A funeral was being held on a patch of wasteland southwest of Border Town.

Calling it wasteland wasn't quite right. Sometime ago, this neglected land had been enclosed by a low wall of rough stones, the top covered with thick snow, making it look as if it were edged with silver. Though it could be stepped over with a single stride, Van'er couldn't help but associate it with the border wall – they were the same color and shape.

He had only heard of such ceremonies from traveling merchants. When a great noble or royal family member passed away, the deceased's family would gather at the cemetery, play mournful music, receive condolences, and finally bury the coffin underground. The higher the status, the more grand the occasion.

Even the dead live more gloriously than the living, he thought enviously at the time. What happens when someone dies in Border Town? They dig a pit by the Misty Forest and fill it in. He wondered if the demonic beasts would dig up the bodies to eat during the Months of Demons.

Death was not unfamiliar to the residents of Border Town, especially during the annual winter retreat to Longsong Stronghold. Huddled in shacks in the slums, dying from hunger and cold, from disease and injury, was commonplace. No one had time to grieve; they might as well go to the city center to beg for an extra piece of bread when it got light.

But today, His Highness was actually holding a funeral for a soldier!

He heard that he was unfortunately knocked to the ground while chasing a mixed-breed demonic beast and had half his head bitten off.

Van'er knew this unfortunate fellow. He was also a familiar face from the old district, with no name. Everyone called him Aji. He had a wife and two children, the older one seemed to be six years old, and the younger one could barely walk.

In normal times, this family would surely be finished. The woman could find another man to live with, but who would be willing to take on two burdens? Either throw the two little ones by the roadside and let them fend for themselves, or raise them and engage in prostitution in the bars, eventually dying from various strange diseases.

But the Prince seemed to be really fulfilling his promise when recruiting the militia. Those who died in battle would not only receive full pay but also an additional compensation, what was it called? Van'er thought for a moment, ah... that's right, a pension. And this money was as much as five gold royals.

In addition, a fixed amount of food and charcoal would be distributed every month, which meant that Aji's wife could raise her two children and survive even without working. Well, these seemingly wonderful words might just be comforting, but the gold royals were real. He saw with his own eyes the Prince handing the pension to the Chief Knight, who then passed it on to Aji's wife.

Damn it, why did he suddenly feel a little envious of Aji? No, no, Van'er shook his head repeatedly, banishing these foolish thoughts. He didn't want his death to benefit his wife... and most likely someone else's wife.

After giving out the money, it was His Highness's speech, which was short, but Van'er listened to it all. Especially the sentence "We will forever remember the sacrifices made to protect our loved ones and the innocent," which made him feel a surge of warmth in his heart. So that's how it is, he thought, no wonder he always felt like he had some other pursuits besides bread and silver wolves - at least this winter, they could survive by their own hands, not by the charity of Longsong Stronghold.

The last part was the burial. Aji's coffin was placed in the dug pit, and the Chief Knight had everyone line up. Every militiaman, whether formal or substitute, took turns to step forward and fill a handful of soil with a shovel. Everyone was very familiar with queuing up, and more than two hundred people immediately lined up in four columns. When it was Van'er's turn, he suddenly felt that the shovel had become slightly heavier, and the gaze of the surrounding team members slowed down his every movement.

When he stood aside, his gaze conveyed this feeling to the next person covering the soil.

Aji's tombstone was a pure white rectangular stone. Van'er didn't recognize a single word on it, and he wasn't the first person to live in this wasteland. Next to Aji, there was an identical tombstone, its top covered with snow. As everyone gradually left, Van'er saw Brian, the new captain of the Second Militia, slowly pouring a pot of wheat wine on that tombstone.

If this is my final resting place, it doesn't look bad, he couldn't help but think.

"Your Highness," Carter suddenly spoke up on the way back to the castle, "What you're doing..."

"Inappropriate?"

"No," he thought for a moment, and finally shook his head, "I can't explain it, but I just feel that no one has ever treated conscripted commoners like this before - they have no titles, no family background, not even surnames or names."

"But you still feel good, don't you?"

"Uh..."

Roland smiled. Of course, he knew how strong of an impact this would have on Carter, who also dedicated himself to fighting and protecting. When people begin to think about who they are fighting for and why, the team will undergo unimaginable changes. And for Carter, it meant that when honor was no longer solely a privilege of the nobles, those commoners who had nothing could also gain honor by defending their homes through his training and guidance, this doubled sense of accomplishment was simply indescribable.

Of course, a public funeral was just the beginning, Roland thought. He had many other methods he could use to enhance the sense of collective honor, such as creating military flags and songs, and establishing hero role models, etc.

No spirit comes from nothing. Only by persisting in this set of practices day after day and constantly instilling ideas can it gradually take effect. To ensure the reliable operation of the follow-up system, he even arranged for a follow-up team consisting of himself, the City Hall, and the Militia to complete the subsequent distribution of food and charcoal.

The further Roland went, the heavier he felt on his shoulders. Border Town was lacking in so many things. It seemed that the mining industry and people's livelihood were on the right track, and there were sufficient food reserves. So far, no one had starved or frozen to death. This was a miracle in the eyes of other towns, even in the royal capital of Graycastle, many vagrants or orphans were eliminated by winter every year.

But what he wanted was far more than that. The City Hall was operating at its limit. With the help of Minister Assistant Barov and the dozen or so apprentices he brought, they supported all the financial and administrative management of Border Town. If he wanted to further expand the departments, he had to recruit some management personnel. He had also asked Barov if he had any outstanding students or colleagues who were still in the royal capital, but he received a bucket of cold water in response: "Even if they do, they wouldn't be willing to come. Does Your Highness really know how bad your reputation is in the royal capital?"

Well, that sounded true. He thought dejectedly.

Back in the castle courtyard, Nightingale emerged from the mist and gave Wendy, who was waiting outside the wooden shed, a warm hug. Lightning, on the other hand, was circling around the unfinished steam boring machine. When she saw Roland, she immediately clamored to assemble this rumored self-moving machine together.

Looking at all this, he suddenly felt that all his efforts were worth it.