Rebuilding Kahnford (1)

Karl took a deep breath and strode toward the ruined lord's keep.

He pushed open the giant wooden door, which was dilapidated and covered in wormholes and the marks of swords and axes. A smell of aged dust, mold, and a lingering decay assaulted his senses, making him gag.

Karl had to dampen his scarf and cover his mouth and nose before he could enter.

The interior was far more shocking than it appeared from the outside; time seemed to have frozen on the day of the fall.

The foyer behind the main door was a scene of utter chaos.

A skeleton clad in the kingdom's standard chainmail lay toppled by the door, a rusted Sauron saber lodged between its ribs. Its own longsword was impaled in the eye socket of another Sauron corpse in fur armor, locked in a death struggle.

Scattered on the ground were broken shields, snapped spear shafts, and faded, tattered banners.

Passing through an archway into the main hall, the scene was even more horrific.

The spacious hall, which might once have been imposing, had become a vast charnel house and ruin.

More skeletons lay sprawled on the floor in various poses of combat or struggle, some piled on top of each other, clearly victims of brutal close-quarters fighting.

The walls were covered in deep gouges from swords and axes, dense pockmarks from arrows, and even large patches of black bloodstains.

Several massive dining tables and chairs had been smashed or chopped to pieces, reduced to piles of rotten wood.

A huge stone fireplace was stuffed with ashes and unburnt bone fragments, its walls stained with black soot.

Karl reached the second floor but found the grand wooden staircase leading up had been smashed in the middle by some heavy object, making it impassable.

Beneath the stairs and around the break, piles of corpses lay scattered. Many skeletons still had arrows lodged in them or fragments of stone embedded in their bones, clear evidence of a catastrophic struggle for control of the stairs.

Besides the main staircase, a narrow spiral stone staircase ran along the side. Though covered in cracks, its structure remained intact. Karl carefully ascended it.

He saw the remains of fallen soldiers on the stone steps from time to time.

The second floor had once been the residential area and functional rooms.

The corridor was dim, with only faint light filtering through cracks in the walls and arrow holes.

Most of the doors on either side of the corridor were damaged or had collapsed. Inside, the scenes were equally chaotic and deadly.

In a room that might have been a study, books and parchment had long since rotted into mud, mixed with dust and wood fragments. A skeleton in scholarly robes lay slumped over a desk, its skull crushed.

Another room, seemingly a bedroom, had a collapsed four-poster bed. A female skeleton was curled up in a corner, still clutching a smaller skeleton.

The staircase to the third floor was even more severely damaged, almost completely blocked by rubble.

Karl clambered up with difficulty and was met with a scene of utter devastation.

The third floor had clearly endured the most intense ranged attacks, possibly from Sauron catapults, artillery, or some terrible magic.

More than half of the floor had collapsed. Huge stones and broken beams had smashed through the floorboards, falling to the second level and creating a massive gaping hole.

The remaining walls were covered in scorched burn marks and enormous impact craters.

The bodies found here were mostly dismembered or crushed beneath massive stones, a truly horrifying sight.

It was clear that this had been the garrison's final command center or sanctuary, and it had suffered the most merciless and destructive assault.

After surveying the scene, Karl emerged from the gloomy, oppressive interior of the castle back into the sunlight.

He took a deep breath of the cold, yet life-giving air.

The ruins before him were a heavy burden, but the more pressing need was to create conditions for the living to survive.

Old Morrell immediately came to greet him, his face a mixture of excitement from inspecting the city walls and lingering worry.

"My Lord, should we begin rebuilding the main keep immediately?"

In his view, the lord's castle was a symbol of power and rule, the first undertaking for any lord upon arriving in their territory, crucial for prestige and security.

However, Karl shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the severely damaged structure. "No, Morrell. The main keep is too badly damaged to be rebuilt overnight. Furthermore, at this stage, its symbolic significance far outweighs its practical defensive value. What is most important for us now is not a castle to display authority, but walls to protect everyone! Sturdy walls are the foundation of our survival in this land."

He paused, pointing to the ruined barracks and the refugees huddled in the open spaces within the inner city. "But before we repair the walls, we need to provide everyone—our soldiers, slaves, and the newly arrived populace—with a shelter from the wind and rain, a place to withstand the cold. We are settling here permanently; we can't live in tents forever."

Morrell's eyes widened in surprise, then deepened with admiration.

This young lord approached problems from a completely different angle than any noble he had ever known.

Practical, clear-headed, prioritizing the needs of the common people, soldiers, and even slaves over the symbolic importance of his position as lord.

"You are absolutely right, my Lord! I was being foolish. Then let us begin by building houses!"

Soon, Karl, Old Morrell, Hans, Vali, Firth, and several other craftsmen gathered to discuss the design of the houses.

The soldiers could prioritize rebuilding the barracks, but accommodating the three hundred slaves and over twenty refugees was a major issue.

They needed temporary dwellings that could be built quickly, were well-insulated, and used easily obtainable materials.

Karl proposed an idea: "Perhaps we could build semi-subterranean houses? Most of the space would be dug underground, with the above-ground portion built with a wooden frame, covered with earth and thatch. This would allow for rapid construction, primarily requiring timber and labor. The underground portion would be very warm, able to withstand the harsh cold of the Northern Border."

The craftsmen were once again astonished. "Semi-subterranean"?

Did this lord actually understand knowledge of civil engineering like this? What other hidden talents did he possess?

Old Morrell reacted the quickest, nodding immediately. "Your idea is excellent, my Lord! It is indeed suitable for our current situation!"

He immediately took out a charcoal pencil and the leather paper he carried, quickly sketching a draft, marking details such as excavation depth, support structures, ventilation, and entrances.

The plan was set, and execution began immediately.

Karl assigned the construction tasks to the slave teams.

These slaves no longer needed soldiers to supervise them sternly.

Otto, Morgan, Fenn, and eight other captains had effectively organized a management structure.

They loudly relayed instructions, and the slaves worked with extreme diligence, none slacking off.

For they knew well that working for this lord not only meant a full belly but also tangible rewards and opportunities for promotion. Even the seemingly unattainable status of freemen appeared to hold a glimmer of hope!

Meanwhile, Karl gave the soldiers another solemn and heavy task: clearing the remains piled up inside and outside Kahnford, especially at the breaches in the castle and city walls.

The soldiers silently carried out the orders, and cartloads of pale bones were transported down the hillside.

Karl specifically instructed: "The bodies of the Sauron can be dealt with collectively, but our fallen soldiers of the Goldflower Kingdom must be treated with reverence and buried properly! They died fighting for the kingdom, for the people behind them, and are comrades we never met but are bound to by blood. We absolutely cannot let them lie exposed in the wilderness, sharing a tomb with the enemy!"

The soldiers deeply agreed and carried out the order meticulously.

The Sauron's remains were directly dumped into a massive pit, quickly piling up like a mountain.

The remains of the kingdom's soldiers, however, were carefully sorted. Even if identification was impossible, they tried their best to piece together fragmented limbs, then wrapped them loosely in tattered cloth.

One by one, row by row, they were neatly laid in another large excavated grave, their postures solemn, as if a silent army was resting in formation.

After burial, before the massive tomb where the kingdom's soldiers lay, Karl personally ordered a rough but heavy stone tablet to be erected.

On the tablet, a scribe, who had some literacy, carved simple inscriptions:

Here lie the garrison soldiers of Kahnford Fortress, Northern Border, Goldflower Kingdom.

They held firm in despair, shedding their last drop of blood for the kingdom and its people.

Their heroic souls shall not perish, their loyal bones shall endure forever.

--Erected with respect by their successor, Karl von Schmidt, and all rebuilders.

The simple ceremony was filled with power.

All the soldiers involved in the cleanup and burial, as well as the refugees and slaves watching from afar, silently observed the proceedings.

An invisible sense of unity and belonging to this land quietly grew amidst this act of comforting the deceased.

With the ruins cleared and the dead laid to rest, a new life finally began to sprout, arduously yet hopefully, on the ruins of Kahnford.