After crossing a stone bridge over the river, Lance and his companions finally arrived at Hamlet Town.
Upon entering the town, Lance could immediately feel its desolation, a stark contrast to the city etched in his memory. Most of the buildings were cramped, shabby wooden houses, their roofs barely covered with thatch to shield them from the elements.
In the early morning, the streets were nearly deserted, save for a few figures squatting or lying in the corners of buildings. They wore old, ragged coarse hemp clothes, their faces sallow and emaciated, eyes hollow and devoid of hope, as if merely waiting for death.
Traces of war were still evident: large areas of destroyed and collapsed buildings, the scorched blackness from fires still clearly visible. It was hard to imagine just how dire the situation had once been.
The population, too, was sparse. Some houses stood empty, leaving only messy scenes behind, a silent testament to unknown events.
Lance could only curse inwardly at the sight.
That old ancestor was a fucking waste, leaving me such a goddamn mess.
"Lord, what should we do now?" Dismas, too, realized this place would be difficult to navigate.
"First, let's get something to eat and settle in. We'll talk after we've rested."
Lance began to delve deeper into the town, discovering the situation was slightly better than he had initially imagined. Although the buildings still had thatched roofs, their main structures had been upgraded from wood to mud and stone walls, which at least looked a bit more solid.
However, the ground remained a muddy quagmire, and some people directly dumped their excrement onto the streets, causing a foul stench to permeate the air. Lance had to carefully avoid the filth, each step a small torment.
The layout of Hamlet Town was very simple. It was more akin to a small fishing village than a proper town; only near the central square did it begin to resemble a town center. The few large brick buildings around the square still bore witness to the town's former glory. But time had passed, and now only ruin remained. All the buildings were damaged to varying degrees, showcasing the sheer, devastating power of war.
"Let's go. To the tavern."
It was still quite early. As Lance pushed open the tavern door, he half-feared the dilapidated structure might collapse. There was no one behind the bar, only a young man, evidently an employee, wiping down tables and chairs.
"Good morning, guests!" the employee called out when he saw the three enter.
"What's there to eat?"
"For breakfast, we have vegetable stew, potato and meat stew, black bread, and chicken and fish."
Although Lance knew from the bandit leader that the town mayor had artificially inflated food prices, he was still shocked by the cost of food here. Black bread, a concoction of various coarse grains, bran, pea flour, and the like, had a sour taste due to fermentation issues and was as hard to swallow as chewing on sawdust. In the city, one copper coin could buy two pounds of soft, sweet white bread, and a pound of beef was only three to four copper coins. Here, black bread, food not even fit for pigs, cost a whopping copper coin per pound, and pork was priced the same as beef. As for beef itself, even those with a little money couldn't afford it, let alone ordinary folk.
"Three servings of vegetable stew, three servings of fish, and two ales for them."
As the food was served and they began to eat, Lance finally saw Reynard's face beneath his helmet. He had a thick beard and appeared to be in his thirties, but his face was haggard and his expression sorrowful, as if burdened by an inexplicable shame. Yet, his eyes still retained the fervent power of the Holy Light.
But now, Lance was so hungry he couldn't be bothered with any of that; he decided to eat first.
Just as they were eating, a ragged, disheveled figure, hunched over, burst into the tavern.
"Hey! What are you doing in here? If the boss sees you, I'm done for!" the employee exclaimed, abandoning his tables. He quickly got up to stop the person, but couldn't silence their desperate cries.
"Please, give me something to eat! I'll do anything!" the person begged.
From the voice, Lance discerned it was a woman, though she seemed terribly weak.
The strange woman was quickly driven out by the employee, who then hurried over to apologize to Lance's group.
"I'm sorry for the disturbance. She's a pitiable soul; please don't mind her," the employee said.
"Oh?" Lance suddenly became interested and inquired, "What's her story?"
But before the employee could continue, a commotion at the door once again caught Lance's attention.
"What rotten luck, running into a cur like you first thing in the morning!"
At the entrance of the tavern, an arrogant ruffian was cursing as he kicked at the hunched figure. The woman fell to the ground, curling up as punches and kicks rained down on her.
The employee, seeing this, hurried outside. Enduring the ruffian's abuse with a smile and flattering him profusely, he finally coaxed the man into the tavern, allowing the woman to escape further harm.
The ruffian pushed through the door, his face full of disdain as he mocked the employee.
"What's the matter with you? How can you even allow such..."
Before he could finish, he seemed to notice Lance's gaze and shouted aggressively at them, "What are you looking at!"
Upon realizing they were strangers, his interest was piqued. Noticing Lance's clean and well-groomed appearance, a greedy glint appeared in the ruffian's eyes, like a wolf spotting a fattened sheep, and he swaggered towards them.
"I'm the sheriff here. I suspect you're bandits, so let me just inspect..."
He couldn't finish his sentence, instantly falling silent as Dismas's pistol was already aimed squarely at him.
Lance watched Dismas, one hand holding the pistol, the other casually spooning food into his mouth, not even sparing the ruffian a glance. The disdain was palpable.
The ruffian froze, too frightened to speak. His survival instincts screamed a warning: this man would actually shoot.
"Sir, why would you think that? They're just passing through and will be leaving soon," the employee interjected, breaking the awkward tension and offering the ruffian an out.
"Where's my food! You made me wait this long? Are you asking to die?!" the ruffian snarled, diverting his anger. He yelled at the employee a few more times but didn't dare provoke Lance's group any further.
"Yes, yes, right away!" the employee said with a forced smile, quickly turning to fetch the food from the back. He soon managed to send the ruffian on his way.
Then, the employee immediately came over to Lance's group. "He must have just come from the brothel," he advised quietly. "You'd better leave quickly after you finish eating. It'll be trouble if he comes back with more men."
"Perfect," Lance said, unconcerned. He placed a copper coin on the table and, instead of heeding the warning, began to question the employee. "We're passing through and noticed this town is a bit strange. There are some things we'd like to ask you. If you answer well, this is yours."
"Please, ask whatever you like, honored guest. I'll answer anything," the employee said with an obsequious smile, his eyes inadvertently drifting to the copper coin. This place was nothing like the city. What he earned in a day was only enough for a full meal; money was something he rarely, if ever, saw. Yet, even so, people were vying for his job.
"How did this town end up like this?"
"Sigh... The town used to be alright, but a while ago, the bandits..."
Soon enough, Lance got the gist of the situation. Half a month ago, bandits had attacked Hamlet Town, decimating the population through burning, killing, and looting.