The call ended, and Amanda finally let out a sigh of relief.
Although she had re-established contact with the organization, the ntal pressure on her was still imnse. Competition within the organization was fierce. Many people were eyeing her position, and she also feared losing her teacher’s trust over the failed mission and being replaced.
The culture of such a large organization was heavily influenced by its leadership’s style. It was bearable under a good leader, but miserable under a bad one. Unfortunately, her teacher and leader was a paranoid perfectionist. These traits, however, suited their departnt. They were responsible for the organization’s most difficult tasks, akin to a special forces unit, and had to perform flawlessly.
Other departnts might have had it easier, but Amanda couldn’t choose her placent; she could only be chosen.
Now that the mission’s target had shifted and its content had significantly changed, she needed to find a way to approach that man and gather more information about him.
Where should she start?
「...」
Lance didn’t wait around for Amanda to co knocking, nor did he stay cooped up in his room handling administrative affairs. Instead, he went out among the people of Hamlet.
His two-day absence hadn’t shaken the people’s respect for their Lord. Indeed, his reappearance inspired everyone, as if his presence alone ant all problems would be effortlessly resolved.
"...At that ti, I only knew I couldn’t let those guys leave the house. I had to protect my team. I used my gun until the bullets ran out, then my sword. When my sword was gone, I used my fists, my teeth..." a soldier, almost completely bandaged, was lying in his hospital bed recounting the situation.
The tragic and fierce scene sounded so simple as he described it: he couldn’t let the enemy harm his comrades, nor could he allow them to prevent the ssage from being sent.
Finally, the soldier cried out to Lance, agitated.
"My Lord, I didn’t betray you, really..."
"I know!" Lance reached out and grasped his hand. "Soldier, you have proven your loyalty, and I am proud of you."
He then presented the award certificate to the soldier, personally continuing the delayed ceremony.
Having received the Lord’s recognition, the soldier finally released his pent-up emotions. He tearfully grasped Lance’s hand and swore an oath.
"Soldier Dean will always be loyal to you, My Lord!"
"Good. Rest and heal. My soldiers don’t fall so easily."
Other wounded soldiers nearby witnessed this scene. In that mont, the fear in their hearts dissipated, and they silently vowed to also act bravely and earn the chance to pledge their loyalty to their Lord.
Lance’s first stop was the dical ward in the barracks, where he visited the injured soldiers to hear their firsthand accounts of the battle.
After all, the enemy consisted of fearless Heretics. Although there were no deaths this ti, many were injured. Lance needed to hear the specifics of their injuries directly from them and solicit their opinions on improvents to further reduce casualties.
This battle had indeed exposed several issues. One was the lack of effective long-distance communication thods. Secondly, the soldiers’ equipnt wasn’t strong enough. While adequate in head-on confrontations, they showed weaknesses once separated. Additionally, tactics for street fighting and combat inside buildings hadn’t been adequately studied, and overall tactical developnt was still sowhat crude.
These were problems that needed addressing. The army was the blade in his hand and demanded serious attention.
After leaving the barracks, Lance proceeded to a construction site. Before him stood a nearly completed special building.
Its exterior wasn’t wood and mud; large, square stones ford the main structure. Though only a single story, it was exceptionally refined. The stone joints were filled with mastic, and the surface was coated with li plaster, then painted white.
Li was another product of developing the wilderness. With vast numbers of trees felled for charcoal, the abundant fuel made it easy to burn listone in simple kilns.
"How much longer until the bathhouse is built?"
"The project is about five days from completion. We’re just finishing the fine-tuning. It can be used once the li plaster dries," replied the construction supervisor, who had been waiting nearby and answered imdiately.
"I can extend your tiline to ten days. This project is a crucial part of the town’s health and sanitation infrastructure, so you must ensure its quality. Don’t rush and cause any problems."
"My Lord, I swear on my life that there will be no issues whatsoever."
"I don’t need your life," Lance retorted. "Your life is for working, not for wasting on such aningless pledges. That’s just a way to evade responsibility."
"Yes! I guarantee the task will be completed!"
Lance observed him in silence. The previous supervisor for the bathhouse project had been removed. This man, having perford well in another role, had then been promoted to oversee this project.
However, this fellow—whether out of overexcitent or a desire to make a significant achievent and climb the ladder—had unilaterally changed the planned construction schedule and was now rushing the work with his crew daily.
Good heavens. His actions had directly spurred intense competition among other construction crews, a fact Lance had learned from workers during his tour.
In theory, this was good for Lance. It would expedite the projects, reduce unnecessary expenditure, and allow them to move on to the next task sooner.
But having co from the grassroots himself, how could he not know the toll such practices took on ordinary workers?
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