Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 285: Chapter 280: Reward and Judgment

The spring rain had stopped.

On the Central Square of Minas Tirith, the damp stone slabs reflected the lead-gray clouds.

The territory’s people poured in from the streets and alleys on all sides, like streams flowing into a lake.

They crowded the square, heads tilted up at the high stone platform in the center, whispering amongst themselves in hushed tones.

To one side of the platform, Caroline stood beside Velin, the sea breeze stirring her silver hair.

She watched the sea of heads below. Their faces showed no post-war fear or numbness, but rather an irrepressible sense of anticipation.

"You’ve summoned everyone," Caroline said, her voice audible only to Velin. "I thought I was coming to a solemn memorial service."

"A memorial is necessary, but not now. Right now, what they need more is to see hope."

With the tolling of a bell, Tristan walked onto the high platform.

He was dressed in the crisp, immaculate uniform of a Civil Servant.

Through a small amplification Array, his clear voice carried to every corner of the square.

"Citizens. From the laying of the first foundation stone, to the construction of the port, to repelling the invading enemy—we have defended our home with our own hands and with our courage."

"Today, the Lord Baron will bestow upon all who have contributed the honor they deserve."

Under the crowd’s watchful gaze, Velin walked to the center of the platform.

His eyes swept over the people below, and then he picked up a list.

"Ola Stonebeard."

Ola strode onto the platform, his prized, reddish-brown beard swinging against his chest. He took off his helmet, tucked it under his arm, and bowed his head to Velin.

Velin opened a wooden box. Inside was a heavy, silver medal in the shape of a shield, bearing the thorn emblem of the Grey Marsh Territory in its center.

"Ola Stonebeard, in the battle of the Deep-Sea Coral Camp, you slew the enemy commander, Grash, stabilizing the battlefield. In my name as the Baron of Grey Marsh Territory, I award you the ’Shield of the Gray Swamp’ medal, grant you a first-class merit, and reward you with three thousand contribution points."

Velin personally pinned the medal to Ola’s leather armor.

"For the Gray Swamp!" Ola pounded his chest with a fist, the medal making a dull thud.

The first wave of fervent cheers erupted from the square.

"Barrett."

The One-Eyed Knight walked silently onto the platform, merely nodding at Velin.

"Barrett, the Security Department you command bought us precious time. During the defense of the port, you fought to the death without retreating, holding the final line. I award you the ’Shield of the Gray Swamp’ medal, grant you a first-class merit, and reward you with three thousand contribution points."

Barrett took the medal, clenched it tightly in his hand, and returned to the line without a word.

The cheers rose again, celebrating the hero.

Caroline nodded. All of this was within her expectations. Rewarding meritorious subjects was something any lord would do.

But the next name Velin read out caused the clamor in the square to falter for a moment.

"Grom, the blacksmith."

In the crowd, a burly man froze.

He was still wearing his leather work apron, his hands covered in calluses and burn scars. He looked around blankly until someone gave him a hard shove, and only then did he seem to snap out of a dream.

"They’re calling you, Old Grom!"

Whispers broke out across the square.

"Is that Old Grom? Why is he going up there?"

"I just had him fix my hoe yesterday!"

Grom walked onto the high platform, utterly bewildered, every step feeling as if he were walking on cotton.

He stood awkwardly before Velin, not even daring to look up.

Velin took out a third medal, this one made of iron.

"Grom the blacksmith, during the attack on the port, you led your apprentices through the night to emergency-repair the winch components for eleven ballistae, ensuring the continuation of our city’s defensive firepower. I grant you a third-class merit and reward you with three hundred contribution points."

Grom extended a trembling, massive hand and accepted the medal, which felt as heavy as a mountain to him.

The silence in the square was broken, and this time the murmuring was even louder than before.

Velin did not stop.

"Eira, Harry, Mary..."

One after another, the names of ordinary, unremarkable people were read out.

Under the astonished gazes of the crowd, they ascended the high platform, that symbol of glory, one by one.

The crowd was in an uproar.

There was a cook who had managed logistics, a boy who had relayed messages under fire, and even a washerwoman who had worked tirelessly in the rear, cleaning bandages for the wounded.

The crowd was in an uproar.

Their initial astonishment gradually gave way to sincere congratulations.

When a young mason named Harry received a medal for reinforcing the inner walls, his workmate beside him pounded his back, roaring louder than anyone.

They watched their everyday neighbors and friends stand shoulder-to-shoulder with distinguished Knights, Mages, and Alchemists, receiving medals of honor from the hands of their lord.

Hard work pays off!

Contribution determines status!

If they can be heroes, so can I!

This idea took root in every person’s heart, and the cheers and shouts merged into a tidal wave that crashed over the entire square.

Caroline watched the scene, deeply shaken.

She had never seen a noble so solemnly reward commoners, let alone place them on equal footing with Knights and Mages.

When the crowd’s fervor reached its peak, Velin raised a hand, signaling for silence.

The square quickly fell quiet, but every chest heaved with excitement.

Seven prisoners of war from the Multi-Armed Race, bound in iron chains, were roughly shoved onto the high platform by the Knights.

Their carapaces were shattered and their spirits broken, but their eyes still held a look of untamed ferocity.

"These are the murderers who slaughtered our countrymen during the attack on the port."

Velin’s voice turned to ice.

Behind him, several Memory Crystals were activated, projecting magical images.

Scene after scene of slaughter replayed before the people’s eyes.

In the square, excitement gave way to fury, and roars of anger erupted from the crowd.

"Kill them!"

"Blood for blood!"

Velin watched the incensed crowd below, then turned to face the prisoners.

"Barrett."

The One-Eyed Knight nodded. The execution squad behind him stepped forward.

Swords were raised, then fell.

There was not the slightest hesitation.

Seven heads rolled onto the floor of the high platform, spraying blue blood that stained the stone slabs.

This bloody scene made the people in the front rows of the square take an involuntary step back. But immediately after, a thrill of vengeance and the shattering of their fear of the Alien Race made them stand up straighter.

"For any enemy who dares to harm the Grey Marsh Territory, this is their fate!"

Then, Velin dropped a piece of news that made this emotional fervor explode once more.

"I declare the ’Grey Marsh Territory Second-Phase Immigration Plan’ to be effective immediately!"

"Any citizen of the Grey Marsh Territory who refers a relative or friend from the outside to settle in our territory will receive a reward of contribution points, provided the newcomer passes a basic labor assessment."

"Referring a common laborer grants a reward of five contribution points."

"Referring a second-class artisan grants a reward of fifty contribution points!"

"Referring a third-class artisan grants a reward of one hundred!"

As soon as he said this, the entire crowd went into an absolute frenzy.

If the earlier awards had ignited their sense of honor, this decree now ignited their worldly desires.

The way the people looked at each other changed. They were no longer just neighbors, but potential partners—or even rivals.

"My third uncle’s been a carpenter in Stone Bridge City for twenty years, and he’s great at it! I have to write him a letter right away!"

"Hey, isn’t your wife’s cousin a brickmaker? Quick! Tell him to bring his whole family over!"

"You get a merit promotion for referring an alchemy apprentice? Heavens, I know an alchemy shop assistant in the Royal Capital who couldn’t make it there!"

Velin looked down at the eyes sparkling with desire and smiled.

The ceremony ended and the crowd dispersed like a receding tide, but all of Minas Tirith was plunged into a state of feverish commotion.

From this day forward, every citizen of the Grey Marsh Territory would become the domain’s most fervent "headhunter."

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