Compensation

Compensation

On the way back, Adrian opened his mouth several times, wanting to ask, but ultimately held back. Seeing his anxious expression, Roderick explained, "Let's check on Alwyn and Red first. I'll give you a detailed explanation afterward."

When they arrived at the blacksmith's house, Alwyn was lying bored on the bed, fiddling with the bandages around his body. "You're finally here! These past few days have nearly bored me to death." Seeing them, Alwyn shouted happily, only to jar his injured lungs and break into a fit of coughing.

Roderick hurriedly cast a Holy Light on him. The warm positive energy soothed the wounds in his lungs, making Alwyn feel much better.

"Don't get worked up. What did the priest say?" Albert asked.

"Cough, it's nothing serious. A few broken ribs, a few cuts from Murlocs. I won't die." Alwyn wore a proud expression when speaking of his injuries; these were a warrior's medals.

"Chris is all right, isn't he? I keep feeling like I'm having a nightmare. In the dream, he was killed by the Murlocs..."

"You didn't see wrong. Chris is dead," Roderick answered bluntly.

Everyone's mood instantly plunged from the good news of Alwyn's recovery to rock bottom. Arnold had been thinking of saying something cheerful to lift everyone's spirits when Roderick continued calmly, "We knights fight fiercely upon the battlefield. To die for the cause of justice is to die without regret."

His somewhat heartless words kept them from continuing to wallow in the grief of losing a comrade. Instead, they began to contemplate death—or rather, the meaning of life as a knight.

"Well said!" The one who entered while clapping was Alwyn's father, Bass the blacksmith.

"When we fought the Orcs back then, who had time to grieve? Comrades around us died batch after batch. Those of us who survived were probably blessed by the Holy Light." Bass watched Alwyn drink the potion prepared by the priest, then patted Roderick on the shoulder. "You're not bad, kid. Even in Lothar's guard, you wouldn't count as a coward."

"Alwyn, you little brat, you've still got a long way to go! If they hadn't saved you, you wouldn't be lying here groaning to your old man!"

"Dad, you don't know how powerful that Murloc was. With one blow, it sent my shield flying..."

After watching the father and son's comedy routine, they bade farewell to Alwyn and Bass. Roderick's group then headed to the Church of the Holy Light's compound, where all wounded soldiers had to wait for treatment from the priests.

There was good news and bad news. Red had finally escaped mortal danger, though he had lost too much blood at the time and remained very weak.

The bad news was terrible. Two soldiers whose stomachs had been pierced by Murlocs failed to survive the ensuing complications and died from severe wound infections. Those rust-covered Murloc weapons were practically killing machines in this regard. Fortunately, Azeroth had the unscientific magic of the Holy Light, and some relatively minor wounds could be completely healed. Otherwise, under the medical conditions here, an infection from a small wound might ultimately require amputating an entire arm, and the Southshore Guard might have been wiped out completely.

Thalmar Stormpike was also taking his clansmen back to Dun Garok Fortress. The Stormpike Dwarf warriors had made an immense contribution to this battle. They firmly refused payment in gold, so in the end, they accepted large quantities of Southshore Spirits and food instead. Only then did the Dwarves leave Southshore, riding their native Highland goats and specially modified goat-drawn carts.

Before leaving, Thalmar told Roderick that he would inform the captain about the development plan for the Hillsbrad River, but the final decision would need to be made by the senior Stormpike officers fighting in the Alterac Mountains.

After several days of recuperation, the Town Council's decision arrived. Not only had they granted Roderick the authorization he needed to reclaim wasteland, but with a grand stroke of the pen, the Town Council had also granted him all the land along the Hillsbrad River. Even the deeds bore Roderick's family seal.

At such a young age, Roderick was already a noble knight with an actual fief.

For the moment, though, it produced nothing. Land had been granted, but one still needed to live long enough to enjoy it. Vast numbers of nobles had died in northern Lordaeron, while many others had fled south. Their fiefs in the north of the kingdom had not been reclaimed, after all, even the Kingdom of Lordaeron no longer existed.

But there were probably more dead people than living ones in those places now. Aside from whatever savings they possessed, these refugees bearing noble titles could only rely on family legacies left behind by their ancestors, or become warriors, mages, craftsmen, or merchants. They had no other choice. The Kingdom of Stormwind's nobles were nearly too numerous to fit within the city districts, let alone these northern nobles who had lost everything.

Reclaiming wasteland as Roderick did was quite common in places where the Undead were not too rampant. Refugees needed to eat and fill their stomachs as well.

After the fall of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, the only places that could still maintain effective rule were probably the two towns in the Hillsbrad Foothills, along with several noble territories in the north guarded by powerful knightly orders—places such as Hearthglen and Tyr's Hand.

They too needed to fight the powerful Scourge armies. By comparison, Southshore and Hillsbrad, located farther south, felt much safer.

Many people could not understand why Roderick had spent so much on obtaining that authorization. These days, even the king was dead—who still cared about managing land reclamation? Naturally, Roderick had his own considerations. After receiving the Guard's share, Roderick borrowed several Town Council clerks and distributed all the soldiers' rewards and compensation for the dead and wounded at the training camp.

The families of every fallen soldier received compensation of five gold coins, an enormous sum that most farmers would never see in their entire lives. The other wounded soldiers each received compensation as well.

Because the losses from the battle had been so heavy and they had yet to see any compensation, many people had been uneasy. Once they received the substantial payments, the soldiers and families present cheered in unison. From that day onward, no one could shake Roderick's prestige within the Guard, and he successfully achieved Revered reputation with Southshore.

For some time afterward, the Southshore Town Council began expanding the docks on a large scale and started building lighthouses along the Western Strand. Southshore's overseas trade would surely become even more prosperous in the future, and larger ships would be able to dock there. This was good news for both merchants and ordinary townsfolk.

Southshore's long-abandoned fishing industry could finally resume work. Fishing boats occasionally cast their nets near the Western Strand, while those fond of fishing no longer had to crowd into that tiny patch of sea by the docks. Along the cleaned-up shore, people could cast their rods anywhere. After the Guard included the beach in its security patrol routes, it became the favorite playground of the town's children. The sacrifices of Chris and the others would ultimately have meaning.