Lance calmed the woman down while feeling the [Tribute] feedback from the Void. He couldn't tell if it was because too much time had passed or because of the child, but it was much less than he had received from the previous few bandits. It was a windfall nonetheless, so he didn't complain.
Lance noticed the wounds on her wrists. The dense, unhealed scars indicated what the woman had endured over the past dozen or so days, making him feel somewhat distressed. He immediately took her hand, pulled out his handkerchief to bandage the wounds, and took the opportunity to explain his identity: the rightful Heir to Hamlet Territory—Lance Hamlet.
And so, Lance learned the woman's name was Susan.
Susan was clearly somewhat incredulous. No noble Lord would treat them like this, but confirmations from Dismas and Reynard verified Lance's identity as a great Lord. This only intensified Susan's bitterness. Why had he come only now? If he had come earlier, perhaps her husband and son wouldn't have died…
Lance also sensed this, his expression becoming somewhat forlorn.
Inside the game, I could treat everyone as expendables for clearing levels, and I believed I should act the same way now. I thought I could treat these people as game characters, but after truly engaging with them, I realized I was also affected by emotions.
"Those who harm my people, I swear I will make those bandits pay a blood price!" Lance stood up, making his vow. His stern visage sent a chill down Dismas's spine, who couldn't help but echo in agreement.
"I shall be your Dagger!"
"Our strength is still weak; we need to accumulate power." Lance knew rage wouldn't achieve greatness and quickly calmed himself. He then looked towards the old soldier lying on the bed. "He needs our help."
Such a severe injury was beyond common treatment, and the field dressings Reynard and the others had learned on the battlefield were clearly unsuitable.
"Boil some water."
As someone from the modern era, Lance had some understanding of basic medical care. He directed everyone to get busy, clearing a slightly cleaner space. He then took out a soft piece of inner lining, tore it into strips, and threw them into the boiling water.
After disinfecting a small knife by passing it over a flame, he cut away the necrotic flesh around the wound and wiped it with a cloth strip. In an era without anesthetics, such a procedure was nearly lethal. Fortunately, the old soldier was unconscious.
Soon, the wound was cleaned and dressed with the ointment Reynard had brought, then wrapped with the cloth strips.
Susan watched Lance treat the old soldier and couldn't help but look at her own wrist wound. It was astounding that a Lord would go to such lengths for a stranger, even cutting up his own clothes to bandage the wounds of a "dead man."
This flurry of activity completely used up Lance's remaining [Tribute], but it only stabilized the old soldier's condition. Fortunately, his situation had stabilized; at least his breathing had become smoother, and the rise and fall of his chest were noticeable, buying them some time.
To completely heal the injury would require more [Tribute] and time, meaning he needed to kill and offer Sacrifices.
"The people of the territory are suffering; we must take prompt action." Lance frowned, looking towards Susan, as she knew the town's situation best. "I need your help."
"I understand…" Susan's previously calm gaze began to kindle with the flames of revenge.
Nights in Hamlet Town arrived especially early. For the townspeople who generally lacked nightlife, sleeping was the only activity—at least hunger didn't feel as oppressive once asleep.
Moving around at night was difficult because illumination in this world was quite limited. It primarily consisted of Candles and oil lamps filled with animal fat or resin, as well as torches soaked in the same. Common folk used paraffin wax, while the Nobility used beeswax, which burned without black smoke.
But for the mercenaries and thugs, their nightlife was just beginning.
"HAHAHA! You should have seen it! I went up and, with one punch, sent a bandit flying..." a burly man in the tavern bellowed, swinging his fists. No one dared question the strength in his thick arms, even though everyone knew he had actually sent a townsfolk flying—someone who had gotten in his way while he was escaping.
Those mercenaries and thugs boasted in the taverns over drinks or headed to a brothel to spend the night with a prostitute. Some of the more brutish ones even broke into townspeople's homes to forcibly take women. They probably hadn't expected such opportunities even after the bandits cut off the town. Although they had run away, they survived, while those who had chosen to fight the bandits ended up dead.
After a bout of rowdiness, the mercenaries left one by one, leaving the tavern in its usual nightly mess. However, tonight was destined not to be so peaceful.
"Not in for a game or two?"
"TCH! If I had money, wouldn't I rather find a woman?"
The mercenary who had crossed paths with Lance earlier that day staggered out of the tavern, slightly drunk. The mere thought of the women in the brothel made his walk unsteady. He had been an idler in town before the bandits arrived. After they left, he had somehow become a sheriff, yet his oppression of the townspeople continued unabated, even growing more ruthless.
As he was passing down the street, a hand shot out from behind, clutched his neck, and dragged him into a dark alley.
"Who!" The thug panicked, but in the next second, a hand covered his mouth, and he found his arms restrained.
Dismas wanted to dispose of him but was stopped by Lance, who instead handed Susan a Dagger they had previously confiscated.
"Go on. Take back what's yours."
Susan took the Dagger without much hesitation. Driven by hatred, she frenziedly plunged it into the thug's body.
One stab... two stabs...
The excruciating pain made the thug struggle violently, but it had no effect on Reynard, who held him fast.
"Enough. He's dead." Lance stepped forward, pulled Susan away, and casually offered the body as a Sacrifice.
After venting her rage, Susan didn't say much. To Lance, her demeanor seemed even more silent than before. Nonetheless, she remembered her mission and, according to the plan, led them to the next location.
According to Susan, the mayor had over thirty sheriffs under his command. The real combat strength came from about twenty-odd mercenaries; the rest were local thugs familiar with the area.
If it had been a regular day, with those men residing in the inn or the guild, attacking them would have been quite difficult. But the bandits had destroyed those places. Furthermore, the men's indulgence in wine and women meant they often lingered outside, providing the perfect opportunity to strike.
During the day, besides resting, Lance and his two companions had Susan confirm the locations of these individuals. They were waiting for tonight to bury them.