The battlefield still stank of smoke and blood when Eugene ordered the Spears not to celebrate too loudly. Victory was sweet, but victory without roots was hollow.
As the Hojo banners burned in the distance, he gathered his closest retainers around the campfire. Hiroshi leaned on his axe, grinning like a beast still hungry for more fights. Masanori hunched over maps, already calculating the enemy's next response. Lady Aiko sat with perfect poise, her eyes reflecting the flames.
"Hojo is not defeated," Masanori said gravely. "They will return with reinforcements, perhaps twice as many."
"Which is why we don't wait for them," Eugene replied, voice calm but iron-edged. "We plant roots here. Villages, farms, roads—anything that ties this land to us. If the people see us as liberators, Hojo's army will march into hostile ground. If they see us as conquerors, we will be crushed beneath their hatred."
Aiko studied him, her lips curving faintly. "So now you wear not only the armor of a samurai, but the robes of a ruler."
The Oath of Villages
The first task was the villages near the battlefield.
Eugene rode with a small escort into the largest, a hamlet with burned fields and gaunt peasants. The headman, a weary man with bowed shoulders, met him at the shrine.
"We are caught between lords," the man muttered bitterly. "One taxes us, another burns us, and now a third arrives. Do you claim us too, young lord?"
Eugene dismounted, removing his helmet. He held no weapon—only a sack of rice. He placed it at the old man's feet.
"I do not claim you. I ask you. Raise the Crescent banner, and you will eat. Refuse, and I will not burn your homes. But when Hojo returns, they will see you as theirs, not mine."
The headman stared, torn between fear and hope. Behind him, hungry villagers eyed the rice. A child tugged his sleeve, whispering, "Father… please."
Slowly, the old man bowed. "Then let the Crescent rise. If you protect us, we will call you lord."
The banner was raised. That night, the Spears shared their own rations with the villagers. For the first time in months, the hamlet feasted. Children laughed. Women sang. And the Crescent shone above them, not as a conqueror's mark, but as a promise.
Laws of the Crescent
By Eugene's command, scrolls were written and read aloud in every village they passed. The laws were simple, clear, and absolute:
No Spears may take by force from the people.
Taxes will not exceed one-tenth of harvest.
Villages under the Crescent shall be shielded from raiders, bandits, and rival lords.
Betrayal will be punished without mercy.
"Only four laws?" Hiroshi asked skeptically as he signed his name to the decree with a clumsy brushstroke.
"Four is enough," Eugene answered. "A man should not need a scholar to know right from wrong. Too many rules breed confusion. Simplicity breeds loyalty."
Lady Aiko tilted her head. "And fear. The fourth law is clear enough."
"Fear and trust," Eugene said softly. "Two blades of the same sword."
Rebuilding with Iron
The Spears did not idle between battles. Under Eugene's orders, they rebuilt. Bridges were repaired, roads cleared, storehouses fortified. Peasants were given Crescent-marked tools—axes, plows, sickles—crafted by the fortress smiths.
At first, villagers were wary, certain the Spears would steal the fruits of their labor. But when harvest wagons rolled to Crescent-controlled granaries and they received fair shares back, trust grew.
Hiroshi grumbled often, unused to seeing soldiers work alongside peasants. "We're warriors, not carpenters."
Eugene clapped his shoulder once. "A warrior protects. If lifting stones builds loyalty stronger than killing enemies, then you lift."
Hiroshi eventually obeyed, though he muttered about it for days. Yet villagers, seeing the mighty warrior sweating alongside them, whispered of the Crescent's strange new way: a lord whose soldiers fought by day and built by night.
Seeds in the Soil
It was Lady Aiko who suggested the next step.
"The people see your Spears as guardians," she said one evening. "But to truly root your rule, you must touch the land itself."
Eugene nodded. "You mean farming."
"Yes. Teach them new ways to yield more rice. To feed more mouths. If they believe the Crescent brings not only safety, but prosperity, no other banner will tempt them."
The system hummed in agreement.
[System Recommendation]:Introduce crop rotation and irrigation techniques.Projected increase in yield: 18–27%.
And so, in fields once left fallow, Eugene walked among peasants, demonstrating strange patterns of planting, canals dug to redirect water, dikes reinforced with stone. At first, farmers laughed at the "child lord playing with mud."
But when sprouts rose stronger, greener, and faster than before, laughter turned to reverence.
"Perhaps he carries the blessing of the gods," one old woman whispered, watching Eugene kneel in the fields. "Or perhaps he is a god himself."
The Children of the Crescent
Among the greatest changes Eugene made was in the children.
He ordered village youths gathered, boys and girls alike, and had Spears teach them letters, numbers, and discipline. Bamboo swords clattered as children sparred under watchful eyes. Simple scrolls were read aloud, stories of valor and loyalty.
"Why waste time on brats?" Hiroshi complained again.
"Because brats become Spears," Eugene replied. "And if they grow with Crescent in their hearts, no enemy can erase it."
The children adored him. They called him Crescent-sama, running to greet him whenever he entered a village. And as their laughter filled the air, even battle-hardened Spears softened.
For every child who dreamed of becoming a Spear, a seed was planted deeper than any conquest could reach.
Shadows of Doubt
Yet not all welcomed these seeds.
At night, in the hushed chambers of the council, Masanori voiced his concern.
"You spread too quickly. Villages smile now, yes—but smiles fade when taxes come due. When Hojo strikes again, these peasants may crumble, leaving us exposed."
Eugene looked at him steadily. "Then we will make them strong before that day comes."
Lady Aiko added softly, "And if Ishida strikes from the north while Hojo presses from the east?"
Eugene's jaw tightened. "Then we hold. And if we cannot, we adapt. That is all I know."
But in his heart, he felt the weight. The more seeds he planted, the greater the harvest of both loyalty and risk. A kingdom was rising—but so too were the shadows gathering against it.
The Crescent Grows
Weeks passed. The Crescent banner rose above village after village. Rumors spread like wildfire: of a young lord who fed the hungry, who punished traitors without hesitation, who taught peasants as if they were samurai.
Merchants began to return, eager to trade under the promise of protection. Wanderers came seeking service. Even ronin—masterless samurai—bowed, offering their blades.
When the Spears returned to the fortress, their numbers swelled. Not merely two thousand now, but more, fed by the faith of those who raised the Crescent.
Eugene stood upon the walls one dawn, watching the sun rise over the east. His system pulsed softly in his mind.
[Status Update]:Controlled villages: 14.Loyal population: 12,000+.Spears active: 2,800 and rising.Kingdom foundation: stable.
The boy who once awoke in a strange world was gone. In his place stood a lord, his kingdom sprouting from seeds of loyalty.
But far away, beyond the horizon, Ishida's wolves stirred once more, and Hojo sharpened its blades.
The seeds would soon be tested by storm.