FL - Chapter 88: The Homecoming Banquet

Days ago, upon receiving word that Louis was soon to return, old steward Bradley had begun organizing a banquet.

The feast was more than a victory celebration for the knights. Every resident of Crimson Tide Territory—freeman, slave, and soldier—was invited to the town square. The fare was modest but plentiful: salted fish, smoked meat, steamed vegetables, and great barrels of rye ale open to all.

Suddenly, someone shouted: "The Lord is here!"

Laughter and conversation died away. Every face turned toward the far end of the square, and the crowd rose. Parents lifted children from the ground, soldiers snapped to attention, and the slaves set down their cups without prompting.

Louis approached through the firelight at an even pace.

Two silent columns of knights formed an honor guard along the path. Louis Calvin walked between them in a sharply tailored black tunic with crimson trim, a gold chain at his shoulder and a noble's sword at his waist. His expression remained calm, but command sat naturally upon him.

He looked like a victorious king returning beneath the dawn.

He climbed the steps and faced the assembly—his people.

"My thanks to everyone gathered here. During the time I was away, it was you who protected Crimson Tide Territory. Not one of you retreated. Not one of you gave up. This victory does not belong to me alone. It belongs to all of you, to every person who has given of themselves for this land."

He paused briefly. His gaze moved across the square. Some wept. Some straightened their spines.

"Winter is approaching. Many hardships still lie ahead. But I promise you this: I will not let Crimson Tide Territory fall back into that age of bitter cold and gnawing hunger. I will use the fruits of this campaign to fight for real change, for all of you. I have returned. And I will make Crimson Tide Territory a better place."

The square held silent for one breath before long-suppressed hope erupted in a wave of applause.

Louis raised a hand, and the cheers subsided.

He continued in a measured voice. "Some among you still bear the name of slave, yet through blood and sweat you have made lasting contributions to Crimson Tide Territory."

He paused. His voice hardened with resolve. "I, Louis Calvin, hereby declare that the following two hundred individuals are, from this day forward, freed from bondage."

The words struck the square like a thunderclap.

Bradley stepped forward. He unfurled a list and began reading names, one by one: "Isaac. Marlene. Balson…"

A middle-aged slave heard his name. He froze for a heartbeat. Then he collapsed to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

"Th-Thank you, my lord… for giving me back my freedom!"

More and more names were read. More and more people fell to their knees, weeping without restraint.

"I… I'm really free?"

"I thought I would wait my whole life and never hear those words…"

"I worked the fishing boats every day. I knew that one day my turn would come… and today, it really did."

Crimson Tide Territory freed slaves every month, but no one could understand the force of that moment until their own name was called.

Among the slaves who had not been called, most lowered their eyes in silence, their expressions dim.

"Ah… not me this time, either."

"It's alright. Crimson Tide Territory frees people every month. Maybe the next batch will be ours."

"There will be more chances… as long as we keep working hard, one day we'll be freemen too."

No resentment showed in their eyes. They comforted one another, knowing that the number of slaves dwindled every month. Many had once been freemen elsewhere before enslavement brought them here, and life under Louis was better than freedom in many other lands. They understood exactly how merciful this territory and its lord were.

Some freemen applauded of their own accord. Many eyes held quiet, heartfelt gladness.

"He worked the fields alongside me," a lean, tall middle-aged man said to the person beside him. "Quick hands, hard worker… I knew he'd earn his freedom."

"Yeah," the other nodded. "We all came up from slavery ourselves."

Louis looked over those who remained kneeling, their faces wet with tears.

His voice was not loud, but it reached every corner. "Your names, Crimson Tide will not forget. Those whose names were read today—you are examples to every slave among us. But this is not the end. As long as you are willing to give of yourselves for this land, one day—you too will win your freedom."

He paused. When he spoke again, his tone had shifted to something weightier. "Now it is time to honor another group. The knights who have fought, defended, and bled for Crimson Tide Territory. Whether you charged the enemy on the front lines or stayed behind to guard our home, it is because of your loyalty and your courage that this land and the Northlands remain safe. Your glory deserves to be remembered by the entire territory. I will now personally bestow the honors and rewards that belong to you."

A drum sounded. Bradley unfurled a parchment scroll and proclaimed the first knight's name.

"Seymour Bell. Fought in the main engagement at Clearfeather Ridge. Slayed seven enemies. Step forward to receive your reward!"

Knight Seymour walked with steady poise onto the high platform and dropped to one knee.

"For your courage. And your loyalty."

With his own hands, Louis pinned a Crimson Tide Territory medal—commissioned from the craftsmen in advance—to the knight's chest. He poured a cup of ale and read aloud the man's rewards.

Seymour accepted the cup with trembling hands and drained it in one motion. His eyes reddened. "For Crimson Tide Territory! For Lord Louis—I would gladly die in battle!"

Then came the second. The third.

The knights came forward one by one, honored for battlefield valor or steadfast defense. Some received heavy pouches of Gold Coins; others drew newly awarded longswords partway from their scabbards to admire the steel. A select few received tiny fiefs or stewardship over estates, together with formal writs of appointment.

"You will steward that land in my name. Govern it." Louis spoke the words as he handed over the writs.

Those men dropped to their knees at once. They knocked their heads hard against the ground.

"On my life—I will not betray my lord's trust!"

Wave after wave of applause rolled through the square, surging like the tide.

Weir stood at the back of the crowd, his face flushed crimson by the firelight. He did not move. He did not clap. He only stared at the rows of knights receiving their rewards.

That was the place he yearned for. The glory of his dreams.

*I'll stand there too.* The boy clenched his fists. *No matter what it costs, one day Lord Louis will reward me with his own hands.*