Chapter 186: After Winter Set In

The Kant territory incident finally came to an end, and it also seemed to be this eventful year’s last stir. ——Following the arrival of Fog Month, everything in the southern borders entered hibernation with the dropping temperatures. This place that was plagued by frequent ills was finally peaceful.

However, the Cecil territory’s buzzing construction had just begun. As the various fundamental machines and all kinds of factories were swiftly completed, the new populace that surged into this land in large numbers found that they actually had lots of work in this freezing winter season as well. ——Of course, what greeted them wasn’t just work for the winter and hot meals provided in the factory mess hall, they also got winter clothing specially tailored for workers and a charcoal allowance for every household.

To peasants who in past winters, could only guard a little stored food and suffer at home, counting the food in their baskets, counting the number of days to winter ending, this was an excellent life that they could not have imagined. Compared to this, the newly added bit of workload was literally nothing worth mentioning.

According to Gawain, only until the Winter Development Plan had been smoothly launched would the territory’s development be truly considered to have gotten on the right path.

Many spacious and sturdy four-wheeled carriages traveled on the pebbled road, crackling sounds coming from under the wheels. Yellow fallen leaves covered the two sides of the road; what came into sight were all maple trees and giantwood that were only left with branches. This desolate scene was bound to leave travelers in a depressed mood, but there was only a ball of warm strength in Joan’s heart.

Before the harshest frost arrived, she and her younger brother had found the last gathering point in the mountainous forest.

She stood on the leading carriage, standing up to look at the entire fleet behind her. Seven carriages carried 46 sallow and shriveled homeless people, and the ones driving the carriages were powerful soldiers armed with magical weapons. These Cecil Combatants complied strictly with the feudal lord’s orders regarding the protection of her and her brother; the protection of the refugees in the fleet was also their responsibility in any situation. Regardless of whether they encountered beasts or bandits, these soldiers did not let a single refugee come to harm —— and unlike in usual times, incidents of soldiers bullying refugees had never occurred.

This was what had her oddly surprised at the very beginning, but she had now become accustomed to it.

This was truly an inconceivable team, and they were heading to an even more incredible place.

She had never believed that there would be an aristocrat clan earnestly and sincerely protecting civilians; even more, she had never imagined that homeless people could receive free help on an unfamiliar land. But what was most, most unexpected to her was that she had actually become a “messenger” and “representative” to facilitate and carry out this process. In the past ten-odd days, she and her brother traveled all over the mountainous forest and wilderness north of the White River and south of the Kant territory. They moved at the same time with the few other teams, finding, one after another, refugee gathering points that faced extinction and placing them under the protection of the powerful Cecil soldiers. Then, they brought these fellow countrymen struggling between life and death to a safe place. This entire process was literally like a dream.

Joan looked towards the last carriage. Tom had stood up from the carriage. He was presently waving his arm hard at her and waved the flag in his hand to draw an odd gesture that represented “everything is normal” —— that gesture was a self-creation of his, and he’d also come up with a whole bunch of “long-distance signals” with different meanings, using the way of waving flags and light to deliver messages in the party. He very evidently enjoyed doing so and took great pride in it.

“Working for the feudal lord” — these few words had immensely emboldened this younger brother of hers who was usually weak. Even without any substantial position or letter of appointment, Tom was more than ten times more spirited than before. Joan felt for a time that Tom’s excessively impetuous acts might have offended the accompanying soldiers, but the outcome now was that the “flag and light signals” that Tom invented had reached the feudal lord. The feudal lord had given him lavish praises and even standardized those signals and taught them to the soldiers in the territory…

Joan responded to Tom’s signal with a smile, then turned around, and continued looking to the front.

She could already see curling smoke and the territory’s watchtower.

The refugees in the carriage had also noticed the changes ahead. Some people grew nervous for sure; some of them struggled to their knees from the straw and torn cotton, gazing at the soldiers on guard at the tower in the distance, while others looked uneasily towards Joan. “Miss Joan, can we really… settle down there?”

The daughter of a hunter would actually be respectfully and nervously addressed as “Miss” by civilians. This made Joan feel rather strange; she quickly shook her head with a smile. “Don’t call me that. I’m a civilian just like all of you. Rest assured, the hard times have ended. It’s Duke Cecil’s territory in front. We will set up a home there. Every person can settle down here.”

The carriage went past the bridge, and huge brass bells were promptly sounded; the dang dang sound cut through the air. The sentries shouted the call that had often been sounded these days, “New—populace—entering!”

The muddled homeless people curled up in the straw and cotton were jolted awake, leaning on the carriage’s guardrail one after another. They saw the big and tall gate open before their eyes. The carriage went on a main road laid using bricks and “rocks”. Orderly rows of brand new houses spread out at the end of the road, curling smoke floating in the sky. The carriage turned east at the first intersection, heading towards a riverbank square.

“New—populace—entering!”

A soldier’s sonorous voice burst out in the air; the refugees’ carriages entered the square following this call. Rows of wooden sheds stood at the fringes of the square; recorders doing the registration of population and soldiers maintaining order had long taken their places. An enormous pot was set up in the middle of a square, the stove fire raged beneath the pot, while the aroma of stewed food wafted out from the big pot.

A broad-shouldered woman with a big waist stood beside the pot, stirring the assorted soup stewing in the pot with a long ladle. Such nutritious yet easily digestible soup was food that best suited the hungry people. Not only could it quickly replenish their physical strength, it could also prevent their stomachs that have become weak due to long-term hunger from being hurt.

The instant they spotted the food, the 46 sallow and emaciated refugees on the seven carriages seemed to be put at ease immediately.

Joan could sense such an air of sudden relief because not too long ago, she’d also been one of them on the carriage who suddenly felt at ease.

And this day, when the last batch of refugees safely arrived at the territory, was also the day Gawain and his family finally left their respective tents and moved into the new “castle”.

Having the aid of the “otherworldly cement” that Rebecca came up with, together with the support of Heidi’s magic, as well as Nicholas Egg’s control over metal building-materials — the construction of the new residence was completed at a speed far faster than Gawain had estimated. A brand-new three-level manor sat on the originally empty space near the tent —— no feudal lord’s castle had been completed this fast in history. This naturally ought to be credited to the building materials that Rebecca came up with, but Gawain believed that the more important reason was that he hadn’t, like those conventional aristocrats, insisted on using natural boulders to construct the castle or even having the castle built on a mountain.

Constructing a villa on level ground using bricks was far easier than constructing a castle on the top of a mountain using rocks.

Gawain knew that the purpose of the construction of conventional castles was to resist enemies. Instead of calling them a certain residence, using “military fort” as a description would be even more apt. However, he did not intend to build that kind of castle in the Cecil territory —— firstly, it was a waste of money and manpower; secondly, he couldn’t get accustomed to living in those cold and hard rock houses, and thirdly, he didn’t need it.

If they really were to encounter an emergency situation, the ancient facility in the mountain would definitely be more hardy and reliable than any kind of castle of the present era.

This three-level house was probably the most luxurious big building in the territory, but if it was placed amongst the aristocratic residences of the current era, perhaps only “overly plain” could be used as an adjective for it. Gawain’s personal design allowed it to cast off the various extravagant yet uncomfortable drawbacks of a conventional aristocratic house. The entire structure was arranged with the aim of being practical and useful. When Gawain finally moved into the bright and spacious and walled study, he instantly felt that his brain-draining design previously was all worth it.

Although there weren’t any marble window sills with splendid carved ornamentation, no sparkling crystal sculptures, no vault drawings or exquisite columns in the style of the northern states — he had two magic laboratories and a mechanical workshop, and this beautiful big study before his eyes —— this study was walled!

Amber was also sauntering in the study. Miss Half-Elf seemed to be even more pleased with this residence than Gawain was. She checked the lock on every door and then inspected all the cabinets and drawers in the study. Finally, she opened the window facing the “middle square”. With her head bowed, looking at the courtyard below, she said with admiration from the depth of her heart, “In the future, I can finally climb through the window…”

“Go next door to be crazy.” Gawain looked up from his book and glanced at this half-elf. “Remember to use the door.”

“Tch, I was just making a joke. Why are you taking it so seriously?” Amber staggered to the front of Gawain’s desk. “But then again, you’re really weird. I thought you’d stayed in the tent for so long because you wanted to build another magnificent fortress or palace. In the end, you only constructed such a place?”

“Building a palace in a territory with a total population of a mere few thousand?” Gawain chuckled. “I’ve yet to reach that level of extravagance.”

“I heard the stir at the riverbank square earlier. I think the last batch of refugees has finally arrived.” Amber’s ears quivered. “You can finally be at ease this time… Say, what is it that you keep looking down at?”

Gawain lifted his hand and held up the big book with a hard cover and bronze title that he’d been reading since the start. “A book that is rather popular in the central and southern regions. It is said that 70% of the readers are aristocrat madams and young ladies.”

Amber’s expression instantly became weird. “A book that madams and young ladies like to read? You actually like reading such— Damn!”

Her comment became an exclamation before she could finish it. It was because the title of that book was truly eye-catching: Gawain Cecil’s Romantic Affairs —— The Story of a Hero and Various Princesses.

Then, Miss Half-Elf’s expression became even odder. “This… this interest of yours…”

“What interest? I’m studying my own life biography.” Gawain sighed. “Of course, it’s really a surprise to be able to see such things…”

The sigh in Gawain’s heart was even heavier: rising from his coffin of 700 years and seeing his own book, this accomplishment was really unreplicable.

Amber immediately leaned over slyly. “Hey, hey, let me see, let me see… Turns out you still have such stories circulating? That bunch of book writers are really… tsk, tsk…”

“It was widely regarded that arranging a heap of romantic affairs for ancient heroes is both a kind of praise and embellishment of their lives. After all, those people were dead. Neither would they jump out to criticize mistakes and give them trouble. Moreover, the heroes who’d been prettified would most likely be very pleased with this. ——When they thought this way, they certainly didn’t expect me to crawl back to the living.” Gawain pursed his lips. “I still admired them quite a bit. I only lived for a total of thirty-five years. I only had one wife in my entire life. They were actually able to arrange more than eighty female soulmates in my thirty-five years into a compact and intense life. How the f*ck did they shove this name list in?”

“He’s cursing, he’s cursing, eh he!”

“Eh he, your foot! Go get Pittman here!”

Amber was instantly stunned. “This book is his? That old pervert…”

“It’s not his.” Gawain gave Amber a sidewards glance. “I want to ask him what race the ‘sea demons’ mentioned in this book are. ——This is the only one out of numerous biographies that mentioned I had experiences of going out to sea. But in that ‘experience’, it mentioned a species that I completely do not know!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep