Chapter 342: Hope

The Month of Revival had arrived.

The long, bitter winter of the northern continent was finally reluctantly retreating from the land. Though its lingering chill still commanded respect, the steadily warming temperatures and several days of gentle sunshine stirred a deep sense of hope in people’s hearts—at least here in the Cecil Territory. The word “hope” was no longer just a refined expression for the upper class to muse over during tea; it had become something tangible, something the common folk could truly look forward to.

A baby was born in these early days of spring.

Inside the newly completed “West District Factory Apartments,” a young new father fumbled nervously as he welcomed neighbors and friends coming to visit. The small living room was packed with guests bearing gifts. Though all they could offer in return were some weak tea and simple snacks, no one seemed to mind. Few could have imagined that just a few months ago, these people had been a scattered band of homeless wanderers, strangers to one another, drifting through the wilderness.

They had roamed the wilds, settled in the Cecil Territory, met at the buffer camps, grown familiar while building their homes, and finally become friends working in the factories. For those who had endured those harsh, rootless days, one of their own becoming a father in a warm home was a momentous occasion.

Suddenly, someone at the door shouted, “The lord has arrived!”

Everyone was stunned, but sure enough, a tall figure soon appeared in the doorway—an instantly recognizable presence.

Gawain quickly spotted the young father among the crowd. The joy radiating from him was unmistakable. He hurried forward and gently stopped the man, who was about to bow nervously. “Today is the day you bring hope to this land. No need for formalities. Is mother and child well?”

“Y-yes, my lord…” The young man was clearly nervous but thrilled, stammering as he rubbed his hands together. “They’re both safe, both safe…”

Gawain smiled warmly. “May I see the child?”

“Of course, of course…”

The newborn and his mother rested quietly in a private room, undisturbed despite the many visitors. Only a few had been allowed inside, and Gawain was likely the most special guest of the day.

Thanks to the widespread use of the new magical network, buildings were now heated by magic-powered heaters connected through thermal conduits—a standard feature in all new constructions in the territory. This apartment, completed just before winter, was no exception. The warm, stable environment was crucial to the health of mother and child; otherwise, giving birth in winter was a life-or-death ordeal for most common folk.

In the cozy room, Gawain saw the infant swaddled tightly.

A healthy baby boy, wrinkled and with eyes still closed, sleeping peacefully.

A pharmacist’s apprentice was caring for the mother and child—not some wandering witch or quack healer, but one of the apprentices personally trained by Pittman. Though none had yet become true druids, these apprentices were professionals in pharmacology and basic medical care, requiring no innate magical talent.

Gawain smiled as he looked at the baby.

This was the first newborn in the territory—after nearly a year of settlement, the first child had finally arrived. But this was hardly surprising.

The people here were either among the original 800 refugees who survived the old Cecil Territory, or purchased serfs and slaves, or migrants gathered from the wilderness. Serfs and slaves were not sold while pregnant, and the refugees and wanderers had endured such brutal hardships that few mothers or unborn children survived.

This child was lucky. Had his parents not found a safe place to settle in time, he might never have been born into this world.

His parents were among the first wave of migrants—he worked in the rune foundry, she was a textile factory worker.

“Has the child been named?” Gawain asked the young father, who had followed him into the room.

“Not yet…” The young man fidgeted, his gaze shifting from Gawain to his child’s face. A simple, earnest smile spread across his lips. “We thought we’d just pick a name ourselves, but… I went back to school recently, and I want to ask the teachers there to help name him. A learned person’s name might make him smarter—he’ll learn to read faster than I ever could…”

Gawain chuckled at the father’s innocent hope, but also felt a quiet satisfaction: this man, once illiterate, now understood the value of education for his child.

He shook his head. “In that case, I’ll give him a name. He shall be called ‘Ors.’”

In the common tongue of this world, the name meant “Hope.”

The young father blinked, then quickly realized what had happened. He bowed deeply. “Th-thank you… for giving my child a name!”

He murmured to himself, “Today… today is truly a good day…”

“Don’t forget to register him as a resident and get his identity card,” Gawain said with a smile, helping the flustered man to his feet. He had already abolished the rule requiring commoners to prostrate before nobles, but habitual bows and kneels were harder to stamp out—they would take time. “Also, in three days, you can report to the Resident Affairs Department at the Administration Office to receive a package of living supplies—rations, cloth, tonics, and common medicines.”

The young father hadn’t expected a “reward” for having a child and hurriedly bowed again. “Thank you for your generous gift!”

“This isn’t a gift,” Gawain emphasized. “Remember, gifts and government aid are different. This is an administrative policy, a law for the time being. For the next ten years, every family with a newborn in the territory will receive support from the Administration Office. It’s a reward for your contribution to the population. After ten years, the office will decide whether to continue the program.”

Those present listened, some understanding more than others. They might not grasp all the implications of this “policy,” but they understood the parts that affected them—and that was enough.

After returning to the manor, Gawain summoned Hetty to arrange the “Newborn Rewards and Aid” program. Once everything was set, he settled into his large chair and began planning the territory’s development after winter.

Land reclamation was progressing smoothly, external trade was bringing in wealth, and military defenses were strengthening. With food and safety assured, a baby boom was sure to follow soon.

But it took a long time for babies to grow into laborers. In the short term, population growth would rely on two sources: continuing to purchase slaves and gradually freeing them, and continuing to gather migrants.

In addition, Cecil’s population was seeing a significant boost from residents of the Kant Territory, along with numerous farms, newly settled villages, and scattered populations in the eastern hills.

These people were now legally Cecil subjects, but first they had to be “educated” in Cecil’s laws and order.

Fortunately, this “education” hadn’t just begun with spring.

Throughout the long winter, Gawain had been subtly extending his influence over Kant—not just by sending soldiers to maintain order, build roads, and establish trade, but by gradually transplanting Cecil’s rules there. First, craftsmen who came to Cecil for work had to follow Cecil’s regulations. Then, using these craftsmen as a foothold, various construction projects began in Kant’s towns: new small factories, shopping streets, renovated residential areas. These brought winter income and improved living standards, along with new ways of life. Next came soldiers stationed to maintain security in the new districts, ongoing propaganda, and Patrick personally working to “unify thought” among the local notables.

Now, within the towns once directly controlled by the Kant Viscount, residents were slowly growing accustomed to Cecil’s order. But Gawain still faced one problem: the old knightly class of Kant.

These knights controlled the surrounding villages, frontier settlements, and garrisons. They were the farthest branches of the Ansu feudal nobility system—vassals of vassals. Though they lacked legislative power, independent lordship, and many noble privileges, they remained part of the old Ansu aristocratic structure.

Legally, these knights should now swear allegiance to Gawain Cecil, but they had yet to do so. Even if they pledged loyalty to Gawain personally, they had not sworn allegiance to Cecil’s “order.”

As long as they existed, and maintained control over their lands and people under the old system, those lands and people could not be integrated into Cecil’s magical industrialization.

“Summon Sir Philip,” Gawain said, tilting his head slightly and speaking to the air beside him. “Quickly. In and out.”

A faint ripple of magical energy appeared and vanished, and a moment later Amber’s voice came from outside the window. “Got it! I’m on my way… Wait, why are there mouse traps on the courtyard walls?!”

Hearing the noise outside, Gawain smiled with satisfaction.

Not just the courtyard walls—every streetlamp along the road from the manor had mouse traps on top…

Before long, Sir Philip appeared before Gawain, accompanied by the half-elf girl Amber, who was making all sorts of goofy faces at him.

Gawain ignored Amber’s antics and looked at Philip. “It’s time we dealt with the old knights of Kant.”

As a model young knight, Philip immediately thought of protocol. “You want to summon them to swear allegiance?”

“Not just that,” Gawain smiled, meeting Philip’s eyes. “There’s something I’ve been curious about… How do you feel about the new ‘rules’ I’ve been implementing?”

(End of chapter)