Chapter 185: Widespread
A hoarse voice echoed across the empty Dunmere camp.
Simon’s blood burned with passion. This song was the unyielding will of a nation facing invaders. This song was the soul of an army daring to draw its sword.
At this moment, the Dunmere camp fell silent, leaving only the crackling of the bonfire.
The soldiers stared at Simon, who stood before the flames. Suddenly, one soldier began singing along: "Keep the home fires burning..."
"While your hearts are yearning..." Another voice joined in.
Soon, the soldiers slowly rose to their feet, learning the lyrics from Simon line by line. By the end, they stood together, singing loudly.
The fierce and heroic song, carried by the soldiers’ roars, surged like hot blood into every heart.
This scene perfectly captured the emotions they had struggled to express. Their pent-up feelings burst forth at this moment.
Some soldiers suddenly shed tears when singing the line: "’Til the boys come home." This victory was bought with the lives of their comrades. How could they forget those who had fallen, their eyes forever closed, even in this moment of celebration?
Benjamin slowly stood up and began repeating the song.
This song carried too much emotion. Remembering his decades of battles, he couldn’t help but sing along.
Lancelot and Liam also stood. Simon wasn’t just singing a song; he was voicing the fiery passion buried in all their hearts.
Then, as if by unspoken agreement, the singing suddenly stopped.
Simon raised his wine cup and shouted. "To our fallen brothers, cheers!"
"Cheers!" The soldiers raised their bowls of rice wine.
"Clang!" After downing his drink, Simon smashed his cup to the ground.
The soldiers followed suit, smashing their cups in a release of emotion. Tonight, they saw a different side of Prince Simon, a flesh-and-blood leader who shared their feelings.
At this moment, they had never felt closer to him.
Benjamin’s eyes burned with admiration. He had to admit, this army was Simon’s, and it would always be Simon’s.
The lively celebration lasted late into the night. Eventually, the soldiers returned to their tents to rest. After two more days of recuperation, they would march back to Brambleford.
Many Brambleford soldiers couldn’t wait to return.
Meanwhile, news of the great victory at Dunmere reached Brambleford. Upon receiving the report, Harry immediately organised the newspaper office to print the news. By the time the army returned, he wanted everyone to hear the good news.
The next day, newspapers spread across Brambleford, while reporters carried copies to their assigned regions.
"Extra! Extra! Great victory at Dunmere! Our army slaughtered 100,000 reavers!
"Extra! Extra! Major news!"
Even in the early morning, the streets of Brambleford were filled with the voices of children, no older than seven or eight.
Since the newspaper office stopped using professional newsboys, this task has returned to ordinary children. With the spread of newspapers in Brambleford, more literate people began accepting them.
Selling newspapers had become a new trade, with many poor children picking up copies early in the morning to sell on the streets.
"What? A victory at Dunmere?!"
A scholar rushed out of his house, still unwashed.
"Do you want a paper?" A newsboy asked. "The news of Dunmere’s victory is right here."
Without hesitation, the scholar handed over a few copper coins and began reading on the spot. The more he read, the more excited he became. He ran back inside, shouting. "Father! Dunmere held! The reavers lost 100,000 men and retreated! We don’t have to flee!"
"Really? Let me see!" An excited voice called from inside, followed by cheers.
At the Machinery Department, Bjorn and Fjord exchanged smiles.
"His Highness is truly His Highness. With this victory, the reavers will never break through Dunmere again." Bjorn said.
Fjord let out a deep sigh of relief. "Luckily, we sent the canister shots in time. Otherwise, His Highness would’ve had my head. Hey, Father, do you think he’ll promote me again when he returns?"
"Promote you?" Bjorn’s face darkened. "The next rank is Chief of Military Affairs. What, you want to replace me?"
Cold sweat dripped down Fjord’s forehead. "Father, I’d never dare! I was just joking!"
Meanwhile, the news spread rapidly across Brambleford.
Every citizen rejoiced.
Three years ago, reaver cavalry had pillaged and slaughtered here. Now, they no longer had to fear the enemy reaching their gates again.
"Long live Prince Simon!" A scholar suddenly shouted in the streets, waving the newspaper excitedly. The report had stirred his blood.
Like many educated men, it wasn’t that he didn’t care for his country; it was that the endless humiliating defeats had shamed them into silence, especially after the reavers breached Dunmere three years ago.
They had desperately needed a victory.
And now, Simon had given them one, like rain after a long drought.
"Long live Prince Simon!" Another voice rose, followed by a chorus across the streets.
In the following days, nearby towns became seas of celebration.
On the fifth day, news arrived that the Brambleford army was returning.
The citizens prepared food and drink to welcome them. Soon, crowds gathered outside Brambleford, lining the roads to greet the victorious soldiers.
"Lancelot, how do I look?"
Liam adjusted his armour on horseback, afraid that dirt might ruin his image.
"Perfect. Dashing and heroic." Lancelot said, secretly wiping his nose on Liam’s back while using the few fancy words he knew.
Liam grinned, lifting his chin higher.
Back in Eldora, they had fought reavers before, but never had citizens welcomed them with food and drink.
After all, the people knew they lost more than they won.
But this time, with 100,000 enemy heads taken and the defeat of Fern, it was an unprecedented feat for the Eldorian Empire.
This victory meant safety for the people, so their joy was natural. With the recent harvest leaving them with plenty of food, their gratitude toward Prince Simon grew even stronger.
They were still far from Brambleford, but scouts reported crowds waiting outside the city, ready to reward the returning soldiers.
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