"What is the local grain supply situation?" Perfikot asked curtly, his sharp gaze sweeping over the two officers.
Redcliff immediately straightened his back, pointing his finger on the notepad as he continued, "90.7% relies on compressed biscuits produced by alchemical factories. Currently, there are three alchemical factories locally responsible for providing basic rations to all the tribes."
He paused, then added, "Only seven tribes occupying geothermal hot springs can maintain a small amount of traditional food production."
Valken suddenly let out a cold laugh, his right hand unconsciously pressing on the saber at his waist: "Those chieftains hiding by the hot springs are now even slaughtering their last camels for food. My scouts intercepted their messengers seeking help yesterday."
He deliberately emphasized the word "help," a flash of murderous intent in his eyes.
