These days, it’s not unusual for desperate commoners to rebel against their Lord when they can’t survive. Any excuse will do, not to ntion that the townspeople had already been slaughtered once.
When the Knights arrived, they found it was rely a bandit problem. The Prophet himself had already been captured by the old master, so the matter was dropped.
But there were certain things Lance could never truly say out loud, so he had to turn his verbal assault on the captain.
"You truly are brainless. If she were really the heir, would she have allowed you to attack the town? You could have been heroes simply by wiping out the bandits. Even as deserters, you would have been accepted by everyone if you had protected the town. Instead, you wasted the opportunity, helped the bandits slaughter the townspeople, and pushed your soldiers into a deadly alliance with them."
Lance berated the captain harshly. Just as the captain started to react, Lance’s words shut him down again.
"That’s about enough. Ultimately, you’re nothing more than a pawn. The real culprit is the evil cult. You’ve been bewitched by a woman for so long, yet you remain clueless about the truth. You’ve also senselessly sacrificed so many soldiers who were willing to follow you. It’s truly pitiable and detestable."
Lance was also angry at their lack of spirit. If he had started with as many fully ard soldiers, complete with firearms and artillery, he could have easily crushed those town mayors, farm owners, and bandits. Would he have needed to plan so carefully and for so long?
Hearing this, the captain latched onto Lance’s repeated ntion of the "evil cult" and couldn’t help but ask.
"What evil cult?"
Lance glanced at the others but showed no intention of explaining, rely speaking slowly.
"Before that, I think you should first understand what all of you have done to this town."
After saying this, Lance led his n from the room, leaving the captain alone with the flickering light.
Once outside, Reynard resud the conversation they hadn’t finished earlier.
"Sir, the selection process for the Knights of Holy Light is extrely strict. Those who can join are terrifyingly powerful, and they wear the best equipnt; so are even skilled in Divine Arts. Usually, a team of six includes an accompanying Combat Priest.
Similarly, these individuals are very few. Only churches in large cities can afford to support them. Thus, they are stationed only at a few key locations to ensure the safety of the Church’s higher-ups.
It would be impossible to dispatch them for an ordinary task. The fact that two teams ca this ti implies the situation is definitely not as simple as he described."
"I know." Lance nodded. He knew the situation wasn’t that simple. Regardless, he couldn’t afford to provoke the Church. Besides, these people had indirectly saved Hamlet, buying him ti.
But Lance felt no goodwill towards these individuals.
They were also there to collect taxes. The tax register left by the town mayor ntioned it: called a donation, it was, in reality, a tax.
And it was extrely complicated. Supposedly one-tenth of all inco, the actual collection often exceeded this amount. These religious tithes weighed on the common people like a mountain.
Otherwise, why do you think the Church could build cathedrals even in these remote, impoverished places?
That’s my money! My money!
What’s even more infuriating is that, in principle, if you take money, you should provide a service. But what’s the reality?
When bandits attacked, they only passively defended the cathedral, completely disregarding the commoners who, day after day, had given their all to support them.
If the Church and the Guild had been willing to accommodate so of the refugees, the town wouldn’t have suffered the massacre of five hundred able-bodied young n, an act that nearly severed the town’s very roots.
Afterward, seeing the town in ruins and no longer of value, they simply dusted off their hands and left.
If only those Nuns and Priests had been willing to use Divine Arts to help the wounded townspeople, many wouldn’t have subsequently died from lack of treatnt.
Not everyone was as tough as the old soldier. During the subsequent cleanup of buildings, Lance personally saw bodies being carried out.
The Guild didn’t collect taxes and chose to preserve itself—that’s sowhat excusable. But you damn Church, you took the money and did nothing!
The re thought made Lance grind his teeth in frustration.
But he was helpless. The Church truly possessed Divine Arts, and perhaps a god truly stood behind them.
It was unknown whether the being behind him could contend with theirs.
However, regardless, now that they had chosen to leave, they shouldn’t dream of returning easily. This was his territory. He had long ago arranged for Susan to spread word of the Church’s actions during that ti.
Every survivor would rember that their so-called gods had abandoned them, and that it was their Lord who had saved them.
He was determined to eradicate the Church’s influence in his domain, but he couldn’t do so openly, only in secret.
Yet, these weren’t matters to dwell on now. The captain’s words had confird a few things for him.
Their route ho hadn’t been towards Hamlet; they had only co this way because of that woman.
And that woman, with her Incense and Evil Curses, could almost certainly be identified as a Heretic. This confird that the artillery regint’s attack on the town was entirely the evil cult’s conspiracy.
Originally, the annihilation of the two major bandit factions should have eased his mind. But now, the ergence of the evil cult greatly increased his pressure, not to ntion the unknown disease discovered in the Wolf Faction’s camp.
The disease was likely contracted because they had camped in the dense forest.
The things lurking within this wilderness and dense forest also made Lance quite wary.
The situation, which had just begun to open up, was once again threatened. Although he had anticipated this, a grim expression couldn’t help but surface on Lance’s face, though it quickly vanished...
...
"AH!"
The captain awoke with a start, looking around frantically. The pitch darkness filled his heart with even greater panic.
In that mont, fear nearly consud him. He could only flail his arms wildly, shouting.
"Don’t co near! Don’t co near ... I didn’t kill you... It wasn’t ..."
Just then, the door opened. The captain, startled, looked over. Illuminated by candlelight, a woman holding a candle was walking in.
Under the candlelight, the illusions before his eyes dissipated, and he finally cald down sowhat.
"Are you alright?" Susan approached with the candle, illuminating the captain’s face. Seeing the beads of sweat on his forehead, she couldn’t help but ask.
"I’m fine..."
The captain unconsciously avoided Susan’s gaze. His reaction made Susan sigh with pity.
"Sigh... Those bandits are truly damnable, torturing you into such a state."
Hearing this, the captain felt utterly ashad. But Susan’s next words surprised him.
"But rest assured, you’re safe here. Sleep soundly. My Lord will soon exterminate those bandits, and then you can return ho."
The captain could sense the woman’s hatred for the bandits. Rembering what the Lord had said to him earlier, he couldn’t help but ask, "Can you tell what the bandits did here?"
Susan didn’t refuse his strange question. Her expression imdiately filled with sorrow. After a few seconds of silence, she began to speak slowly.
"They took everything from ..."
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