"Ah... water..." The old soldier's consciousness began to return, his lips moving slightly.
Lance saw it was about time and immediately feigned such weakness that he almost couldn't stand, staggering backward as if about to collapse. Fortunately, Dismas reacted quickly and supported him. Otherwise, Lance would have genuinely ended up on the ground.
Seeing several people gather around, Lance raised his hand and waved them away. "I'm fine, just a bit drained from using the secret technique. Get some water for him."
Under Susan's care, the old soldier soon opened his one eye. He struggled to sit up and only then noticed the other people in the room.
"What happened? Where are the bandits..."
He had been unconscious for too long. His hoarse voice highlighted his current weakness, yet he still recognized Susan, the one who had saved him.
"Of course, it was our Lord who saved you," Dismas stated bluntly, without reservation.
Only then did the old soldier remember something. He looked down at his wound and touched it, a feeling of disbelief washing over him.
I've survived again!
"It was Susan who saved you," Lance said, slowly recounting what had happened after the old soldier had fallen: how Susan had rescued him from the battlefield, what she had sacrificed, how she had even fed him her own blood, right up until today. Lance focused on Susan's kindness towards the old soldier, barely mentioning his own role.
But in a way, for both Susan and the old soldier to have held on in utter despair until Lance's arrival was, in itself, a legendary tale.
"I'm sorry… I couldn't bring him back." The old soldier's weathered face showed a touch of sorrow, his memories still lingering on that day. That child…
"No, you saved all of us," Susan said, her voice breaking as her eyes, which had wept so much already that day, welled up with fresh tears.
"Bring over some thick meat soup. Eat something first," Lance interrupted, steering the mood away from negativity. He had no time for such displays.
Susan snapped back to reality. She wiped away her tears and brought over a bowl of warm, thick soup, which Lance had specially set aside from his dinner, as he had apparently anticipated this situation.
The old soldier was only just realizing that Lance held a position of absolute authority among these people. After sizing him up, he couldn't discern much beyond a certain handsomeness, so he inquired, "And you are?"
"This is My Lord. He is the one who rescued you..." Susan explained.
With Susan's additions, Lance's actions were praised immensely, verging on deification. Watching the old soldier's expression gradually shift to amazement, Lance knew he had achieved the desired effect. If I had spoken myself, nothing I said would have been as persuasive as a single word from Susan, he mused. It was better that my groundwork highlighting Susan's touching acts added weight to her words, thereby shaping the old soldier's first impression of me.
The old soldier was indeed astonished. A Noble Lord had personally tended to his wounds, even cutting his own fine clothes to make bandages. And that wasn't to mention performing a miracle, something from the realm of legend, to snatch him back from the Reaper's grasp.
"Thank you, My Lord, for saving this old life of mine."
"You protected my people; it is I who should thank you," Lance replied. He raised his hand to stop the old soldier's gesture and pointed to some equipment set to one side. "I have retrieved your belongings. Eat well and rest. I still need brave warriors like you to help me save those poor townsfolk."
"Command me as you will, My Lord."
「 」
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Early in the morning, a series of bell chimes abruptly shattered the quiet of the seaside town. The crisp sound spread outwards, instantly stirring the lifeless town, even bringing it to a boil. The last time the bell had rung, bandits had attacked, destroying most of the town and slaughtering countless people.
The townspeople scurried from their homes like panicked ants from a disturbed nest. They looked around bewildered, wanting to flee but not knowing where to go.
Just then, a succession of hoofbeats echoed through the streets. The townspeople instinctively scrambled back into their homes, peering through cracks in doors and windows to see what was happening outside.
Soon, a figure in a Knight's armor appeared, riding at full speed, his voice carrying clearly, "The Lord's Heir has returned! Everyone gather at the square!"
Only after the Knight sped past did the townsfolk understand: a new Lord had arrived. But what does that have to do with us? they wondered. We'd rather just sleep.
Then, the Knight's voice boomed again, "The Lord is distributing porridge in the square! First come, first served!"
Food? Why didn't he say so earlier! That single sentence from the Knight roused the townspeople.
But they had been terrorized by killings before. Although there was talk of food, they had never heard of a Lord distributing rations to commoners. What if this is a trap?
The Knight's voice grew more distant. Reynard, having circled the town on his horse, returned to the square. Dismas also rode in from another direction. Both looked at the empty square. Only Lance stood beneath the statue in the center, beside several bundles wrapped in tattered cloth. Not a single townsperson was in sight.
"Lord, we've been shouting for half a day and no one has come?" Dismas asked.
"They wouldn't even come if we were giving out money! Are the people here fools?" Reynard added.
"Let's give it some time," Lance said, listening to their complaints, his expression calm and unconcerned.
His attitude calmed the two men. Just then, another wave of sound slowly approached. It was a crowd led by a gaunt-faced woman, with a large group of townspeople following her, all muttering strange phrases:
"With the Lord here, our town will be peaceful!"
"With the Lord here, we will be safe!"
"Stick with the Lord, and eat three meals a day!"
"Milk and white bread in the morning, beef till you're full at night!"
"Wondering what's for lunch? Chicken, duck, and fish, eat all you want!"
"..."
These catchy slogans spread like wildfire among the people. If there was anything they desired most right then, it was undoubtedly a full meal. This was precisely why the slogans held such power, captivating the townsfolk with the scenes they described. Subconsciously, people began to hum along and slowly joined the growing crowd.
"They're coming! They're here!" Dismas shouted excitedly.
Lance, however, looked at the approaching townspeople, who resembled zombies, with a sense of helplessness.
They were all emaciated and shriveled, like Skeletons draped in skin, their protruding eyes looking almost comical in their gaunt faces.
Lance felt a pang of heartache. The Old Ancestor really did a number on them, he thought. How long will it take to restore this town's vitality?
"The audience is in place," Lance instructed. "Dismas, mount up and lie in wait on the road leading from town to the outlying farms. Detain anyone you encounter to block the flow of information." He then added, "Also, monitor the situation at the farms, and do your best to prevent them from learning what's happening here."
"Yes!" Dismas replied without hesitation. He took the badge of office and rode off.
Reynard stood silently by Lance's side, ever vigilant against potential threats.