Chapter 82

Bianca

Day 69 of First Landing

Population of Thornhill - 71

We should be celebrating, right?

Victory was ours. We stripped the enemy of their gear and buried their bodies in the death pit. The mercenaries assisted in gathering the dead and salvaged whatever equipment they could to refit their company. While the mercenaries took the raiders' armor and weapons, the villagers claimed the abandoned wagons and a few surviving mules that had not been consumed by the army.

But the cost of victory was heavy. Shelter One—the beach shelter—was burned to the ground, along with the silkworm hut. And the human cost? Many defenders were left injured, both physically and mentally.

We are now facing a housing crisis. One shelter has been lost, and the other is being used as a temporary infirmary. Adding to this strain, Thornhill has fifteen new arrivals, in addition to the four former slaves we took in before the raid. Before this latest influx, most villagers had already been relocated to the new hostel, which accommodates around forty people. Many had moved out of the old shelters to sleep in the new hostel, the pirate ship, or, in Marek’s case, his own house.

The beach shelter still housed four residents, including Herman, who preferred to live near the water. One of our long-term goals had been to rebuild it as a fishing headquarters with separate bedrooms for the fishermen, but that plan has now gone up in smoke.

That night, we used every roof we could find to house the new arrivals. The mess hall, the church, and even the warehouse and smithy were repurposed as temporary shelters. The sudden influx made the village feel overcrowded, and the original villagers—the Earthlings—grumbled throughout the day. As a result, we held a meeting to address the post-raid situation.

The day after the raid, we gathered at the mess hall for a short meeting. People wanted answers. The villagers stared at the newcomers—the Emancipated, as they were called—standing nervously under our scrutiny.

“Who are these people?” Tiffany asked.

A black-haired man, noticeably different from the other Emancipated, stepped forward. A silver bow was strapped to his back alongside a carob-wood quiver, and an olive-green cloak draped over his shoulders. His English was crisp and clear as he spoke: “We are former slaves. We were captured by the raiders you slew, and somehow… we managed to free ourselves from their magical chains.”

The crowd erupted into murmurs, wondering how one of them could speak unaccented English with such clarity.

Marek, always suspicious, narrowed his eyes. “Why were you with the enemy? Are you spies? And why do you have a bow?”

Cameron’s looked solemn. “We were forced. Magical collars controlled us and compelled us to fight and serve a race of people called the Eldrins. When we neared Thornhill, the collars stopped working. I believe this place has a barrier—one that breaks magic and frees Chattel. Legend speaks of a place called Sanctuary where all Chattel are free. We believe this is the place.”

My chest tightened. I glanced toward the forest. Where are you, Rye? Why aren’t you here?

“They want to stay? Like permanently?” someone asked.

Cameron nodded. “They believe this place is sacred and wish to remain.”

More murmurs broke out. Not all were kind.

“They look like decent folk… I think…”

“There’s no room for them!” Someone snapped.

“Where will we house them? We barely have houses for ourselves!”

“How will we feed everyone?”

“Bianca… what does the council say?”

The questions flew at me like arrows, but I stood my ground. “I spoke with Father Gallagher, and we’ll use the church as a temporary shelter for our new residents. Over the next few days, I’ll integrate them into the village and organize the construction of new shelters.”

“Bianca, you can’t be serious! They’re outsiders!”

“I’m not sharing my room!”

“There’s no space… how can we feed them? We barely have any rations to spare.”

“We don’t even know who they are or where they came from…”

I raised a hand, silencing the crowd. “If we send them away, they’ll tell others about this place, and that will bring trouble. This isn’t up for debate. If we want to grow as a village, we need them.” My voice was firm as I swept my gaze across the room.

The response was mixed. Some villagers exchanged wary glances, conflicted. The room filled with low murmurs, uncertainty rippling through the crowd. No one outright objected, but the tension hung thick in the air.

Then James stepped forward. His calm voice carried through the room. “Bianca is right,” he said. “Many of them have skills that will benefit us. Cameron is a Ranger—a skilled hunter who can provide fresh meat. We have another Cook and a Carpenter among them. The rest are ready to help with building and farming. They’ll be a great asset to the village.”

His words worked like a balm on the unease. I watched as doubt gave way to reason on the villagers’ faces. People nodded, their initial resistance softening as they saw the sense in James’ argument.

Thank God for his Diplomat class.

“Guys, let’s welcome our new villagers with open arms. Remember how hard it was for you when you first arrived? Let’s pay that forward, okay?” I tried reassuring them but the villagers still looked unsure, some shrugging, others just wanting to go about their business.

“We’ll keep a few people on watch on the walls for now,” I said, building on the momentum James had created. “The rest can prepare food for tonight’s feast. And if anyone has injuries, I don’t care how minor you think they are—check in with Anika and Ethan. James, make sure the new arrivals understand that. Translate for them.”

James and Cameron took on the task of helping the Emancipated settle in. I wanted to give them time to rest, to avoid making it seem like they were trading one master for another. But they worked with an energy that surprised me—like the freedom to choose made all the difference.

Unlike those of us who had come from a world of comforts and conveniences, the Emancipated needed little. They cherished what we gave and worked diligently as if determined to prove their worth. It was humbling to watch. Their gratitude reminded me that Thornhill was becoming something bigger than I had imagined—a home for the lost and the brave.

The Emancipated weren’t like the other new arrivals from Earth who had come from a world of comforts and luxuries. They needed so little to get by. They cherished what we gave them and worked hard without complaint.

If only we could build a whole city of people like this... No, that’s an awful thought. But they want to be here, don’t they? They see this place as their Holy Land.

One of the Chattel, Gaius, had a Cook class like Orion. He skillfully butchered a deer and some geese Cameron had caught, though there was some awkwardness as he worked with Gladys and Vesper to prepare our feast. Despite the tension, Gaius balanced subservience to the more experienced cooks with moments of leadership, teaching the classless workers how to butcher the animal properly.

The freed slaves spent their days looking busy—or awkwardly wandering the village, trying to find ways to help. Their eagerness worried me. I showed them our coin system, and Sophie, fluent in their language, explained how they could earn copper coins. For the first time, they were paid for their work.

This was a growth phase for us, but the transition wasn’t smooth. While the Emancipated were a net positive, many of the survivors were wary, even suspicious, of the newcomers.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The next morning, I attended a council meeting with James newly added as our official Diplomat and Immigration Officer while Ethan was still tied up at Shelter Two, our temporary hospital.

Orion had returned late last night after trying to track Super. He looked exhausted, stifling a yawn as he slumped into his seat.

“What happened to Astrid? I’ve got a new horse for her to take care of. Plus all those mules we looted. We’re going to need a stable soon,” Orion yawned.

"She’s still recovering," I said softly. "Ethan says she’ll pull through, but… she lost an eye." I hesitated. "It’s hitting her hard."

“That sucks. She’s kind of important.” Orion said, stretching.

“Can you talk to her, Rye? She’s really angry, and I think you might be able to get through to her,” I said, to which Orion raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a really bad idea…” Orion murmured.

"One of the Emancipated, Vibia, tended animals on her farm," James remarked. "I dare say she’d be an excellent choice to fill in while our poor Astrid is sidelined."

Orion nodded but seemed distracted. Sophie leaned forward against Orion who sat next to her at the council meeting, twirling her hair playfully as she smirked. “Orion, about that white horse… can I have it? I’ll make it worth your while~”

Orion rolled his eyes. “What do you want with it?”

“Are you heading back to Kronfeldt soon?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, collapsing dramatically into her chair. “I’ve got some business to take care of and I need to give the White Fox new orders.”

Orion ground his teeth. “The horse is yours if you can find any information about Super. Use whatever connections you have in Kronfeldt. He’s either there, in Port Havensreach, or lying low in one of the surrounding villages. Bring me information on him. Then we’ll talk.”

"I’ll see what I can do," Sophie said, smirking slightly.

“Also… I want some of the White Fang mercenaries to help me build my tavern,” Orion added casually.

“What?” I blurted. “That’s not fair, right? Like dozens of people still need homes, and you want to build your personal tavern?”

“It’s my money and I doubt they’ll do construction work outside their Mercenary contract without pay,” Orion replied, lifting a hefty bag onto the table. When I opened it, hundreds of golden coins gleamed inside, each stamped with the image of a queen on one side and a phoenix on the other.

Sophie’s eyes widened, a greedy glint shining through. “My, my, my… you’ve been holding out on us, darling,” she said, stroking the coins.

“Rye…” I said, trying to keep calm. “This isn’t right. The villagers… they’ll think it’s unfair.”

Orion sighed before speaking. "I’ll give half the money to Thornhill as taxes. You can use it to pay half the White Fang to build your shelters, and the other half will work on my tavern. In return, I want your quarry golem to help me dig out a cellar."

"I agree with Orion," Sophie added. "The White Fang mercenaries are already here. We can tell them to help with construction, but they’re sellswords—they need to be paid to do extra work. This way, we address the shelter shortage and keep them occupied. Besides, we won’t need them to patrol the trade route between Kronfeldt and Thornhill until the road is fully built, anyway."

"But he gets an entire tavern to himself while people are still struggling to find homes? The optics aren’t great…" I said, uncertain.

"Orion brought in the money," Sophie replied smoothly. "If you want to encourage growth, you can’t discourage initiative. Personal enterprise like this can benefit everyone if managed well. You’re never going to keep everyone equal here, Bianca."

"Fine," I said with a sigh. I didn’t like it, but it was fair. He was giving Thornhill half the money and half the workers. Still, I couldn’t shake my concern. Orion’s reputation with the villagers had already taken a hit after the battle, with many thinking he ran away. Now, building a tavern for himself would only make things worse. But, as always, he didn’t seem to care what they thought.

Sophie tapped her chin thoughtfully. “On the topic of coin… about the silver collars we collected—I think we should melt them down to mint new silver coins. Copper’s too valuable to waste; we’ll need it for our upcoming projects. Eventually, we’ll transition to silver and gold, and later, paper currency. It’s a necessary step if we want a functional, scalable economy.”

“Upcoming project?” I asked.

“Copper wires,” Anika explained.

“Ah… you mean like… electricity?”

"Yes, we have a glassblower now," Anika said, her tone deliberate. "But one of our biggest challenges is the amount of resources consumed by lamp fuel. If we can construct a generator powered by waterwheels and Sophie can use her connections to source tungsten, we could produce light bulbs. It would be a game-changer for efficiency and resource management."

Oh man, that would be so great… no more stumbling in the dark for lamps and torches.

Later, we moved on to discuss the new arrivals and how to integrate them into the village. It felt like we were back at the beginning, trying to find roles for everyone in our growing community.

"Most of them should focus on farming and building," Anika suggested. "Instead of another shelter, we should construct a larger tenement with room to expand."

"We’ve got a carpenter among them," James said. "Several sturdy men who’ll make fine builders, and a number of women who have farming experience. We could also spare a few more for fishing. And, of course, there’s a cook who won’t vanish the moment adventure calls."

That last comment earned a rare smile from Orion.

"What about the watermill?" I asked.

"It can wait," James replied. "The next wheat harvest is still some time off. Samar wants to expand her fields to the north, and if you can send Slate to plow and dig, we’ve got plenty of seeds from Kronfeldt to plant. A community garden inside the village walls would be ideal as well—tomatoes, garlic, herbs, that sort of thing."

I nodded. Having James, Orion, and Sophie back made everything feel more manageable.

Then Orion hesitated before speaking, his voice unusually soft. "This might sound really dumb, but… there are pink blossom trees across the river to the west. Your golem can dig, right? Could you uproot some and bring them here?"

I blinked. "Why?"

"They’re beautiful," he said, almost shyly. "We could plant them along the main street for shade. Samar could graft new ones, too. It’d make this place… look special."

Anika clapped her hands, smiling. "That’s a wonderful idea."

It wasn’t practical. It wouldn’t feed us or shelter anyone, but it could lift spirits and make the village feel like more than just a cluster of wooden huts. In my mind, I always envisioned Thornhill as a picturesque Swiss village or maybe a blend of a Japanese and Mediterranean coastal city. Survival had to come first, obviously, but I wanted to build a place worth surviving for.

"I’ll do it," I promised. "As soon as I can."

Before ending the meeting, I gave one last directive. "James, I want you to spend an hour a day teaching the Emancipated English. They need to communicate their needs and integrate with the other villagers. I also want you to start teaching me and any interested Earthlings Lokan. If we’re going to thrive in this world, we need to understand its language. In time, I’ll reorganize housing so the Emancipated can live alongside the Earth villagers. We must stay united."

James grinned. "As you wish, my beautiful and wise queen."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could reply, Orion spoke up. "Jim, tell them to stop calling me or anyone else, Erandor."

"What’s Erandor?" I wondered, confused. I’d heard the former slaves murmur the word before, but I hadn’t paid much attention.

"It’s their religion, Orion," James explained with a frown. "Can’t we let them have that bit of joy?"

“No. If they need to pray, let them do it in private,” Orion said. He sounded upset. His expression betrayed his frustration.

“Rye, I don’t get it,” Anika said, frowning. “You didn’t show this much opposition to the Christian Church being built in town. Why the double standard? Why the intolerance?”

“It’s not about intolerance,” Orion replied. “In this world, no one knows what a Christian, Muslim, or Hindu is… at least I don’t think so. But if people openly worship this… Erandor, it’ll stir up political trouble—serious trouble. Think crusade-level chaos.”

James let out a heavy sigh, nodding slowly. “Alright. I’ll talk to them about keeping their worship private.”

I hesitated, unsure if I should step in. When Orion got fired up, convincing him otherwise was nearly impossible. I didn’t know enough about this world’s politics to argue. James and Orion had far more insight than I did, but denying people the freedom to practice their faith openly felt wrong.

You have to do better, Bianca. I need James to explain the political landscape to me before I’m out of my depths like this again.

I waved them off. They all had plenty to do, and so did I. Just as I thought my meetings were over, I spotted Cameron, the Ranger, waiting nearby.

Cameron was an enigma, and I’d been meaning to have a long conversation with him—about how he came from Earth like us and his whole story—but I’d been so freaking busy.

“Can I talk to you—and him?” Cameron asked, pointing toward Orion, who was deep in conversation with Sophie.

Sophie was batting her lashes and whisking her fingers over Orion’s arm, her gaze playful. Orion, however, was shaking his head, likely focused on the negotiation for the price of the beautiful white horse he’d captured.

“You mean Rye? Why?” I asked.

“It’s about the village I came from. I need the Magebane’s help.”