Chapter 57: This is Nightfall Domain，something entirely new

The memorial ceremony was held on a stretch of open ground within the territory that had already been cleansed of corruption. Because it was quite far from the grand manor, crops had not yet been planted there.

Phield marked off the area and designated it as a cemetery.

In the military operation against the main building, twenty-six people had died: fifteen slaves, seven guards, one freeman, and three Demei-humans cavalry.

Most of them had been killed by Rosalia. When a Divine Chosen dismantled their own divine artifact, the explosive power unleashed was simply too terrifying.

But that was war. There was no such thing as a war without deaths.

A war where only the enemy died existed only in fairy tales. As a lord, what Phield could do was take care of the living.

“Thank the Goddess of Holy Light for receiving the souls of Your servants! Thank the Goddess of Holy Light for granting peace to the souls of Your children…”

The one reciting the eulogy was the freeman Hans. Because of his age and experience, he could barely recite the prayer. Some of the words were unclear, but his hands were trembling, showing that he had put real emotion into it. Of course, it was also very likely that he was simply nervous.

The slaves were cremated, while freemen were buried. Burial was a privilege reserved for freemen and above.

Those who believed in the Holy Light believed in divine judgment. After death, one was to lie quietly in the River of Light, waiting for the Goddess of Holy Light to deliver a final verdict—whether to ascend to heaven or fall into hell.

This doctrine was nearly universal across the entire continent, after all, the official faith was the Goddess of Holy Light.

In truth, there was no real atmosphere of grief. Most people were numb. Phield had called them here to mourn, so they came. Besides, they would receive a piece of black bread and be exempt from labor for the time being.

Death was nothing strange to them—especially to slaves.

Sam reached a hand to his chest, where a gold coin was hidden.

“A gold coin! Haha, like a dream.” Before coming here, Sam had never touched a gold coin in his entire life. Neither had his father nor his grandfather. If they were still alive, they would be mad with envy.

The beautiful weight and texture of the coin was intoxicating. He had killed enough corrupted corpses to earn it. Once he handed the coin to Phield, he would be freed from slave status and finally live a life that could be considered normal.

Sam had no interest in listening to Hans recite the eulogy. In his view, slaves were only ever sent by nobles into pitch-dark mines, getting a bite of dry bread every two or three days, dying of hunger, cold, illness, or monsters—it was all perfectly normal. Rather than feeling sad for others, it was better to think about how to get more bread.

To the guards, the only real uses of the Goddess of Holy Light were mist-dispelling lamps and purification potions.

“The lord is about to speak.” A comrade nudged Sam with his elbow. “Stop showing off that gold coin.”

Sam immediately craned his neck. “Oh! The lord’s words—I have to listen to those.”

Phield did not give a long speech. It was brief, but Sam listened to every word, especially the line: “They will become heroic spirits, forever guarding Nightfall Domain, and we will forever remember them.” It gave Sam a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. He wasn’t educated enough to put it into words, but it stirred him all the same.

What shocked everyone the most was that Phield actually granted the fallen a sum of money called compensation.

Even the guards hadn’t known such a thing existed. This was a rule Phield had just established and announced today.

Phield declared it directly: “Compensation for freemen is one gold coin and twenty silver coins. Compensation for slaves is twenty silver coins. The money is to be given to their relatives. Those without relatives will have their compensation used to improve the army’s rations.”

When the coins were handed to the wife of the deceased freeman, almost everyone was stunned.

“There’s actually something like this?” Many women whispered among themselves. “Wow, that’s a huge sum.”

Sam could feel countless heated gazes fixed on him. Guards who had once been overlooked suddenly became highly desirable in the eyes of women.

Even some attractive freewomen began looking at the slave guards with strange expressions.

“Damn it. I’d better have a son soon. Can’t let my money benefit someone else.”

Almost every guard thought the same thing.

“Everyone, you’re dismissed.”

Only then was the aftermath of the war truly settled.

As they walked, Phield let out a sigh. So many people had died—it made him feel a little heavy-hearted. He even remembered the names of quite a few of them.

“You’ve already done very well. And we’ve also subdued Rosalia,” Ashina said, stepping closer and linking her arm with Phield’s, smiling gently.

Phield nodded and rallied himself. “We can do even better.”

“Actually, ordinary people—mm, or slaves—don’t really need funerals. Fighting for you is their duty,” Ashina said after some thought, her tone reflective. “You’re too kind. Slaves are like wild grass on the plains—everywhere. I was a slave too. I know I had little value. I couldn’t write, and I couldn’t manage anything.”

“Pfft. Don’t think like that.” Phield patted Ashina on the head and laughed. “These things can be learned. It’s the people who create history, just like wild grass makes up the plains. Nobles and elites are just…”

Phield had wanted to say that nobles and elites were merely especially tall flowers or trees that still depended on the plains to exist.

But that line of thinking was useless for now. The level of productivity couldn’t support it, and saying it would only create unnecessary trouble.

As long as he could give his people a good life, that was enough.

“This is Nightfall Domain—something entirely new,” Phield snapped his fingers. “And of course, compensation has nothing but benefits. It helps me in many ways. The most obvious is boosting morale and removing their worries.”

“Good morning, Baron.”

Tate approached from ahead, leading more than thirty slaves and three wagons loaded with chopped wood and two crates of black bread.

“Good morning, Tate. How’s the cleanup around the main villa’s perimeter going?” Phield asked.

“Mostly finished. We’ll need about seven more trips. We recovered a lot of materials, so we won’t be returning to the grand manor for lunch today,” Tate replied. “We’ll also transport the timber along the way to build fences and wooden fortifications.”

“Very good. Don’t get too close to the buildings yet. There are still scattered monsters inside.”

The recovery of the main villa had already been successful, and all of his Divine Chosen were in a weakened state. There was no need to take unnecessary risks now.

Phield looked around, planning to move into the main villa in the future and free up the grand manor as housing for slaves. The grand manor sat in the center of vast farmlands and could effectively support cultivation across the surrounding fields.

“Thank you for your concern. I’ll be careful,” Tate said. He was extremely busy and left after a brief report.

“Oh, right. Ashina, come with me to check on the leafy greens.”

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