"Of course," Lance noticed his reaction and calmly added, "Seeing that you are somewhat cooperative and have a good attitude in admitting your guilt, I have decided to give you another chance."
"Is My Lord thinking of attacking the farm?" The squad leader asked, feigning ignorance. He knew full well what those previous questions implied and asked only to gauge the Lord's strength.
"I like smart people." Lance could tell he wasn't truly submissive, merely bowing his head due to the circumstances, but he didn't care in the slightest.
"So what would My Lord like me to do?"
"I need you to cooperate with us tomorrow to hijack the convoy transporting the food, then lead us into the farm estate."
"But I can't take that many people," the squad leader said, appearing helpless. What Lance said next, however, scared him.
"Including you and my four here, that's five people—just enough for a relief Guard squad."
"What?!" The squad leader was utterly stunned, doubting his ears. He quickly asked, "Just five people?"
"I think it's enough." Lance nodded confidently. "Too many people would actually prevent us from getting into the farm and approaching the estate."
The squad leader received a definite answer and immediately emphasized, "There are over fifty Guards on the farm and hundreds of Serfs. Even the servants in the estate number more than five. What can the five of us do once inside?"
As he spoke, the squad leader began to doubt whether this Lord knew anything at all.
Seeing his appearance, a frail scholar, he probably truly didn't understand.
"Then do you think the town mayor's security team is stronger, or the farm Guards?" Lance calmly asked in response to the skepticism.
"Of course, those mercenaries." Without much hesitation, the squad leader was certain that between two groups of thirty, the mercenaries were stronger.
"The town's security team was completely wiped out by us last night. The one who did it is the man standing in front of you."
Lance spoke the most terrifying words in the calmest tone, frightening the squad leader so much that he turned his head sharply towards Dismas.
"Are you questioning the Lord's decision?" Dismas cooperated by asking, almost scaring the squad leader out of his wits.
"No... I dare not..."
"You should be well aware that David doesn't trust any of you old-timers. If this continues, he is certain to suppress you. Before long, you won't even be a squad leader anymore and will suffer through training, patrolling, and abuse all day.
"But if you listen to me, once we take over the farm, I will not only pardon you but also make you Guard Captain. You won't have to cater to David's whims any longer. The choice is yours."
Lance laid bare the crisis the squad leader was facing. He too felt David's exclusion of the old-timers; if he hadn't brought only three militia members with him, he might not even have his squad leader position now.
But if things continued, David would surely replace him, and he would become absolutely powerless.
"Count me in! My Lord, just tell me what to do!" The squad leader realized it was time for a bold move.
"All you need to do is bring us in. Once we're on the estate, contact the former Guards. Tell them that David killed the farm owner and now seeks to kill them, the old-timers, to seize the farm. Incite them to attack David's faction. Leave the rest to us."
The squad leader listened. He realized he wouldn't have to face any direct danger; he just needed to stir up a few people. If that was all, it seemed acceptable.
"My power is stronger than you can imagine. I could even kill everyone by attacking the farm head-on, but I need an intact farm, not a pile of ruins. That's why I need your help. You can kill, but don't damage the farm, understand?"
Lance's words exuded an air of authority. His confidence, which carried an air of Nobility, made the squad leader bury any thoughts of resistance he might have had.
"Rest assured, My Lord, I will do as you command," the squad leader said submissively, clearly aware of his place.
"I like smart people." Lance carelessly tossed something, which landed in front of the squad leader. To his surprise, it was a Gold Coin. A smile he could hardly contain spread across his face as he quickly picked it up to examine it, repeating his thanks incessantly.
"Thank you, My Lord! Thank you, My Lord!"
He had served the farm owner for years without so much as seeing a silver coin, and now he received a Gold Coin just from meeting the Lord. It was clear that Nobility were indeed generous with their wealth. There was no doubt that following them was the right decision.
"As long as you do well, there will be plenty of rewards for you."
Lance stood up to leave. As soon as they walked out, Dismas couldn't help but ask,
"Isn't it a bit wasteful to reward him with a Gold Coin like that?"
"A Gold Coin for a farm? I think it's worth it," Lance said casually, waving his hand dismissively.
Before coming here, the professor had given him ten Gold Coins as start-up capital. Combined with his own savings and what he had found in the cellar, he was not short of money. The squad leader, however, was crucial for tomorrow's operation.
Besides threats and warnings, it was necessary to offer him a taste of sweetness too. Otherwise, if he ran away under pressure, it would be troublesome.
「...」
After the mayor's death, Lance had taken over the office in the mayor's house, which was originally used for official business. He was now looking through the documents left by the mayor.
According to previous statistics, Hamlet Town had at least 1,300 registered individuals. Adding the unregistered Serfs, beggars, and vagrants, the number would likely reach around 1,500.
In a world where ten thousand people qualified as a city and a thousand as a town, this dilapidated "little fishing village" indeed deserved the title of a town.
But the headcount for those coming for porridge these past two days was 821. This was certainly not everyone in town, but it was also unlikely to be far off.
This meant that the bandit invasion and famine had directly killed over five hundred people—nearly one-third of the population, most of whom were of working age.
They were his subjects!
It pained him deeply—but more than that, he felt anger.
Damn it, his fields had been blown to smithereens! How much money and time would be needed to rebuild?
Not to mention, the robustly grown leeks in the fields had been uprooted, leaving only wilted sprouts behind. The remaining mayor, that bastard, knew only how to cut without fertilizing!
Lance had already sentenced those bandits to death in his mind.
They must pay the price!
But the problems plaguing him now were population and reconstruction.
Most of the 800-plus people were old, weak, sick, or disabled. Their main occupations were fishermen and farmers. The farm owner had previously bought their fields at a low price, turning them into unemployed wanderers.
Lance shook his head and stood up, placing the tax ledger he had been holding back on the shelf. Suddenly, he felt something was amiss.
He tapped on the floor. While the thud sounded right, as soon as he sat down and placed his foot on that spot again, he discovered the sound had become hollow.