Kingdom Building Game: Starting Out With A Million Upgrade Points!-Chapter 94: A Well-Earned Celebration

"Cheers!"

The sound of tankards clashing together filled the barracks, followed by laughter and the hum of conversation. The knights were gathered around long wooden tables, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread. Their armor was finally off, replaced by simple tunics and trousers, but the scars and bruises from the trials remained.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they could relax.

"You should have seen your face when that last dummy swung at you, Darian!" one knight joked, laughing loudly.

Darian scoffed, downing a gulp of ale before slamming the tankard onto the table. "That thing came outta nowhere! But I handled it, didn’t I?"

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"Sure, if by ’handled it’ you mean nearly tripping over your own feet," Laris teased, smirking over the rim of his drink.

"Hey, I was setting up for a counterattack!" Darian shot back, grinning.

"You mean you just got lucky," Esten said with a chuckle.

More laughter erupted from the knights. They were battered, bruised, but victorious. This was their moment to bask in it.

Lionel sat with them, his fingers wrapped around a tankard, but he hadn’t taken a sip. He was smiling, enjoying the atmosphere, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink.

Darian caught sight of Lionel’s untouched ale and raised an eyebrow. "What’s the matter, rookie? You barely touched your drink."

Lionel shook his head, pushing the tankard slightly away. "I don’t drink alcohol."

Darian gave him an incredulous look. "What? Come on, you’ve earned it! After everything we’ve been through, a little ale won’t kill you."

Lionel remained firm. "I appreciate it, but I’d rather not."

Darian exhaled loudly and shrugged. "Suit yourself." He raised his own tankard again. "More for me, then!"

Lionel smiled, shaking his head, but as he looked around the room, he noticed someone was missing.

"Wait… where’s Garik?" he asked, glancing at Darian.

Darian leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. "Went to see his wife. The old man was more homesick than he let on."

Lionel nodded, realizing he should have expected that. Garik had always spoken fondly of his wife, often mentioning little things about her—how she made the best stew, how she always complained about his reckless habits, how she worried about him more than she let on.

"Can’t blame him," Lionel said. "After everything we’ve been through, I’d want to see my family too."

"Yeah," Laris chimed in, taking a sip of his drink. "We’ve been away for a while. Feels like longer, though."

Esten nodded. "We’ve been through hell. The ruined city, the jungle, the cliffs… everything we faced just to get here."

"And we survived," Kael said from the head of the table, raising his tankard. "Because we fought together."

A chorus of agreement followed, more drinks clinking together.

Lionel leaned back in his chair, his fingers running over the rim of his tankard. His body was sore, but he felt… good. Strong. Capable. He wasn’t the same knight who had entered the trials. He had changed.

They all had.

And for the first time, Lionel truly felt like one of them.

….

….

Garik walked through the dimly lit streets, his simple tunic and cloak doing little to keep the night’s chill at bay. His boots scuffed against the stone, his pace steady but eager. His heart beat with anticipation—he was finally home.

Taking familiar turns, he moved through winding alleyways, his mind already painting the image of his small house at the end of the road. The warm glow of candlelight through the windows, the faint smell of fresh bread from a bakery, the soft sound of her humming as she worked.

But as he rounded the final corner, his steps halted.

Where his home should have been, there was now a massive steel frame cutting through the landscape. Thick metal rails lined the ground in long, endless tracks. The houses, the familiar streets—everything was gone.

His stomach tightened.

He took a step forward, his breath shallow as he scanned the area. It was all wrong.

His home… gone.

Panic swelled in his chest as his eyes darted from side to side, searching for something—anything—that told him this was just a mistake. He turned to a group of workers standing nearby, their clothes dusty from labor.

"You there!" he called out, striding toward them. "What happened to all the homes here?"

One of the workers, a middle-aged man with soot on his hands, looked up. "Oh, they were torn down to make way for the new tracks."

Garik felt his stomach drop. His hands curled into fists. "Destroyed?" His voice came out hoarse, almost disbelieving.

The worker nodded.

Garik’s mind raced. Matilda. Where was she? Where was everyone?

Before he could ask, another man, younger and a bit more perceptive, stepped forward. "If you’re looking for someone, you don’t need to worry. No one was hurt or left stranded. They were all relocated."

Garik exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You could have said that sooner."

The man gave an awkward chuckle. "Sorry about that."

Garik took a deep breath, steadying himself. Then, looking at the men again, he asked, "Where can I find Matilda? She used to run a small bakery around here."

At the mention of her name, one of the workers’ faces lit up. "Oh, that woman! She made the best bread in the district. Yeah, we can direct you to where she stays now."

Relief flooded Garik’s chest. He straightened his posture, his voice firm but grateful. "Then take me there."

….

Matilda stepped out of her home, the cool evening breeze brushing against her skin. She was just about to close the door behind her when a voice called out—

"Matilda."

She froze.

That voice…

Turning around, her breath hitched as she saw a familiar figure approaching.

Garik.

Tears welled in her eyes instantly, and before she could stop herself, she rushed toward him, throwing her arms around his broad frame. She clung to him tightly, her body trembling as sobs escaped her lips.

Garik held her just as firmly, his warmth grounding her in the moment. Before she could even think, she cupped his face and pressed her lips to his, the weight of six long days of uncertainty melting away in that single kiss.

The men who had guided him smiled at the scene before them, giving each other knowing looks. One of them chuckled and patted Garik on the back. "We’ll be heading off now. Welcome home."

Garik gave them a grateful nod as they walked away, leaving him alone with his wife.

Matilda pulled back slightly, her eyes still wet with tears as she searched his face. "Why didn’t you come home six days ago?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion. "I heard that a lot of knights from the Order resigned after some deadly trial… What happened?"

Garik exhaled, his expression somber. "The emperor put us through a brutal trial… a test to make us stronger. Some of our comrades didn’t make it."

Matilda’s breath caught, her grip on his tunic tightening. "Why didn’t you resign, Garik?" Her voice cracked. "What if you had died? How could you just go along with something so unexpected?"

Garik placed his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. His gaze was firm, unwavering. "Just because something is unexpected, that’s not an excuse to run away," he said. "Life will always be full of surprises, Matilda. Running away is what a coward would do. And I am no coward."

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she remained silent as he continued.

"Besides," he added, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "that isn’t the kind of father I want to be to my son."

At that moment, the door creaked open again, and a small voice called out—

"Father… is that you?"

Garik turned toward the sound, his heart swelling as he saw a little boy standing in the doorway, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

A wide grin spread across his face.

"Isn’t it my little warrior?" Garik stepped forward, crouching down with his arms open. "How are you, Leandor? I’m sure you protected your mother well while I was gone, no?"

Leandor’s face lit up with joy. Without hesitation, he ran straight into his father’s arms, laughing as Garik lifted him with ease.

Garik held him high, letting the boy sit comfortably on his forearm. With his free hand, he playfully ruffled Leandor’s dark blue hair.

Leandor giggled, clutching onto his father’s shoulder. "I missed you, Father!"

Garik chuckled, holding him close. "I missed you too, my boy. More than you can imagine."

Matilda wiped her eyes, smiling softly as she watched them.

Matilda sniffled, wiping the last of her tears before placing a gentle hand on Garik’s shoulder. With a soft smile, she patted it twice.

"Come inside," she said. "You need a proper meal. I’ll whip up something for you."

Garik chuckled, adjusting Leandor in his arms as he glanced at her. "And a change of clothes too, I assume?"

Matilda smirked. "Obviously. Look at you—dusty, worn out, and freaking of sweat."

Garik laughed, stepping forward. "Then lead the way, my love. I’m happy to be back."

Matilda turned and walked inside, her heart lighter than it had been in days. Garik followed, holding Leandor close as he stepped through the doorway—finally home.

….

….

Seated on the edge of a jagged cliff, Jareth gazed into the horizon, his red cape billowing in the evening wind. The setting sun bathed the land in amber light, but he took no comfort in its warmth. His fingers tightened around a small, silver locket.

He opened it slowly, revealing a delicate portrait of him with a woman—Maria. Her auburn hair framed soft brown eyes, a kind smile forever frozen in time. Her stomach was bulged out, a clear sign she was with child, a future that never came to be.

Jareth exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Maria…"

Just then a knight called out to him.

"Sir Jareth, all our forces are assembled."

"We are ready to begin our march on the capital."