Several days earlier, after learning that Louis would soon return, the old steward Bradley had begun preparing a banquet.
This banquet was not merely a celebration of the knights' victory.
Everyone in the Red Tide Fief, whether freemen, slaves, or soldiers, had been invited. It would be held in the square at the center of town.
The food was not lavish, but it had everything a feast needed.
Salted fish, smoked meat, steamed vegetables...
There was also rye ale in large barrels, free for anyone to help themselves.
Suddenly, someone shouted, "The lord is here!"
The laughter gradually subsided.
Everyone turned toward the far end of the square, then rose to their feet.
Parents gently lifted the children sitting on the ground, soldiers instinctively stood straight, and the slaves all set down their cups.
In the firelight, Louis approached at an unhurried pace.
On either side of him, two ranks of knights lined the path like an honor guard, solemn and silent.
And at the center of their protection walked the lord everyone looked up to, Louis Calvin.
He wore a simple, tailored black formal outfit with red patterns, a gold chain draped over his shoulders and a nobleman's sword at his waist.
His expression was as calm as ever, yet he carried an unmistakable composure-the commanding presence of a leader who inspired trust.
Like a king returning in triumph.
Like the sun rising at dawn.
He slowly climbed the steps and stood before the crowd, his gaze sweeping over his people below.
"Thank you, everyone. While I was away, you protected the Red Tide Fief. Not one of you backed down or gave up.
"This victory does not belong to me alone. It belongs to you, to everyone who has worked for this land."
He paused briefly, his eyes