors occupy the oases, enjoying ample water, food, and wealth. By protecting passing caravans, they earn substantial protection fees.

The losers are forced to hide behind the endless dunes, relying on raiding caravans and raising camels to gather strength, hoping to reclaim the oases.

Eventually, the entire Sanara Tribal Kingdom decided to form a unified alliance, electing the wealthiest tribe leader of the Poplar Tribe as the Sultan to lead them all.

However, this unity brought problems. Not every tribe chose to obey, and the first issue the Poplar Sultan had to deal with was the incessant assassinations and rebellions.

As for the chaos in the northern countries, he did not care much. In fact, he hoped for even greater intensity of war, believing that the more they fought, the more caravans would detour through Sanara, bringing more wealth into their coffers.

The bishop of the Truth Church chose the Sanara Tribal Kingdom as his escape destination, hoping to catch his breath there.

The elite knights of the Light Church, eager to decapitate heretics and demonstrate their valor and loyalty to the gods, would they let the Truth Church go? That remained uncertain.

In this world filled with bloodshed, violence, famine, and intrigue, perhaps only Alexander truly cared for his people.

"Come on, come on, line up! Those at the back, don't fall behind!"

Alexander shouted from his white steed by the roadside. Flanked by fully armed cavalry forming two rows, they escorted the first group of villagers hoping to return to Karius Village.

There weren't many villagers, only about thirty, and they were dressed in patched, dusty, coarse cloth. Yet, Alexander looked at them as if he were seeing bags of gleaming dinars, liking them immensely. 

Behind these villagers was a longer "loot" convoy—prisoners tied together with ropes.

Among them were bandits, deserters, pirates, and Viderians, totaling nearly fifty people.

Alexander was once again troubled by the poor security along the border. It wasn't that he was particularly concerned about the kingdom's politics and safety, but he was simply considering the potential hazards to the village's trade.

A village always produces some specialty products, and these products only become dinars if sold; otherwise, they are just garbage in the fields.

His territory, Karius Village, naturally had its products—flax was abundant here.

Flax wasn't a high-value crop; its yield was much lower compared to industries like brewing or horse breeding.

But at least it could still earn some money, however little.

Moreover, Alexander couldn't decide what the village would naturally produce; it depended on the soil, climate, terrain, and other factors beyond his control.

However, although he couldn't decide what the village's specialty products were, he had other ways to make money.

...

This large group, under the armed escort of the Redeemer Knight Order, finally arrived at Alexander's dilapidated territory. The dire state of the place even made the bound bandits feel pity.

Alexander separated the villagers from the prisoners since they had to be treated differently.

"Dear citizens, I am your new lord, Alexander. As I have introduced before, I am very grateful that you trust us and have returned here, to our former home," Alexander said to the villagers. "This place has been ravaged by war, but I want to say, it's okay. As long as I and my knights are here, the enemy will have no chance to step onto the land of Karius."

"So, we need to rebuild our home. This will become a paradise where everyone can sleep in warm houses without worrying about war, cold, and famine."

Alexander patted his chest in assurance. He didn't know if these villagers believed him, but at least they began to move, starting to tidy up the dilapidated houses. They repaired what could be fixed and dismantled those that couldn't.

He breathed a sigh of relief, fearing the villagers might leave. As long as there were people, the territory would eventually be rebuilt.

Seeing that everything was on track, Alexander turned his unfriendly gaze towards the group of prisoners, his expression full of the look a chef gives to ingredients.

"Boss, should I take these guys to the city and sell them to the slave traders?" Victor asked from the side.

"Sell them?" Alexander's lips curled into a smile. "Selling them wouldn't fetch much. When I didn't have a territory, it was inconvenient to keep them, so selling them was fine. But now, these guys are very useful."

He promptly assigned all members of the knight order to become overseers, starting to supervise the captives' labor, including moving bricks, logging, and construction. High-quality labor shouldn't go to waste.

Moreover, Alexander used a small trick to make these captives willingly become slaves.

"Remember your current status: as the defeated, you have no honor. You are the lowest slaves, but I have always sworn to keep a compassionate heart. I have decided to select the best among you and grant them the status of free men," Alexander announced loudly.

This was a common tactic. Having lived in a country with a five-thousand-year history, he knew that ordinary people were never afraid of hard work; they feared that after all their efforts, there was no way to advance. Even if the channel was narrow and only a few succeeded, it would plant a seed of hope in everyone's heart.

Alexander left these slaves with the hope of freedom. Otherwise, if they were continually exploited, they would eventually revolt. Telling them that working hard could earn them freedom would greatly diminish their thoughts of rebellion and escape. After all, everyone knew that even the most despicable scoundrel occasionally kept their promises. Moreover, this promise came from a noble who seemed full of knightly spirit (considering Alexander himself was once a slave).