Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Extra 5
For the people of Neighboryn, there had never been more turbulent years than the recent ones.
First, the young and robust King and several major nobles mysteriously died on the same night, with the chilling toll of the Death Knell echoing incessantly. Then, the court descended into fierce disputes over succession and competing interests, igniting wars across territories large and small. Before those terrified by the conflict could even decide where to flee, they were stunned to discover that the Kingdom of Musta—which had recently been thrown into chaos by a sudden plague—had launched a preemptive invasion!
Faced with this sudden and formidable enemy, the Neighboryn court, already fragmented by internal strife, was utterly incapable of mounting a defense. To make matters worse, factions within the court were divided between hawks and doves—even as enemy troops approached the city walls, the nobles in charge of military forces were still locked in endless arguments, completely failing to organize any effective resistance.
The outcome was thus inevitable: the army from the Kingdom of Musta miraculously conquered their centuries-old rival in just two short years.
Most of the major nobles, having received early news of the defenders’ defeat, fled to other countries with what little wealth they could carry. Left behind were a handful of soldiers and the entirety of Neighboryn’s commoners and slaves.
For the slaves, it was hardly different—like livestock toiling in the fields, a change in rulers merely meant the arm that wielded the whip and lashed their backs now belonged to a different master.
But for the commoners, who had painstakingly accumulated meager wealth through years of hard work, this was nothing short of a catastrophic downfall.
By the time they heard the thunder of hooves and war cries, the heavy crash of gates being breached, it was already too late—even those who had hastily gathered belongings could not escape through the tightly sealed city gates. Defiant soldiers fell one by one from the walls, struck by arrows, their morale crumbling faster than that of the civilians.
Brilliant flames lit up the night sky, and as the clashing of weapons gradually faded—leaving only the faint moans of the wounded and the crackling of flames devouring the last embers—the complete fall of their homeland was declared.
Oh god, please tell them… what should they do now?
The more timid hid in their homes, not daring to step outside, even though they knew their flimsy doors were no match for force. The slightly bolder ventured cautiously into the streets, trembling as they gazed at the unfamiliar flags and desperately searched for a way out.
The streets were shrouded in a deathly silence of despair; in the hazy dawn, familiar faces looked eerie, too afraid to even exchange glances with one another—
The army of the Kingdom of Musta had descended upon the city faster than the morning light.
No one in Neighboryn dared linger in the streets any longer. Almost the moment they heard the synchronized stomp of military boots, everyone rushed behind their doors, holding their breath and peering through cracks at the imposing figures marching past.
“That’s the soldiers of Musta,” they whispered cautiously, watching with awe the majestic figure riding at the head of the procession on a towering horse.
What they did not know was that this was the new King of the Kingdom of Musta—the former Duke who had been “forcibly” placed on the throne by his beloved young lord.
Deputy Knight Commander of the Order—Loyel. In truth, the sheer volume of events that would soon unfold in this city, affecting both themselves and their loved ones, was enough to leave them utterly overwhelmed.
Loyel issued a direct order to demolish a full two-thirds of the palace structures, preserving the remaining third to serve as the new government’s council hall. The materials salvaged from the demolition were repurposed to construct public facilities accessible to all citizens—a library, schools, a hospital, a new trade square, and public carriage stations, among others.
The lavishly landscaped palace gardens were also preserved, though their admirers shifted from the royal family to the general public. During the most pleasant seasons of spring and autumn, the gardens were opened free of charge to all citizens. The luxurious, spacious residences of the high nobility, second only to the palace itself, were converted into dormitories for lower-level officials. Some were even dismantled and sold to merchants, who rebuilt them into new inns on the original foundations.
As for the confiscated assets, anything beyond the scope of tax records was allocated to the budgets for constructing new roads and affordable housing. Unbeknownst to the people of Neighboryn, nearly half of the massive “military ranks” were actually craftsmen, many of whom had previously taken part in the reconstruction of Gregor’s and Albury’s territories.
There was no workforce more efficient than artisans with extensive building experience.
Watching foreigners zealously rebuilding their homeland while they themselves seemed forgotten—neither harassed nor plundered, neither driven out nor harmed—the people of Neighboryn grew increasingly bewildered.
What fate awaited these civilians of a defeated nation?
Their greatest anxiety soon shifted from “whether they would survive” to another equally practical and urgent dilemma: “If no one pays us any attention, will we be trapped in our homes and starve to death?”
However, their worries proved unnecessary. In just five days, a settlement plan for them was approved by both the upper and lower councils and, upon King Loyel’s personal signature, officially took effect.
The slaves of Neighboryn had no choice; they would be directly incorporated as slaves of Musta, entitled to the treatment accorded to Mustan slaves—though at that moment, none yet realized what that truly entailed.
As for the civilians of Neighboryn, they were given two options: they could remain as civilians of Musta and resume normal lives, or, if unwilling, they were permitted to take all their personal belongings and depart at any time for another country or city.
“How is this possible?!”
Upon hearing the new sheriff announce these strikingly simple options, the people could not help but exclaim in disbelief.
—Such terms were clearly so lenient and generous as to be almost unbelievable.
“What did you expect?” Growing impatient with these fearful yet skeptical individuals, the Mustan squad leader retorted irritably, “Did you think we’d hand out money and rations to make you stay? That’s not out of the question, but before that, you’d have to pass an assessment half a year from now!”
“Sir,” the people murmured timidly, clearly not daring to entertain such a misunderstanding, “are we truly allowed to leave? Anytime we wish?”
“Of course.” The other party replied with complete composure: “As long as you won’t regret it… if you give up this opportunity now, becoming a Musta citizen won’t be so simple in the future. You’ll have to meet certain conditions, such as passing that extremely difficult examination with only one in twenty candidates succeeding.”
At this moment, people were still immersed in unbelievable joy, naturally unaware of how rare this opportunity was – to directly transition from Neighboryn commoners to Musta nationals.
Even after receiving the guards’ reminder, some Neighboryns who were particularly intimidated by those tall, imposing soldiers and feared they might change their minds chose to pack their belongings overnight and take their families to join other relatives in neighboring countries.
When these exiles eventually became slave-like existences in neighboring countries, barely scraping by, only to later learn how fortunate the lives of those who chose to stay had become, they were filled with overwhelming regret.
After standing guard all day, this Musta army squad leader returned to his temporary dormitory, removed his heavy iron armor, and skillfully began cooking porridge.
“Siger, you’re cooking again?”
The vice squad leader, who lived in the adjacent room separated only by a wall, greeted him amiably: “Would you like to join us tonight? Daining hasn’t returned yet either.”
“Sure.” Siger grinned: “Then remember to buy some meat.”
The other readily agreed: “No problem.”
The oatmeal porridge was cooked to a thick consistency – so thick that even a small wooden stick wouldn’t easily topple if stood in it.
As bubbles rose and popped with soft “pops” from the boiling porridge surface, the enticing aroma unique to fresh oats was enough to whet anyone’s appetite, filling the entire small yet cozy courtyard.
The vice squad leader quickly chopped the purchased small piece of pork into mince and beat fresh eggs into the porridge. Siger skillfully added seasonings like salt, oil, pepper, and celery. Just as he was about to serve it, he heard the footsteps of his beloved wife.
His lips unconsciously curved upward, and when he looked up, he met Ticher’s eyes as she pushed the door open.
Though they had been married for over two years, and had even come together as volunteers to build the new city in Neighboryn’s capital, he still appeared somewhat shy before his young, beautiful wife: “You’re back.”
The lovely young woman, whose figure had filled out slightly compared to her slimmer form years ago, smiled in response: “I’m back.”
“Good, good.” Siger happily tightened his grip on the ladle, his face showing none of the sternness he displayed before other soldiers, only affection and eagerness: “By the way, the porridge is almost ready. Would you like to try some?”
“Leave the rest to Daining and me.” Amid Daining’s teasing chuckles, Ticher naturally took the ladle from his hand and said with a smile: “You’ve worked hard too. Go take a bath first, alright?”
Siger certainly wouldn’t say ‘no’.
Still somewhat dazed, he firmly pulled along the vice squad leader who kept snickering mischievously beside him. The two sweaty men picked up buckets and dirty clothes, hastily heading toward the well.
“Alright, you should stop laughing too.” Ticher gave Daining a helpless look, though her own ears were already red with shyness.
Otherwise, Daining would probably be fooled by his serious appearance just like her student: “Silly Daining, tonight’s bread hasn’t even started baking yet.”
“Oh my, it seems our Siger isn’t capable enough yet!”
Daining deliberately said loudly, scurrying off to knead the dough before Ticher’s rolling pin could land on her head.
Ticher pressed her lips together in a smile, choosing not to continue bantering with Daining. Instead, she couldn’t help but recall her mother’s words before departure, advising her to ‘cherish such a rare good man like Siger’.
That wasn’t quite right, she thought.
Although she hadn’t refuted her mother at the time, she genuinely disagreed. Siger was a good man, but his goodness wasn’t solely determined by his personal qualities alone.
If it were two years ago… no, if not for the grace of that gentle and beautiful God, Oliver, she wouldn’t dare to imagine such a wonderful life even in her wildest dreams.
This wasn’t accidental luck, but an inevitable outcome under divine guidance and blessing.
Whether slave or commoner, all those terrible laws – requiring women to marry before fourteen, forbidding divorce, punishing those who did – had been abolished. Husbands who violently beat their wives would face severe punishment – at minimum, divorce with compensation to the former wife; at worst, imprisonment or even revocation of commoner status and expulsion from Musta.
Marital property became jointly owned, with post-divorce distribution based on the number of children raised. Regarding pre-marital assets, women enjoyed the same legal protections as men – as long as they were tax-paying Musta citizens, this included the right to fully control their own wealth.
Women were never lazy, incompetent, or weak. With the introduction of increasingly fair laws, more and more brave women stepped out of their homes, entering schools or competing for various positions. No longer silent livestock, they truly stood straight and lived with their own identities.
Ticher understood clearly that she loved Siger deeply: though clumsy and not wealthy, he was extremely gentle, respected her, and never forgot his responsibilities as another important member of their family.
Both had their own jobs and earned their own wages. Whoever returned home first would handle cooking, laundry, and cleaning, sharing household chores and emotions alike.
She once envied her loving parents where one cared meticulously for the family while the other shouldered all burdens alone. But after witnessing her mother – who had completely depended on her father and ended up with almost nothing after his death – she undoubtedly cherished this equally shared love more, loving the security this life brought.
At least, if they became unhappy together someday, she could proudly lift her head and resolutely leave a husband who no longer treated her well – without anyone’s obstruction or worries about livelihood – rather than enduring painfully.
Ticher pressed her lips together and smiled.
Because on that day, the gentle and beautiful great God had already generously poured that radiant divine light upon her, telling her: “Even if you are a girl, as long as you are diligent, kind, and hardworking, you are worthy of all this.”
