Commander Sun continued his rounds of encouragement.
Even as he marched tirelessly toward the High Tower with weary steps, he made time to visit the wounded, asking each one their names and personal stories.
“Where is Sir Zeke? I wanted to check on his injuries.”
“Ah… well… Sir Zeke passed away this morning, joining his ancestors.”
“…I see. Did he go peacefully?”
“Thanks to the herbs you personally prepared, he didn’t suffer in his final moments.”
“I see… that’s good, then. You there, Soldier Page.”
“Yes, Commander!”
“I see you’ve survived against the odds. It feels like just yesterday you were bawling after losing your left hand.”
“Hahaha! After enduring a few fevers, I’ve gotten much better, sir!”Thanks to this side of the commander, both soldiers and knights managed to momentarily forget their despair and even smiled despite their injuries.
“Sir Tillen, how’s your groin injury from before?”
“Yes, Commander! Fortunately, it’s only slightly bent. It seems the ancestors protected me from losing my lineage.”
“That’s a relief. Make sure to honor them with proper rituals.”
“Of course, sir!”
Commander Sun spent a long time among the wounded ranks, dismounting from his horse to walk alongside them and engaging in casual conversations.
To an outsider overhearing, it would have sounded more like the banter of a group of low-ranking soldiers than the words of a legion commander.
As the conversations went on and the mood lightened, Commander Sun finally stood before the soldiers and bowed deeply, speaking with heartfelt sincerity.
“You’ve all worked so hard. On behalf of the North! On behalf of His Grace, the Grand Duke! I thank you all!”
“…!”
For the soldiers and knights who had participated in previous expeditions to the Far North, this was not the first time they had seen the commander like this.
And yet, there was an inexplicable warmth that stirred their hearts once again.
“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”
“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”
“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”
In that moment, they didn’t invoke their ancestors but instead chanted “Renslet” with unified voices and purpose.
This marked the completion of one cycle of the Northern expeditions—a duty fulfilled by grandfathers, fathers, uncles, and older brothers, only to be carried on by younger brothers, sons, nephews, and grandsons.
Now, for the next three years, they would rest and prepare for another grueling campaign.
With the mindset of farmers preparing for the next season, Commander Sun and the Frost Shield Legion’s knights and soldiers made their way to the High Tower.
As they passed through the great wall enclosing their homeland:
“…Huh?”
“Something seems really different.”
“Everyone looks so bright.”
“They seem… relaxed?”
“What in the world? Potato fields on the outskirts of the High Tower? How…?”
“No way, they’re farming here?”
“It doesn’t look like greenhouse agriculture, either.”
The returnees were greeted with a home vastly changed from what they remembered.
Only a year and a half—18 months.
That was how long they had been away, venturing into the frozen seas of the Far North to fend off barbarian threats.
Yet, in that time, their homeland seemed to have leaped forward as if a decade had passed.
“Waaaaaah!!”
“Heroes, you’ve returned! Your efforts were extraordinary!”
The grand welcome began at the entrance to the great wall, much like before.
Every citizen of the High Tower lined the streets, cheering and showering the returning expedition with white flower petals. This much was familiar.
‘Everyone’s wearing similar pouches on their belts.’
‘They all look so healthy.’
‘Even the children seem plumper.’
Still, within the familiar sights, the returning soldiers and knights began to notice unfamiliar changes.
And above all:
“Renslet! Rune Renslet!”
“May the fervent ancestors of Renslet bless you!”
The people of the High Tower were chanting the name “Renslet” with unmistakable sincerity.
What had once been a slogan reserved for soldiers, knights, and officials of the High Tower had now spread among the general populace.
“Fervent ancestors of Renslet, guide the fallen heroes of this expedition to Valkara!”
“In the name of Saint Mary, may blessings fill the future of all who took part in this expedition!”
“Renslet, Rune Renslet!”
It didn’t end with mere chants.
Throughout the High Tower, people dressed like clerics came forth, offering words of blessing to the returning troops.
“What in the world is this…?”
“Are we under some witch’s spell?”
Confusion spread rapidly.
From the lowliest foot soldier to the leading knights, the returning expeditionaries marched in a daze, utterly bewildered. They had faced less confusion in the heart of enemy territory than they did here.
“…”
Even Commander Sun, known for his unshakable composure, could not hide his astonishment.
‘I have a lot of questions to ask.’
At the very forefront of the column, he rode in silence, trying to maintain his calm.
As the column advanced further into the High Tower, their bewilderment only grew.
The northern outskirts, once barren, were now dotted with fields, each one lush with potato crops.
From the fields wafted a warm, earthy scent—comforting and wholesome, the kind that could make one’s mouth water.
“They’re farming here? In this frozen land?!”
“That’s not a greenhouse, is it?”
To the soldiers, this sight was the most shocking of all.
If farming was possible in the northernmost regions of the Northern Grand Duchy, it meant that any land in the North could be cleared and planted with potatoes.
“Did they develop a new farming technique while we were gone?”
“It must be something from the greenhouses! The High Tower’s greenhouses must’ve come up with something!”
“Perhaps a winter potato that thrives in extreme cold?”
“That warm, earthy smell—it’s coming from the fields! No wonder I’m suddenly hungry…”
For many of the returning soldiers, this revelation carried significant implications.
It meant that even for those wounded and contemplating retirement, there was now a clear path to survival and prosperity.
“Should I retire and take up farming too?”
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