A funeral is being held on a desolate plot of land in the border town.
The term 'barren land' hardly fits the description. Unbeknownst to anyone, this once-deserted plot had been encircled by a low stone wall, its top blanketed in thick snow that, from afar, shimmered like silver. Though it could be crossed in a single stride, Vanne's gaze would inevitably drift to the border walls—those identical structures, sharing the same hue and form.
He had only heard of this ritual from travel agents. When a high-ranking Noble or royal member passed away, the family would gather at the cemetery, play mournful music, receive condolences, and finally bury the coffin underground. The higher the status, the grander the ceremony.
Even the dead were more celebrated than the living. He thought enviously, 'What if someone from Border Town dies? Just dig a pit by the Mystery Forest and bury them.' He wondered if the evil beasts would dig up the bodies and devour them when the Evil Demon's Moon arrives.
Death was no stranger to the residents of Border Town. Every winter, they would flee to the Changge Fortress for refuge, huddled in the shacks of the slums, where death from hunger, cold, disease, or injury became the norm. No one had time to grieve—better to wait for dawn and go to the city center to beg for a piece of bread.
But today, Your Highness is actually holding a funeral for a soldier!
It is said that he was unfortunately knocked down while chasing a hybrid evil beast and had half his head bitten off.
Fanna knew this unfortunate fellow, who was also a familiar face in the old district. He had no name, and everyone called him Aji. He had a wife and two children, the older one appearing to be six years old, while the younger one was just learning to walk.
Under normal circumstances, this household would certainly be ruined. The woman could have found another man to live with, but who would willingly take on two burdens? Either abandon these two children to the streets, leaving them to fend for themselves, or raise them while working as a bar patron to solicit clients, only to die from various bizarre and unusual illnesses.
But Your Royal Highness seems determined to honor his pledge when recruiting the militia. The fallen soldiers will receive not only their full pay but also an additional compensation—what is it called? Fan Na paused for a moment. Ah... right, the pension. And this sum includes five golden dragons.
In addition, a fixed amount of food and charcoal was provided monthly, ensuring that Agi's wife could support their two children even without working outside. While these seemingly reassuring statements might be just words of comfort, Jinlong was a man of his word. He witnessed firsthand how Your Royal Highness handed over the pension to Chief Knight, who then delivered it to Agi's wife.
Damn it, why did he suddenly feel a bit envious of Agi? No, no, Vanna shook his head repeatedly, driving out these foolish thoughts. He didn't want to die and end up benefiting his wife... and probably someone else's wife at that.
After the payment was made, Your Highness delivered a brief but profound speech that Vanadu took to heart. The words 'We shall forever remember the sacrifices made to protect our loved ones and the innocent' stirred a surge of warmth within him. It dawned on him—no wonder, he thought, he had felt a growing yearning beyond mere bread and the Silver Wolf lately. At least this winter, their survival depended on their own hands, not on the charity of the Long Song Fortress.
The final rites of passage commenced with the burial. Ajie's coffin was placed into the prepared burial pit. Chief Knight called out for the crowd to form a line, and every militiaman—both regulars and reservists—took turns using shovels to add soil. The two-hundred-strong group, no strangers to such formations, quickly aligned into four orderly columns. When Fan Na's turn came, he felt the shovel's weight suddenly increase, and the watchful eyes of his comrades made him slow his pace with deliberate deliberate.
When he stepped aside, his gaze passed the feeling on to the next person who was covering the ground.
Aggie's tombstone was a pristine white rectangular slab, its inscriptions utterly unfamiliar to Vanne, who wasn't even the first to inhabit this desolate land. Beside him stood another identical stone, its surface blanketed in snow. As the group gradually dispersed, Vanne noticed Brian, the newly appointed captain of the Second Militia Company, slowly pouring a pot of wheat beer over the tombstone.
If this is his final destination, it doesn't seem so bad, he thought.
"Your Highness," Carter blurted out on the way back to the castle, "what you're doing..." "Inappropriate?" "No," he paused before shaking his head. "I can't quite put it into words, but it feels like no one has ever treated conscripted subjects this way—people without titles, without lineage, without even proper names." "But you still feel good, don't you?" "Uh..." Roland smiled. He knew all too well how this resonated with Carter, who shared his own commitment to combat and protection. When people start questioning who they fight for and why, the ranks shift beyond imagination. For Carter, the real triumph came when honor wasn't just the Noble's privilege. Through his training, ordinary citizens who had nothing could earn glory by defending their homeland. That doubled sense of achievement was indescribable.
Of course, a public funeral was just the beginning, Roland thought. He had many other ways to boost collective pride, such as creating a military flag, a military anthem, and setting up heroic role models.
No divine providence arises from nothingness. Only through daily adherence to this practice and constant instillation of its principles can tangible results gradually emerge. To ensure the reliable operation of the relief system, he even established a tripartite relief team comprising himself, municipal officials, and militia members, tasked with the subsequent distribution of food and charcoal.
As Roland descended further, the weight on his shoulders grew heavier. Border Town was short of many things. Though its mining and livelihoods seemed to have stabilized with ample food reserves, no one had starved or frozen to death yet—a miracle even for other towns. Even in the capital of Graycastle, countless refugees and orphans were wiped out by winter each year.
But his ambitions extended far beyond this. The town hall was already operating at full capacity. With the Minister's Assistant Barov and his dozen or so apprentices, he managed all of Border Town's finances and administration. To scale up further, hiring more administrators was imperative. He had asked Barov if any of his protégés or colleagues remained in the capital, but the reply was a cold shoulder: "Even if they were here, they wouldn't want to come. Your Highness, do you realize how poor your reputation is in the capital?" Well, it sounded reasonable enough. He thought to himself, feeling a pang of frustration.
Back in the castle's backyard, Nightingale emerged from the mist and gave Wendy a warm embrace as she waited outside the wooden shed. Meanwhile, Lightning was circling the unfinished steam boring machine. When she spotted Roland, she immediately shouted that she wanted to help assemble the legendary self-moving machine.
Seeing all this, he suddenly felt that all his efforts were worth it.