Chapter 93: After the Victory

A crisis had been safely overcome, but the real work was only just beginning.

The wounded needed rest and care, the aftermath required management, the frightened villagers had to be comforted, and the camp’s production had to get back on track.

The first thing Gawain did was gather the blood-red skeletons scattered outside the camp, at the mountain pass, and along the mountain trails. He dispatched nearly a third of the able-bodied workers to collect these remains before the Order’s forces could fully decompose them. They hauled the bones back to the camp and piled them high on the southern bank of the Whitewater River, near the sawmill. There, they formed a towering, terrifying mountain of bones.

The monsters had been enormous and grotesque. Even after a full day and night of decomposition, their skeletal remains were still massive and horrifying. The bones lay in chaotic heaps, sending up swirling clouds of black and red dust and mist, as if invisible flames were burning within. Among all the bones, fewer than ten percent were relatively intact.

The complete skeletons mostly came from battles with the guard troops. Those crushed by rockfalls or blown apart by “landmines” were rarely found whole.

Gawain carefully selected the more complete skeletons from the pile, propped them up on wooden frames, and arranged them neatly along the southern bank of the Whitewater River. From a distance, it looked like a grim new wall had been erected on the northern edge of the camp. In front of this bone barricade, Gawain set up a tall wooden platform.

Everyone in the camp watched as the bone piles and platform took shape. Most of the commoners and serfs were startled by the gruesome red remains, and memories of their destroyed homes stirred fresh fear. But the fierce defense battle fought just the day before, amid thunderous explosions, somewhat eased their dread. Even the illiterate serfs understood one thing clearly: since they were still alive and standing here, while the monsters were stacked on the riverbank, it meant the lord’s army had won a decisive victory. That made the monsters seem less terrifying.

Soldiers ran through the camp, loudly reading out the lord’s summons: Duke Gawain Cecil called upon all the people of this land to gather by the riverside platform to hear new orders.

With fewer than a thousand people in the camp, mobilizing everyone was easy. Soon, the entire population assembled in the square near the sawmill. Gawain stood on the makeshift wooden platform, facing the gathered villagers, with the ever-decomposing, mist-shrouded red bone piles behind him.

Hetty cast a spell to amplify his voice, and Gawain’s words rang out across the square—

“People of Cecil, today I have three announcements to make.” He planted the Sword of the Pioneer firmly into the ground, scanning the crowd before suddenly raising the blade to point at the skeletons lined up along the riverbank. “First, I declare a celebration! We have defeated the monsters that once ravaged Cecil—those that slaughtered your brothers, sisters, friends, and family, and just recently threatened all our lives again. Nearly a thousand of them—almost ten times the number of our defenders—yet not one stepped foot inside our camp. You should know how powerful and terrifying these creatures are, but now you must also know: they are not invincible!”

His words stirred the crowd. It was simple, plain truth, but it confirmed what many had been hoping to hear: a celebration of this incredible victory. A wave of excitement and pride began to build among the people.

And then Gawain turned that excitement into cheers: “To celebrate, after work ends this afternoon, everyone in the camp will receive meat broth and white bread! Plus ale brought in from Tansan Town!”

Cheers erupted from scattered voices in the crowd, quickly spreading until everyone was shouting in joy.

Gawain raised his hand, quieting the crowd, then continued: “Second, I want to give thanks—to every person who contributed to defending the camp, including my soldiers, but also including you.”

He paused deliberately, and the crowd stirred uneasily.

This was the first time many had heard such an unusual statement.

A noble thanking commoners—and even serfs—in such a formal, solemn setting was unheard of. Some exchanged confused glances; others, especially serfs on the edges, looked around uncertainly, feeling this had nothing to do with them.

But then a few people, escorted by soldiers, stepped forward and stood behind Gawain on the platform.

“This land is not only my domain; it is your home. Defending it was not just the work of the lord and his army—it was your effort as well,” Gawain said solemnly, speaking words that were radical and almost heretical in this age. “Each of you contributed to the defense—whether by making the ‘slag’ bricks, sorting crystals, crafting wooden boxes, carving runes, gathering herbs, washing soldiers’ clothes, drilling holes in the Dark Mountains’ cliffs, or digging traps along the mountain paths. All these things protected your homes and your lives!”

The crowd grew even more restless. At least half didn’t fully grasp the meaning or logic of his words, while the other half couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Amber, who usually led the cheers, forgot her role and stared at Gawain, muttering, “Is this guy crazy? He’s basically saying commoners and nobles have the same value and role…”

Gawain ignored the murmurs and motioned for the people behind him to step forward.

Among them was one soldier from the domain, but the rest were rough-looking common laborers in coarse, worn clothes. They looked nervous and awkward, having been told in advance what was coming but unsure how to react, moving stiffly like rusty puppets, afraid to miss a single instruction.

The stonemason Gordon accidentally stepped half a pace too far and found himself nearly level with Gawain. At first, he didn’t notice, only seeing the dense crowd below. Standing before so many people for the first time—and on a platform no less—made the burly old craftsman’s hands and legs tremble. When he realized he had stepped beyond the line, his face went pale.

Gawain just smiled and whispered to the others, “Stand on the stonemason’s line—that line is for you.”

By now, the crowd recognized who these people were. The camp had fewer than eight hundred souls, all survivors of the Cecil disaster, and everyone knew each other well—even the serfs’ names were common knowledge.

“That’s old Gordon the stonemason!” “Next to him is Hunter Hunt, right?” “Who’s that skinny little one?” “I think that’s Hom, a serf who burns slag at the furnace…” “That soldier is Krim—I heard he took down two monsters alone yesterday. All his brothers and sisters didn’t make it out of the domain…”

Gawain’s voice cut through the whispers: “These people made tremendous contributions to defending the camp. They are the most diligent craftsmen and bravest villagers. To them, I will now fulfill my promise.

“Hom, Terry, Wacker—you were once serfs and laborers. Now you are free men. You may own property and earn your own land and homes with your own hands. But remember: freedom in work and life also means freedom to starve or fall into ruin. Your future is in your own hands—do not waste this freedom.

“Gordon the stonemason, Hunt the hunter, Krim the soldier—you are already free men. You will receive newly cleared land and be among the first to have your own homes once built. Krim, because of your exceptional bravery, Sir Byron the knight wishes to mentor you. If you agree, you may start as a knight’s squire.”

Those named straightened their backs as Gawain took several copper badges from Hetty and pinned them onto their clothes.

The badges were simple—flattened copper discs engraved with the Cecil domain’s emblem, with “First Defense of New Cecil” inscribed on the back. They had been hastily made overnight. No one, including Hetty and Rebecca, understood their purpose—they were not currency and couldn’t be traded. In other words, they were worthless except as scrap metal.

But Gawain insisted on making them.

He whispered to the recipients, “This is a symbol of honor.”

Though crude and rushed, this small system of recognition was necessary. It encouraged those honored and symbolized hope and aspiration for others.

The crowd, unable to see the badges clearly, nonetheless felt a stirring of admiration and envy for those standing on the platform.

Finally, Gawain announced the third matter: “Third, regarding the domain’s army…”

(End of chapter)