Ish's face turned from red to white, hesitated repeatedly, but in the end, still presented the gold bowl to Winters.
"I dare not touch it," Winters said with a wry smile. He called a gendarme's name, "Xial."
"Present."
"Register it."
"Yes."
"Heinrich."
"Present."
"You take care of this thing for me."
"Yes."
"Let's do this," Winters thought for a moment, then looked at Ish, the lucky finder of the gold bowl, "Ish, you and Heinrich will supervise the preservation of all the spoils. You pick two more people to guard the loot with you."
Soon, several prestigious militiamen were nominated.
The loot was placed on wagons, clearly visible, guarded by three militiamen and two gendarmes, supervising each other.
"Stop gawking! Move it, we don't have much time!" Winters urged his subordinates to speed up, "No hoarding for yourself, don't test the military law."
The militiamen scattered, and the weighty gold bowl was left on the wagon.