Chapter 26 : Chapter 26
Chapter 26: Order in the Dust
On the morning of the seventh day, when the first faint rays of dawn pierced through the thick fog on the horizon, Caesar, who was keeping watch at the perimeter, suddenly stood up.
He heard it.
Not the wind, nor the roar of wild beasts.
But a cacophony unique to “humans”—a mixture of countless footsteps, the grinding of wheels, the cries of children and the sobs of women, along with hushed rebukes.
The direction was precisely his camp.
“They've come.”
Caesar murmured, a sharp gleam flashing through his deep purple eyes.
Seven days of waiting had finally borne fruit.
He glanced back at the cave.
Anna had awakened almost the instant he stood, and was now watching him nervously.
Seven days of hardship had stripped away the last of her fragility. Though still gaunt, her eyes had grown alert and resilient.
The white fox cloak she wore had long since lost its original color. Now she had expertly tied it into a bundle containing all their “possessions” from these days—a wooden bowl, a dagger, and several pieces of charred dried meat.
“Pack up. It's time to go.”
Caesar tossed out a brief command, then took the lead out of the cave. Like a phantom, he moved silently along the steep ridge toward the camp.
Anna didn't ask where they were going or why.
She simply gripped the dagger that belonged to her tightly in her hand and followed his steps without hesitation.
……
At the same time, atop the rammed-earth walls of the Wailing Wastes camp, the atmosphere was tense enough to solidify.
“Enemy attack—!!”
The hoarse shriek of the lookout shattered the morning calm of the camp.
One-eyed Barrett, gripping his signature battle axe, rushed up the wall in three strides.
When he saw clearly what lay on the horizon, his single eye instantly filled with shock and confusion.
That was not an army.
That was a gray torrent composed of ragged people.
Hundreds of men and women, old and young, pushing creaking makeshift wheelbarrows and carrying tattered bundles, staggered toward the camp under the escort of twenty armed soldiers with murderous expressions.
They resembled a flock of sheep driven by sheepdogs, their faces written with exhaustion, numbness, and fear of the unknown.
Leading the group at the very front was Roland, who had led his team away seven days ago.
“Open the gate! Lord Roland has returned!”
Someone atop the wall recognized Roland and shouted.
Barrett didn't immediately give the order.
He narrowed his single eye and stared intently at that chaotic tide of people.
What he saw wasn't the population the lord anticipated, but thousands of hungry mouths—potential chaos, disease, and riots.
Could their camp's pitiful food stores sustain so many people for even a few days?
“Roland, that madman…”
Barrett forced the words through gritted teeth.
The camp gate opened slowly amid hesitation.
Roland's face was weathered, his lips cracked, but his eyes remained sharp as a hawk's.
He entered the camp, ignoring Barrett's grim expression, and walked straight before him.
“The lord's orders.”
He spoke tersely, his voice hoarse as sandpaper rubbing.
“Accept all the refugees. From today onward, they are subjects of the territory.”
“Roland, are you actually insane or just pretending?”
Barrett, unable to care about Roland's status as a Grand Knight at this moment, lowered his voice in fury.
“With our meager resources, even with Earth Potatoes, we're supposed to feed this many people all at once?”
“In three days, they'll gnaw us down to the bones!”
“By then, we won't need enemies to attack—we'll kill each other over food!”
“These are the lord's orders.”
Roland merely repeated himself, his tone brooking no argument, like a stubborn stone.
“The matter of food—the lord has his own arrangements.”
“Your task is to maintain order.”
Just as the two men faced off, the first wave of refugees poured into the camp.
When these people who had lived like sewer rats in the Rat's Nest saw for the first time the tall, sturdy walls and caught the scent—however faint—of meat soup wafting from the camp, the fear and confusion they'd suppressed along the way ignited instantly, exploding into emotion.
A woman clutching a child, seeing a soldier training and dripping with sweat on the training ground, suddenly rushed over like a madwoman and clung to him desperately.
“Husband! You're alive! You're really alive!”
The soldier froze, then threw down his wooden sword and pulled his wife and child into his embrace.
This man who bled without tears on the work site now wept like a lost child.
The joy of reunion spread like a plague.
Crying, laughter, near-hysterical shouts, children's wails… all manner of sounds mixed together, instantly filling this military fortress that had previously only known the clash of metal with the clamor and vitality called “life.”
But chaos followed.
“Food! Where's the food? I want food!”
An exceptionally tall man, relying on his strength, tried to lead several accomplices in storming the camp's makeshift warehouse.
“Get lost! We saw this place first!”
Two families came to blows over a sheltered corner.
Barrett's eye twitched as he watched. He was about to grab his axe and use the most direct method to “maintain order,” but Roland stopped him with a hand.
“Don't rush.”
Roland said, his gaze calmly observing the increasingly chaotic scene.
“Wait for the lord.”
“Wait for his lordship? By the time he arrives, this place will already be a garbage dump!”
Barrett roared.
He couldn't understand Roland's composure.
Just then, a small commotion arose at the rear of the crowd, but was quickly drowned out by greater chaos.
A youth in a tattered cloak, face smeared with mud and features obscured, accompanied by an equally bedraggled blonde girl, entered the camp gates silently with the last batch of refugees.
No one noticed them.
Everyone's attention was consumed by the wild joy of reunion and the craving for food.
The youth wove through the chaotic crowd, walked straight before the confronting Barrett and Roland, and removed his hood.
“Barrett.”
Caesar's voice was soft, yet it struck Barrett's heart like a heavy hammer.
Barrett saw the newcomer's face clearly. His pupil contracted sharply, and that fierce face instantly filled with awe as he instinctively moved to kneel on one knee.
“Stand.”
Caesar stopped him with a glance. His gaze swept across the entire chaotic camp, and his brow furrowed imperceptibly.
He didn't look at the families weeping with joy, but turned his gaze toward the troublemaker Gam, who was leading people in storming the warehouse.
Gam had been blocked by two soldiers loyal to their duty, yet still shouted arrogantly.
“Why won't you let us eat? We followed you for seven days without even a sip of hot soup! Where's your coward lord hiding?”
Caesar said nothing and walked calmly toward a massive rock in the camp center used for assemblies and briefings.
Everyone's gaze was drawn to him involuntarily.
Though his frame was slender and his clothes ragged, the cold, condensed aura about him gradually silenced the surrounding clamor.
He stood atop the rock, surveying the faces below—expectant, greedy, or fearful.
He didn't rage at Gam, didn't even glance at him.
He simply nodded to Roland at his side.
Roland understood. He unfastened an enormous bronze gong from his back and struck it with all his might!
“GONG—!”
The deafening sound of the gong struck like thunder, instantly drowning out all other noise.
The entire camp fell into dead silence. Everyone was stunned by this sudden tremendous sound, staring fearfully at the youth atop the rock.
“I, Caesar Valerius, am the master of this land.”
Caesar's voice wasn't loud, yet it reached every ear with unusual clarity.
“I know you're hungry. I know you're afraid. I know some of you are thinking not about how to build a new home, but about how to plunder others' belongings just as you did in the Rat's Nest.”
His gaze finally fell upon the pale-faced Gam.
“But this place is not the Rat's Nest.”
Caesar's tone was calm and cold.
“Here, there are new rules.”
“My rules.”
He didn't draw his blade, nor did he threaten.
He simply raised one hand, holding an unremarkable tuber the size of a fist.
“This is an Earth Potato, a crop bestowed upon me by the gods.”
“With only soil and water, one can yield a hundred.”
“It will allow all of you to bid farewell to hunger forever.”
A suppressed gasp arose from the crowd.
For these people who had struggled their entire lives for food, the phrase “bid farewell to hunger forever” held more allure than divine revelation.
“However.”
Caesar's tone shifted, his gaze sharp as a blade.
“The food bestowed by the gods goes only to those who obey the rules.”
He carefully handed the Earth Potato to Roland behind him, as if entrusting a priceless treasure.
“From today forward, my territory has only three rules.”
“First: Everyone capable of moving must labor. Exchange your sweat for your food and shelter.”
“Second: Absolute obedience to orders. My orders, Captain Roland's orders, and the orders of your future captains.”
“Third: Those who rob, steal, or harm their companions will be expelled from the camp, never to return.”
He paused, surveying the now-awed gazes below, and spoke word by word.
“I can bring you out of the Rat's Nest and give you the hope of full bellies.”
“I can also take back that hope and leave you to fend for yourselves in the wasteland.”
“Now, those willing to obey the rules and exchange labor for food and a home—go to Captain Roland to register in line.”
“Everyone who registers will immediately receive a bowl of meat soup and a piece of bread.”
The moment he finished speaking, the crowd fell silent briefly, then surged like a tide toward Roland's position.
No one dared make a commotion. No one tried to cut in line.
That bowl of meat soup within reach and that thing called “hope” in the form of a potato constructed the most fragile yet most solid order.
Only Gam and his few accomplices remained isolated where they stood, appearing utterly awkward and ridiculous.
Their violence crumbled pathetically before the “rules” and “hope” Caesar had constructed.
Caesar descended from the rock and approached the ashen-faced Barrett.
“Barrett.”
“P-present, my lord!”
Barrett startled and responded hastily, his eyes filled with unprecedented shock and submission.
“Gather all registered men, organize them into teams of ten, appoint temporary captains, and immediately begin constructing temporary shelters.”
Caesar's orders came clear and swift.
“The women and children will be settled by the family members selected by Roland.”
He glanced at Anna not far behind him.
She was deeply shaken by the scene just witnessed, her face pale, yet she still forced herself to stand straight.
Caesar didn't comfort her, only ordered Roland.
“Roland, find her clean clothes and arrange a separate tent near me.”
With that, he paid no further attention to anyone and walked straight toward the only decent structure in the camp center—the lord's tent.
The chaotic camp began establishing new order with astonishing efficiency under his iron hand and cunning.
Caesar entered the tent, isolating himself from the outside clamor.
Roland already waited inside, holding a freshly compiled registration list.
Caesar didn't sit. He asked directly.
“On the list—how many blacksmiths and carpenters?”
The game had begun, and he had played his second card.