Carnford

The next two days of travel were exceptionally smooth.

Perhaps the fearsome tale of their annihilation of the goblin tribe that night had already spread, deterring other potential predators in the wilderness. The convoy encountered no further trouble, proceeding safely towards their destination.

As the dilapidated outline of the fortress, standing on a lonely hill, gradually became clearer on the distant horizon, the entire convoy involuntarily slowed their pace.

The air was filled with a complex mix of emotions: anticipation, awe, and a touch of solemnity in the face of desolation and history.

The first thing that came into view was the ruins of Kahnford Fortress.

It was situated atop a prominent hill, occupying a strategically advantageous position.

Three sides of the hill were nearly vertical, like they had been carved by a giant axe, making them difficult to climb. Only the west side extended into a relatively gentle slope, like a natural pathway leading to the summit.

A clear stream flowed slowly down from somewhere on the mountaintop, meandering along one side of the slope, proving that there was a reliable water source on the mountain.

The fortress's defensive structures were clearly visible.

Two lines of walls were built around the hill. The outer wall was lower, while the inner wall was higher and thicker.

Above the walls, the remains of broken corner towers and arrow towers could be vaguely discerned. There were also embrasures spaced along the walls.

At the very core of the complex stood a fortress keep. Although damaged, its main structure seemed intact. This was clearly where the former lord and the commanding officer of the garrison had lived and made their last stand.

"Kahnford... it's Kahnford!" Old Morrell suddenly shouted, his voice choked with emotion.

He stared blankly at the ruins, his cloudy old tears instantly welling up and flowing down the furrows on his face. "I'm back... I'm finally back..."

Beside him, Hans, Vali, Firth, and the other old craftsmen were equally moved. Their gazes greedily swept over every familiar broken wall and ruin, as if looking at a long-lost friend who had returned, albeit in a shattered state.

Karl watched them silently, understanding the weight of their emotions.

This place had once been the recipient of their countless efforts and ambitions, yet it had ultimately fallen, becoming the starting point of their lives' descent into the abyss.

He waved his hand, leading the convoy, and they proceeded up the gentle slope on the west side.

Traces of the fierce battle that had taken place years ago were visible everywhere on the slope.

Huge boulders, decaying logs, and the bleached white skeletons, eroded by time, lay scattered amidst the mud and weeds.

From the remnants of broken armor and weapons near the skeletons, it was possible to distinguish both the standard equipment of the Goldflower Kingdom and the crude bone armor and curved blades unique to the Sauron Barbarians.

Soon, the convoy reached the first wall.

Outside the wall was a nearly dry moat, through which the stream's fresh water flowed.

The massive gate had long since rotted and collapsed. The drawbridge connecting to the gate was broken and damaged, leaning precariously across the moat.

The soldiers immediately sprang into action, felling nearby trees and using ropes and nails to quickly reinforce the old drawbridge, ensuring that the main body of troops and supplies could pass safely.

Inside the outer wall was a relatively open area, which would have originally served as a place for troop deployment, training, and sheltering refugees during wartime.

Old Morrell and the craftsmen, unable to wait any longer, broke away from the convoy. They rushed to the base of the broken walls, touching here, tapping there, sometimes murmuring to each other, sometimes sighing and shaking their heads, completely immersed in their professional world.

Karl did not disturb them and continued to lead the team towards the inner wall.

The defense of the inner city had clearly been more brutal.

The massive gate was not only completely destroyed, but a heavy iron shutter had also fallen, jamming itself in the gateway, rusted solid and immobile.

A large number of skeletons were piled up outside the shutter. Most of them were wearing Sauron attire, indicating that the defending garrison had inflicted heavy casualties on the enemy here.

"This way is blocked!" Richter reported after inspecting it.

"My Lord! Over here!" Roland shouted from the other side. "A section of the wall has collapsed here, we can get through!"

They all rushed over and indeed saw that a section of the inner wall had collapsed due to immense external force, creating a huge gap.

Both inside and outside the gap, layers upon layers of skeletons and shattered weapons were scattered. The remains of Goldflower Kingdom soldiers and Sauron corpses were intertwined, silently recounting the extremely brutal battle that had taken place here.

The soldiers silently cleared a path. The convoy passed through this tragic breach one by one, finally entering the core area of Kahnford.

In the center of the core area stood the three-story lord's keep, surrounded by many equally ruined buildings.

Barracks, a blacksmith's shop, stables, warehouses, and even a small, abandoned training ground.

Everything was abandoned, covered by weeds, moss, and the dust of ages.

The main keep had clearly endured the most violent attack. Its walls were covered in massive impact craters and cracks, and the third floor had almost completely collapsed.

However, amidst this deathly silence of ruins, a faint spark of life still existed.

In the corners of some relatively intact barracks within the inner wall, simple shelters had been built against the sturdy walls.

As if alerted by the commotion, some gaunt, ragged figures cautiously peeked out.

There were about twenty of them, men, women, and even children. All were emaciated, their eyes filled with the hunger and fear of long-term deprivation.

They were refugees who had survived the war in the Northern Border but had nowhere else to go, eventually hiding in this vast ruin to eke out a living.

When Karl, leading a fully armed army with distinct banners, suddenly appeared before them, the women screamed and clutched their children, shrinking back into the depths of their shelters. The men trembled, trying to protect themselves and their families.

They thought their final doom had arrived, perhaps the Sauron had returned, or new raiders had come.

But when they saw the Goldflower Kingdom banners fluttering among the troops, and the appearance of Karl and his soldiers, who, though travel-worn, were not barbarians, their terror instantly turned into bewildered disbelief.

Karl signaled the soldiers to lower their weapons. He stepped forward a few paces alone, trying to keep his tone gentle. "Do not be afraid. We are not enemies. I am the newly appointed Frontier Lord of Kahnford for the Goldflower Kingdom, Karl von Schmidt. We are here to rebuild this place and restore the kingdom's order."

The refugees stared at him blankly. After a long moment, an old man, who looked the oldest and was so thin he was just skin and bones, crawled forward a few steps tremblingly. His voice was so hoarse it was barely audible. "L-Lord? The Kingdom... the Kingdom hasn't forgotten us? The Kingdom's army is back?"

"Yes, we're back," Karl replied affirmatively. He turned back and gestured, "We will set up camp here, rebuild the fortress, and make this place a sanctuary that can protect everyone again."

After confirming Karl's identity and intentions, the despair in the refugees' eyes, like ice and snow, melted away. It was replaced by an overwhelming joy and gratitude that threatened to drown them!

"The kingdom hasn't abandoned us!"

"Gods... we've finally waited!"

"Lord! Thank you! Thank you!"

People wept, falling to their knees, bowing towards Karl and the army.

They had struggled to survive in these ruins, living each day in fear and hunger, long having given up all hope.

Now, the kingdom's army and lord had truly returned. For them, this was no less than a divine miracle!

Karl looked at these survivors, who had almost lost their human forms, and his heart felt heavy. He inexplicably felt a sense of "the royal army pacifying the central plains."

"Brendan, immediately assign personnel to start fires and prepare meals! Let everyone, including these refugees, have a hot, filling meal first!"

As the order was given, the soldiers sprang into action.

Soon, bonfires were lit once more in the long-abandoned core area of Kahnford. Smoke curled upwards, and the long-lost human warmth began to dispel the desolation and despair from the land.