The land changed slowly at first.
So slowly that Serena did not notice it until Julius reined his horse in and let the mont breathe.
They had crested a low rise, leaving behind the last of the wild hills and broken stone, and before them stretched a broad sweep of green.
Fields.
Not abandoned ones choked by weeds and neglect, but living fields—rows cut clean and straight, dotted with figures bent to honest work.
Irrigation channels glinted faintly in the sunlight, carrying water from distant streams with quiet efficiency.
Windmills turned lazily in the distance, their sails new, their wood unscarred by rot.
Smoke curled from chimneys.
Nice white smoke from bakeries and the like produced their good in bulk for the consumption of the entire village, unlike the black smokes seen from the burning of goods, bodies or lands he had seen to many tis already when on campaign.
Serena drew in a sharp breath.
"This..." she said softly, "...this is your holand, isn’t it?"
Julius nodded.
"Yes. Or what’s left of it, the rest lays in Visigoth’s hands for now."
His words were tinged just a little bit in reminisence.
Aquitania was where he, the real him, and the mind now residing in the body had both been born.
Though the amount of ti he’d gotten to live there was not very long at all, and its not like he could even call the place all that morable.
The features he had seen in Aquitania was not all that much different from the lands he already ruled over right now, specifically Latinium.
They rode on at an easy pace, following a well-maintained dirt road that bore the marks of frequent travel—wagon ruts smoothed by ti.
Children ran along fences, laughing, chasing one another with sticks that were swords only in imagination.
A pair of elders sat on a bench outside a stone-built ho, arguing amiably over sothing trivial, their voices carrying without fear.
No one flinched at the sight of riders.
No one reached for hidden blades.
No eyes followed them with the hollow suspicion of the oppressed.
Serena felt sothing twist gently in her chest.
"Considering the history you told ... this place feels far more alive than it should."
"That’s Lunaia," Julius replied. "The Province of Lunaia."
He paused, then added, quieter, "It used to be called South Lunan."
"And before that, the Southern region of the Kingdom of Lunan."
That na carried weight.
Serena had seen the place in reports, heard stories from Yuri and Julius, along with even Miri and Zeff.
From all their tales South Lunan had been the more prosperous but also far more corrupt portion of the Kingdom.
Noble houses propped up by generations of effort, only to be squandered by their descendants.
The south beca a hotbed of smuggling, human trafficing, and drugs.
Powers that while bringing great wealth to those involved in their business.
But capable of rotting the lands and the people who live within them.
Then Visigoth had co.
And broken what little structure remained.
The north was claid, and the south broken as it was, was all that remained, but without much fight remained.
Then Hayna ca into power.
Probably the highest ranking remaining living noble who hadnt fled the kingdom or been cutdown by the rampaging Visigoth ard forces.
Only while she brought back their willingness to fight, she also furthered their ans of corruption and directed their anger towards a scapegoat rather than a usuable source.
Which resulted in the nation being broken once more.
Her desire for vengeance against Julius, the restoration of Lunan, and the needed victory against Visigoth for the recent tradgedy.
And yet—
Here they were.
The war was long over.
Lunan... all of lunan had fallen pointlessly.
And from it’s ashes the province of Lunaia was created.
~
A farr waved at them as they passed.
Julius lifted a hand in return, casual, unassuming.
The farr didn’t bow.
Didn’t kneel.
Just smiled and went back to his work.
Serena blinked. "He didn’t recognize you."
Julius smiled faintly. "Good, it would ruin our vacation if everyone knew who i was and started fawning over us."
They stopped in a town not long after midday.
It wasn’t large—perhaps a few thousand souls at most—but it was orderly.
Stone streets were swept clean.
Market stalls were laid out with fresh goods on display, showcasing the local handicrafts such as pottery, basketweaving, and even so simple embroidery works.
A pair of Romanus legionnaires stood near the well, helts under their arms, speaking quietly with a local woman who gestured animatedly at a broken water trough.
One of the soldiers knelt to inspect it, nodding as the other scribbled sothing onto a slate.
No shouting.
No threats.
No coins exchanged beneath the table.
Serena watched, transfixed.
"They’re... helping," she said.
"They’re supposed to," Julius replied. "They’re soldiers, not overlords, and certainly not bandits."
This was the standard he held all his soldiers to, they were a professional army.
And thanks to the assistance of his system if even one legionaire broke their oath and decided to harm the people, their centurion would know it and could respond before any real harm could be done.
Making his military the most corruption free probably in all of history.
They dismounted near a stable, and within minutes their horses were being tended by a boy no older than twelve, who accepted a copper with wide-eyed gratitude and ran off whistling to grab so feed.
As the two travelled around the village, Serena was greeted with a sight she probably never thought she’d see.
This land, his land... no their land was prosperous for all to see.
The running shops were busy with bussiness but also proudly displayed their products.
As newcors no one shunned then or refused them service if anything they openly welcod them.
Even going so far as to try and refuse paynt when Julius complinted the baker on his excellent bread crusts.
Each villager took pride in their work, and it was plain to see that these were not the citizens of the Lunan kingdom, nor of South Lunan.
These were the happy thriving citizens of the Empire of Romanus.
A national na and identity that they would not easily taint if given the chance.
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