When Little Hart walked out from the dim cabin, the scorching sunlight made him squint and shield his eyes.

After a while, he slowly lowered his hand, taking in the scene before him.

Rows of people eagerly watching were standing on the inverted V roofs, Night Watchers blew copper whistles urging them down.

Below the red brick white walls were bluish-gray stone slabs, stretching out mosaic flower beds in geometric shapes and two rows of May trees.

Ahead, was the dock where the troop ships were moored, packed with throngs of people.

Women in aprons, men with darkened fingers, citizens in wool vests, farmers wearing pigskin wind hats... They waved, shouted, and jumped, all towards the soldiers before them.

As if sound and light blended as one, when Little Hart could see clearly, the deafening noise and cheers finally reached his ears.

"Leia people, go eat shit!"

"Long live His Majesty Horn, nine thousand years to Her Majesty Jeanne, nine thousand years to Her Majesty Jia Li!"

"Victory, victory, victory!"

"Damn devils have finally been driven away!"

"Toot toot toot—"

The sound of shouting, trumpets, lutes, bagpipes, chaotic yet melodious.

With a backpack on his back and a package in hand, Little Hart, dizzy, followed the Military Chaplain.

Queueing up, crossing the deck, stepping onto the pier, thousands of colorful confetti floated in the air, landing on the soldiers' shoulders and heads.

Once the Military Chaplain shouted to disband, the soldiers scattered like untethered wild horses.

Some soldiers cheered, dropped their packages, burst through the crowd, and hugged their families.

While others kneeled on the ground, kissed the land and cried, or held shoulders heading straight to the tavern.

Citizens waving Holy War Bonds, shouted hoarsely, while soldiers' families squeezed through the crowds loudly calling their children's names.

"Laka, Laka, where are you?"

"Mom, I'm here!"

"My Maslu, you've finally come back, by the Saint Master above, by the Saint's Grandson above, bless you for returning."

Of course, many families received only a military uniform and a medal, leaving parents collapsing in grief, splashed with water to revive, only to wake and cry again.

Watching the woman fainting from sobbing, then revived and fainting again, Little Hart's hand holding the package suddenly sweated profusely.

After saluting the Military Chaplain, Little Hart took out a map and headed in a direction.

Today, Joan of Arc Castle was immersed in joy.

Triangular flags hung on the streets, Black and Red Sun Banners adorned restaurant doors, and many taverns announced a seventy percent discount for ordinary customers, half-priced drinks for soldiers.

In many places, they even staged the catching of suitors from the ship.

Old knights and guild merchants waited under the ship, with anyone bearing medals on their chest and arm badges being carried away.

Of course, not to kidnap them, but to introduce them as future husbands to their daughters.

Some officers with weak wills, bewildered by the scene, went to City Hall to register for marriage.

Military Chaplains and scribes lamented bitterly, believing that secular nuns, small landowners, citizen daughters, and farmer daughters were their most suitable marriage partners.

The streets were filled with revelers and drinkers, as Joan of Arc Castle City Hall announced that drinking on the streets would be allowed for the next three days.

After all, during the previous invasion by Leia people, despite being fearless verbally, in their hearts, they were afraid.

For they confronted the church, the Great Knight, an entire kingdom of Leia.

But now, it seemed merely so.

In the face of their courageous Thousand River Valley People, brave members of the Holy Alliance, and brave Believers of the Holy Path, the invaders still fled.

That illegal Pope Puliano, no wonder he was called illegal; in front of the True Pope under His Majesty Horn, he fled without even a meeting.

And what of the Great Knight? Wasn't he captured?

King Ginijis, what of him? Wasn't he captured too?

And what of the hundred thousand troops? Our Holy Alliance can beat them with just twenty thousand!

"We defeated the Leia people, we defeated Raffel, we are invincible under the sky of the Holy Alliance!"

The drunken citizens lay in the streets, disoriented, still shouting at Little Hart.

At this moment, many citizens and farmers oppressed by extreme fear naturally needed to vent.

These emotions, once released, transformed into a surge of pride.

Look, this is my country; look, we achieved victory.

And look around at the people, despite usual conflicts, compared to Leia people, they are the true brothers indeed.

Of course, there are still those who don't believe in and slander this great victory, but at most they can only stay in their own yards and wallow in self-pity.

Many among them were initially excited, then later became numb.

After all, the benefits brought by victory have yet to reach them, how much can their daily lives change?

Amid the scene of jubilation, Little Hart's barely rising smile faded once more.

He traveled to the outskirts of the city and boarded a horse-drawn train as white steam from the industrial zone billowed into the air.

The carriage swayed as the wheels clattered against the tracks.

In this rocking motion, Little Hart felt as if he was back in his mother's cradle and gradually fell asleep leaning against the carriage wall.

He was jolted awake only when the coachman came to call him.

With a heavy square bundle in his arms and a pack on his back, Little Hart quickly approached a checkpoint and presented his Battle Chaplain credentials and travel pass to the sentry.

Soon, two military police trotted over to help Little Hart with his heavy luggage.

A sentry reached to take the bundle Little Hart was holding, but he politely stepped aside: "I'll carry this myself, let's go."

The residential area within the military territory wasn't large, and after a few steps, Little Hart reached his destination.

He glanced at the mailbox and doorplate in front of the house, made from red wood with firmly nailed tacks.

The plate read "Volovitz Pusent and Martha Pusent's Home," while the mailbox was inscribed with "Black Champion Second Camp, Straight Street No. 13."

Placing the bundle on a stone table beside him, Little Hart tidied his clothing, untied the bundle, and picked up a wooden box.

In this moment, Little Hart, decisive and fierce on the battlefield, was sweating profusely, tense and uneasy.

Standing before the door, he nodded to the military police, who then gently knocked.

Though Little Hart had memorized a long speech on the way, he found his mind blank when faced with Volovitz's so-called "most beautiful woman in the world."

He couldn't utter a single word.

Round-faced Martha hadn't yet shed her pregnancy weight, with a ponytail tied and an apron around her waist, holding a rabbit-like scrawny infant.

Behind her, an unfinished baby cradle bed stood.

Glancing at the hatless military police and the speechless Little Hart, Martha understood.

She took the initiative to ask, "What's in the box?"

"...The box contains the ashes of the war hero Volovitz Pusent. He was awarded two first-class medals, three second-class medals, and was posthumously named Battle Commander.

The box also holds Volovitz's military uniform, his personal belongings, and a bank certificate with 90 gold pounds and 30 gold pounds in bonds.

Additionally, all educational expenses for your child will be covered by the Holy Alliance and the Order until high school graduation, and if he gets into a university, until university graduation.

If you need a job, the Holy Alliance and the Order will train and provide you with a simple job for free..."

As Little Hart continued, his voice gradually slowed and finally disappeared.

Martha's shoulders trembled, her lips tightly shut as she tried not to cry in front of others.

But large beads of tears fell one by one from her eyes, down her cheeks and chin, landing on the baby in her arms, leaving streaks on the baby's pink cheeks.

Little Hart felt drained of all strength and courage, murmuring humbly like a lowly servant, almost pleading: "I'm sorry, Mrs. Pusent, we couldn't save him, he bled too much..."

"No, no, it was I who was rude." Wiping her tears with a handkerchief, Martha stepped aside, "Would you like to come in and sit for a while?"

Little Hart didn't know how to respond but was warmly invited in by Martha, with the two military police following.

This was to prevent any unfavorable rumors from spreading.

Martha tied the baby to her chest and busied herself in the kitchen with her back to the three military officers, who sat restlessly in the living room.

After a while, Little Hart couldn't hold back from standing up: "Mrs. Pusent, I'll be staying nearby for the next few days; if you need anything, feel free to find me at any time."

He indeed felt foolish; at times like this, shouldn't they have called her neighbors and her parents over instead?

Just as he stood up, Martha, her back to him, continued stirring a pot of red stew.

As he reached the door, Little Hart remembered something and asked the military police to step outside first. He approached the kitchen doorway: "Mrs. Pusent, have you named the child?"

"Not yet." Martha's voice trembled, "I was waiting for Volovitz to come back and do it."

Little Hart retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket, stained and dried in blood.

"When I found this paper, Volovitz had already... The names on it were mostly covered in blood, and I asked him which one was it, and he said, the one not covered in blood."

Placing the paper by the stove, Little Hart tiptoed out.

Martha stood by the stove for a long time, finally taking a deep breath as she picked up the paper again.

Seeing the name on the paper, Martha couldn't hold back her tears anymore. They flowed ceaselessly down her face, her mouth smiling nonetheless.

She held her baby in her arms, kissing his forehead, her tears mixed with a smiling mutter: "Your father named you, did you know that? My child, you have a name now."

Hugging the child close to her chest, Martha whispered, "My child, Howard."