Dying for Such a Lord

On the morning of the third day, the sky was overcast, and the air was filled with a damp, cold mist and the smell of earth.

On a hill in Carnford, in front of a newly cleared sunny slope, a large crowd of people stood.

Almost all the people temporarily put aside their work and spontaneously gathered here.

The soldiers stood in neat rows, their expressions solemn, their armor and weapons spotless.

No one spoke; only suppressed sobs and heavy breathing were exceptionally clear in the silence.

On the slope, there are two huge rectangular tombs.

One of them is the resting place of the Broomflower garrison who died long ago in the defense of Old Carnford.

And right next to it is the newly dug tomb, where eighty-seven warriors who shed their last drop of blood to guard the new life of Carnford will be buried.

The bodies, each covered with a simple white sheet, were carefully and extremely slowly carried by their comrades to the edge of the grave, and then gently and neatly placed at the bottom of the cold grave.

Every body laid down felt like a heavy hammer blow to the hearts of the living.

In the queue, people would occasionally be unable to contain their grief and kneel down, sobbing uncontrollably.

Their fathers, sons, husbands, brothers... lie there.

The people around them, their eyes red, silently helped them up, their own tears streaming down their faces.

Karl, Brendan, Richter, Roland, and all the other officers stood silently beside the tomb, heads bowed, watching everything with solemn expressions.

Charlotte stood not far from Karl, her face pale and her blue eyes brimming with tears.

Kellan, Sir Laurent, and Lyon also attended the funeral, watching solemnly from the procession.

When the last body was properly laid to rest, and the tomb was filled with the neatly arranged remains of eighty-seven fallen heroes, the atmosphere at the scene was so heavy it was almost suffocating.

Karl took a deep breath and slowly walked down the earthen slope beside the tomb, arriving at the bottom of the tomb.

Edgar and Brendan followed closely behind, handing him with both hands a neatly folded, enormous banner symbolizing the Goldflower Kingdom.

Karl solemnly accepted the flag, and together with the other two, carefully unfurled this battle-hardened banner, stained with the blood of heroes, and covered the bodies of all the fallen soldiers.

The edges of the flag drooped, as if draping these warriors in their final glory.

Sir Brendan stepped forward, facing the entire army and civilians. His aged yet resonant voice trembled slightly with excitement, but it carried clearly across the entire hillside:

"Friends! Today we gather here to bid farewell to our heroes of Carnford! These eighty-seven warriors, in the defense against the Sauron invasion, fought bravely and valiantly, remaining steadfast in their duty until the very last moment!"

"They defended our homeland, protected our loved ones, and repelled the brutal enemy with their blood and lives!"

"They are worthy of the glory of the Broomflower Warriors, worthy of the name Carnford! Their names will live on forever!"

The old knight's voice grew even louder. "Lord Karl promises that when Carnford Cathedral is completed, a monument will be erected there, engraving the names of every warrior upon it, so that future generations will forever remember their sacrifices and achievements! Their souls will find eternal peace and glory!"

Brendan's words, like a stone thrown into a still lake, stirred up huge ripples in the crowd.

Erecting a monument! Inscribing names! What a supreme honor this is!

In this era, it was already rare for ordinary soldiers who died in battle to be given a collective burial, let alone have a monument erected by the Lord himself to commemorate them!

Brendan stepped back, and Karl stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over every sorrowful yet agitated face. With all his might, he issued a short, forceful command:

"Salute!"

Swish!

All soldiers, regardless of their injuries, as long as they could still move, did their utmost to straighten their chests, bring their right hand, fingers together, to their temples quickly and forcefully!

Some soldiers with wounded right arms solemnly placed their left hands on their hearts! Every movement was filled with strength and respect!

Immediately afterwards, Sergeant Major Otto of the Musketeers shouted the order, "Fire!"

Bang! Bang bang bang bang!!!

Thirty Musketeers, arranged in three rows, raised their rifles in turn, pointing the muzzles at a forty-five-degree angle to the sky, and pulled the triggers!

Deafening gunshots rang out one after another, like a mournful dirge, or the highest tribute to a hero, echoing through the valley and startling a flock of birds in the distance.

After three salvos, the gunfire ceased, the echoes lingering, and a faint smell of gunpowder filled the air.

"The ceremony is complete!" Karl's voice rang out again.

The soldiers slowly lowered their arms.

Then, Karl took the lead, picked up a shovel, scooped up a handful of yellow soil, and gently and solemnly scattered it onto the grave covered with the flag.

Brendan, Richter, Roland, Edgar... all the officers, as well as many soldiers and civilians, silently picked up tools, or simply used their hands, and began to silently fill the soil.

No one urged them on; their movements were slow and heavy, as if afraid of disturbing the resting spirits of the fallen heroes.

The soil gradually covered the flags, covered those once vibrant faces, and eventually filled in the grave, building a brand new tomb.

Finally, several stonemasons carried a rough stone tablet, hastily made overnight, and solemnly placed it in front of the tomb.

The inscription on the stone tablet, written in simple yet powerful characters, reads:

Carnford Heroes Resting Place

Eighty-seven people rest here.

All in May of the seventh Heinrich XI

He died defending his homeland and fighting against Sauron.

Their bravery will live on forever, their achievements will be immortal.

The former garrison and the new soul of this place

Both are the Shield and Sword of Carnford

Now we lie side by side, together protecting this land.

May their heroic souls rest in peace, and may their glory endure forever.

People gazed silently at the inscription on the stone tablet. Many of them were illiterate, but as they listened to those around them who could read reading aloud, they were all moved to tears.

This unprecedented, solemn, and grand funeral deeply moved everyone present.

Before this, they had never imagined that a noble Lord would go to such lengths for the funeral of an ordinary soldier, or bestow such high honor and respect upon them.

Death is a common and cruel reality for soldiers and civilians. To be given a straw mat and a handful of earth after death is already a blessing.

And this kind of mass burial, draped with military flags, gun salute, monument erection, and even promise to have names engraved in the church...

This was a honor they never dared to dream of.

An indescribable feeling of being moved, shocked, and deeply moved, along with a strong sense of belonging, arises spontaneously in everyone's heart.

They looked at the young Lord standing solemnly before the tomb, who had personally participated in the burial, their eyes filled with unprecedented reverence and a determination to serve him to the death.

"Following an adult like that..."

"To die for him... it was worth it!"

"We must hold Carnford!"

Similar whispers and thoughts echoed in the hearts of countless people.

Karl's move greatly boosted morale and loyalty across the entire territory.

People realize that here, their sacrifices will not be forgotten, and their value will be cherished.

This is more powerful than any empty slogan or flowery speech.