·
It had been exactly one month since Louis Calvin arrived at the Red Tide Territory.
Under the deep blue canopy of the night sky, a temporary wooden platform had been erected in the center of the territory's main square. Though simple in construction, it stood tall and firm, symbolizing the fragile yet growing foundation of this land. Louis stood atop the platform, his cloak fluttering lightly in the cold night wind as his gaze swept calmly over the crowd gathered below.
Bonfires burned brightly around the square, their flames crackling and dancing, casting long shadows that stretched across the frozen ground. The glow of the fire reflected off iron armor and polished steel, illuminating the faces of soldiers and civilians alike.
Twelve knights clad in iron armor stood in two perfectly aligned rows behind Louis. Their posture was rigid and disciplined, their hands resting steadily on the hilts of their swords. Though they did not move or speak, their presence alone lent an air of solemn authority to the gathering, making the young lord on the platform appear all the more imposing.
"Whoosh!"
The sound of a horn suddenly pierced the night sky, long and clear, echoing across the territory and rolling outward toward the distant wilderness. At that moment, the Red Tide Territory's first official commendation ceremony formally began.
Over thirty Red Tide Knights stepped forward in unison and knelt on one knee.
With their left fists pressed firmly against their chests and their right hands gripping the hilts of their knightly swords, they recited the oath Louis had personally prepared in advance. Their voices rose together, powerful and unwavering:
"We believe in the Dragon Ancestor and follow the Lord of Red Tide!
Loyal to Louis Calvin, we swear with blood and sweat to defend the glory of Red Tide!"
The oath rang through the square like thunder, carrying with it the weight of conviction and resolve. For a brief moment, silence followed—then the entire square erupted.
Cheers surged like a tidal wave. Soldiers struck their shields with fists and weapons, creating a resounding clangor. Farmers raised their hoes and wooden staffs high into the air. Even children, perched on their parents' shoulders or peeking from behind adults, shouted with excitement, their voices shrill but sincere.
Louis raised one hand slightly.
The gesture was simple, but it carried authority. Gradually, the noise subsided. One by one, voices fell silent until the square was once again still. Every pair of eyes turned upward, fixed on the young lord standing on the wooden platform.
Louis took a breath and began to speak.
"It has been one month since we arrived at the Red Tide Territory," he said, his voice steady and clear. "One month ago, this land was nothing more than barren wilderness—a frozen, desolate place abandoned by hope itself."
His gaze slowly swept across the crowd.
"We faced poverty, hunger, relentless blizzards, and the constant threat of wild beasts. There were days when survival itself felt uncertain."
He paused, allowing his words to sink in.
"But today, we stand here because we have overcome the first stage of that crisis."
Louis straightened, his tone growing stronger.
"And this achievement does not belong to me alone. It belongs to all of you."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"It was you who built the first houses, braving the cold so that children and the elderly no longer had to sleep exposed to wind and snow. It was you who caught the first fish from the river, filling the stomachs of your brothers and sisters when food was scarce."
Louis extended his arm, pointing toward the distant farmland beyond the square, faintly visible under torchlight.
"It was you who broke frozen soil, cultivated the first fields, and sowed the first seeds—planting hope itself into this barren land."
His voice rose with passion.
"All of this is because of you! It is your sweat, your labor, and your perseverance that have breathed life into the Red Tide Territory!"
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then, throughout the crowd, fists clenched. Many people felt their throats tighten, their eyes burning red with emotion. Farmers, hunters, and laborers lowered their heads, trembling slightly as emotions they had never known surged within them.
When had they ever heard a lord give credit to commoners?
In the past, survival alone was a blessing. Praise was unheard of. Kindness from nobles was rare, and fairness was almost mythical.
Louis looked over the people before him and continued, "Merit deserves reward. In the Red Tide Territory, no matter your origin or status, as long as you are diligent and loyal, you will receive what you have earned."
His words carried a weight that pressed into every heart present.
"Now," he said, "it is time to commend those who have made outstanding contributions to this land."
The square fell completely silent. Even the crackling of the bonfires seemed subdued. Everyone held their breath.
"Agricultural Affairs Officer, Mick."
A middle-aged man with a hunched back stepped forward. His old leather boots, stained with mud and wear, slipped slightly on the wooden steps as he climbed the platform. For decades, his spine had been bent by labor and hardship.
Yet when he stood before Louis, his back slowly straightened—perfectly erect.
"Mick," Louis said, gesturing toward the farmland, "you optimized our cultivation methods and brought life to soil that many believed was dead."
The fields in the distance, though still young, were unmistakably alive.
"Therefore," Louis declared, "I officially promote you to Agricultural Superintendent. You will be granted greater authority over farmland management, along with an additional plot of land for experimental planting."
Tears streamed freely down Mick's weathered face.
"Thank you, my lord," he said hoarsely.
Warm applause spread through the square, and many farmers cheered loudly, pride shining in their eyes.
"Craftsman Representative, Mac."
An elderly man with sun-darkened skin stepped onto the platform. Though his body was frail, his expression was filled with dignity and pride.
"You have demonstrated exceptional talent in architectural design," Louis said, "making our houses stronger, warmer, and better suited to this harsh environment."
He gestured toward the rows of semi-underground communal dwellings surrounding the square.
"You are hereby granted authority to lead the artisan team, along with increased financial support."
Mac's hands trembled as he bowed deeply. "This subordinate will not fail your expectations!"
"Fisheries Officer, Luke."
One name followed another.
Knights, hunters, craftsmen, farmers—over a dozen individuals were called forward. Many were of humble origin. Some had once been slaves. Each stepped onto the platform under the gaze of the entire territory.
Louis personally presented each of them with a labor medal.
Due to limited resources, the medals were simple—carefully carved wooden tokens crafted by a skilled carpenter. Yet those who received them cradled the medals as if they were priceless treasures, afraid that even the slightest carelessness might cause them to fall.
"These individuals," Louis announced, "have given their sweat and blood to the prosperity of the Red Tide Territory. Let us thank them."
Thunderous applause erupted, echoing through the square and into the night.
The awardees stood tall, tears shimmering in their eyes as the firelight reflected off the medals on their chests. They were ordinary people—fishermen, hunters, artisans, even former slaves.
But tonight, they stood as heroes.
Many of them felt a powerful thought rise unbidden in their hearts: if Louis asked them to walk through fire or face death itself, they would not hesitate.
"Of course," Louis continued, "many others have also contributed. You deserve applause as well."
Once again, applause filled the square—this time for everyone present.
Louis's gaze then fell upon those standing at the edges of the crowd, wearing tattered clothes and bearing the unmistakable marks of slavery. They lowered their heads, hearts pounding.
"Today," Louis said slowly, "I will fulfill another promise."
The air seemed to freeze.
He read aloud a list of names—slaves who had performed exceptionally well during the past month.
When their names were called, disbelief filled their faces. Trembling, they stepped forward.
"You are officially granted freedom."
Knights stepped forward and burned their slave certificates.
The newly freed individuals collapsed to their knees, sobbing as they bowed again and again in gratitude. Nearby slaves watched with envy, regret, and—above all—hope.
"Loyalty and talent matter more than bloodline," Louis declared.
"From this day onward, the Red Tide Territory will operate under a regular reward system. Anyone who contributes will be rewarded accordingly."
The square erupted in cheers.
"To the prosperity of the Red Tide Territory," Louis said, raising his glass.
"To prosperity!"
Under the blazing bonfires, hope was born.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Robertt45