The events of 23 Galena, 11The civilians of the fortress had assembled in the dining hall, the excavated areas of the fortress not yet deemed suitable for a gathering. The excited murmurs of the crowd erupted into cheers as the dwarves of the military strode in in their ceremonial best -- which, truth be told, meant that they had merely attempted to wash some of the grime off of their armour and weapons. In the stead of flowers, the dwarves threw small chunks of kaolinite at the feet of the militia.
After several minutes of this, Sirian detached himself from the semi-circle of heroes. Holding his hands up to calm the crowd, he shouted, his voice still harsh but betraying glee, "My fella dwarves! T'day's a grea' day! We crushed th' siege!" The crowd once more erupted in cheers. "People o' Frozenvictims! I've promised y' safety an' prosperity, a new beginnin' fer th' fortress! Let this day be th' first step! Thanks t' my increas' defences, we caught dozens o' gobbos, meanin' arena fights!" More cheers. "An' best o' all, my fren's, none o' us got a scratch!" Still more cheers. "In honour o' our vict'ry, I'm declarin' t'day a holiday!" At this, the hard-worked dwarves cheered deafeningly, and many streamed out of the dining room to fetch barrels of booze, which were plentiful now that both stills were operating near-continuously. Sirian took a deep bow, his beard touching the engraved floor, and the crowd's cheers renewed.
Razorpleat was the first to approach the Overseer. He offered his hand. "Congrats, sir. Four squads o' gobbos 'n' barely a den' in a piece o' armour. Well done!" Sirian nodded, his mouth curled in a slight smile, clapping his free hand on the shoulder of his assistant. He then turned and walked over to a corner, moving almost as quickly as before his injury.
Today was the military's day, but it was his day.
Some days later, an image of the glorious victory would be carved on the walls of one of the altars under construction: