Chapter 1771 - 494: Yet Some Castles Still Stand Above the Ruins

The country roads of the Valley Plain remain muddy at the end of winter.

A carriage travels along the muddy road, its wheels jolting on the half-thawed frozen soil, emitting a teeth-grating squeak.

However, this is still much better than walking.

Laman sits at the bumpy rear of the carriage, his legs dangling in the air.

Dust and tiny fragments of straw cover his old military uniform, whose original color cannot be washed out, making him resemble a scarecrow planted in a wheat field.

With his rough thumb, he repeatedly caresses a cold bronze medal, his face occasionally breaking into a smile, sometimes falling into confusion.

The medal is engraved with two words he has only recently learned, "Duchy" and "Guard," and the royal family emblem in the middle is a confirmation and reward for their achievements.

He had never thought that someone as useless as himself would one day receive the Grand Duke's affirmation and wear a medal awarded by the royal family.

It seems he really did help that Grand Duke.

But what to do next?

On the fifth morning of Aus Calendar 1054, an obscure Campbell soldier sits on the carriage, contemplating his future.

Edward's duchy stands at the crossroads of fate, and Laman stands at the crossroads of his life, pondering whether to stay in the army, heed a comrade's advice to settle in Thunder City, or find a forest to continue working with wood.

The atmosphere inside the carriage contrasts sharply with Laman's contemplation, appearing relaxed yet noisy, as most soldiers do not want to worry about such distant matters.

The war is over, they are the victors, and they will soon return home.

The soldiers huddle together, chatting excitedly about post-war plans, which invariably involve women, alcohol, and the impending severance pay.

Even before receiving the money, they have already decided how to spend it.

The only exception is a spectacle-wearing soldier, relatively short, with an air of scholarly elegance, a native of Thunder City.

At this moment, he holds a crumpled piece of the "Thunder City Daily," which is the day before yesterday's paper, only delivered to him yesterday.

"Listen to this! The paper says the Grand Duke intended to strip all rebellious nobles of their titles, but was stopped by the King of the Ryan Kingdom and the regional bishop! Damn Ryan Kingdom, I knew they were meddling secretly! We even killed some of their people on the banks of the Rushing River that day!"

Few in the carriage responded to his words. The few who did merely chuckled with remarks like "Served them right" and "The damned Theoden."

Though they defended the duchy's reforms, they hardly considered themselves reformists, not even supporters of Edward; they just happened to hitch a ride on the Grand Duke's carriage.

As for how the lords' titles would change, that wasn't their concern either.

Even in Thunder City, where the fires of industrialization burn fiercely, the nation and ethnicity remain abstract concepts far ahead of the times, only just born from the weavers' curses of the King.

The young man holding the newspaper was not a weaver, yet his family apparently benefited from their influence to some extent.

For that reason, he holds his newspaper with the same pride that Laman holds his "ding-ding rifle."

"However! Faced with the King's and the Church Court's coercion, our Grand Duke did not back down. Instead, he maneuvered into a legal blind spot! He announced the establishment of a 'Post-war Compensation Committee' to liquidate the properties and lands of traitors to compensate families and individuals who suffered losses in the civil war and reward those who sweat and sacrificed to defend the duchy!"

"In short—"

"The Grand Duke wants to distribute the spoils of war to us!"

For a moment, the carriage fell silent, as people turned their eyes on him exceedingly rare, but soon burst into loud laughter.

"Distribute the spoils to us? Haha!"

"Kid, is it your first day as a soldier? I've heard that line hundreds of times."

"Our centurion dreams of earning a knight's title, ever since Prince saluted him last time, he's really been considering himself as a noble!"

Amid the mocking laughter, the young man with glasses flushed red with embarrassment, gesturing with his finger as he passionately defended himself in the jolting carriage.

"This time is different! Thunder City's industrialization has reached a critical stage, or else the nobility wouldn't be opposing so fiercely! Even those living in the past can see it, surely our Grand Duke can too!"

"If! That lord doesn't share the fruits of victory with us, the commoners who support him, it will surely be seized by another group of nobles! He must rely on our strength to contend with those still stuck in the past!"

This civil war has swept away the conservative forces within the duchy, but it doesn't mean the old ideologies have died.

It's like soil.

Whether nobles or peasants, both are crops emerging from that soil. The difference is just who is the seed buried in dust and who is the grain ripened on the stalk.

This is similar to how peasants won't become respectable citizens just by sitting on a steam engine as though they've turned into seemingly more respectable tools, using old production relationships and more advanced production methods to create new products no one has seen before.

They will continue as before, the only people they can look to are their lordly master and the stewards, hoping for the occasional flicker of conscience.

Thus, the victory spoils he referred to aren't merely money and glory but things the common folk previously wouldn't even dare dream of.