In the end, Simon was assigned to work at the winery, becoming an apprentice brewer.
By today, two years later, steady meals at the factory canteen—where food was unlimited—had toughened his body. His frame grew solid, and his height shot up to two full meters.
Through arrangements made by the United Guild, he also received sponsorship and assistance from a Demon-Extermination Army squad leader. He was reunited with his mother and younger sister, and his entire life was reborn!
No one called him Scarback Simon anymore. All his coworkers admired his grit and perseverance, giving him a resounding nickname instead—"Madman Simon the Desperate."
Yet in his heart, he still longed to join the Demon-Extermination Army, the force sworn to wipe out harpies, and to fight for Lord Morninglight!
When Garedun arrived with four personal guard knights and four city hall officials, Morninglight Commercial Street instantly erupted into chaos.
"Lord Morninglight~!!!"
"Bishop~!!!"
"Lord Garedun~!!!"
"..."
Countless fanatical cries mixed together, merging into a deafening roar like a surging flood.
"Everyone, stay safe! Don't push!"
Garedun reined in his horse and shouted helplessly at the crowd pressing toward him.
"If you want to see me, you're always welcome to leave a letter in the suggestion box."
"I'm here today to welcome new compatriots into our great Tarth family. Please, stay calm!"
As he shouted, the City Defense Army stationed on Morninglight Commercial Street—five hundred Unsullied reorganized into garrison troops—immediately ran over and formed a solid line, blocking the frenzied citizens.
Lord Morninglight was warm and approachable!
But the identical, cold expressions of the city defense soldiers quickly dampened the crowd's fervor.
Most people stopped trying to rush toward Garedun. They stayed where they were, shouting wildly, hoping to earn Lord Morninglight's favor!
Garedun wiped at sweat that didn't exist on his neck. These people were simply too honest and straightforward!
He had only ensured they were fed, clothed, and given a future to look forward to—yet they adored him to this extent.
But in truth, he had also taken away their freedom and their time.
Every person was like a screw he had tightened by hand, each contributing a tiny, almost negligible force so that the massive aircraft carrier called Tarth Island could roam the Narrow Sea without restraint.
The most pitiful were the children.
Any child over seven years old was forced to attend school during the day, then act as a teacher at night, teaching their parents how to read.
What made it worse was that Tarth's teaching staff hadn't kept up—over a hundred children in a single literacy class, with only two teachers responsible for writing and mathematics.
Some children couldn't learn well themselves and would get beaten by their parents!
Parents who couldn't learn properly were mocked by others—and when they got home, they'd receive a double beating!
Tragic. Truly tragic!
The carefree days of hunting birds in the mountains, catching fish and shrimp by the sea—those days slipped away like the sand clenched in a child's trembling hands.
Yet even with such strict systems, such exhausting labor, and only the single benefit of being fed, the citizens accepted it all.
This could only mean one thing—the nobles of Westeros truly didn't deserve to be lords.
Or perhaps those lords simply enjoyed being feared by commoners!
Or perhaps, in the eyes of those noble masters, the people were nothing more than two-legged sheep—animals that could understand commands.
Under the hopeful, expectant gazes of over twenty thousand free folk, Garedun stepped onto the stage.
"In my capacity as Lord of Tarth Island, and in the name of the Tarth family's patriarch, the Dusk Star, I hereby declare—
The 24,681 new free folk present today officially become citizens of Tarth Island."
"Congratulations to you all! In the name of Morninglight, I sincerely wish you a bright and beautiful future!"
He said no more.
Those free folk who had failed the trials had long since been sent off to mine. Anyone seated in the plaza today was, at the very least, not lazy or worthless.
As for why he didn't invoke the name of the King of the Seven Kingdoms or the Protector, Robert Baratheon—
That was simple.
Tarth Island had already been reshaped into an independent kingdom under his rule.
Here, people recognized only Morninglight, and no one else!
How could he be like Eddard Stark, who would recite a whole speech before executing someone—declaring that he acted under authority granted by some king?
"Thank you, Lord Morninglight~!!!"
Simon waved his fists wildly, shouting at the top of his lungs.
When he noticed Garedun's gaze sweeping over him, he straightened his chest and back even more, doing his utmost to show his most spirited side.
"Lord~!!!"
"Lord Garedun~!!!"
"..."
"Morninglight! Morninglight! Morninglight!"
As Simon's voice fell, another wave of thunderous cheers erupted. Countless emotions fused into a single chant, echoing again and again across more than half the island.
Other citizens lost control of their excitement and surged toward the stage in fanatic fervor, only to be stopped once more by the city defense troops.
"With these 24,681 new citizens, Tarth Island's population should have exceeded 120,000 by now."
Garedun maintained a gentle smile as he watched the ceremony, silently communicating with the Core Intelligence.
[Yes. According to weekly reports from City Hall, the United Guild, and the Tarth Chamber of Commerce, Tarth Island's total population is approximately 168,000. Among them are 123,242 citizens, 22,033 new free folk, prisoners…]
The Core Intelligence's data was extremely detailed. With at least ten thousand slaves delivered to Tarth Island by sea merchants every year, the island's total population—counting stranded merchants and prisoners—was now close to 170,000.
By the time the theatrical celebration began, the crowd in front of the stage had completely changed.
Including Garedun himself—he still had to rush to the military camp to preside over the ceremony reorganizing the militia into formal troops, as well as the steelworks furnace shutdown ritual.
The newly joined citizens could hardly wait to head to City Hall to receive their identity documents.
When Simon reached the Household Affairs Office and received his family's iron citizen ID plates, he immediately ran to the military recruitment office to sign up.
"Simon… you still came in the end."
At the entrance of the three-story concrete-brick recruitment building at the end of the commercial street, Simon ran into his sworn brother—Stinky Dog, clad in silver light armor.
"Brother, I want to go to the battlefield!
To fight for Tarth!
To fight for Lord Morninglight!"
Simon clenched his iron identity plate tightly as he spoke with unwavering resolve.
"My mother and little Syra support me too."
"But I still hope you can stay and work properly at the winery. The Lord has said it himself—that's also contributing to Tarth."
Stinky Dog removed his domed great helmet, revealing a resolute, weathered face.
"Fighting for the Lord… having me is enough."
He had been trained as an Unsullied since childhood, long having lost all memories of other relatives. The family the United Guild found for him had become his true kin.
Simon respected him as an older brother, and he cared for Simon as a real younger brother—not merely someone he was helping.
"Here, strict laws ensure that power cannot bully the weak. Rigorous systems guarantee that everyone receives what they deserve. With the Lord presiding over everything, the future will only get better."
Simon asked in confusion,
"Even if we die in battle, my mother will still receive compensation. So why… why won't you let me enlist?"
"…Alright."
"Go sign up."
When Stinky Dog realized that Simon was already prepared even for death, he knew he could no longer stop him.
All he could do was walk him to the recruitment desk.
...
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"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
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"Game of Thrones The Glory of a Knight"
(End Chapter)