Real Mount and Blade Game

The morning sun pierced through the thin mist, dispelling the last trace of shadow in the forest.

As Shen Mu rode his horse out of the tangled and twisted forest of dead trees in Balihe Street, the sudden open view before him caused even a slight tremor in his heart, despite his long life and the lingering pain of the Yenogu curse deep in his soul.

Deherem.

It is no longer the stronghold that relied on the ancient castle and struggled to survive amidst the flames of war, as I remember it.

A towering city wall, as majestic as a mountain range, stands prominently on the vast plain. Its height is estimated to be nearly twenty-five meters. It is constructed of huge, polished, bluish-gray rocks, and its surface shimmers with a faint light unique to certain reinforcing runes.

On the city walls, arrow towers stood densely like a forest, each covered with sturdy crenellations and firing ports. The dark muzzles of crossbows were faintly visible, and the cold, metallic gleam shimmered in the early sun, weaving a skyline where death and order intertwined.

Further away, several larger and more complex bastions guarded key transportation nodes, their silhouettes casting huge shadows in the morning light, silently proclaiming the inviolability of this place.

Beyond the city walls lies a reassuring vitality and abundance. As far as the eye can see, there is an almost endless expanse of fertile land.

Tens of thousands of acres of fertile land stretch out into the distance like a huge, colorful chessboard, extending all the way to the hazy horizon.

Golden waves of ripe wheat rippled in the breeze, whispering murmurs of harvest; rows of emerald green vegetable fields stood in neat rows; and the newly reclaimed, dark brown land exuded the fragrance of the earth.

The crisscrossing irrigation canals are like the lifeblood of the earth, continuously delivering fresh water from distant rivers to every inch of farmland.

A huge wooden waterwheel slowly turned on the riverbank, emitting a low and rhythmic creaking sound, lifting the clear river water and pouring it into the dry canal.

More sophisticated foot-operated waterwheels are scattered throughout the fields, operated by farmers to precisely irrigate the terraced fields higher up.

Several large windmills stand on the high ground with a wide view. The huge wind blades rotate slowly, driving the stone mills to grind the harvested grains. The whistling sound of the wind blades stirring the air, together with the chirping of birds, the sound of flowing water, and the shouts of farmers, create a prosperous pastoral symphony.

"Hoo..." Shen Mu took a deep breath of the air mixed with the scents of soil, grain, and distant forests. The hidden pain in his soul caused by the backlash of divinity seemed to be soothed by this solid land that he had personally laid the foundation for.

These vast farmlands, efficient irrigation systems, and roaring mills are not only a guarantee of survival but also the foundation for future counterattacks against the abyss and the rebuilding of order. Behind him, two hundred silent, mountain-like Holy Tree Knights, their silver armor gleaming with a sacred light in the sunlight, slightly relaxed their straight spines. Their gazes swept over this peaceful scene bought with countless sacrifices, and a barely perceptible warmth flickered deep within their resolute eyes.

The thunderous sound of hooves approached from afar. The massive main gate of Deherim, the west gate facing the Balihe Street, roared open, and three riders sped out like arrows, kicking up a trail of dust, their target Shen Mu and his group.

The first man was clad in gleaming Swadian plate armor, covered by a dark blue cloak symbolizing honor and loyalty, with the lion emblem of Deherim engraved on his breastplate.

His face was resolute, his eyes sharp as an eagle's, and the years had etched fine lines at the corners of his eyes, but these only added to his composure. He was none other than Fatis, the knight renowned for his bravery and integrity, and deeply loved by his soldiers.

Following closely to his right was a man in more practical noble armor with more chainmail lining. His face was serious, even a little cold, and his figure was as straight as a javelin. He was none other than the nobleman Rezarit, who was known for his iron-fisted military discipline, his expertise in training, and his city defense.

Slightly behind by half a horse's length, a middle-aged man dressed in an elegant dark brown velvet coat and a soft hat, with a slightly plump figure but agile movements, was none other than Manid, the town steward of Deherim and a former merchant.

His face showed the shrewdness typical of a businessman, but at this moment it was filled with more heartfelt excitement and respect.

The three men simultaneously reined in their horses ten paces in front of Shen Mu, their movements clean and swift. They dismounted, knelt on one knee, and moved in perfect unison.

"Welcome back in triumph, Lord!" Fatis's voice was loud and powerful, with the distinctive clang of a soldier.

“Deherim is ready and waiting under your will, my lord,” Rezarit’s voice was concise and powerful, like the clash of metal.

"My lord! Seeing you return safely, the skies of Deherim are bright!" Manid's voice was tinged with a barely perceptible sob, and his round face was filled with genuine joy. "Everything is developing according to the plans you made before you left. The main structures of the western and eastern outer cities are complete, and all our fellow citizens of Earth have moved in and settled in. The inner city area is entirely guarded by our warriors and core personnel, and everything is in perfect order!"

Shen Mu dismounted and personally went forward to help the three of them up one by one.

When his palms touched the shoulder armor of Fatis and Rezarit, he could feel the surging power and loyalty beneath the cold metal; when he grasped Manid's hand, he could feel the other's slight trembling due to excitement.

“Fatis, Rezarit, Manid,” Shen Mu’s gaze swept over the three high-ranking officials, carrying approval and a hint of barely perceptible weariness, “You have done well. Deherim’s current state is all thanks to your hard work. This land is our strongest shield, and also our spear that pierces the abyss.” He looked up, his gaze once again sweeping over the towering city walls and the boundless wheat fields, “Come, let me see our home.”

Surrounded by three high-ranking officials and the Holy Tree Knights, Shen Mu and his entourage passed through the massive west gate and officially entered the outer city area of ​​Deherim—the western outer city.

Upon entering, one is greeted by a central main road, twenty meters wide and paved with smooth stone slabs, leading straight to the second city wall in the distance. The scenery on both sides of the road instantly pulls one into a world full of medieval life, slightly crowded yet vibrant.

Along both sides of the main road stood rows of three-story stone and wood buildings. These structures were Manid's proud masterpieces and the core residences for the large number of Blue Star immigrants. The foundations and load-bearing structures were built of sturdy local bluestone, ensuring stability; above that were frames and walls made of thick logs, the wood surfaces coated with a dark brown paint to repel insects and prevent decay, emitting a faint scent of pine resin. Each building appeared heavy and practical, with moderately sized windows fitted with glass of low transparency or covered with oil-tanned leather.

The design of these “collective residences” was clearly carefully considered.

The ground floor of each building is usually a public space or a small shop or workshop.

Inside the open storefronts, blacksmith apprentices can be seen hammering away at farm tools or simple ironwork; the bakery wafts an enticing aroma of wheat; tailors hang ready-made garments outside their shops; and the general store owner is carrying bundles of hemp rope and earthenware jars to his door. The second and third floors are densely packed with residential units.

Each unit is small, but they are connected by a narrow outdoor staircase and corridor, maximizing space utilization. It is the busy time of morning, and many windows are open, with laundry hanging out to dry, the colorful fabrics fluttering in the breeze like flags.

Women lined up to draw water from the public well, their conversations, children's laughter, vendors' cries, and the distant rumble of the mill blending together into a lively and bustling symphony.

“My lord, please look,” Manid said, pointing to a typical building by the roadside, a hint of pride in his voice. “Following your instructions and my plan, each of these three-story stone and wood houses can stably and comfortably accommodate fifty adult residents. We have meticulously planned the neighborhood, including fire lanes and small community squares, and wells and public toilets are also provided according to the area. Although it is a bit crowded, hygiene, safety, and basic living conditions are guaranteed. Our compatriots on Blue Star have gone from initial fear and anxiety to basically adapting, and many have already started working in workshops or renting shops to do small businesses.”

Shen Mu's gaze slowly swept across the street. He saw people dressed in coarse cloth clothes modified from Blue Star designs bustling about, patrol teams in Swadian leather armor or militia uniforms maintaining order, and people from different cultural backgrounds living under the same roof or beside the same well. Although there was still some awkwardness, at least an order of coexistence had been established. The street was wide, but bustling with people and stalls lining both sides, mostly selling fresh fruits and vegetables, coarse grains, and simple handicrafts.

The air was filled with the mixed smells of bread, horse manure, firewood smoke, sweat, and freshly forged ironware—the smell of life, the unique "human touch" of densely populated areas, not fragrant, but full of tenacious vitality.

"Orderly and peaceful, prosperous and safe. Manid, you deserve much credit." Shen Mu nodded slightly, his eyes revealing genuine approval. This western outer city, though far from luxurious, even somewhat rough, was efficient, practical, and brimming with vitality. Like a giant beehive, it continuously provided the Deherim war machine with essential manpower, resources, and energy. This pleased him more than any flashy decorations. The group proceeded along the main road, passing through the bustling western outer city, finally arriving at the second wall of the inner city.

This city wall was equally tall and sturdy, but its style was more ancient and imposing, bearing traces of the old castle of Deherim. The soldiers guarding the city gate wore uniform, well-maintained Swadian armor, their sharp eyes and rigorous inspections highlighting the central position of the inner city. With the heavy sound of winches and the clanging of chains, the inner city gate slowly rose.

Stepping into the inner city, the atmosphere changed abruptly. The bustling city life of the western outer city was instantly replaced by an orderly, militaristic atmosphere and a calm, heavy industrial feel.

The first thing that catches the eye is the vast military camp area. Tents of different types and styles, as well as semi-permanent wooden and stone barracks, are clearly separated according to the type of soldier.

The Swadian barracks occupied the most open area closest to the city gate. One could see recruits in simple leather armor undergoing drill training; light infantry and infantrymen practicing formation changes with long spears and shields; and well-equipped sergeants in gleaming armor undergoing rigorous physical and combat training under the discipline of their instructors. Further in, there was a separate heavy cavalry barracks, where tall warhorses snorted within their enclosures, and attendants meticulously polished the knights' heavy, gleaming plate armor and lances. Occasionally, a troop of fully armed knights could be seen, like a mobile steel fortress, conducting small-scale tactical drills in the open space, the deep, powerful rumble of their hooves echoing across the ground.

The Rhodok barracks were located in a relatively remote area with slightly undulating terrain. Here, the renowned pikemen and crossbowmen formed the main force. Experienced Rhodok pikemen, wielding spears exceeding four meters in length, practiced a sturdy chevaux-de-frise formation, their shouts deep and powerful. Rhodok crossbowmen, meanwhile, repeatedly loaded, aimed, and fired at the firing range, the sounds of their crossbows echoing throughout. In a solemn corner, several restored Rhodok heavy ballistae were even parked, alongside piles of specially made bolts—a testament to the enduring spirit of the "Indomitable."

The area near the city wall's arrow towers in the Vaegir barracks is a hotbed of archers and frost archers, who are practicing their marksmanship from the high ground. The distinctive arc of their composite bows drawn and the whistling of arrows piercing the air are the most common sounds heard in this area. Meanwhile, some Vaegir infantrymen, equipped with chainmail and battle axes, are engaged in fierce close-quarters combat training in the open space between the barracks.

Beyond the military barracks lies the core functional area of ​​the inner city, which is also clearly planned.

The light industry and warehousing area was located near the west gate, facilitating the movement of goods. The massive warehouse complex, like a silent behemoth, stored strategic materials such as grain, fodder, weapons, armor, and cloth. Next to it were densely packed workshops: in the armor workshops, the furnaces roared, and the clanging of hammers striking metal was incessant; the leather workshops exuded the distinctive smell of tanned leather; in the bow-making workshops, craftsmen carefully selected and polished wood and animal horns; and in the textile workshops, the looms emitted a monotonous and continuous clattering sound.

The commercial district is relatively concentrated on a street slightly south of the inner city center. The shops here are larger and offer better quality goods. Weapon shops display exquisitely crafted swords and armor; saddlery shops hang various saddles and bridles; specialized blacksmith shops undertake more complex weapon repairs and customizations; there are even inns offering drinks and better food, primarily catering to officers and core soldiers on leave. The trading atmosphere is more "upscale" than in the western outer city, and currency circulation is more standardized.

The metallurgical district is located in the northeast corner, downwind, far from the main residential area. Huge furnaces burn day and night, billowing smoke creating a unique spectacle. The roar of the bellows, the rumble of smelting metal, and the hiss of quenching form the background noise of this area. This is the steel heart of the Deherim armed forces, continuously producing weapons, armor plates, crossbow parts, and various tools.

The streets were bustling with people, mostly soldiers on leave, logistics personnel, craftsmen, and administrators. Most walked with steady steps, their purpose clear, their bodies carrying varying degrees of the smell of gunpowder and sweat. Occasionally, a messenger would ride by at breakneck speed, the sound of hooves ringing crisply on the cobblestones. The entire inner city functioned like a precise and efficient war machine, each component playing its proper role.

Accompanied by three senior officials, Shen Mu rode slowly through the streets of the inner city. Wherever he went, whether it was soldiers training, busy craftsmen, or passing officers, everyone stood up solemnly, clenched their right fist and pounded it heavily on their left chest, giving the most solemn military salute.

The deep greetings of "My Lord!" rose and fell, converging into an invisible yet profound sense of power.

Shen Mu remained calm, occasionally nodding slightly in response. He could clearly sense the fervent adoration, deep trust, and a sense of shared pride in the eyes of his core subordinates. They were the skeleton and flesh of Deherme, the most direct extension of Shen Mu's will.

Finally, the group arrived at the innermost part of the inner city—the lord's mansion. It was not a luxurious palace, but a solid fortress expanded and reinforced on the site of the original Deherim Castle, even more imposing than before.

The towering tower overlooks the entire city, and the thick stone walls are riddled with arrow slits. Passing through heavily guarded courtyards and halls, the group arrives at the heart of the mansion—the council hall.

The hall was tall and spacious, with a dome painted with simple star and warhammer patterns. On the walls on both sides hung the lion banner of Deherim and Shen Mu's simple battle flag. At the deepest part, atop several stone steps, sat a large, heavy oak chair with a high back, carved with reliefs of shields and swords—this was Shen Mu's lord's seat.

As Shen Mu stepped onto the stone steps, turned around, and slowly sat down in the chair that symbolized power and responsibility, Fatis, Rezarit, Manid, and the representatives of the Holy Tree Knights, who were standing solemnly in the hall, bowed once again.

An indescribable feeling, a mixture of exhaustion and relief, finally enveloped Shen Mu completely. The heaviness in his body and the hidden pain deep in his soul seemed to have found a temporary foothold as he returned to his own "throne." His nerves, which had been taut for too long, were able to relax slightly at this moment.

Just then, a nimble figure strode out from the side door. It was a short, stocky half-man with a mustache, dressed in a clean and tidy chef's uniform, carrying a large silver tray with a beautifully crafted ceramic pot steaming in the air and several matching ceramic cups on it.

A rich and sweet aroma instantly filled the air, overpowering the leather and steel scents in the hall.

"Your Excellency, welcome home!" The halfling chef's voice carried a unique, cheerful tone as he deftly placed the tray on the low table beside Shen Mu's chair, skillfully poured a drink, and respectfully offered it to him. "Fresh goat milk that's just been warmed, with wild honey freshly gathered from the back mountain and a touch of invigorating herbs. I hope it will dispel the fatigue of your journey!"

The liquid in the cup was a warm, milky white, with a layer of golden honey oil floating on the surface, exuding a pleasant aroma of milk, sweetness, and a hint of fresh herbal scent. Shen Mu took the warm ceramic cup, its warmth perfectly balanced in his hand. He brought it close to the rim, took a deep breath of the sweet, warm aroma, and then gently sipped it.

Warm, silky, sweet... with the unique floral and sunshine scent of honey, and a faint hint of vanilla fragrance.

The scalding liquid slid down his throat, as if a warm current instantly spread to his limbs and bones. Even the hidden pain deep in his soul caused by the backlash from the Yenogu curse and the fragments of divinity, which felt like being pierced by ice needles, was slightly soothed and melted away by this warm and sweet taste.

"Hoo..." A low, long, almost sighing exhale escaped from Shen Mu's mouth.

He leaned back in the wide, sturdy chair, closed his eyes, and savored the rare warmth and moment of relaxation. The weariness in his body surged like receding tides, only to be gently held aloft by the warmth of the hot drink.

The council hall was quiet, save for the soft crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace and the light footsteps of the halfling cook as he quietly retreated.

Fatis, Lesarith, and Manid remained silent, standing respectfully with their hands at their sides. They knew that this moment of relaxation of their lord was invaluable.

Sunlight streaming through the window cast long, warm patches of light on the polished stone floor.

The clamor of Deherim was shut out by the thick stone walls, leaving only a reassuring tranquility. Shen Mu's fingers unconsciously caressed the warm ceramic cup, the sweet aroma wafting to his nose.

However, in the depths of this rare tranquility, beneath the hidden pain in the soul temporarily suppressed by the hot drink, a colder, sharper throbbing, like roots buried deep in the earth, quietly peeked out.

Was that a whisper from the distant ancestral mausoleum vortex? Or the lingering resentment of the Yenogu curse within? Or perhaps... the "humic" earth, polluted by the abyss, was quietly extending its tentacles toward this land that had just gained a breath of fresh air?

His eyes were closed, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, like a gentle breeze brushing across a calm lake before a storm.

In a corner of the hall, the flickering firelight from the fireplace cast intermittent shadows on Fatis's hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Rezarit's gaze swept over the thick parchment scroll that Manid had quietly placed on the table, which contained reports on the consumption of supplies in the outer city and unusual border situations.

Outside the window, the shadow of Deherim's towering arrow tower slowly covered a field of newly sprouted wheat as the sun moved.

The storm never truly subsided. A brief respite is only the prelude to an even fiercer battle.

But at least for this moment, on this foundation, the lord could sip a mouthful of warm, honeyed syrup and regain his strength. (End of Chapter)