Chapter 13 Extraordinary Equipment <TOC> Chapter 15 The Collection
Translator: SumTLMan
At last, under the vast canopy of heaven, Lance found himself treading the lands of Hamlet without the need to skulk in the shadows.
Yet, an urgent matter demanded his attention, an impromptu visit to the town mayor.
“Susan,” he instructed, “take our belongings back first. We’ll return once this final task is completed.”
Using a pretext to send Susan on her way, Lance and his entourage swiftly made their way to the mayor’s residence.
The dwelling, a two-story brick edifice with front and rear courtyards, was undoubtedly among the finest in the town.
However, to Lance’s surprise, two horses were tethered at the front trough. Weren’t these the very steeds taken away by the butlet? Their presence here could only suggest…
As Lance locked eyes with his companions, it was clear they had sensed the same undercurrent.
“My suspicions were accurate,” Lance mused aloud, “It was the butlet who betrayed us, revealing our whereabouts. Otherwise, how could the mayor pinpoint our return so precisely?”
Yet, Lance had another card up his sleeve, one that branded the mayor a traitor. This would give him the upper hand, regardless of the forthcoming confrontations.
Stealthily infiltrating the residence, it didn’t take long for Lance to locate the slumbering mayor, whose round belly rose and fell like a mini hillock, his snores resonating like a storm.
A surge of resentment welled up in Lance, watching this man rest so peacefully after a tumultuous evening of Lance’s own making. He quickly secured the mayor to the bed with ropes and motioned to his companions.
“Search the other rooms. Anyone you find — eliminate.”
After dispatching his allies, Lance’s icy gaze settled on the immobilized mayor, tapping the man’s face with the cold barrel of his gun.
“Awaken!” he snapped, slapping the mayor when he failed to respond.
Startled into consciousness, the mayor’s breath came in ragged gasps. He struggled to sit up but found himself bound. His gaze met a shadowy figure, and recognition dawned, “Who are you?” he began, only to be interrupted by a realization of his dire straits. As he tried to scream for help, Lance silenced him by shoving the gun barrel into his mouth.
“You can try screaming,” Lance threatened coldly, “or you can choose to behave.”
The mayor’s defiance vanished, replaced by nodding acquiescence. With a smirk, Lance withdrew the weapon.
“The money is in the cabinet. Please, spare me,” the mayor pleaded.
“Do you truly believe money is why I’m here?” Lance’s voice dripped with scorn.
Realization hit the mayor like a tidal wave. “You’re the heir!” he exclaimed.
“Surprised to see I’m alive?” Lance replied, his tone laced with mockery.
Swearing by the gods, the mayor protested his innocence, blaming it all on the vile bandits. But Lance, with a shake of his head, called out his preemptive confession.
The mayor’s desperation was palpable. “I truly know nothing.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?” Lance’s rage was palpable. “They nearly took my life!”
In his previous world, Lance was but an ordinary man, not some legendary warrior. Fear had been genuine when he was pursued, and witnessing violence was no act. The imposing lord, the mastermind that stood before Dismas and Reynard, was but a facade.
Indeed, reality forces rapid growth, for those who lag behind perish.
Regaining his composure, Lance coolly remarked, “Even if you hadn’t hired assassins, after witnessing what you’ve done to my lands, did you truly believe I’d let you go?”
“Without me, bandits would’ve ravaged this town long ago. I’m well aware of the previous lord’s dealings with them. Just play your role as lord and leave the town’s affairs to me,” the mayor, realizing Lance’s intentions, threatened.
Yet, to his dismay, Lance remained unfazed. In a swift motion, Lance drew a dagger and thrust it into the mayor’s mouth, stirring it forcefully.
The mayor’s anguished scream echoed ominously.
The mayor, caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events, writhed in anguish, his corpulent form causing the bed to teeter on the edge of collapse. But even this tumultuous reaction couldn’t halt Lance’s determined actions. The mayor’s scream, still in its infancy, was silenced by the rag forcefully thrust into his mouth.
“Whimper!”
Now, rendered speechless, every breath the mayor took was akin to swallowing shards of glass, the raw wounds in his mouth scraping against the rough fabric.
Only upon seeing this did Lance finally wear a satisfied grin.
In truth, Lance was even more aware of the transaction between the Ancestor and the bandits than the mayor was. Why else would he single out certain individuals for a private interrogation?
Years ago, when the Ancestor was excavating an ancient relic, a prophet descended upon the town. He warned that the Ancestor’s actions had violated a sacred taboo, heralding the End Times. In a world where the influence of faith was paramount, the masses tended to be superstitious.
Such prophecies ignited widespread uproar among the town’s populace. Fueled by ever-spreading rumors, their panic and trepidation grew from mere protests to full-blown riots, significantly hindering the Ancestor’s relic excavation endeavors.
To quell the restless throng, the ruthless Ancestor enlisted a cadre of remorseless killers. Swiftly, an army composed of ruffians, bandits, and professional assassins began their onslaught on the unsuspecting town.
Indeed, the bandit incursion from yesteryears was but a ploy orchestrated by the Ancestor, a machination to suppress the peasant uprising.
As the steward of the town, the mayor might have been privy to some dark truths. Yet, sometimes, knowing too much is more a curse than a blessing, resulting in such dire straits for him.
For Lance, if he wished to seize control of the town with an untarnished image, all those in the know had to be eradicated. With the butler already dispatched, only the mayor remained.
Lance, deciding it was time, exited the room, joining Dismas. Yet, what was strange was the absence of anyone else in the house except for the mayor.
This observation made Lance frown.
He detested situations spiraling out of his control, but for now, he had to go along.
“Look what I’ve found!”
Dismas’s excited voice interrupted his thoughts. Moving closer, Lance noticed a cellar entrance by the fireplace.
“Beware of traps.”
While the average Joe might have dived in without a second thought, Lance, well-versed in the lore of this world, approached with extreme caution, as though he had once lost something precious.
Heeding Lance’s advice, Dismas calmed down, illuminating the way with a candelabrum as he ventured in.
“It’s safe, come on down.”
Lured by the call from below, Lance descended, following the brick-laden steps. The stone archway he passed through showed the builder’s meticulous attention to this hidden realm.
And as he traversed deeper, with the dim light of the candelabrum as his guide, Lance surveyed the secrets of the cellar.
Chapter 13 Extraordinary Equipment <TOC> Chapter 15 The Collection