Kingdombuilding: All My Inventions Are Novelty

Chapter 168: Update Me!

"Father, I want to join the militia!"

Billy held a hoe in his hand, his face brimming with excitement.

"You cowardly brat, join the militia, my ass. I’ll go for our family." His father snapped back.

In the Jean family courtyard, Billy was protesting to his father. The latest newspaper had just come in, announcing that each village would organise a hundred-man militia to patrol, maintain order, and catch reaver spies.

And apparently, militiamen would even be given their own uniforms.

"Why not me? I want to catch reaver spies too! Those bastards dared to harm our prince. I’m gonna smash their skulls with my hoe!" Billy declared.

"Why not you? Because I’m your father, that’s why. And I’m the squad leader. This squad listens to me. Now scram!" Mason glared fiercely at his son.

At that moment, Billy’s mother walked over and said. "Your father’s right. When you’ve married a wife and had a child, then we’ll stop interfering. For now, just behave and stay home. Tomorrow, you still need to thresh wheat at the drying yard."

Billy squatted down in frustration. "Then hurry up and find me a wife already."

"Once we sell some of our wheat, we’ll prepare the betrothal gifts." His mother laughed. Then she turned to her husband and asked. "Is it true the county office is buying grain this year? How much per kilo?"

"Of course it’s true. When our village head went to the council, the magistrate himself said it. The six cities are all purchasing grain. Fifty cap per kilo."

"That much?" Mason’s wife grinned from ear to ear.

Mason was also very pleased. With fifty plots of land, they’d harvest at least 150 kilos of grain. Keeping 20 kilos for themselves, selling the remaining 130 kilos would earn them over six caps of silver.

There would be another harvest this year, too. Ten-plus caps of silver annually was no small sum. Just thinking about it made Mason laugh in his dreams. When had he ever had this much silver in hand?

"But the county said once they have enough, they’ll stop buying. So we better thresh quickly." Mason instructed.

Saying this, he headed out.

Since the founding of the farmers’ cooperatives, village elders like Vincent had gradually lost their influence. Nobody listened to them anymore. Instead, the co-op became the new authority in the village, with a dozen squad leaders managing everything.

Now that new orders were printed in the paper, he had to meet the other squad leaders to discuss how to implement them.

Many villagers, once long-term labourers under the aristocracy, now owned their own land and saw a better future ahead. Grateful to Prince Simon, they never dared to delay implementing orders from the paper.

Today’s matter is organising the militia.

Someone had tried to assassinate Prince Simon, which was a matter of grave concern. The villagers feared that if something happened to him and a new prince replaced him, their hard-won peace and prosperity would vanish.

So when the village reader read the newspaper aloud, the entire village became outraged. Every household demanded that the militia be organised immediately.

Or else, the squad leaders would be replaced with someone more capable.

’In your dreams! I am more than capable.’ He thought, striding toward the co-op.

At the same time, the militia edict spread like spring wind beyond Brambleford into surrounding counties. Militias began to appear on roads around every village.

They maintained local security, questioned suspicious passersby, and escorted any dubious figures to the authorities. Everywhere, militia could be seen patrolling with all manner of farming tools in hand.

Deep in a forest in Greybrook

Dozens of silhouettes moved through the trees. Exhaustion weighed heavily on them. Their clothes were torn and muddy, shredded by brambles.

Lothair looked down at the wound on his arm. Untreated for too long, it had become inflamed and festering.

After plotting the assassination of Simon, he had fled south along the Dew River by boat, trying to escape the prince’s lands.

But Prince Simon’s response had been swift. Every dock along the Dew was soon under inspection, checking all ships.

With no other choice, they abandoned their boats and took to the footpaths.

Soon after, even country lanes swarmed with villagers conducting patrols.

These villagers questioned every traveller, inspecting arms for injuries. Lothair’s party was forced to flee into the mountains.

A month passed. They had eaten through all their rations and were utterly worn out.

"Father, I can’t walk anymore." Alfred collapsed to the ground.

He was a scholar, even weaker than Lothair.

Lothair glanced at his seventy-year-old mother, his wife, and his younger brother. All of them looked utterly exhausted.

For the first time, he felt true regret. One moment of recklessness had ruined everything.

Prince Simon hadn’t died. Only he could have pulled off such a countermeasure.

"We can’t stop. If we’re caught, none of us will survive!" Lothair roared. His voice echoed through the forest, disturbing a flock of birds.

Outside the woods, a young shepherd boy napping in the shade jolted awake. He looked toward the sound, then ran off shouting. "Father! There’s someone in the woods!"

A fisherman nearby heard and immediately abandoned his net and cattle, rushing home with the boy.

He had to alert the militia; something suspicious was going on.

Lothair was alarmed. The boy had been hiding in the brush. He hadn’t seen him at all.

Alfred scrambled to his feet, the rest of the group panicking.

"Run! Deeper into the forest!" Lothair shouted.

Everyone obeyed, vanishing into the trees.

Not long after, hundreds of villagers arrived at the edge of the forest. A leader turned to the boy and asked, "You’re sure one of them had an arm injury and was wearing silk?"

"Yes! Hurry! If another village catches them first, we won’t get the reward!" The boy cried.

The militiamen nodded. They spread out into the forest. These villagers were strong and agile, used to climbing and trekking through the hills, far fitter than Lothair and his pampered companions.

Among them were experienced hunters skilled in tracking. It wasn’t long before they spotted Lothair’s group.

Hundreds of villagers closed in, surrounding them from all sides.

Back in Brambleford City, Richard had returned from the steppe with urgent news.

"The Alkamite tribe is on the move toward Dunmere?"

Simon asked. The recent explosion had left him with only minor injuries, nothing serious. For the past month, he’d been focused on four things: boosting production at the Machinery Department, organising militias, harvesting wheat, and weeding out spies.

Sixteen more cannons had just been completed and sent to Dunmere, along with fifty catapults and two thousand powder bombs.

They were producing at full speed.

Richard’s face was weathered and tanned. Clearly, he’d endured much during his travels.

"It’s likely the Alkamite plans to probe Dunmere’s defences." He reported.

Simon nodded. The reaver assault was imminent. It was time for him to head to Dunmere himself.

Just then, Baldwin entered, laughing heartily.

"Congratulations, Your Highness! That old fox Lothair has been caught!"