Several hours passed under the high sun, its light spilling over the ruined town.
Fires of war had cooled, replaced by cooking pots and small campfires warming food.
Everyone had eaten; everyone had rested.
The mood had shifted, balancing on the edge of relief and lingering unease.
In the center of town, beside the cracked plaza fountain, neat stacks of fresh-cut lumber lay prepared—arranged by the puppet knights wielding axes.
Javier stood nearby, arms crossed, watching silently.
"You, come here."
His voice was calm, steady.
The dwarf who had taken charge earlier hurried over, wiping sweat and eager to respond.
"Yes, my lord?"
Javier looked him directly in the eyes.
"Tell me your name."
The dwarf straightened proudly.
"Nofan, my lord."
Javier nodded once.
"Good. From now on, you are Chief Nofan."
Nofan stiffened, jaw tightening in surprise.
"M-My lord…?"
Javier didn't clarify. Instead, he turned to the scorched walls and burnt rooftops.
