Hooves trampled the gravel as Arthur, Brin, and the Knights galloped, his mind still filled with Lady Rona, her gentle voice, and eyes devoid of calculation, only pure warmth.
He had lingered for several days in Deep Valley City, and during those days, he had shed the heavy burden of a Lord, like an ordinary young man, walking with her along garden paths, listening to her talk about the stars and her garden.
But this tranquility was repeatedly broken by Evelyn's messengers; initially, the letters were restrained, merely urging him to return quickly to handle state affairs.
However, the later wording became urgent, stating that an emergency had arisen in the territory, awaiting his decisive action.
Evelyn would not speak without reason; he knew his brief vacation was over.
Arthur savored the gains from his Trial by combat; in Westeros, martial prowess was simply too important.
This was an unfailing weapon against those noble Lords who valued honor, tradition, and dignity more than their lives.
Horn Muhr dispatched an elderly Family Knight, whose swordsmanship was exquisite, but under Arthur's agile offense, he eventually exhausted his strength, his neck slit with a fatal wound, falling into the dust.
The Wayne Family learned their lesson, finding a young proxy Knight; that young Knight was agile and indeed skilled, but in the end, he made a mistake after a prolonged fight, his longsword slipping from his grasp, and he knelt, refusing to surrender, only to be slain by Arthur himself.
Rules, these methods within the rules, allowed him to reclaim all disputed lands without shedding a single drop of blood, leaving only the Valley Lords with ashen faces.
The only trouble was the Frey Family's vassal, the Enford Family, who directly refused the Trial by combat, even refusing Arthur entry into their castle and lands, preferring to lose face across all of Westeros, guarding their land like a cowering turtle.
This matter was not urgent; thirty years to the east, thirty years to the west, he had plenty of time, taking it slowly.
Suddenly, a rapid sound of hooves came from ahead, interrupting his thoughts.
The scout's figure appeared around the bend of the mountain path, spurring his warhorse, raising a trail of dust; his face showed no joy of return, only a grave solemnity.
He rushed to Arthur's horse, dismounted, and knelt on one knee with urgent movements: "My Lord!"
"Lords Olivier, Lucien, and Hakon are waiting for you with their army at the pass ahead."
Arthur's brows furrowed; a welcome was normal, but being welcomed by an army was not.
A premonition arose in his heart; it seemed something had indeed happened. The war was over, and every day the army remained assembled, it burned money, with food and military expenses being huge outlays.
Evelyn understood this better than he did, yet she had not ended the mobilization.
He squeezed his horse's flanks with his legs; his mount neighed and galloped forward.
At the mountain pass, a dense army stood solemnly on both sides of the road; the soldiers' formations were neat, their spears like a forest, but every face bore visible fatigue, and their eyes showed anxiety.
This was not the appearance of a victorious army but rather a group of routed soldiers who had just fought a brutal defeat.
Olivier, Lucien, and Hakon stood at the very front of the ranks; seeing Arthur's figure, the three immediately stepped forward to greet him and salute.
Their expressions were even worse than those of their soldiers, and they saluted in unison, their voices filled with exhaustion: "Lord Arthur."
"Lord Arthur."
Arthur dismounted, his calm, unruffled gaze sweeping over the three: "What happened?"
He got straight to the point, his voice low, his face calm, yet carrying a hint of coldness.
"Why is the army still assembled here?"
Olivier stepped forward, pulling out a small, dog-eared notebook from his Pregnant.
He took a deep breath, seemingly organizing his words, his voice heavy and serious: "My Lord, the situation is much more serious than Miss Evelyn described in her letter."
"Over three thousand new people have suddenly flooded into the territory."
Arthur frowned; a refugee count of three thousand, shouldn't that be a good thing?
Olivier opened the ledger, his finger pointing at the dense numbers: "My Lord, all the land in your territory, including that taken from the House Ryger and other families, even if all of it is distributed."
"It is not enough for everyone to have land."
"Even if some land is reclaimed from the old residents and allocated to the new residents, there are still at least over a thousand families who cannot receive an inch of land; they are like rootless duckweeds, in the temporarily built refugee camp in the territory."
Arthur understood; it meant too many people had suddenly integrated into the territory, exceeding its carrying capacity, and there might also be a series of problems like public order.
However, he thought of the most crucial question: "What about food?"
Olivier sighed deeply: "It can still last for a while."
"However, there is almost no food production in the territory now, and we also have to bear the food and drink of all refugees and residents."
"Currently, almost all consumption comes from the food brought back from the House Ryger in Willow Wood City; at this rate, it will be exhausted in half a month."
"And by then, we will only be able to purchase food at high prices from other Lords, and no matter how many gold dragons are in the treasury, they will disappear like flowing water."
Arthur rubbed his forehead; it was indeed a bit troublesome. Was this the feeling of living off past gains?
Lucien, beside him, saw Olivier finish speaking and took over the conversation, his face full of worry: "There are too many people, Lord Arthur."
"The existing villages are only enough to house over a thousand people."
"Another two thousand refugees can only squeeze into temporarily built shanties; those shanties are dense, forming a continuous expanse."
"Garbage and feces are piled outside the shanties, stinking to high heaven."
"Maidservant Evelyn is very worried that if this continues, once the weather warms up, a plague will immediately break out."
Hakon's face was also tense; during the war, according to the deployment, he should have gone to support Lord Arthur after retaking the western Vicon Gorge, but with the influx of refugees, he found that he simply could not leave; everything was in chaos, and if he left, there would be no armed forces within the territory to maintain stability.
He looked at Arthur and also spoke anxiously: "Public order is already on the verge of collapse, Lord Arthur."
"Theft and brawls are happening every day."
"New refugees and later residents, even the original residents, and refugees from different villages, will fight to the point of bleeding for food, for a piece of rags to shelter from the rain, or even for a single glance."
He paused, his voice dropping even lower.
"Three days ago, someone even used a knife to kill someone over a dispute for a winter shanty."
"If it weren't for Maidservant Evelyn's insistence that Lucien and I continuously patrol various areas with the army, showcasing the presence of your army, I'm afraid large-scale riots would have broken out long ago."
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