—Ivan, Lord Amadeus, good morning. Are the citizens already on the move?—greeted Miguel to his commander and the village chief.
—Yes, my lord, the defensive formation of the convoy has already been lifted to let those who are staying here leave, and the first wagons are about to enter the village and the outskirts simultaneously. We also have warriors positioned at the entrance of the village to identify wagons with heavy loads and help them unpack.—said the village chief.
—The mass grave has also been finished, young master, on the outskirts of the village, far enough away and with wooden stakes at certain intervals to mark it and prevent it from being excavated.—said Ivan. —The same goes for the loot; it is all in a provisionally erected tent guarded by our guards.
—Excellent news—said Miguel, as in the distance, with the night barely giving way to the first rays of the sun, the first wagons could be seen. Miguel was smiling, without even knowing it. —With your permission, gentlemen, I will leave you in charge here; I have other matters to finish.
…
In the distance, the procession of the returning citizens approached with a slow but steady pace. At the vanguard walked the elders and the children, followed by the wagons loaded with the few belongings they had managed to save during the evacuation. As the families approached the gates of the stockade, the relief gave way to an irrepressible emotion.
Tears began to roll down the weathered faces of the women and older men. Muffled sobs of joy and murmurs of gratitude could be heard toward the heavens for having survived the storm that had battered their homes. The children, unaware of the gravity of the war, ran toward the nearby fruit trees or looked for their old wooden doors.
In that moment of vulnerability, the soldiers of House Cortés who were guarding the perimeter approached with a different attitude than the commoners were used to. Instead of holding their spears with disdain or keeping their distance, the men-at-arms lowered their shields and helped push the wheels of the heavy wagons stuck in the mud. With a deep and sincere voice, the soldiers said: —Welcome home.
…
—Lieutenant, I have been told that everything is ready for the farewell mass.—said Miguel.
—That is correct, young master—replied Fernández. —The bodies have been washed and made presentable for the final goodbye, and the 12 graves have been dug in the northern part of the village, where a hill is located.
—So that the souls of these warriors can see that their sacrifice was worth it—said Miguel. —Who is going to officiate the mass? I don't recall seeing any friar with us. By the way, can we even celebrate mass?
—We cannot celebrate a mass as such, my lord, but a farewell ceremony can be hosted by simple deacons, my lord.—replied Fernández.
—Of which, I don't think I've seen any either—said Miguel, and he thought to himself: —What a strange thing. All the nations of the continent share the same religion and, therefore, sacred sites cannot be touched by any warring faction. It might not be so strange that they evacuated with the population; after all, they are supposed to be shepherds of the lord's flocks. But by the same logic, they should have returned with them.
—Well, it's fine. The second book, third chapter, article 257, first numeral of the canon law code, authorizes nobles to officiate faith ceremonies, provided there is no religious personnel near the place where the non-ecclesiastical rite is to be officiated. So I will lead the farewell ceremony.
—At your command, young master—said Fernández. —Also, in coordination with Raúl, we have expanded the range of patrols, both within the convoy that returned to the defensive formation and in the surroundings, in order to have the guard available for the procession.
—An excellent decision, Fernández—and inhaling and exhaling a little heavily, Miguel took his first steps toward the hill where the graves were already prearranged for the final goodbye.
…
The northern hill was covered by short, dry grass that swayed in the cold morning wind. In front of the twelve graves dug in the dark earth, the bodies of the fallen rested wrapped in blankets, prepared with the utmost care by the survivors. Miguel stood in front of the small congregation formed by the soldiers, officers, and some citizens who had come to pay their respects.
—We are gathered to bid our final farewell to these brave men, who gave their lives in defense of their homes, of that piece of land called Pasto, where they grew up and started a family. These men deserve the utmost respect and recognition not only from the people, but even from the Cortés family. Their blood has watered these fields so that today, we can stand here. They did not fall in vain; each of them was a father, a son, a brother, and an irreplaceable pillar in their communities. Today their names will not be forgotten, because the sacrifice for the county is measured by the memory of the living and the continuity of the generations that will come after us. To honor the fallen is to honor life itself and the future we are building.
And to the amazement of everyone present, Miguel bowed deeply before the bodies of the fallen in combat. The earth of the hill stained the knees of his impeccable coat, but he did not stop. Even the ever-serene Fernández stood with wide eyes and a half-open mouth at what he was seeing, since no noble in the region would bow in that way before simple infantry soldiers. After a few seconds of a deathly silence that was only interrupted by the wind, a member of the guard exclaimed:
—The strategist!
—Long live! —shouted the rest of the soldiers around him.
—The strategist!
—Long live!
—The strategist!
—Long live!
…
After the brief commotion that caused even Ivan to send someone to check what was happening and see the look of astonishment on the infantry soldier's face once again as he acted as messenger, the ceremony was concluded with the final burial of the soldiers' bodies, accompanied by a wooden cross made hastily by the guards themselves.
—And with this, we conclude the burial ceremony for our beloved defenders—said Miguel.
—Now, if you will allow me the audacity, before you resume your duties as the best warriors of House Cortés, I would like to make a couple of very important announcements—expressed Miguel, as he stepped down from the podium improvised for the ceremony. —As you can see, the loss of such great men has affected me morally and has made me think about our troops. I have realized that the protection the State offers is not the best we can provide, considering that these men, in many cases, were the cornerstone of their families and the sole sources of income. That is why, as commander-in-chief of the convoy mission, and by the authority conferred by Count Alban Cortés, I have decided to modify the distribution of the loot as follows:
—40% of the loot will be given to the families of those who died in combat and to the permanently disabled as compensation. Another 40% will be distributed equally among all military members of any present and future operation with a rank lower than sergeant. 5% will be allocated among the sergeants. Another 5% will be for special cash recognitions for outstanding members of the unit, from any field; and the remaining 10% will be divided equally among the officers.—said Miguel.
—I know, I know I am changing at least two centuries of history with this decision, but we must adapt to the new times; times of war, turmoil, and death. And think about it with a cool head: if we have two warriors of the same ability, with the same weapons and armor, who will win? The one who is not afraid to die. But, again, who is not afraid to die? We are all afraid to die, but some less than others, and they are the ones who emerge victorious. And how do we create that unstoppable force to not be victims of deranged people like the Marquis of Narico? By giving that security to our warriors, ensuring that, even long after their death, their families will not be left helpless by their absence.
—That is not all, my dear compatriots. The members of those families will also have priority for future jobs to be created by my father to improve the wealth of our county, and the children of these heroes will also have priority to enter the future military academy of Pasto. Do not worry! There will be so many jobs and positions in the future, that all of you and your families will have an opportunity.
As soon as Miguel finished speaking these words, the silence that had dominated the field was broken. The soldiers, who up to that moment had viewed the reforms with skepticism, began to exchange looks of astonishment and hope. The initial murmur quickly turned into a roar of approval. The sergeants and veterans raised their swords and shields to the sky, while the youngest launched cheers for the young strategist. The morale of the troop was transformed into unwavering devotion; they felt that, for the first time, someone in power saw them not as tools, but as human beings with a legacy to protect.