By morning, Falmouth no longer felt like a city under siege.

The southern gates were open again.

Not fully.

Not without guards watching the road.

But open.

That alone changed everything.

For days, those gates had been sealed under fear. Farmers who once lived outside the walls had slept inside crowded storage halls. Merchants refused to send wagons out. Guards stood on the battlements with tired eyes, waiting for smoke to rise from the farms again.

Now the road was quiet.

The fields beyond the wall were still scarred from battle. Burned carts sat near the southern approach. Broken shields and abandoned weapons had been piled into wagons. Workers had already started clearing the dead under guard supervision.

But the threat was gone.

Everyone knew it.

Not because the city council announced it.

Not because Cedric Valehurst said so.

Because Atlas had proven it.

Marcus stood on the southern wall with Tomas beside him, looking out over the fields where the brigands had been cut down.

The morning wind moved across the battlements, carrying the smell of damp grass, smoke, and old blood.

Tomas held a small report in one hand.

"Final patrol returned from the outer farm road," he said. "No hostile movement. No scouts. No tracks except civilians and cleanup teams."

Marcus nodded once.

"Good."

"Eastern drainage route is secured too. We sealed the damaged entry point with stone and timber. Local guards are watching it now."

"Keep one Atlas man assigned there until the contingent is settled."

"Yes, sir."

Marcus looked toward the city below.

Falmouth was awake.

People had gathered along the main road and central plaza, watching the Atlas vehicles being loaded near the administrative district. M939 trucks sat in line near the square, their engines still off but already drawing attention. The Black Hawks rested farther away in the open plaza, surrounded by rope barriers and city guards trying to keep curious children from getting too close.

It still looked ridiculous.

Modern military vehicles parked in the middle of a medieval trade city.

But by now, the people of Falmouth no longer looked at them as monsters.

They looked at them like shields.

Rolf walked up the stairs to the battlements and stopped near Marcus.

"Southern machine gun positions are being packed up," he said. "We’re leaving one weapon system with the stay-behind team?"

Marcus nodded.

"One machine gun. Enough ammunition for defensive use. No more than that."

Rolf gave a small grin.

"That’ll make the local guards sleep better."

"It’ll make enemies think twice."

"Same thing."

Marcus glanced at him.

Rolf straightened slightly.

"Sorry, sir."

Marcus looked back toward the plaza.

"Get the men ready. We leave within the hour."

"Yes, sir."

Rolf walked off quickly.

Tomas remained beside Marcus for a moment.

"Hard to believe this is done."

Marcus looked at the empty fields.

"It’s not done. It’s stable."

Tomas understood the difference.

Falmouth was safe for now.

The brigands were destroyed.

The Black Hollow was burned.

But networks like that always left fragments behind. Someone would survive. Someone would try to rebuild. Someone would test the city again one day.

That was why Marcus was leaving a contingent behind.

Not many.

Just enough.

One squad, rotated later from Atlas base.

A machine gun crew.

Basic communications equipment.

A small advisory unit to help the city guards harden their defenses and maintain patrol discipline.

To the people of Falmouth, that sounded like protection.

To Marcus, it was also presence.

Influence.

A foothold.

Atlas had just become part of regional security whether the old powers liked it or not.

A bell rang from the central district.

Not an alarm.

A public summons.

Marcus turned from the wall.

"Let’s go."

By the time he reached the central plaza, a crowd had already gathered.

Merchants stood near their shopfronts. Farmers from the outer districts watched from behind wagons. City guards lined the road. Children sat on barrels and steps to see over the adults.

Cedric Valehurst stood near the fountain, wearing a formal coat today despite the exhaustion still visible on his face.

When Marcus approached, Cedric stepped forward.

"Commander Manfred."

"Cedric."

Cedric glanced toward the crowd.

"They insisted."

Marcus raised an eyebrow slightly.

"On what?" 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"A proper farewell."

Marcus looked at the gathered citizens.

Some people bowed their heads when he passed. Others whispered his name. A few looked like they wanted to speak but were too nervous.

He sighed quietly.

"I don’t do speeches."

Cedric smiled faintly.

"You might have to today."

Marcus gave him a flat look.

Cedric wisely stepped back.

The crowd slowly quieted when Marcus moved toward the fountain.

He did not climb on top of it like Cedric had done during their arrival. He simply stood in front of the gathered people, hands relaxed at his sides.

For a few seconds, he said nothing.

Then he spoke clearly.

"Falmouth is safe for now."

That simple sentence caused murmurs to spread through the crowd.

Marcus continued.

"The brigand force that attacked this city has been destroyed. Their main support network has also been hit. They won’t be attacking this city again soon."

A few people let out relieved breaths.

Someone in the crowd started crying quietly.

Marcus did not soften his tone too much.

"But safety does not mean you stop watching."

That made the crowd quiet again.

"The roads need patrols. The walls need guards. The drainage routes need to stay sealed. If anyone tells you the danger is gone forever, they’re lying."

The people listened closely now.

"Atlas will leave a contingent here to assist your city guards. They will help with patrol organization, wall defense, and emergency response."

Cedric nodded in approval beside him.

Marcus looked across the faces in the plaza.

Farmers.

Merchants.

Guards.

Children.

People who had nearly become victims of something much larger than ordinary banditry.

"We were hired to protect this city," Marcus said. "That contract has been fulfilled."

He paused for a moment.

"But your city held because your people didn’t break."

That surprised some of them.

Marcus meant it.

Falmouth had been afraid, but it had not collapsed. Its people stayed behind the walls. Its guards remained at their posts even when they did not understand the weapons beside them. Cedric had acted quickly enough to seek help before the city fell.

That mattered.

Marcus gave one final nod.

"Keep it that way."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then someone clapped.

A single pair of hands.

Then another.

Then more.

Soon the plaza filled with applause.

Not wild cheering.

Not at first.

It grew slowly, like the people were remembering they were allowed to feel relieved.

Then the cheering started.

"Atlas!"

"Commander Marcus!"

"Thank you!"

The sound spread across the plaza until it echoed between the buildings.

Marcus stood there awkwardly for a second before turning slightly toward Cedric.

Cedric looked amused.

Marcus ignored him.

Near the trucks, Rolf leaned toward Tomas.

"Boss looks like he’d rather fight brigands again."

Tomas nodded.

"He probably would."

The infantrymen nearby tried not to laugh.

Elaina was not there, but Marcus could already imagine what she would say if she saw this.

Something about public relations.

Something about reputation.

Something annoying and correct.

After the crowd settled, Cedric stepped forward and addressed the citizens briefly, promising road restoration, compensation for damaged farms, and continued cooperation with Atlas. The people listened, but their eyes kept drifting back toward Marcus and the soldiers.

The farewell lasted longer than Marcus wanted.

An old farmer approached first, holding his hat tightly in both hands.

"My son was on the south wall," the man said. "City guard. He said your men saved them."

Marcus nodded.

"Glad he’s alive."

The farmer bowed deeply.

"Thank you."

Then a woman came forward with a young girl hiding behind her skirt.

"Our farm was near the old mill road. We thought we’d lose everything."

"You can return after the patrols clear the area," Marcus said.

She nodded with tears in her eyes.

"Thank you, Commander."

More followed.

A merchant.

A city guard.

A baker who handed one of the Atlas soldiers a basket of bread.

The soldier looked unsure whether he was allowed to take it.

Marcus nodded once.

The man accepted it.

"Thank you, ma’am."

The baker smiled.

"No. Thank you."

By the time Atlas prepared to depart, the plaza had turned into something between a farewell and a festival.

Not loud.

Not careless.

The memory of battle was still too fresh for that.

But hopeful.

The M939 trucks started one by one.

Diesel engines rumbled through the streets, causing the crowd to step back with awe instead of panic this time. The Black Hawk rotors began turning in the plaza, slow at first, then faster, the wind flattening dust and loose cloth around the area.

Children pointed upward.

Some laughed.

Others hid behind their parents while peeking out.

Tomas led the returning infantry into the vehicles while the stay-behind contingent remained near the city guards. Rolf paused beside one of the men staying behind.

"Don’t get too comfortable."

The soldier grinned.

"You jealous?"

"Of staying in a city full of grateful citizens? Maybe."

"Then ask Marcus to assign you."

Rolf glanced toward Marcus.

"No thanks. I like living."

The soldier laughed.

Marcus approached the stay-behind squad last.

Their leader, Tomas’s second-in-command, stood at attention.

"Contingent ready, sir."

Marcus nodded.

"Your job is defense and observation. No unnecessary patrols deep into the forest. No independent raids. If you see signs of regrouping, report first."

"Yes, sir."

"You’re here to stabilize Falmouth, not start a private war."

"Understood."

Marcus looked toward the city walls.

"Coordinate with Cedric and the city guard captain. Keep the machine gun secure. Nobody outside Atlas touches it without approval."

"Yes, sir."

Good.

Marcus stepped back.

Cedric approached one final time.

"I suppose this is goodbye for now."

"For now," Marcus said.

Cedric looked toward the city, then back at him.

"Falmouth owes you more than payment."

Marcus shook his head.

"Payment is enough."

Cedric smiled faintly.

"I expected that answer."

Marcus extended his hand.

Cedric shook it firmly.

"If trouble returns," Cedric said, "I’ll send word."

Marcus nodded.

"Do that."

The Black Hawk nearest them was ready now.

Marcus turned and walked toward it while the crowd watched.

As he climbed into the cabin, the cheers rose again.

Not thunderous like a royal parade.

But strong.

Real.

The kind of sound that came from people who had been afraid yesterday and finally believed tomorrow might be safer.

Marcus sat inside the helicopter and looked out over the plaza one last time.

Falmouth stood behind them now.

Alive.

Protected.

Changed.

The rotor wash intensified as the Black Hawk lifted from the ground. The plaza shrank beneath them. People waved from the streets. Guards saluted awkwardly from the walls, not fully knowing how Atlas did it but trying anyway.

Marcus looked toward the southern fields as the helicopter climbed higher.

The battlefield was still visible.

The scars would remain for a while.

But the city endured.

That was what mattered.

Below, Cedric watched the aircraft rise into the morning sky with a look of awe and relief.

Beside him, a young city guard whispered:

"Do you think they’ll come back?"

Cedric kept his eyes on the departing helicopters.

"If we need them," he said quietly, "I think they will."

The Black Hawks banked northward while the trucks rolled out through the gate below.

Atlas left Falmouth behind, but not completely.

A small contingent remained on the walls.

A machine gun watched the southern road.

And across the city, people would remember the day the thunder soldiers came from the sky and drove the darkness away.