Restart:Untalented Man

Wilmot scrutinized the gun in his hand with a serious expression. His brow was furrowed with a hint of worry, and his eyes reflected a slight trace of suspicion.

It was a weapon that appeared nearly identical to their standard-issued rifle.

This familiarity only deepened the sense of concern etched on the general's face.

"You say there's someone distributing this weapon to the public," Wilmot inquired.

The scout nodded in response. "That's what the young man I met claimed."

"What a troublesome development," Wilmot Aymer clicking his tongue.

He clearly vexed by the turn of events.

The presence of these weapons was the fact that hard to swallow.

It means the enemy, whoever they are, had apparently touched the level of weapon technology on par with the kingdom.

Wilmot couldn't be sure how effective these weapons were, but the mere presence of this weaponry was enough to set off alarm bells.

Also, a portion of his complaint was directed to the SIN's agents. He is a hundred per cent sure they know about this.

As a former chivalrous knight, he had always been uncomfortable with their secretive nature as a whole and the way they operated.

But, who was he to complain?

Putting the gun and his personal feelings aside, Wilmot's gaze turns back to the city.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally voiced his decision, "We should begin capturing the city and restore order."

"How should we proceed, General?"

"Let's see...do we have a map of the city?" he inquired.

"We do, General. Let me bring it to you."

Moments later, the map of Vofors was placed before Wilmot. He studied it attentively, his finger tracing over the city's layout, pinpointing key locations and considering his strategy.

"We need to capture and secure the government buildings," Wilmot said, gesturing to the central point on the map.

He moved his finger in a circular motion, indicating the areas of interest. "This will help us establish control. At the same time, we also have to establish a perimeter to contain the rebel forces within the city, cutting off their escape routes and isolating them."

"What about the civilians, General? There might be clashes between them and the rebels."

Wilmot nodded, understanding the delicate nature of the situation. "Yes... We need to avoid direct confrontations in densely populated civilian areas if possible. Controlling these areas will be our next focus once we gain control over the government buildings."

Once Wilmot has sorted out his objectives, he divides the army into two groups: one to secure the city's perimeter and the other to storm in and take control.

He raised his hand, pointing a finger toward the sky to address the contingent assigned to guarding the perimeter. "For the soldiers tasked with encirclement... As long as you see the Republica flag fluttering in the sky, that means we have not yet gained control over the city. During that time, no one enters, and no one leaves. Am I clear?"

""Yes, sir!""

With their orders in place, the two groups of soldiers set off to execute their respective missions.

Wilmot led the second group storming into the city. Their presence, without a doubt, startled the civilians who were embroiled in rioting, the secessionist armed brigade who attempting to assert control and the agents who were carrying out their mission.

Despite encounters with a multitude of surprised faces, Wilmot paid no attention to the chaos around him and made a rush toward the centre.

His priority was to secure the barracks, as it was a strategic location that would provide them with the necessary resources and a foothold to restore order.

As they burst into the barracks, the condition inside was a sight to behold.

"What is happening here?" Wilmot muttered to himself as he scanned the barrack.

It appeared that the barrack was raided.

Empty weapon racks and open storage crates were scattered throughout the barracks. Ammunition crates were left open, their contents spilled across the floor, and the armoury's security had been breached.

The soldiers who had once manned the barracks were conspicuously absent.

His nose picked up the smell of gunpowder that hung in the air. A proof of the recent clashes that had occurred within the building.

Fortunately, this particular barrack only stored firearms and their ammunition in a quantity just enough for a small-scale battle.

It was prepared so the garrison stationed in Vofors was able to put up a fight in case the city was sieged while waiting for the main army to come.

"Secure this place and calculate the losses," he ordered, directing his soldiers to take stock of what had been taken by the one he suspected, the secessionist forces.

The soldiers began to assess the contents of the barrack. They noted the missing weapons, ammunition, and other supplies.

Each missing weapon and round was counted, and the losses were recorded, creating a detailed inventory of what had been taken.

"General, we have the numbers," one of the officers reported.

As the officer provided the list, Wilmot carefully reviewed it, item by item, taking note of the weapons and ammunition that had been taken by the rebel forces.

With the losses tallied, he could now gauge the extent of the secessionist forces in terms of weaponry.

"Hmm... Judging by the list, we have the advantage in terms of weaponry, However, my only concern is...they might go on a rampage against civilians. Tsk, tsk, tsk, what a troublesome bunch, wasting their time rebelling. They should find more productive activities to do."

Wilmot shook his head half-heartedly while his soldiers stared blankly at him.

Everybody present knows his history so he's the last person who has the right to talk about rebellion.

Putting the list down, Wilmot shifted his focus to his soldiers. "Alright, stop staring at me like an idiot." he said, "I'll leave some of you here to clean up the mess and secure the barracks. The rest of us will head to the city hall to continue our mission of restoring order."