"I didn’t!" the man shouted, startling everyone as he abruptly stood up.
But instead of attacking others, he rushed towards the stake set up in the square.
In an instant, the man fell backward, blood blurring his vision as the sounds around him gradually faded away.
His last conscious thought was that he must not leave his family with any disgrace...
The man collapsed, blood gushing from his head. This scene left everyone stunned. Those who had been indignant just monts before began to step back, looking around in panic and clamoring for their own defense.
"It’s got nothing to do with us. He ran into it himself."
"Damn guy! It’s obviously suicide out of fear of punishnt." Even the foreman, who had just shown disdain, displayed a hint of panic, repeating these words to characterize the incident.
"Let’s go, let’s go... back to work." The crowd that had gathered only seconds before was ready to disperse, leaving the blood to flow on the ground.
"You can’t leave!" a furious roar erupted, accompanied by the fierce barking of a dog.
William held Fergus with one hand and raised his spiked baton with the other, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.
It wasn’t just him. Several uniford sheriffs, brass badges pinned to their chests, stopped the people.
When Lance left, he had made thorough arrangents: the military was in charge of security outside the town, and the sheriffs handled the town’s order.
For this purpose, he had expanded the sheriff’s force, selecting a few n who had voluntarily retired from the army to join. This made good use of the hard-earned results from the training camp.
These n might not have been up to full military duties, but they could adapt quickly to the much lighter task of maintaining order. Moreover, the pay was better than that of the average townspeople, providing a viable option for those leaving the army.
Clearly, the commotion had alerted the town’s sheriffs, leading to the current scene.
After arriving in Hamlet, William had been continuously learning. Faced with this situation, he imdiately took a first-aid kit from a pouch on his belt and began to dress the victim’s wounds to stop the bleeding.
Ordinary people naturally felt intimidated by the sheriffs; they couldn’t afford to offend William. For now, they were restrained.
Yet most of them didn’t fully grasp why they were involved in this incident, muttering curses as they watched William helping the injured man.
"Why save him? He’s better off dead," one of them grumbled.
"Exactly. I hate guys like him the most," added another.
"..."
William heard so of these remarks, but as a sheriff, he wouldn’t let such comnts stop him.
Having been tempered by hardship, he knew well that things weren’t always as simple as they seed. Every incident had to be investigated before one could speak with authority.
William quickly finished bandaging the injured man’s head. Whether he would survive was now up to him.
"Silence, everyone!" William stood up and ordered, his eyes on the restrained crowd. He swung his baton as a signal. "Take them all back for registration, and no whispering among yourselves!"
"This guy tried to bribe and failed!" the foreman interjected. "He committed suicide out of guilt. He ran into it himself with so many witnesses around. What does this have to do with us?"
"Let’s go. We’ll know more after an investigation," William said, not trusting one-sided accounts and gesturing with his hand.
This was Hamlet’s first case involving bloodshed, and it happened during the sensitive period of Lord Lance’s absence. William knew he had to take it seriously, no matter what.
Because no one knew if it was a conspiracy by those evil cults.
Seeing William handling the situation by the book, the foreman tried to play his trump card.
"I’m in charge of an important task entrusted by Lord Lance himself! Can you take responsibility if the developnt of the Western Wastelands is delayed because of this?"
The aning of his words was obvious: the foreman was flaunting his connections. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been put in charge of such a critical task.
Others might fear the sheriffs, but he didn’t.
I’m a true mber of Hamlet’s People; let these damned outsiders try to touch if they dare!
It was quite apparent that after the foreman spoke, the others involuntarily moved closer to him.
Fawning is human nature, especially since they were involved in this incident and their interests now aligned with the foreman’s.
William, of course, detected the threat. His expression beca solemn as he looked at the foreman. He was never one to be intimidated, but he frowned because the foreman’s attitude seed quite abnormal.
"If you genuinely have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to worry about. You’ll be released after the investigation. I won’t wrong an innocent person, nor will I let a guilty one go free."
The foreman was annoyed by William’s inflexibility.
Ever since he beca foreman, everyone he t had to call him ’Boss.’ Who dared to talk to him like this?
"I was in Hamlet when you were still a nobody!" the foreman retorted.
"That’s irrelevant to this case," William stated calmly.
"You dare touch ! I’ll—"
"Are you attempting to resist arrest?" William interjected sharply, suddenly loosening his grip on Fergus’s leash.
Fergus sprang forward as if on cue, barking wildly. By the ti William tightened the leash, the dog was inches from the foreman’s face. It looked as if, had it not been for the leash, Fergus would have bitten him.
The foreman was so startled by this sudden move that his words caught in his throat. When he regained his composure, his face flushed with anger.
"Wh-what do you think you’re doing?" he stamred, fear poorly masked by his bluster. "Hmph! Fine, let’s go! I’m not afraid of you!"
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