Coming Home

Stockaded Village Number One, a small house built of stones and thick timber.

The walls of the hut were a meter thick, with the gaps filled with clay mixed with hemp fibers to keep out the biting cold wind.

The roof was covered with layers of thatch and weighed down with several heavy stone slabs, remaining perfectly still despite the howling mountain winds.

There were no carved tables and chairs, no tapestries or oil paintings in the room, only a long table carved from a single piece of oak, with four thick and sturdy legs that could steadily support the family's meals and daily chores.

In the corner stood a similarly simple wooden cabinet. The cabinet door was unlocked, simply tied with a Hemp Rope. Inside were the couple's few clothes, as well as baby clothes prepared for their newborn daughter.

In the center of the room stood a sturdy fireplace. Inside the stone-built hearth, the charcoal that hadn't burned out the night before still retained a faint, dark red warmth, occasionally crackling softly and releasing wisps of warmth into the air.

Instead of an expensive carpet, there was a thick layer of dry grass mats on the ground. The mats were soft from the sun and carried a fresh grassy scent. They felt warm underfoot, much more comfortable than cold stone slabs.

This small house, though simple, exudes a sense of security, enough to withstand the harsh cold of the borderlands, and enough to provide for the everyday joys and warmth of a family of three.

This is Otto and Marissa's home.

The afternoon sun is the gentlest moment of the day; it shines over the stone walls of the Tunbao, through the wooden lattice windows covered with thin hemp paper, casting dappled light and shadow inside the house.

Sunlight fell on the straw mat, on the bluestone of the fireplace, and on the tips of Marissa's hair as she sat by the window.

Marissa was sitting on a low wooden chair, the armrests of which were smoothed by time and had a faint woody sheen.

With her head slightly lowered, she focused intently on sewing a thick, dark gray cloth robe, using the light streaming in from the window.

The fabric was distributed uniformly by the Lord's Residence; it was rough but durable, making it the most suitable material for the new army.

Her fingers were slender yet nimble, holding a smooth, rounded bone needle. The stitches were fine and even, extending in rows along the edge of the fabric without the slightest deviation.

Her lips were slightly pursed, her expression focused, and she didn't even notice the sunlight falling on her eyelashes and casting a small, light shadow.

On the back of this robe, a simple yet striking emblem has been embroidered in bright red cotton thread—the outline of a spruce tree, its needles layered, upright and vigorous.

This is the uniform insignia of Lord Karl's new army, and it is the symbol of Carnford.

Sewing military uniforms was a task assigned by the army to rush to make uniforms for the new army that was about to be equipped with new uniforms.

Many women in the territory took on this job, especially those who had fled from the war and had no family to rely on. They earned a meager income by doing manual labor to supplement their household income.

This job was perfect for Marissa.

She had just given birth and her body had not fully recovered, so she could not work in the fields outside the Tunbao like other able-bodied men, nor could she carry heavy objects in the workshop.

Sitting at home sewing robes, she can earn money and take care of her daughter lying next to her at any time, killing two birds with one stone.

After sewing a few stitches, her fingertips would ache slightly. At that point, she would put down the needle and thread, and habitually turn her head to look at the small crib made from an old wooden box beside her.

The wooden box was originally used in the warehouse to store weapon parts. Later, it was no longer needed and was brought back by Otto. Now it has been wiped clean and the inner wall is lined with a layer of soft cotton cloth.

A thick wool blanket was placed on the cotton cloth, making it as warm as a small nest.

Their newborn daughter was lying inside, sleeping soundly.

The little one's face was as red as a ripe apple, rosy and chubby, his tiny nose twitching slightly, his breathing even and long.

Long eyelashes covered her eyelids like two delicate little fans, occasionally trembling slightly, as if she were having a sweet dream.

Whenever she sees her daughter's peaceful sleeping face, a gentle smile unconsciously spreads across Marissa's face.

That smile concealed weariness, but even more so, it held an indescribable sense of satisfaction and happiness.

She reached out and gently stroked her daughter's soft hair with her fingertips. The warm touch from her fingertips made her heart burn.

During those turbulent days, she fell into despair countless times, until the arrival of this little life.

This adorable little guy was her and Otto's most precious comfort amidst the flames of war and endless hardships, and the only hope that kept them going.

"Squeak--"

A soft sound broke the silence inside the room. The wooden door was gently pushed open from the outside, bringing with it a biting cold wind and the dust and sweat from the training ground. Otto had returned.

He wasn't particularly tall, but he had broad shoulders. He wore a faded old military uniform, covered in mud and grime, with the collar and cuffs soaked with sweat and clinging tightly to his skin.

Otto didn't stride in as usual, but instead walked in quietly, afraid of disturbing the peace inside.

He gently closed the door behind him, shutting out the cold wind, then took off his dusty coat and carefully hung it on the nails beside the door.

He hammered the nail in himself; it was positioned neither too high nor too low, just enough for him to hang his clothes.

After doing all this, he tiptoed quietly to the crib.

He bent down, his gaze gently falling on his daughter's little face. The weariness in his eyes vanished instantly, leaving only boundless love.

He reached out his rough fingers and carefully touched his daughter's delicate cheek. The touch of his fingertips was warm and smooth, like caressing a priceless treasure.

Perhaps his actions were a bit too reckless, or perhaps his daughter was just a light sleeper.

The little one wrinkled its tiny nose, pouted its pink lips slightly, and made a few soft "humming" sounds. Its little body twisted slightly, and its long eyelashes fluttered, as if it was about to wake up from its sweet dream.

"Ouch! Be gentle!"

Seeing this, Marissa quickly put down her needlework and scolded her in a low voice, while gently patting her daughter's back, trying to get the little one back to sleep.

Upon hearing this, Otto scratched his head somewhat embarrassedly, a simple and honest smile appearing on his face.

He leaned closer to the crib, lingering for a few more glances at his daughter until he saw the little one close her eyes again and her breathing become steady. Only then did he straighten up, turn around, and walk towards the wooden tub in the corner of the room.

The wooden basin was half-filled with cool water, which Marissa had specially brought that morning.

Otto picked up the coarse cloth towel draped over the edge of the basin, dipped it in cold water, and haphazardly wiped his face.

The icy water slid down his neck and into his collar, making him shiver and relaxing his tense nerves from training.

He shook the water droplets off his face, turned to look at Marissa, a smile playing on his lips.