Chapter 152

The Final Sunrise

Korimor

Over the following week, Lansius personally inspected the guano cave and commissioned wooden ladders for several sections. He also ordered the construction of several resting spots adjacent to the ladders, each equipped with a water reservoir for easier cleaning.

He also arranged for a supply of working gloves and established a rule to provide them throughout the workers' tenure. Moreover, he summoned a guildsman with expertise in salt mining, hoping to gain their advice on managing and improving working conditions.

Despite having little compassion for the brigands and smugglers who had burned the city's storage and cost him dearly, he wanted to provide a fighting chance. He knew some would try to escape and be killed by his sentry, but he aimed to make things as fair as possible for those who stayed. His motives were not solely for pity but for the city's benefit.

He needed workers to collect guano; if they could demonstrate that working in the cave was not deadly, other men would likely agree to work there. For that, he needed to prove that the work was survivable. It wasn’t a tall order, but it was still uncharted territory.

Not even Lansius could recall what kind of menace he was up against. He didn't know whether viruses, chemical reactions, or pathogens made medieval guano gathering a dangerous occupation.

Knowing that success hinged not just on the right equipment and conditions but also on mental preparation, he tasked Sir Michael and Dietrich with delivering a rousing speech. He wanted them to emphasize the fair opportunity and assure the workers that food and lodging during the winter would be secured, provided they remained cooperative and avoided any troubles.

Now, Lansius could only hope that it would work well.

It wasn’t without risk, as Sir Michael would soon return home to attend to other tasks in Korelia. As discussed, Dietrich and Roger would be left behind as Steward and vice.

"The two will either rise to this opportunity or remain forever confined to military roles," Lansius muttered, almost to himself, as he sat at the windowsill overlooking the city bathed in warm light, his walking cane resting against the stone wall.

"Did you say something?" Audrey asked from the desk.

"No, not really, just thinking about some small things." He turned to her, who was reading a book and trying hard to memorize by scribbling on a wax tablet.

"Tell me, why have you been extra diligent these past few days?" he asked curiously. "Is it because Ingrid has arrived?"

"Well, yes," she gave a cryptic answer.

"How did she motivate you?"

"Umm... Well, don’t laugh, but she told me that a child inherits his mother's intellect."

Surprised by her frankness, Lansius tried hard not to laugh, sucking his lips inward while looking out the window. Beyond the city and the city wall, the fields of Korimor stretched out, lying fallow.

Despite the wars, they weren't used to planting winter crops. Lansius, through Sir Michael, had tried to convince several prominent figures to try planting winter crops, but the process was ongoing.

"Lans," Audrey broke the silence.

"Yes?" He saw her turning in her seat, facing him.

"Have you done all your preparations?"

"Let's see... I have done all I can for the guano gathering. I also have Sir Michael tutoring Dietrich on how to handle the city and the commoners. We have the rear guard arriving safely as well. So, I guess everything is done, except for the bridge; I have yet to receive the estimates."

"That's it?" Audrey asked, concerned.

"Did I miss anything?" he furrowed his brow in response.

She smiled and said, "Fairs."

"By fairs, do you mean festivals?" he furrowed his brow.

"Indeed, Lans. It’s important for the people to celebrate and to see you as a generous lord."

Lansius recalled that in the medieval era, it was not only common but expected for a local lord to generously host festivals to maintain peace and strengthen bonds with his subjects. Puzzled, he asked, "If it’s that important, why hasn’t anyone brought it up in council meetings?"

Audrey chuckled. "Your staff has grown too trusting of your abilities. I suppose in their eyes, you can do no wrong."

This made Lansius uneasy. He knew that blind trust and devotion could lead to a leader's downfall.

"If they weren’t blinded by your triumphs, they’d mention our victories in South Hill, Three Hills, and Umberland. And they'd bring up my pregnancy. Each alone merits a celebration. Now, imagine achieving all these and not hosting a festival. What would people think of us?" she continued.

Lansius nodded and smiled wryly. "Then we must indeed prove ourselves to be benevolent leaders. The real question is, do we have enough supplies for it?"

"Have Omin handle it," she suggested. "I heard from Sir Michael that he's quite dependable."

Lansius mulled his options. "Are you sure he's... you know..."

"I haven't given him my full trust," she reassured him. "In fact, I'm rather guarded when he's around. Yet, he's quite capable and not blinded by your achievements. As for guarantees, I have Sir Michael and Ingrid keeping an eye on him."

Lansius nodded. "Then I'll ask the council to prepare a festival for Korimor, one that would please the Lady of the City."

However, after giving his assurances, Lansius turned his thoughts inward, contemplating how to fund these many unplanned activities. Although he had saved supplies from the Umberland campaign, he preferred to be prudent, especially after committing to the airship purchase. Moreover, the cost of the stone bridge, essential for guaranteeing Korimor’s growth, would not be trivial.

***

Lansius

Five-day festivals were held in Korimor, featuring plenty of competitions. As was customary, food supplies were provided by the master of the city, allowing the commoners to indulge in celebratory feasts.

The usual archery and melee competitions were held, where Lansius introduced several classes from light to heavy armor, enabling more people to compete and win. He also introduced a horseback crossbow archery competition for his troops to showcase their newfound skills.

On the second day, Lady Audrey hosted a medieval football game that involved the entire town of Korimor. Far from the modern game, there were no set players and minimal rules. Anyone who wished to participate could join in the crowded streets, with the entire city serving as the playing field. The objective was simply to move a ball from one part of the city to the other, with players using any means necessary.

It was not only a test of physical prowess but also a chaotic yet refreshing communal event. The game, lasting hours and resulting in hundreds of light injuries, served almost like a militia exercise.

Lansius had his skirmishers, led by Farkas, organize the competitions, believing their crowd control skills would complement those of the regular guardsmen.

The third day featured an obstacle course set on the very battlefield where they had fought the previous season. Participants had to start at the old Nicopolan camp, traverse a grassy field before reaching a muddy field, climb a wooden palisade, run through the fallow fields, and finish at the second palisade gate at the city's far end.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The crowd thoroughly enjoyed it. The top fifty winners received helmets, gambesons, swords, some silver, and a spot in next year’s military recruitment.

The fourth day was dedicated to poetry, drama, dance, and, as requested by the Lady, a cooking competition.

The final day was mostly ceremonial, with banquets for the military officers and the wealthy. However, Lansius did not abandon his troops and chose to visit them.

"My good Korelians," Lansius addressed his troops in their billets, using a cane as a walking aid, which earned him smiles. "As you are aware, to the north lies a river with a strong current."

The men nodded and murmured in acknowledgment.

"The area has remained undeveloped due to the absence of a bridge. Ideally, it should have a proper stone bridge that could support people and carts."

Everyone appeared to agree.

"Now, you might wonder why I mention this," Lansius said, gazing at his men before revealing, "It's because I'm offering you an opportunity to own lands north of the river if you help finance the bridge."

Murmurs spread through the crowd; some showed interest and quickly agreed, while others remained skeptical.

"Please don't misunderstand; I could pay for the bridge myself," Lansius reassured them, eliciting laughter. "I'm simply offering you a chance. Now, listen carefully: If you forfeit half of your pay from this campaign, I'll grant you fertile land suitable for your family. And..." He raised his voice to prevent interruptions.

"I'll include a good deal of materials for your house for free if many of you participate. So, what say you?" Lansius asked with a smile.

"How about farming tools?" one soldier shouted.

"And donkeys," another chimed in, prompting a wave of laughter.

"You guys drive a hard bargain," Lansius remarked, joining in their laughter.

...

In the end, farming tools were promised, but donkeys were not included. With this, Lansius secured not only a quarter of the funding for the bridge but also the settlers who would farm and manage the land.

As they rode back to the castle from the festival in a carriage, Audrey looked at Lansius with playful skepticism. "Aren't you being a bit too generous with the troops? Not only land but also materials for their houses," she commented.

Lansius smiled and explained, "Consider this: a farm managed by military families loyal to us. They'll help us maintain order, be our eyes and ears, and also be fully invested in defending the land."

"I see, so not only are they farmers, but they also serve as its guardians," Audrey noted, her gaze lingering on the window as the carriage gently rolled along the cobbled road. Sir Harold, Francisca, Sterling, Carl, and several riders were escorting them.

"Moreover, some of their sons could be the backbone of our future army," Lansius added.

Audrey turned to him and giggled. "Their sons? Lans, you're thinking too far ahead."

Lansius chuckled, his gaze shifting affectionately to her beltless gown.

His gaze was not lost on her. "No way, you're actually preparing for our son?"

"I don’t dare to think that far ahead," he shook his head. "But it’s a nice bonus. Also, are you sure it’s a son and not a daughter?"

"A son, so I can teach him the Elandian sword style," she said, hopeful.

"What’s wrong with a daughter?" he asked.

"Erm... not optimized."

"I thought you were optimized," Lansius quipped.

"Not really... I lack the strength that my master had," Audrey sighed. As she spoke, the carriage rolled into the castle grounds, where the final night of the festival would be held in the great hall.

***

West Tiberia, Capital, Beneath the Lake

Morning arrived with a gentle breeze and the chirping of birds. Like any other day, Sagarius woke up in a simple wooden cabin. Compared to the castle, it was smaller and basic, requiring no special maintenance. Through her glass window—one of the items salvaged from the castle—she could see other cabins outside that formed a small commune.

Sagarius slept alone in her cabin house, which served both as an apothecary and the commune's library. Her bed was simple, and her clothes were comfortable but not luxurious. Apart from her white long hair, little indicated that she was anything other than human.

Her father had lived similarly. Here, they lived as they wished, without the need to act like royalty. This subterranean world, which had no official name, was accessible to only a limited few. In better times, her father ruled from the palace in the capital for decades at a time before returning to rest. He believed in delegating details to the growing bureaucracy through policy and rarely micromanaging.

Sagarius yawned, changed into her daily clothes of comfortable linen, and opened the window to let in the fresh air. Knowing there wouldn’t be rain today, she decided to air her blanket and hang it outside. Despite having maids, she felt odd being pampered by those much younger than herself.

Wearing sandals, as was usual, she headed to the mess hall. There, depending on availability, she could find baked yams, mushroom stir-fries, hearty lentil soup, or freshly baked bread. She would also refill her waterskin with boiled water.

Afterward, she typically checked on her father, who was accompanied by a rotating staff member due to his advanced age. His Highness no longer had a correct sense of time and often rambled in the middle of the night, managing only intermittent bouts of light sleep.

This was why the staff insisted Sagarius sleep in a separate cabin, so she could remain refreshed to accompany the Emperor during the day while others worked in the fields or at the workshops.

As she walked, she noticed that these cabins, though relatively new to her, were beginning to show signs of age. There was rotting wood, moss, and some logs had even become nests for insects.

They were built by the previous generation of her father’s staff when the palace had fallen into disrepair. Centuries ago, hundreds of servants and maids had maintained this little paradise, but after the Emperor fell ill and ceased going outside, the population steadily declined.

Eventually, the palace was abandoned as it neared ruin. The large roots of an elven tree, long untended due to the master’s illness, blocked many corridors, making them impassable, especially for someone with a wheelchair.

Thus, the staff constructed a wooden complex as their retreat.

At that time, Sagarius was absent. As expected of her, she traveled the world incognito, returning only sporadically. Each of her grand journeys could last from sixty years to a century.

When the Emperor’s condition worsened and Sagarius was away, the human staff had to rely on themselves. Generation after generation, they cared for their Emperor. For a long time, everything went smoothly. However, just as their last apex predator, the Elandian Tigers, died young from birth defects due to inbreeding, the staff recognized that their bloodline, too, wouldn’t endure.

Originally born to hundreds of rescued orphans who received good education, they understood the risks of inbreeding, and consequently, most chose not to have offspring. As a result, their numbers dwindled more rapidly than ever before. Yet, no one wished to return outside, deterred both by fears of the golems guarding the passage and by a deep distrust of the outside world itself.

When Sagarius finally returned with her retainers, she found an aging population. She immediately relieved them of their responsibilities. Soon after, one by one, the old generation passed away.

Nearly a century had passed since then. The last lady-in-waiting, the servants, and the maids from her father's staff had all perished, as had the first generation of orphans that Sagarius brought back. Now, the second generation supported the community.

They too had matured, and some had sons and daughters who, fearful of the stories told about the harsh human world outside, chose to stay. To them, Sagarius was their matriarch, a title she cherished by becoming their teacher and healer.

While Sagarius appeared from the outside like a nerdy lass, engrossed in ancient books and tomes, she took her responsibilities seriously. She often ventured into the forest, armed with knives and vials, to gather herbs that couldn’t be cultivated in her garden.

Herbs, honey, and even some toxins were vital to collect. Although their world seemed like a paradise, anyone who came into contact with nature faced risks from parasitic worms, fungal infections, and insect bites. Thus, she needed to be prepared with salves, antiparasitic medicines, skin ointments, and balms for irritations.

This necessity extended beyond simple healthcare. As the community's reluctance to have children grew, stocking up on contraceptive medicine became equally important. For humans, living in this secluded world was both a paradise and a curse. Once they set foot there, they rarely desired to return outside. Here, the world was safe, and they maintained a degree of control over nature.

Education played a pivotal role in the community, with tomes passed down by generations of human staff serving as a rich source of knowledge. With such a high level of knowledge, the inhabitants grew wise and grateful for their sanctuary. They recognized the absence of serfdom, raidings, slavery, and oppressive noble landlords as nothing short of miraculous.

Moreover, they also felt blessed to be able to serve the Ageless One, the prime being they still accepted as the last Grand Progenitor.

While most of the staff were engaged in maintaining the colony’s day-to-day functions, a specialized group worked under Sagarius' watchful eye. For the past forty years, this group had methodically disarmed the items in the armory, and now, no weapons of use remained.

The only remnants of their once formidable arsenal were the golems. Even unarmed, these constructs remained formidable. To neutralize them effectively, Sagarius began dismantling parts of their armor and systematically destroying their power sources, one by one.

This task spanned generations and involved several types of golems, including both spider-shaped and bipedal warriors. Once integral to the construction of the underground world, these machines were now being carefully disarmed.

The morning air was unusually still as Sagarius made her way towards the mess hall. She could smell the aroma of baked yams drifting through the air, a comforting scent that brought a small smile to her face. Before she could enter, she was approached by four people, led by an old woman known to her as Yira, all bearing solemn expressions.

"Yira, what is it?" Sagarius asked.

"Master, we need your presence at His Highness' cabin," Yira replied, her voice shaky.

Sagarius was alerted. "Did His Highness ask for me?"

The old woman and the others exchanged worried glances.

Without waiting for a further response, Sagarius turned and jogged toward the larger cabin that stood majestic, yet somber, with an ancient tree guarding its entrance. As she passed, the tree’s leaves whispered in the gentle breeze, a familiar sound that now carried a different tone.

The cabin overlooked a sprawling meadow and the gentle flow of the river beyond—scenes her father had cherished. She entered without hesitation and made her way straight to her father’s chamber. Inside, an old staff member stood by the doorway, a walking cane clutched in his hand. He looked up as she entered, his expression sorrowful, and silently stepped aside to let her pass.

"Father," Sagarius called out softly as she approached the bed.

There was no answer. The air in the room was heavy, filled with an unspoken tension. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she touched his cheek. His skin was cold, his lips pale and stiff.

Only now, as she stood there, did she notice how frail he had become, how the life had quietly slipped away from him. She checked his pulse at his neck, as his prosthetic made it difficult to get a reading. But there was none.

Outside, a crowd of staff had gathered. They removed their hats as a sign of respect. The moment generations of staff had dreaded had finally come.

The Third and Final Emperor of the Third Human Imperium, the Ageless One, had closed his eyes for the last time.

***