THE WARLORD'S SURVIVAL HAREM SYSTEM

Chapter 8:The starvation decree

Ric opened the ledger, his eyes scanning the neatly penned names, dates, and kickback amounts. It was a meticulous record of treason. Corrupt regional officials had been systematically intercepting, rerouting, and selling the village’s official military food shipments on the black market, intentionally leaving Riverpark Village to rot and die in the winter frost to cover their financial tracks.

As Ric’s fingers tightened around the leather binding, the air froze.

Suddenly, a sharp robotic voice vibrated through his mind. The world around him dimmed as a flashing, high-priority system interface materialized in his field of vision, pulsing with ominous urgency.

[Conspiracy Detected: 'The Starvation Decree'.]

[Emergency Quest Triggered: Reclaim the Stolen Winter Rations!]

[Time Limit Remaining:72 Hours 00 Minutes]

[Penalty for Failure:]

80% of the Riverpark Village population will perish from famine.

Ric stared coldly at the floating amber text, his blood turning to ice. A seventy two hour countdown timer began ticking away in the corner of his vision, the numbers relentlessly dropping.

He knew his objective was to either infiltrate or assault the heavily fortified regional storehouse and secure the stolen supplies.

According to his analysis, regional administrators have condemned Riverpark Village to artificial famine to maximize illicit blackmarket profits.

"What is it, Ric?" Lady Yan asked, noticing his sudden, deathly stillness. "What does the ledger say?"

"It means we aren't waiting for winter to kill us," Ric said, his voice dropping as he closed the book with a thud. He looked up at the three women, the system interface reflecting invisible fire in his eyes.

"The regional officials have our food locked in their provincial storehouse. They’re planning to let eighty percent of our people starve to death to fill their pockets."

Morgana’s hand immediately dropped to her hilt, her eyes burning with lethal intent. "Tell me we are going to kill them."

"We are," Ric slowly replied, turning back toward the longhouse, his mind already racing through the advanced flintlock weapon schematics he had unlocked after the bandit raid. "We have exactly three days to mount an assault on a fortified military depot. Lady Yan, I need every scrap of sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter in this village brought to the smithy immediately. Morgana, mobilize the vanguard."

He looked out over the dark, shivering village, his resolve hardening into steel.

"We're going to war for our survival."

Everywhere suddenly became quiet after a short time, everyone began to carry out their task, they knew it can't be delayed.

****

Meanwhile, after everything was gathered into the smithy, Ric stood silently as he studied all the materials needed to construct the advanced flintlock weapon, his eyes glowed as he began to make use of his knowledge and detailed procedures to make the weapon as Lady Yan and most of the smithy watched him with silent expression.

His forehead was sweaty as he knew no mistake must happen as this was the only material available.

After a long time the weapon was finally formed, although it wasn't perfect as it was his first time but it was enough as this mission needed to be swift, precise and accurate without any need for mistakes.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirt as his voice sounded slowly, “Let's move out. Lady Yan, you stay behind and watch this outpost as we match towards our destination, I will leave some armed men with you and Kathleen”

Lady Yan glanced at him and simply nodded without any question, she knew his mission was crucial.

Ric walked out of the tent and noticed Morgana was already with some of the militia and a horse was already waiting for him.

He nodded slowly and put the flintlock weapon into the leather sheath strapped across his chest. He swung himself into the saddle, the cold night air biting at his face, but the fire burning in his chest kept him warm.

Behind him stood forty of Riverpark’s finest vanguard and militia. They weren’t a grand imperial army, but looking into their eyes, Ric saw the desperate, lethal hunger of men and women who had nothing left to lose. They weren't just fighting for glory, they were fighting for the lives of their children, their parents, and their neighbors.

"We ride through the night," Ric commanded, his voice cutting through the crisp air. "The regional storehouse is half a day's journey through the western valley.

We strike at dawn while their guard is at its lowest. Keep the torches extinguished. We move like ghosts."

Morgana brought her horse up alongside his, her eyes gleaming under the moonlight. "The vanguard is ready, conscript! But forty against a fortified military depot is a suicide run without a miracle."

Ric patted the newly forged flintlock rifle slung over his shoulder. "This is our miracle. Let's hope the powder stays dry."

With a sharp flick of the reins, Ric led the cavalry forward into the darkness, the silent infantry marching swiftly in their wake.

After a long march, they finally arrived at the regional warehouse as they stood distanced away from the outpost, he dropped from his horse and walked silently and glanced at his surroundings.

[Time Limit Remaining: 50 Hours 12 Minutes]

The text flashed briefly in Ric’s vision before fading. Now, crouched behind a rock as he was overlooking the valley, Ric surveyed their target.

The provincial storehouse was an imposing structure. Built from heavy stone and reinforced timber. Two guards flanked the heavy iron bound gates.

Ric’s eyes narrowed as he spotted the guards, he knew they were more than two guards as his eyes scanned the outpost and noticed at least a dozen guards patrolling the other walls, clad in the polished armor and well organized.

They looked well fed, a stark and infuriating contrast to the people of Riverpark.

"They're lax," Morgana whispered, creeping up beside him. Her hand hovered near her blade. "They think the winter and the mountains are enough to protect them. They don't expect an attack."

"Because to them, we're already dead," Ric muttered coldly. He turned to the militia captains crouching behind him. "Listen carefully. We only have one shot at this. If they sound the alarm and lock themselves inside the stone depot, we'll never breach it before the timer runs out."

He pulled the advanced flintlock from his shoulder, checking the black powder pan. Thanks to Lady Yan's precise gathering, the mixture was volatile and perfect.

“Now here is the plan!” Ric spoke slowly, his eyes scanning his captains. "Morgana, you take the left…."

"Commander, look!" a scout whispered, pointing down toward the valley.

The heavy gates open. A massive transport wagon, escorted by six mounted guards, rolled out into the mist. Stenciled on its side was the official seal of Riverpark Village. They were moving the stolen food.

A notification instantly appeared on Ric’s vision!

[CRITICAL ALERT: 'The Black Market Convoy']

The regional administrators are relocating the stolen rations. If the convoy leaves the valley, the supplies will be permanently lost.

[New Time Limit: 10 Minutes 00 Seconds]

"We have to strike now," Morgana hissed, her blade clearing her scabbard. "Forget stealth!"

"If we charge the open road, the watchtowers will pin us down!" a captain panicked. "It's suicide!"

Ric’s blood turned to ice. The stealth plan was dead. If they waited, his people starved, if they rushed, they died.

He hoisted the unproven, imperfectly forged flintlock rifle, resting the heavy barrel on the rock. He didn't know if the rushed smithing would hold, or if the weapon would explode in his face.

Through the iron sights, he lined up his shot, not at the guards, but at the volatile barrel of defensive black powder strapped to the moving wagon.

Down in the valley, the lead guard suddenly stopped, his eyes locking directly onto Ric's position through the fog. "Intruders on the ridge! To …"

Ric pulled back the iron hammer!

Click!

His finger squeezed the trigger. The flint struck steel.

A spark flashed in the air, and a deafening roar split the valley.