“Progress is key to continued prosperity, for stagnation looms behind any place that refuses to change with the times.” - Saying attributed to Radven Oliphemus, one of the richest merchants in recorded history, circa 107 VA.

Where the journey from Bærengant to Zephirous had been a disaster for the Company during the Theodinaz campaign nearly twelve years ago, the current route was a safe and carefree one. To be fair, what few bandits plagued the countryside – not many, as the dwarves were particularly effective and vicious at removing them – were unlikely to be so dumb as to accost a thousand-strong mercenary Company on the move.

Where there had only been desolate villages that were completely abandoned by their inhabitants the first time they passed through the route, and small, growing villages trying to do their best despite the lack of manpower on later visits, now stood large farming communities that had grown multiple times larger than the last time Reinhardt laid eyes on them.

Since it was early autumn, great fields of golden wheat, stalks of corn taller than most men, and fruit trees of various kinds dominated the landscape around the villages, depending on what grew best in that particular area. The once barely populated villages were bursting with people now, some of them so populous they could have passed for a small township.

Nearly half or more of the populace in those places were immigrants from Knallzog, a steady stream of which trickled in regularly over the past years. The former Holy Kingdom had severely depopulated their own territory in their desperate gamble to repel the Knallzog invasion, and even a decade after the fact, Reinhardt doubted that the region had returned to the population it had prior to the war.

For what it was worth, the locals and the new immigrants seemed to be living in relative harmony. A decade was a long enough time for adaptation to the changes, after all, and when Reinhardt visited one of the villages, he found that most conversations took place in either Common or Dwarven tongues, with only a few using the Holy Kingdom tongue to converse at all.

There were also genuine smiles all around, as the villagers embraced a prosperity they had never tasted before. It made sense from both sides, when he thought about it. The fanatical believers of the God-King had mostly purged themselves by fighting like madmen back during the conflict, which left only those who had notably less belief in the supposed godhood of their leader. On the flipside, people who immigrated permanently from Knallzog tend to be those who were on the poorer side, lured to the new lands by the promise of land they could keep for themselves and a chance at prosperous living.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Both the natives and the immigrants were people who were used to hard times, and bonded over that mutual hardship they had lived through, which made for a more harmonious community than what most had expected. Given vast tracts of land – there was plenty of land to go around but few people – for their own use, these people immediately worked hard to make the most out of the land, and created a prosperity that was truly their own in the process.

It was a change that pervaded over the former Holy Kingdom territory, as the villages they came across in their trip all showed signs of burgeoning prosperity. Even the ruins of Fort Ascher, the place where so much blood was shed back during the conflict, had changed beyond recognition in the years that had passed.

Where the small fort once stood was now a town similarly named Ascher, which served as a hub for the local villages to trade their goods or to serve as a checkpoint for those intending to journey to the larger city of Zephirous further north. What surprised Reinhardt was the presence of a stele, right in the center of the town square, which was where the church had once stood.

The stele commemorated the thousands of people who had lost their lives during the conquest of the Holy Kingdom. Reinhardt even found a small section with his late Aunt’s name on one of its sides, along with an exacting count of the number of mercenaries from the Free Lances who had lost their lives during the campaign.

It was an acknowledgement that moved him, along with many of the veterans of the Company.

Perhaps because he was feeling generous and moved by the recognition, he called for the Company to halt and take a three-day break in the town. Ascher happened to be located halfway between Bærengant and Zephirous, so it was a good spot to take a break for those traveling between the two cities. The small town was likely to grow and prosper because of its strategic location in the future.

Given leave to rest and relax, the thousand mercenaries quickly filled up the many taverns, eateries, brothels, and other such establishments the town had to offer. As was typical for mercenaries on leave, they were generous with their spending, looking for the best experiences they could get rather than saving up for the future like most did.

After all, they were mercenaries, and they knew that the next battle might be their last, should their luck be on the bad side. Their generous spending and boisterous actions quickly endeared them to the local crowd, who joined in on the merriment. A few drunken brawls broke out here and there, but that was just to be expected when thousands of rowdy revelers were in any location.

All that generous spending definitely gave a surprise boost to the local economy, however, and as a bonus it also helped increase the morale of the bored mercenaries.

So it was that when the Company departed from Ascher three days later, most of them did so with smiles and fond memories, while the locals cheerfully sent them off on their way. The Company then continued their trek northwards, to the city of Zephirous.