The old soldier didn't relax in the slightest. He stood as steady as a mountain, cautiously holding the Shield before him. The bloodied Warhammer was once again hidden behind the Shield, out of the enemy's sight, leaving no one to know from what angle the next blow would come.
Seeing that his feigned weakness and pleas hadn't made the old soldier lower his guard, the leader knew his stratagem was exposed. He completely lost his mind and actually took the initiative to attack the old soldier.
Even when his body was whole, he hadn't been a threat to the old soldier, let alone now with a broken leg, unable to even stand steady.
The villagers were all surprised when the situation reversed the instant the old soldier swung his Warhammer. However, both Lance and Reynard knew the initiative in this fight had always been in the old soldier's hands.
In reality, although the old soldier's injuries had healed under Lance's Ability, the torment of hovering at death's door for more than ten days wasn't so easily shrugged off. He hadn't fully recovered from such severe wounds.
So the leader's judgment wasn't wrong. The old soldier was indeed in terrible shape, and the leader held the advantage in both strength and speed.
But he shouldn't have caught the Longsword Lance threw.
Not because of any quality issue with the Longsword, but because of how it changed his attack style.
Without a sword, he had to get close. This actually allowed him to leverage his advantages. Even if he took a couple of Warhammer blows, he could barely hold on. Once in close quarters, the old soldier might not have withstood a few of his punches.
But once he picked up the Longsword, he would instinctively maintain distance and swing it. This inadvertently gave the old soldier the chance to use defense to deplete the leader's stamina.
The leader already had a sword cut on his shoulder from Reynard, and his other hand was also wounded. Combined with a night of struggle, his condition was far from good.
Once he fell into the old soldier's rhythm, defeat was only a matter of time.
One could only say the leader was still too young, unaware that every gift bestowed by fate already had its price secretly marked.
Amidst the leader's wails, the old soldier used his Warhammer to break all four of the leader's limbs, until he lay limp on the ground, unable to move.
"Looks like you've lost~," Lance said, walking up to the leader. He looked down at the man, now like a puddle of mud, his expression full of mockery, like a cat watching a mouse.
"ARGH!!! I'll kill you!" The leader thrashed frantically, but he could only manage these shouts. His writhing body, like a fat maggot, posed no threat to Lance.
His clamorous behavior was truly irritating. Lance raised his hand, took the old soldier's bloodstained Warhammer, and swung it hard, hitting the leader squarely in the face.
A devastating blow!
The leader's entire face caved in. Eyeballs burst, and blood spattered. Those close enough could even hear the crisp sound of breaking bones. The leader who had endangered the villagers was finally, unequivocally, dead.
Then Lance grasped the old soldier's hand and raised it high.
"The victor~ Balistan!"
"Balistan!"
Under the new Lord's leadership, the great evildoer who had oppressed the villagers for so long was finally defeated today. The villagers cheered and shouted, all acclaiming Balistan's name.
Only Lance could feel the old soldier's hand trembling slightly. His condition was also poor, so Lance promptly activated Bless to subtly strengthen and stabilize him.
He can't fall yet, Lance thought. I still need him to stand with me.
"My Lord!" the old soldier shrewdly shouted, and the villagers echoed with their cheers.
"My Lord!"
Lance looked at the expressions on their faces and understood that the prestige he desired had already been established.
Since ancient times, the Emperor is never wrong; mistakes always lie with ministers, eunuchs, or the harem. Hence the saying about "cleansing the sovereign's surroundings."
Lords are no different. Upon assuming control, Lance immediately pushed all responsibility onto the deceased Butler and mayor. After all, he could never be at fault.
He then used the deaths of the mayor and the bandit leader to build momentum for himself and establish his authority. It seemed he had now succeeded.
But this is just the beginning, Lance mused. I haven't completely secured my footing in this small town yet. Sooner or later, I'll sweep away all obstacles and take complete control of Hamlet. Only then will I have the power to eliminate the cancers left by the Old Ancestor and finally kill him!
Having achieved his aim, Lance stopped tormenting the common folk. He gestured with his hand and shouted loudly.
"Distribute food! Provide porridge for three days, two meals a day!"
No amount of words or actions could compare to this single sentence. The townspeople, previously half-dead, began to cheer excitedly. The crowd erupted, on the verge of chaos.
At that moment, a high-pitched neigh cut through the air, followed instantly by the crisp sound of hooves on stone.
Reynard had mounted his horse. The Longsword in his hand flashed with a silvery light, its imposing presence immediately quelling the rising chaos.
"Everyone, queue up at the brothel! Those who disturb the order will lose their eligibility!"
Following Lance's shout, the line quickly stabilized. Everyone was too starved to move, let alone cause trouble; they simply lacked the energy. Besides, with three days of food at stake, no one wanted to lose this precious opportunity.
Soon, a long line formed in front of the brothel, stretching all the way to the square.
This location was chosen because it had enough people, equipment, and food. They had discovered a considerable amount of grain in the brothel's basement.
"Name?"
"Weber."
Three lines formed at the entrance. To get porridge, the townspeople had to register their names, genders, ages, and former occupations.
Those with a special talent or Ability could receive an extra bowl. Mutual reporting was encouraged; informers would also get an extra bowl. However, anyone caught falsifying details would immediately lose their eligibility.
Providing porridge for three days wasn't because Lance had an excess of supplies. Although he had seized a considerable amount, it wasn't enough to distribute lavishly, which was why he was giving out porridge instead of rice.
He intended to use this opportunity to assess the town's population and identify talented individuals. He needed the townspeople alive and gradually regaining their vigor. This also served as a way to use up the grain that was close to molding.
However, finding literate individuals was extremely difficult. Fortunately, they found two in the brothel.
Both were daughters of town merchants. Thanks to their families' wealth, they had received a basic education before the bandits arrived. They might not have possessed many other skills, but they were capable enough to record names.
Regrettably, the bandits later targeted these wealthy families, leading to the deaths of most of their relatives. As women, they had survived at the hands of the bandits, enduring immense shame. With their homes destroyed and families lost, they ultimately had no choice but to end up in such a place.
The third literate person was the mayor's former Clerk, whom Lance had spared solely due to his literacy. With the current shortage of skilled people, they had to make do.
After registering, the townspeople finally received their bowls of porridge. It was a concoction of mixed grains, wild vegetables, and a bit of animal fat, all boiled in a large pot. The pinch of salt added was so meager for such a large batch that the porridge was almost tasteless, akin to pig swill. Yet, for these people, it was the finest food in the world.
With a bowl of warm vegetable porridge in their bellies, their empty stomachs finally felt satisfied. An unprecedented sense of happiness enveloped them.
Following the Lord truly means we'll have food to eat!~