The townspeople began to gather. Lance had not expected so many people to be hidden in the once desolate town. The peaceful square quickly turned into a noisy marketplace, with those who had co for food starting to grumble loudly.
Yet Lance was in no hurry to speak. He just stood there, his entire bearing on display.
His status as Lord alone intimidated these people. Moreover, with his cold expression and Reynard, a Knight, standing by his side, his authority seed even more imposing, causing the crowd to subconsciously keep their distance.
When his gaze swept over them, the previously sowhat noisy townspeople gradually fell silent. They appeared very constrained, or rather, afraid—a testant to generations of their enslavent by the Nobility.
Lance was clear about his own identity. He was a Lord, and as such, he needed to assert the authority of a Lord. Dealing with people who were starving mad, willing to do anything for a full al, by talking about kindness would only make them think he was easy to bully. Then, managing these troubleso folk would beco an impossible task. What he sought now was stability. He needed to take control of the entire Hamlet as quickly as possible. To do that, he had to employ the "wisdom" passed down by the Nobility to ta these commoners.
As for being a good guy, I’ll at least wait until I’ve survived and secured my footing. Pondering freedom and democracy with my ancestor’s blade at my throat is sheer folly.
Seeing that his authority was starting to take hold, Lance no longer delayed.
"I am the heir of the Rathe family and the new Lord of this place. Our ancestors led the family knights to slay powerful enemies and open up these lands. It took many years to build such a grand estate where everyone had lived in abundance and tranquility. Unexpectedly, the Butler conspired with bandits to invade and kill the old Lord, plunging the town into the throes of war."
As he spoke, he lifted the tattered cloth in front of him, revealing the kneeling town manager.
At this mont, he was bound tightly with ropes, like a fat pig, his face sared with blood, his mouth stuffed with sothing. He looked terrified, a far cry from his usual arrogant manner.
The surrounding townspeople were sowhat surprised to see this scene—they had not expected that the town manager, who used to be high and mighty, would end up like this.
After seeing the town manager in such a state, they appeared quite happy, taking pleasure in the misfortune of this "fat pig" who had finally gotten his due.
"The town manager, who was supposed to organize the defense, ran away. This allowed the bandits to loot and pillage the town, killing your family and friends. After the bandits left, he failed to maintain order. Instead, he let the rcenaries oppress you and, in collusion with the farm owners, raised the price of grain so high that you couldn’t afford anything, causing many of you to starve to death."
With that, Lance raised his hand and shouted, "Who is the criminal of Hamlet!"
"The town manager!"
Soone in the crowd called out, followed by a tumultuous chorus of shouts.
"The town manager!"
They were not incapable of anger. However, long-term oppression and the vast difference in strength had forced them to hold their anger within. If fate had been unkind, they might never have had the chance to vent it in their lifeti. But now, their luck had changed.
"Today, as your Lord, it is my responsibility to judge this criminal!"
Seeing that the mood had been set, Lance imdiately grabbed a rcenary’s Longsword they had confiscated the night before and beheaded the town manager before the eyes of the people.
The head fell, rolling across the ground. Blood sprayed like a fountain from the neck, splashing as far as two ters away.
A mont of silence fell over the square; perhaps they had not expected the town manager to truly die there.
But the next second, they all began to cheer. The square erupted with excitent, and almost everyone was beaming, showing no fear at the death.
Lance watched their revelry with an expressionless face, then raised his hand and beckoned.
"Bring him over."
The crowd looked back to see the rcenary leader tied to a cross, being pushed along on a cart. Although he was bound, the latent strength in his corpulent body made the wooden fra shake as if it were on the verge of breaking apart. It seed as if he would break free at any second and start a killing spree.
That fear of being dominated surged through them once more, and the previously excited villagers beca silent, unconsciously keeping their distance.
"There’s no need for to say who he is. He ran away when the bandits invaded. When he returned, he beca the sheriff. In just over ten days, he has hard many people. Who among you has been bullied by him?"
The crowd’s silence was broken by a man’s words, followed by more people recounting the leader’s cris.
"He took my wife and tortured her to death!"
"My poor daughter! She lay on the bed covered in injuries and took three days to die."
"..."
"Should a man like this be killed?" Lance cried out loudly, and the crowd responded with an even louder voice.
"Kill him!"
"Kill!"
All sorts of evidence of his cris were presented. Each accuser looked as if they wished to devour his flesh and drink his blood. The leader, looking at these furiously agitated people, lost his previous arrogance and instead felt fear.
"Wait! I have made contributions to the territory; I have shed blood for the town; I want to see the town manager!"
"The town manager is right there," Lance said with a smile, pointing with his sword to the head on the ground. At that mont, the leader noticed the corpse hidden by the crowd and felt even more afraid.
"My Lord! It’s all lies from these trouble-making villagers. I have always been protecting the town. Without , the bandits would have already broken in."
"Are you very defiant?" Lance looked at the leader, his face wearing a faint smile.
The leader looked rough but was actually cunning; otherwise, he wouldn’t have survived under the bandits, let alone risen to beco sheriff. He imdiately recognized a chance for survival and began to plead for rcy.
"It was the town manager who made do it; I was forced! I swear by the gods I will change."
First and foremost, he aid to clear his own responsibility. Although he had enjoyed many benefits under the town manager’s rule, he did not hesitate to switch allegiances in the face of this man.
"Good! Then I will give you a chance." Lance raised his hand and scanned the crowd. "I will pick soone from these people. If you can win against them, I will let you go."
The leader was overjoyed. The Lord wants to give a way out! he thought. In this world, no one can refuse a ready-made fighting force. All I need to do is kill one commoner to be embraced by the new Lord. Then I can continue to lord it over others, can’t I?
At Lance’s gesture, Reynard stepped forward, swinging his sword to cut the leader’s bonds and set him free.
The leader flexed his wrists, his predatory gaze again falling on those unsteady commoners. He knew a hundred ways to kill them.
At this sight, the previously excited crowd instantly fell silent. They quickly backed away, leaving a wide empty circle around him.
There was no helping it. The rcenary leader’s muscular physique and brutal killing techniques were too intimidating for ordinary people. Furthermore, his recent reign of terror in the town had already made everyone deeply fearful.
CLANG! Lance tossed the sword he was holding in front of the leader. "Who is willing to co out and fight him?"
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