Chapter 726.1: War Machine - ACTIVATE!

In the central region of the Brocade River Province, beside a lush mangrove forest, stood a settlement called Horseman Town, roughly 150 kilometers from Singularity City.

Though it was merely an unremarkable small town, its population was actually not insignificant. At least compared to the surrounding wilderness, it qualified as a thriving settlement with smoke rising from countless chimneys.

A century ago, the local survivors made their living raising horses. The settlement housed only 200 to 300 people.

By the 100th year of the Wasteland Era, farms and estates had begun appearing throughout the Brocade River Province. As plantation economies led by slave-owning landlords flourished, the locals switched to herding cattle and sheep while providing food and lodging to merchants traveling through the region. The town gradually expanded to 2,000 to 3,000 households and a population of 7,000 to 8,000!

Nowadays, the New Alliance's railway had reached the area. As a result, the locals gained a new source of income. They could guard the railway and sell grilled sausages, roast melon seeds, and start hawking various goods near the train station.

All they had to do was ride along the tracks once a day, ensuring the safety of nearly 150 kilometers of railway and making sure New Alliance trains encountered no trouble there. In return, the New Alliance's insurance company paid them.

As for why it was the insurance company rather than the railway operator paying them, they didn't really understand. Whatever it was, as long as someone was willing to pay, that was good enough.

Ever since the railway arrived, the smoke-belching trains frequently brought all sorts of interesting goods along the way. Tables, chairs, newspapers, books, clothes, furniture, appliances, and all kinds of puffed snacks and canned foods that nobody had ever seen before.

As long as anyone had the New Alliance’s silver, they could bring all of them home.

To earn more silver, many of the town's idle young men boarded trains and headed for New Alliance territory to seek adventure, or more accurately, to find work.

In the past, people worried that traveling so far from home meant they might not return for years. Even if they believed opportunities existed elsewhere, the distance had always been daunting.

Now, however, the trip to Dawn City took less than a day by train. Many decided they might as well give it a try.

Most residents didn't actually consider themselves New Alliance citizens. To them, the New Alliance wasn't much different from the merchants passing through, just operating on a larger scale.

Even so, their lifestyles and habits had gradually been influenced by Dawn City, much as the plantation economy had once shaped their daily lives.

Whether the young men returning from Dawn City brought back crepes, ramen, stories of the Great Stag God and the Great Rat God, novels like Bore the Awakener, or discussions about Singularity City's Humans and Automation, they were all things that had never existed in the town before.

Especially recently.

Not only had young men boarded trains, but even the town's elderly mayor had traveled to Dawn City to attend something called the Mutant Slime Mold Research Committee.

According to letters he sent home, he had met many important figures there.

There were big-nosed people from Triumphant City, delegates from Ideal City, and representatives from the Academy. Those influential people had gathered together to discuss making the elimination of Mutant Slime Mold their highest priority.

Before that, however, they needed to deal with a group called the Torch Church. Those lunatics intended to use technology from the Prosperity Era to spread something called Na Fruit throughout the oceans.

Most townspeople had no idea what any of that meant. Many had never seen Mutant Slime Mold in their entire lives.

They had never seen the ocean either. At most, they occasionally encountered a few crazed missionaries.

But the old mayor, who had seen a bit of the world, told them that all of this represented an opportunity. In fact, it was a huge opportunity!

Although there were no Hives around Horseman Town itself, there were plenty throughout the Brocade River Province. Eliminating Mutant Slime Mold wasn't particularly important to them personally, much like the New Alliance railway itself. But if helping those important people solve their problems improved their own lives, then that was something they could see and appreciate immediately.

As the New Alliance's Administrator often said, there was nothing shameful about making money.

If people could improve their own lives, live with dignity, and escape poverty and ignorance, then they had already made a tremendous contribution toward ending the Wasteland Era.

He would never demand that they hold their torches as high as the New Alliance did, but at least they helped.

As usual, the old mayor attending meetings in Dawn City had apparently listened to another rousing speech. Just before sunset, he sent an urgent telegram back to town hall.

The mayor's secretary yawned as he pinned the telegram to the public notice board in the square, hammered in the nails, clocked out, and headed to the tavern for a game of cards.

As soon as it was up, the townspeople immediately gathered around the notice board in curiosity. After much shoving and jostling, they finally found a literate cobbler to read the mayor's message out loud.

"The Mutual Slime Mold Research Community Conference has passed Resolution No.1. All member states have voted to declare war on the Torch Church and its servants..." The cobbler summarized the contents, but as he read it to the end, his expression changed slightly. "Looks like... we're going to war?"

Whispers immediately spread through the crowd.

The younger men from farming and logging families looked especially eager. Others, however, appeared concerned. They suddenly remembered that they themselves belonged to the so-called committee.

Their mayor was attending the conference and he had probably voted on the resolution.

The people of Horseman Town were hardy folk. They weren't afraid of a few fanatical preachers. But still, the idea of fighting strangers made most people uneasy, even if they knew the Torch Church was bad news.

One farmer frowned and asked the cobbler reading the announcement, "Do we have to go to the frontlines?"

Back in the old days, whenever Horseman Town fought outsiders, those with horses contributed horses, those with guns contributed guns, and those with nothing contributed their lives. Who knew how things worked now?

Ever since the New Alliance railway arrived, nearby marauder camps and Mutant Human strongholds had practically vanished. Occasionally small groups of marauders or wandering Mutant Humans still appeared, but large-scale warfare had been absent for a long time.

"Not exactly," the cobbler replied after reading further down the notice. "Our job is logistics. We provide lodging, food, fresh water, and daily necessities for the people coming here to fight."

He paused and added, "Oh, and the mayor wants us to make use of unused warehouses, cattle sheds, horse stables, even spare attic space. We need to turn them into inns, taverns, guesthouses, whatever. Apparently a lot of people will be arriving from Dawn City over the next few days."

He had no idea what a guesthouse was, but it sounded similar enough to an inn.

The crowd exchanged uncertain looks. Next, a broad-shouldered housewife stepped forward skeptically. "Are they paying?"

The cobbler blinked. "Why wouldn't they?"

As far as he could remember, nobody arriving by train had ever failed to pay. If anything, those people seemed determined to stuff silver into local pockets. Though admittedly, they always found clever ways to earn the money back later.

The townspeople considered it for some time before realizing it made sense.

The disappointed young men who had hoped to see combat immediately lost enthusiasm while everyone else suddenly brightened up. At last, they realized what kind of business opportunity the old mayor had brought home!

The crowd dispersed almost instantly. People rushed home to clean out spare rooms and empty buildings.

Land was one thing the wasteland never lacked. Especially around Horseman Town, where vast stretches of empty wilderness surrounded the settlement. Many residents lived in two-story wooden houses with exterior staircases. Converting an unused floor into an inn wasn't difficult at all.

Besides, many young people had recently left for Dawn City, leaving plenty of empty rooms behind.

While most hurried home, one man suddenly shouted from the square. "Wait! I just remembered something. There's a huge chunk of metal sitting in my old warehouse. It's got tracks underneath it. Looks like something from the Prosperity Era. My grandfather dragged it back from the ruins over 100 kilometers away."

The speaker wore a straw hat and carried a towel over his shoulder. He looked like a farmer.

Someone nearby asked curiously, "What is it?"

The farmer shrugged. "No idea. Looks like some kind of battlefield equipment. We tried turning it into a tractor once, but couldn't take it apart, so it's just been sitting in storage."

Someone slapped him on the shoulder and laughed, "Next time the train comes through, haul it to Dawn City. They've got plenty of archaeologists there. Somebody'll probably pay good money for it."

Another person called out, "If you make a fortune, drinks are on you!"

The farmer scratched the back of his head and laughed. "Haha, definitely!"

If it actually sold for something, that would be nice...

As the residents of Horseman Town busied themselves preparing for the coming war, the settlements connected by the railway and the Heavenly Water Municipality did the same.

Telegram after telegram, urgent letter after urgent letter... The decision quickly spread across the region as a unified front slowly took shape.

Each settlement resembled a gear within an enormous machine. Individually, they seemed insignificant. Some might not even attract the attention of the wasteland's great powers. But once linked together by a common chain, the force they generated became impossible to ignore.

Even the person who connected them all might not fully understand what had been strung together. After all, whose ancestors hadn't come from the Prosperity Era?

The wastelanders were not true primitives. Their forefathers had once lived in a great age. That age had simply vanished together with them. For all anyone knew, some forgotten settlement might be hiding a superweapon from the Prosperity Era. It simply had never found a reason to use it.

As those rusted gears gradually began turning toward a common purpose, Dawn City, the center of the machine, was equally busy.

A military train from Daybreak City sounded its whistle and pulled smoothly into Dawn City's central station. Its long line of cars was packed with ammunition, supplies, and flatbeds carrying artillery pieces.

Everything was destined for the frontline.

Some had been purchased by the New Alliance while some had been donated by members of the Committee or shipped from their own stockpiles.

Among them were two 902mm heavy mortars donated by Triumphant City. The short, thick steel barrels resembled enormous upturned pig snouts and the muzzles were large enough for two people to crawl inside.

The Wislanders called them "Boars."

Despite their archaic appearance, their destructive power was no joke. Against hardened targets such as reinforced concrete bunkers, they were even more devastating than some tactical nuclear weapons.

Their only drawback was size. Each weighed 150 tons, far heavier than the New Alliance's Tank 2s. Each shell they fired weighed an astonishing five tons. They were essentially postmodern, upgraded versions of the Karl-Gerat siege mortar.

Compared to them, the main gun of the Heart of Steel looked positively adorable.

Rumor had it these monsters were manufactured in factories south of the Army, shipped across the ocean through Triumphant City's ports to Silvermoon Bay, and finally transported by rail to Dawn City.

No one knew what sort of obsessive madness had inspired the Wislanders to create such a grotesque weapon.

Whatever it was, free gifts were free gifts. The New Alliance gladly accepted them. Unfortunately, the New Alliance currently possessed no vehicle capable of towing them.

Designing a dedicated tractor solely for two imported guns seemed wasteful, so they simply welded them directly onto railcars.

Compared to that, the Enterprise's donation of Model 60 Railguns felt far more practical. The New Alliance could manufacture them independently already, but their production capacity couldn't compare to Ideal City's.

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