Chapter 73

Bianca

Day 60 of First Landing

Population of Thornhill - 55

From the hilltop overlooking Thornhill, I could see our defenses taking shape. They stretched from the beaches to the North Gate, where the drawbridge now spanned the unfilled moat.

To the east, below the hill where I sat astride a well-rested Comet, Crag—my quarry golem—heaved an enormous stone block to seal another pass leading into Thornhill. Walling off all the eastern and northeastern approaches beyond the dungeon was too ambitious, so instead, I planned to seal the dungeon itself on the day of the raid. That way, the raiders couldn’t use it to level up or gather supplies.

Crag’s quarrying served two purposes: first, to build the foundation for our village’s thick stone walls, and second, to gradually collapse part of another cliff, blocking yet another route into our village. The goal was to funnel the enemy toward the north along the river, so I had Crag working nonstop to extend a perimeter from the east to the northern gates.

Meanwhile, Slate was chopping down trees for our next project—trebuchets. Anika, our herbalist, and Molvin, our carpenter, had designed them, and construction was already underway. We were assembling two trebuchets, and on the day of the siege, Anika would operate them with my two golems loading them with rocks, targeting the northern chokepoints from a hill that provided a vantage over most of Thornhill, one that I knew all too well.

To the north, workers dug nearly half a mile of trenches, including Alex and Cade, who handled most of the heavy lifting thanks to their warrior classes. After quick morning dungeon runs, they gained two levels before reaching the Jester Store to purchase equipment and weapons for the villagers. They worked tirelessly throughout the day. As late spring arrived, bringing warmer midday temperatures, they stripped down to their bare essentials, their chiseled forms a testament to their class enhancements.

Elsewhere, the blacksmiths worked on crafting iron axles, bolts, and pivots for the trebuchets, along with copper and iron arrowheads. Meanwhile, less able-bodied citizens focused on fletching the arrowheads into arrows and bolts. Workers rotated between resting, practicing archery at the ranges, and producing essential supplies like rope, which we’d need for the trebuchets. While the initial sense of urgency had driven everyone to work tirelessly, complacency had begun to creep in as the days stretched on. I had to remain vigilant, constantly reminding everyone of the pirate attack and the hard lessons we had learned. Yet, without the enemy at our doorstep, the villagers seemed to grow complacent, lulled into a false sense of security by their comfort.

In the evenings, everyone except Slate and Crag rested, gathering in the mess hall for fresh bread and fish stew. The expanded council met during dinner at a fine oak table Molvin had made. New chairs were in progress, though production had paused as Molvin and the rest of us focused on defense.

“How’s morale?” I asked.

“Not great,” Ethan sighed. “People are tired, and they want to know exactly when it’s coming.”

“I’ll extend breaks and give people more rest. Crag’s nearly finished on the east side, so he can start digging the rest of the moat. All that’s left is to build the trebuchets and make more bolts.”

“Samar says she’ll be ready for another harvest soon. We’ll need everyone for the harvest. Potatoes… and wheat.” Anika said, her mouth full of bread which she dunked into an egg yolk.

"On the day of the harvest, I think we should have a small celebration," I said. "Give everyone a chance to rest after the work is done."

"Are you sure?" Anika asked, raising an eyebrow. "With a raid on the horizon, it might not be the best time to slow down."

I let out a sigh. "People need to remember that what they’re defending is worth it. And… we can’t squeeze much more out of them right now."

I glanced around the mess hall. The villagers were barely touching their food, their faces pale with exhaustion. Most of them were probably running on too few calories, their bodies aching from days of labor. Unlike me, they didn’t have the advantage of a class to offset the strain. They needed a break.

"And how are our new residents?" I asked, shifting my gaze to the three former slaves sitting off to the side. Cass was with them, trying to draw them into conversation, but they still seemed isolated.

“We can’t speak their language. They have some basic English down but since Sophie and Orion left, we don’t have a translator.” Anika replied.

“Those guys…” I sighed.

I really wish you were here right now Rye and Sophie. I need help.

“I tried to get the new residents to stop working and relax. It feels so wrong making former slaves work for us right away after all they’ve been through,” Ethan frowned. “But they seem insistent on helping us.”

“Did you teach them how to use their coins?” I asked.

“They aren’t stupid, Bianca. They know how to use money but they don’t appear to want for much besides the free food at the mess hall.” Anika answered.

Hopefully that changes. It kind of sucks they aren’t seeing us at our best right now. Out of slavery and into a sweatshop.

When James returned, I would have to remind him to teach me this world’s language too. If we were going to take on new residents from this world and deal with the outside world, I needed to know how to communicate with them.

Larry and his wife had finally received the okay from Ethan to leave quarantine, and Father Gallagher would be joining them soon. Once Larry returned, he and Liz compiled a new report on our inventory. The rest of the meeting focused on inventory updates prepared by our warehouse managers. The new trade expedition parchments proved helpful as I looked over the tally of our stock of arrows, bows, and crossbows.

14 Crossbows

13 Longbows

647 Bolts

701 Arrows

It still wasn’t enough. We needed more crossbows since most people here didn’t have the strength to use bows effectively. We also needed a massive stockpile of ammunition. I was aiming for at least 1,000 arrows and bolts or 200 ammunition per person, so I could only hope Sophie would come through and return soon with the supplies to fill the gap.

Still, they were working hard. I was proud of the village for accomplishing so much in such a short time, and I knew they deserved a reward. There was only so much I could push them before their spirits shattered like glass.

After our meeting, I sought out various members of the village with my idea for tomorrow’s harvest, and we made our preparations.

I hatched a plan for some festivities to lift the spirits of the group. The most challenging task ahead of me was creating a soccer ball. Fortunately, the tanning and preparing of animal leather and organs was something we had been doing since nearly the beginning of our landing here.

After placing orders for leather pieces, a boar bladder, and a long narrow tube to be crafted by the blacksmith, we stitched together a leather ball. Surprisingly, it was Ethan who finished the ball, as his stitching and leatherworking skills proved the best among us.

The next day, I rode off with Cass on Comet while assigning most of the workers to assist with Samar’s harvest. Comet had grown to an impressive size, perhaps as big as Rudolph, resembling a moose. Cass held on as we navigated through the forest in search of fowl. The elk were surprisingly swift, and Astrid’s tamed elk outpaced the wild ones with astonishing speed.

Cass selected a spot where he and Orion typically hunted the scarlet fowl, and together we tagged as many as we could with my bow and his sling. Cass loaded tiny pebbles into his improved sling, striking the red birds in the head with remarkable accuracy.

We made two trips, returning with dozens of bird carcasses. In the mess hall kitchens, I assisted Vesper and Gladys, the two cooks, in breading and frying the fowl, while other helpers worked alongside us. We used the discarded bones, heads, and feet to create a rich ramen broth. So Thornhill would feast on fried chicken—or rather, fried scarlet fowl—for lunch, followed by chicken ramen for dinner.

At the long table that Molvin built, we laid out platters of fried chicken, dinner rolls drizzled with honey, enormous bowls of mashed potatoes, and gravy boats beside them, accompanied by a bowl of coleslaw made with mustard greens.

One byproduct of our wine-making was vinegar, which we used to dress the coleslaw, enhancing its flavor.

People received an early day off and gathered around. Barrels of chilled, watered-down wine and fruit juice were scattered about, reminding me of our first mini-harvest festival when the town splurged to deplete Father Gallagher’s stores of alcohol and the warehouses filled with flour and berries.

After lunch, we gathered in an open field near the farms to set up the goals. Using four sturdy logs for uprights and two longer ones for crossbars, we dug shallow holes to anchor them. Rope secured the crossbars tightly, creating simple but functional goals for our match.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The older and younger villagers who couldn’t play sat out, watching with keen interest as we formed teams of eleven. I wanted to avoid the awkwardness of picking captains and teams, so we resorted to the old lottery system.

It turned out to be a flawed choice, as the teams ended up lopsided with Alex and Cade and most of the veteran dungeon divers on one side.

Father Gallagher, a devoted fan of soccer or football, as he passionately corrected us—decided to referee the match, embarking on one of his familiar rants about how Americans misnamed the sport.

Our teams were as follows:

Thornhill United

Jesus (blacksmith)

Aiden(dungeon runner)——————————Astrid (animal keeper)

Bianca(me) ——Gabriel (singer)—-Peter (Marek’s son)

Sorelle(fisher)———————————————Anika(herbalist)

Malik (woodburner)—Michael(roadworker)

Marek (builder)

Thornhill FC

Alex (hero)

Sasha (dungeon)——————-———————Cass

Bart(blacksmith)——Joshua(brewer helper)—Vesper (cook)

Julian(Marek’s son)———————————Liz(warehouse helper)

Andy (builder)——Molvin(carpenter)

Cade (Guard)

Over twenty-five spectators lined the sidelines, eagerly watching the inaugural match between Thornhill United, my team, and Thornhill FC, led by Alex. Doubt crept in as I glanced at their side. The crowd shared my unease, placing small bets on us while heavily favoring their stacked team.

As I stepped forward for the coin toss, I exchanged a confident smile with Alex.

“Good luck,” he said, his grin brimming with that all-too-familiar cockiness.

“Let’s keep it clean,” Father Gallagher interjected, his usual warmth replaced by a stern demeanor. “Wouldn’t want to get any injuries before the siege, friends. Bianca, call it.”

“Heads,” I declared, steeling myself.

Father Gallagher tossed the coin, and it landed heads up.

“You can have first possession,” I announced to Alex.

“We won’t go easy on you, Bianca,” Sasha chimed in, her tone sharp and playful as Alex took the ball.

With a swift kick, Sasha sent a backheel pass to Bart. The trio—Sasha, Alex, and Bart—stormed through our defense like a freight train. Their synergy, honed through countless dungeon runs, allowed them to communicate with just glances.

They reached our box, and Bart launched a high cross that looked like it would sail into the ocean. Against all odds, Alex leaped higher than I thought possible, heading the ball toward our goal. Marek, our keeper, managed a painful save, gritting his teeth as he deflected the shot right in front of him.

Unfazed, Marek dribbled out of his box, someone clearly comfortable playing soccer, leaving his goal unguarded as he advanced upfield. Near the halfway line, he unleashed a powerful shot toward their goal. Cade, their keeper, managed to punch it away, but Astrid and Jesus were ready for the rebound. Jesus faked a shot, causing Cade to commit, then passed to a sprinting Astrid, who easily slotted the ball into the open net.

Astrid and Jesus erupted into wild celebration as the few in the cheering crowd who’d bet on us went nuts. I was so delighted to see Wulfric and Ulf, among those who were captivated by the match, already becoming fans of the most popular sport on Earth. On the sidelines, Aja paced and barked with excitement, a proud mother watching her pup succeed.

But Father Gallagher raised his hand, his expression stern.

“Offside! No goal! Nil-Nil. Thornhill FC’s ball!”

“What the heck kinda stupid rule is offside?!” Astrid protested, hands on her hips. “This is bullcrap, ref! Get your eyes checked!”

Unperturbed, Father Gallagher plucked a dandelion from the ground and offered it to her.

“Yellow card, Astrid!”

“Yo, B, you seeing this? The ref’s paid off,” Jesus said, glancing at me with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

I laughed. “It’s just a game.”

“Hell no, B. I bet five coppers against Bart,” Jesus shot back. “We’re not losing to the fake Thornhill team!”

“Calm down, bro,” Bart smirked. “Let them have the goal. They’ll need all the help they can get.”

“Nobody’s getting any free goals!” Father Gallagher barked. “The beautiful game is sacred. Nil-nil, FC’s ball. Any more time-wasting and I’m booking another person!”

Astrid shook her head angrily and Jesus and Bart continued bickering before they both got booked. The game continued.

Despite everything, the match was closer than I expected. What stood out most was the natural fitness advantage of the Holders. While many of the classless had to sub out for fresh legs or give others a chance to play, the Holders played the entire match without issue. I’d never thought of myself as athletic, but even I could launch the ball with surprising power. The higher-level players, like Alex and Astrid, were incredible—they barely broke a sweat, leaped higher, and ran faster than anyone else.

The match accomplished two things: it provided the villagers with some much-needed entertainment and sport, and it gave them hope, showing that with people like these on our side, we could stand against overwhelming odds.

Afterward, many of us went for a swim— the men headed north to the river while the women went south to the beach. I made a mental note to designate the beach as a recreational area and relocate the smokehouse further down the coast, ensuring Thornhill’s residents could enjoy a private retreat on these beautiful sands and clear waters.

Dinner that evening was scarlet fowl noodle soup. The springy noodles, made from Samarian wheat and Astridian eggs, were served in bowls I had crafted myself, and eaten in the mess hall Marek and the builders had recently completed.

During dinner, Gabriel, our musician, serenaded us. He had received a guitar from the last trade expedition and was tuning it as we ate. Sitting near the front of the mess hall, he parted his long, curly hair from his face and strummed a few lilting notes. Then his tenor voice rose, clear as a bell ringing through the quiet night.

♫ “In the deep dark hills of eastern Kentucky…” ♫

It was a haunting rendition of You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive. The villagers sat spellbound, their meals and conversations forgotten. When Gabriel sang the last, mournful lines, silence hung heavy in the hall. A few claps broke the stillness, but most of the response came from the sounds of the night—distant bird calls and the mournful howls of wolves.

“Bit of a downer, isn’t it?” Gabriel said with a faint frown.

No, it wasn’t. It was beautiful—so beautiful it left me struggling to speak. The song seemed to capture the struggle of life in a place where survival wasn’t guaranteed. It haunted us, a stark reminder of our mortality and our deep connection to this land. For some, it even stirred memories of the lands we had left behind.

Gabriel’s expression brightened as he adjusted the guitar in his lap. “How about this next one? Join in if you know the lyrics.”

He winked, then started strumming a new melody, one that felt instantly familiar.

♫ “Sometimes in our lives…” ♫

As soon as the first lines rang out, a few voices joined him hesitantly. Soon, more followed, until the hall was filled with a chorus. Those who knew the lyrics sang confidently, while others hummed along. Gabriel guided us through Lean On Me, seamlessly blending the refrain into a joyful chant of "Call me!" and back to the chorus again and again. The transitions felt so natural that time seemed to stand still; before we knew it, thirty minutes had passed before we finally stopped and clapped.

When the plates were cleared, I wanted to check my Founder card.

Congratulations!

New Morale Milestone Reached

Deed System Unlocked

As a Founder, you can issue deeds to your citizens to assign them land rights in your town. You can also assign mayors who can issue deeds if you expand your holdings.

Another system to deal with. I set the idea of assigning deeds aside for now—there was too much to prepare for the upcoming raid. The thought of dividing land, and sitting through endless meetings about who got what made my stomach churn. Still, it was an intriguing system, and I wanted to test it.

While others returned to the mess hall to relax and listen to more of Gabriel’s music, I made my way to the soccer field. The church loomed nearby, and beyond it lay our small cemetery, the graves marked by wooden crosses and clusters of wildflowers.

Pulling out a Deed card, I focused on the field, picturing its borders clearly in my mind. Soft blue lines appeared in the air, tracing the boundaries exactly as I envisioned them

.

Deed Created – Unnamed Field

50x100

Owner: Unassigned

I stared at the glowing lines, the cemetery catching my eye in the background. It gave me an idea for a name.

Deed Updated – Memorial Field

50x100

Owner: Public

If heaven existed—or if spirits lingered here, and in this world, who could say they didn’t—I hoped those we had lost could find peace watching over us. This field would be a place of joy, where children could play, adults could cheer, and life could be about more than just survival and battle.

The fallen will watch us thrive. They will know that their sacrifices were worth it.