Chapter 476: The Victory Day
…
It was still dark when someone began knocking at Cacusim’s door—not once, but endlessly, without patience.
He yawned and reached instinctively for his coat. Then he remembered he no longer needed one.
The thick brick walls kept the cold out, and the heating system kept the inside warm. No matter how heavily the snow fell, the chill could not seep through the way it used to; the roof no longer leaked. A house like this would have been fit for a nobleman in Valencia—a little smaller, perhaps, but in every way that mattered, equivalent.
He opened the door.
His assistant Pike stood outside, bright-eyed and fully dressed, practically bouncing on his heels. “Why aren’t you up yet? We have to hurry, Captain—we’ll lose a good spot!”
“Do we need to leave so early?” Cacusim stuck his head out into the grey-blue pre-dawn. A thin line of morning light pressed against the edge of the clouds; soft gold on a field of grey.
“Of course!” Pike said. “My neighbors told me the Star Flower Troupe would be performing at the celebration. We won’t even get into the square if we’re late!”
“All right.” The old man shrugged and turned back for his bedroom. He changed slowly, glancing at the other bed—empty, as it had been for months. He exhaled softly. “The Victory Day,” he thought. “Is there anything like this in Longsong Stronghold? If not, Vader would miss it.”
They arrived to find the main road already filling with people—banners strung between the trees on both sides, the small town bright and freshly lit under the morning sun. From the side paths and alleys, more figures joined the stream, all walking in the same direction.
Cacusim had heard about the Victory Day from Pike. The prince had declared it—the first day after the Months of Demons—as a town holiday, a day to mark surviving another year. Everyone had the day off; there was to be a bonfire in the square and performances and food. Pike had found out and invited him along, and Cacusim, after a moment’s thought, had agreed.
The square was already cordoned off at its center by low fences, policemen in black uniforms keeping order. A crowd had formed early around the stage. The two of them found a good place to stand and settled in to wait.
At noon, the prince walked out onto the stage.
The square went up. The sound was physical—not applause but a single roar, a wave of voices, thousands of arms raised at once. The people around Cacusim surged forward, shouting, “Long live Your Highness!”
Prince Roland smiled. He waited for the wave to crest and subside, then raised a fist.
“We have defeated evil once again!”
The square detonated.
The old man felt it in his sternum—the way a detonation reaches you before you understand it as sound. He had not seen a lord greeted like this in a very long time.
“My people—” Roland’s voice carried without strain, steady and clear above the crowd, “—no matter where you come from: the Western Region, the Northern Region, the Eastern Region, the Southernmost Region—as long as you have made a contribution to our town, this glory belongs to you. It belongs to everyone who gave blood and sweat to Border Town.”
Cacusim listened.
“Today is the Victory Day. It was earned by all of you. Evil has not been fully eliminated—it will return—but no matter how many times our enemies come, victory is ours as long as we stand together.”
The old man had attended many occasions at which noblemen spoke to crowds. The difference was not the words. It was the angle. A nobleman looked down; this prince looked across. He used “we” the way people used it when they meant it.
It was unusual. It was, unexpectedly, harmonious.
“Now—let us raise our glasses to this hard-won victory!”
“Long live Your Highness!”
“Long live Victory!”
The cheers rang across the whole square, and people raised their right hands in a gesture Cacusim recognized as something local, something earned through shared ordeal. He found his own hand rising, and was mildly surprised by it.
“This is a lord worth serving,” Pike said beside him, thumping his chest with one fist.
Then it was the Star Flower Troupe’s turn. The crowd changed tone—whistles, calls, a different kind of excitement.
“We haven’t seen them in so long.”
“Ms. Irene is still as beautiful.”
“But Miss May has something lasting that Irene lacks.”
“Ms. May now—haven’t you heard? She’s marrying the Chief Knight. The prince has already sent a gift.”
Pike turned to Cacusim with a puzzled look. “Troupes are usually named after their theater or their town. Why does this one have such a strange name?”
“You’re not from the West, are you?” someone nearby said immediately. “Ms. May is called the Star of the Western Region, and Ms. Irene is called the Flower of Tomorrow. They both came from Longsong Theatre, and now both live in Border Town, so—Star Flower.”
“Look, it’s starting!”
This was not Cacusim’s first time at a theatrical performance. But it was unlike anything he had seen. There was no love story between nobilities, no intrigue between lords. The play told the history of the Western Region—ordinary people, living here, in this town. The beginning was all helplessness: people scattered and running before the Months of Demons like livestock before a storm. Then, something changed in them. They stopped running. They stayed and fought.
The play moved through cold and hunger and death at the line of defense. When characters died—protecting families, holding the wall—the audience held its breath as though the loss was real.
Cacusim was caught before he intended to be. Even people who had only recently arrived, who had no memory of those winters, seemed to understand by the end what the town had cost to build.
When the last scene ended, the applause was long and total.
Then Cacusim saw what came next, and was dumbfounded.
A girl with long flaxen hair walked onto the stage holding a thin black line. She drew it through the wooden set in a single motion, cutting the boards into sections as easily as a hot wire through wax. The pieces she had cut, she used to light the bonfire—a column of fire that rose higher than the stage.
The crowd did not scatter. They chanted.
“Miss Anna! Miss Anna!”
Sheep appeared on the spit. The square’s mood lifted past celebration into something closer to joy. People formed long, spontaneous lines—something between a procession and a dance—moving around the fire.
“Captain, come join us!” Pike gulped, unable to hold still.
“I’m too old to dance,” Cacusim said.
“I’ll bring you barbecue when I get some.” Pike stuck out his tongue and disappeared into the crowd.
The old man watched him go and felt a lightness that surprised him. He had been trying for weeks to find the right name for the boat they had assigned him. Something memorable. Something fitting.
Standing here now, watching this city’s people celebrate what they had built and survived, the answer came to him quietly and without effort.
Victory.
Chapter 476: The Victory Day
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
…
It was still dark outside, and someone had been knocking endlessly on Cacusim’s door. He yawned and subconsciously reached out to grab his coat, and then he realized he no longer needed a coat.
The thick brick wall kept the chill away, and the incredible heating made the inside warm. No matter how heavy the snow was outside, the house no longer let the cold in like it used to, and the roof no longer leaked. Such a high-quality house was only fit for the nobles in Valencia. Of course, it was a little smaller.
He opened the door and found a young boy, his assistant Pike, standing outside. “Why aren’t you up yet? We have to hurry, Captain! Otherwise, we won’t get a good spot!”
“Do we need to leave so early?” Cacusim stuck his head out and looked at the sky. The dawn was peeking through the clouds, and soft morning sunshine lit a small section of the sky.
“Of course!” the boy exclaimed. “My neighbors told me there would be a performance from the Star Flower Troupe during the celebration, and we won’t get into the square if we’re late!”
“All right, wait a minute.” The old man shrugged and returned to his bedroom to change. He looked at the other empty bed and sighed softly. “The Victory Day… Is there any celebration like this in Longsong Stronghold? If not, Vader would miss it.”
They went to the square and found that there were banners strung up on ropes and tied to the trees on both sides of the street. The small town looked bright and new under the morning sunshine. Every now and then, people joined them from the pathways into the main road and walked alongside them. It seemed that they were going to the square too.
Cacusim had heard about the celebration from Pike. The prince had named the first day after the Months of Demons as the Victory Day to celebrate passing the months safely. On that day, everyone in the town had the day off and enjoyed a grand bonfire party in the square. Cacusim’s assistant had learned about this and invited him to go to square with him. After some thought, the old man agreed.
As they entered, they found a fenced-in area in the center of the square and policemen with black uniforms maintaining order. Quite a few people had arrived early and were standing around waiting. The two quickly found a place near the stage and chatted as they waited for the celebration to begin.
At noon, crowds gathered in the square and the prince appeared in the center of the theater. As soon as he showed up, Cacusim heard overwhelming cheers. The people around him excitedly raised their hands and shouted, “Long Live Your Highness!”
Prince Roland smiled. He waited for the cheers to pass, raised his fist, and said loudly, “We have defeated evil once again!”
The square exploded in instant cheers, the deafening sound shook the old man’s heart. He had not seen such a respected lord in a very long time.
“My people, no matter where you come from, the Western Region, the Northern Region, the Eastern Region or the Southernmost Region, as long as you have made a contribution to our town, the glory belongs to you! This glory belongs to everyone who gave their blood and sweat to Border Town!” The prince’s calm, emotional voice seemed to have magic power and could be heard without him having to shout. “Today is the Victory Day. It was set by all of you. Evil has not been completely eliminated and will come back sooner or later, but no matter how many times our enemies come, victory is ours as long as we unite and work together!”
The old man had never heard a nobility refer to the civilians and himself as “we”, but His Highness didn’t seem to mind. He looked at the people naturally, without arrogance or scorn. In the prince’s eyes, he and his subjects were together as one.
It was incredible, but unexpectedly… harmonious.
“Now, let’s cheer for this hard-won victory and raise our glasses to celebrate!”
“Long live Your Highness!”
“Long live Victory!”
The cheers rang throughout the square, and the people raised their right hand to show their respect, including Cacusim.
“This is a Lord who is worthy of my loyalty!” Pike said passionately while thumping his chest.
Next, it was the Star Flower Troupe’s turn, and many people whistled excitedly.
“We haven’t seen their performances in such a long time.”
“Ms. Irene is still so beautiful!”
“But compared to Miss May, she still lacks lasting appeal.”
“It’s Ms. May now. Haven’t you heard the news? She’s about to marry Chief Knight, and the prince has already sent a wedding gift.”
Listening to the people around, Pike asked in wonder, “The name of a troupe is usually either the same as the theater or the name of the town, so why does the troupe of Border Town have such a strange name?”
“You aren’t a westerner, are you?” asked someone immediately. “Ms. May and Ms. Irene are both from Longsong Theatre, and Ms. May is called the Star of the Western Region, while Ms. Irene is called the Flower of
Tomorrow. Now, they both live in Border Town, so the troupe’s name is Star Flower Troupe.”
“Look, it’s beginning!”
This was not Cacusim’s first time watching theatrical performances, but the story was quite unique. Instead of a normal love story between nobilities, it told the history of the Western Region. The actors played ordinary people living in Border Town. In the beginning, they were helpless, confused, and chased around like lambs during the Months of Demons. Then they decided to stay in the town and fight against the demonic beasts. The whole story was full of twists and turns, which were very gripping. When the characters died from hunger and cold or were killed in the line of defense to protect their families, the audience felt as if they were there.
The old man was quickly captured by the performance, and even people who had just come to the Western Region could feel the sacrifices that citizens of Border Town made and their unremitting efforts for survival.
When the play was finished, a thunderous applause rang above the square.
Cacusim was dumbstruck by what he saw next. A girl with long flaxen hair held a black line in her hand. She cut the wood stage into various parts, and used them to light a giant bonfire.
The crowd wasn’t scared by this, and they even chanted her name. “Miss Anna! Miss Anna!”
As sheep baked on the bonfire, the atmosphere in the square reached its climax. The locals spontaneously stood in a long line and then began to dance strangely, the last part of the celebration. According to the people standing around Cacusim and Pike, as long as the dance continued, the barbecue would continue until midnight.
“Captain, let’s go together!” Pike gulped. He was eager to join.
“I’m too old to dance,” Cacusim shook his head. “You should join them.”
“I’ll go then.” He stuck out his tongue. “I’ll share some barbecue with you when I get it.”
Looking at the boy dancing with the crowd, the old man couldn’t help but laugh. He had been wondering how to make the name of the Concrete Boat assigned to him memorable and unique, and now he had an idea.
“I’ll name it Victory,” he thought.