Chapter 163: New Arrivals and Hetty’s Worries

They probably hadn’t expected the so-called punishment to be so mild. When the hunter siblings heard Gawain’s words, they were momentarily stunned, unable to react. It wasn’t until Gawain repeated his question that Tom, the boy with the red nose, blinked in disbelief and nodded slowly. “We… my sister and I can find other settlements.”

Homeless refugees drifted aimlessly between territories. Usually, their movements were erratic and unpredictable. They traveled through places no one knew about—and often died in places no one knew about. But overall, the areas where they could find shelter were limited.

These zones were typically the neglected wilderness between noble estates. The vast stretch north of the Whitewater River, east of the Tansan Mines, and south of the Kander domain was exactly such a place.

Here, large numbers of refugees from the Vulture Domain, the Carol Domain, and scattered villages in the northwest wandered along rivers and through forests. They could have moved toward the slightly more prosperous central regions, but poor harvests over the past two years had left grain stores depleted everywhere. Although many places had begun to recover this year, the nobles remained fiercely protective, especially those in the central lands, who viewed these starving migrants from the “impoverished south” as little better than thieves and bandits. For these homeless souls, all roads to the central lands were effectively closed. Their only option was to roam the southern wilderness.

According to rough intelligence, thousands of starving refugees were scattered across these forests and wastelands. Since most had traveled similar routes—or even come from the same places—their settlements maintained a loose network of contact. Though fragile, this web meant that if you controlled one node, you could trace and influence the entire network.

Sir Byron had spent over two weeks spreading word through underground channels in the south. News of the Cecil Domain’s efforts to gather refugees had surely reached some ears. But these poor souls had long since lost faith in the nobility. Before the Frost Moon arrived, mercenary slave catchers sent by nobles would raid them every few days. So convincing them that a noble family might kindly accept and protect them was nearly impossible.

However, if a group of refugees—people who had fled alongside them and survived months or even years in the wild—could travel between settlements spreading the word, recruiting the homeless would become much easier.

Gawain planned to select from the few dozen refugees before him those who were sharp, brave, and trustworthy enough to serve as guides and messengers. Using their influence, they would encourage the homeless to settle in the Cecil Domain.

The Frost Moon was nearly over. Once the Mist Moon began, winter would officially set in. They had to complete as many resettlements as possible before more people froze or starved to death.

The boy with the red nose—perhaps already an adult, though painfully thin—was a bit reckless but undeniably brave. His eyes weren’t dulled by despair like most of the poor, so he was a good candidate for a messenger.

“The Cecil family is rebuilding order in these lands,” Gawain said, looking at the boy but speaking to everyone nearby. He deliberately stressed that all homeless wandering these forests and nearby wastelands could report to the Cecil family and become permanent, lawful subjects before the arrival of the Cold Moon. This wasn’t a real deadline but a tactic to make the offer more believable and to instill urgency. “To ensure everyone who needs help hears this message, I want you—and others capable—to seek out those hiding refugees. I will send soldiers to escort you and guarantee your safety.”

Tom’s eyes widened as he listened. Gawain then turned to the gaunt, tense, and numb-looking southern refugees. “I know you were once honest, hardworking people who obeyed the law. But your lords abandoned you. Every noble in the south has forsaken you. No family, no land allows you to settle or survive. You wander the wilderness, surviving on grass roots, bark, moss, even rats. And yet, the nobles’ henchmen still hunt, plunder, and kill you—even chasing you here! But from today on, you stand on Cecil land. From today on, I am your lord! You may live freely and safely on Cecil territory. And you must tell everyone you know who suffers in the wild—there is a place to call home here!”

A faint glimmer of hope finally stirred in those dull, numb eyes.

They were still human. They still had hearts.

Gawain didn’t expect cheers from these slow-witted, starving people. After finishing, he stepped back. Seeing that Leight had already healed the wounded with holy light, he turned to Sir Philip. “Distribute some of the extra food to these people. At their condition, it’ll be hard for them to make it back to the domain otherwise. Also, send a fast rider back to tell Hetty to prepare.”

Nothing was more effective than a rousing speech followed by food distribution—especially in these times.

When the “lord” ordered food brought out, the refugees truly felt they had rejoined “human society” and believed their new “lord” would feed them. In return, they would obey orders and maintain basic loyalty. This simple, direct mindset was the only kindness Gawain had encountered in this harsh world.

Just then, the black-haired girl who had just been healed by Leight nervously approached, clutching her clothes as if she had something to say. Gawain took the initiative. “You wanted to see me?”

“Y-yes, my lord,” she stammered slightly over the title but managed to say it. “Is what you said just now… true?”

“Of course it’s true,” Gawain smiled. “Why would I lie to you?”

But noble lords’ words were never truly trusted.

Jiong only dared think this silently. Instead, she asked, “Can my brother and I go find other settlements? He has trouble walking and needs care.”

“If necessary, I’ll arrange a horse or a cart for him,” Gawain had already noticed the boy’s leg problem but nodded. “Of course, you can stay with him.”

The girl bowed deeply. “Thank you so much for your kindness.”

A day later, Gawain and Amber led half the soldiers, escorting two captured mercenaries back to the domain first.

Sir Philip took the other half, guarding the several dozen “new arrivals” behind them. Since many refugees were weak or chronically ill, Leight stayed behind to care for them.

The holy light priest could also double as a berserker in battle…

Gawain was in high spirits. Though this trip only brought back a few dozen new people—fewer than the number on a single slave ship from Tansan Town—he had successfully established contact with the refugees in the northern Whitewater wilderness. This initial trust would grow from these few. Considering how many laborers the barren land desperately needed, he was very pleased.

Moreover, most of these refugees were free folk with some skills or at least some knowledge. Their basic quality was higher than that of purchased slaves, which would reduce future education costs.

Serfs rarely became refugees—they were tied to the land. When famine struck, nobles gathered their serfs to feed them cheaply until the crisis passed, restoring production. Runaway serfs were caught and executed. It was the slightly higher-status free folk who lost all support and were forced to flee.

Sometimes people joked that on some noble lands, freedom came at a higher price than serfdom.

But Hetty, who managed the domain’s internal affairs, looked worried. She found Gawain. “Ancestor, do you really intend to gather all the homeless in the northern Whitewater wilderness before the Cold Moon arrives?”

Gawain had expected her. He smiled. “Is there a food shortage?”

“There is,” she admitted. “If the intelligence is accurate, refugees are everywhere in the wilderness. We’ll need to support about four thousand people this winter. Our domain’s population has only grown by about two thousand recently. We’d be feeding more than twice our current population. But that’s the lesser problem—food can be bought. Tansan Town is fertile and willing to sell to us cheaply, so that’s manageable. The real trouble is maintaining order with so many new people. We’ve just managed to integrate the serfs and slaves we bought into law-abiding subjects. Bringing in four thousand more suddenly could undo all that—even if the refugees don’t mean harm.”

“We increased from eight hundred to two thousand people before, more than doubling the population, and order didn’t collapse,” Gawain said with a smile.

“That was because those arrivals came before the Frost Moon—when the weather was warm and there were plenty of jobs. They could join the locals in farming, logging, building houses. As you said, work brings transformation. Plenty of jobs are the best way to absorb new people. But now it’s late Frost Moon, soon to be the snowy Mist Moon, then the freezing Cold Moon. We won’t have any jobs then…”

“Who says we won’t?” Gawain laughed even more cheerfully. “Why can’t people work in winter instead of just staying home eating food? In fact, I have piles of projects waiting for hands to finish.”

(End of chapter)