Chapter 21 Farmstead Prologue <TOC>
Translator: SumTLMan
“So, you have a bone to pick with the town mayor and the farmstead owner, huh~”
Having heard the shopkeeper’s account, Lance now had a grasp of the situation.
The shopkeeper, named Walter, had been a prominent merchant in the town before the bandits’ arrival. He led one of the town’s most significant trading caravans, primarily dealing in grains and their by-products, transporting them for sale in the city.
This granary had always belonged to him, with the farmstead owner previously just being his supplier. In fact, due to Walter’s control over the distribution channels, the farmstead owner had been somewhat overshadowed.
But everything went wrong with the bandits’ arrival. First, his caravan was robbed, causing a severe blow to his business. Then, the town mayor sought to extort manpower, money, and grain from him in the name of suppressing the bandits.
Walter complied, actively organizing his guards to fend off the bandits. When the bandits stormed in, pillaging and burning, thankfully his children were studying in the city, and his wife was there as well, otherwise, his family would’ve faced a tragic end.
He had hoped that things would return to normal once the bandits left. However, instead of leaving, they took up positions at their old haunt. During their invasion, all of his guards had laid down their lives, leaving him defenseless and unable to flee the town.
Meanwhile, the town mayor rallied the remaining mercenaries and militias. The farmstead owner, having sustained minimal damage from the bandits, retained most of his strength.
Thus, Walter was eventually drained dry by the mayor, and in the end, even his granary was taken over by the farmstead owner. Walter felt that his remaining presence in the town was more for the farmstead owner’s amusement than any practical reason.
“Why are you still helping the farmstead owner then?”
Confronted by Lance’s question, Walter looked rather helpless, pausing for a moment before finally speaking up.
“Those guards aren’t just watching over grain. If anything goes wrong, I won’t escape the consequences.”
In essence, he felt that his life was in the farmstead owner’s hands, fearing any missteps might come back to bite him.
Another significant reason was his doubt about Lance’s ability to overpower the farmstead owner.
Chuckling lightly, Lance said, “Do you think I’d lose?”
“The town isn’t just governed by the mayor. Even if you were to take his place, there would still be a myriad of issues, especially once they’re on their guard.”
While Walter spoke cryptically, his implication was clear: the town wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed, with multiple conflicting forces at play. He felt that if not for the loss of his guards, he might have been a player in this game as well.
The mayor’s recent downfall could be attributed to an unexpected strike, but if everyone becomes wary, the outcome might differ.
“I’m not merely replacing the mayor. I’m the lord. Everything here belongs to me.”
Walter chose not to respond. He wasn’t aware that Lance had already dispatched the town’s security forces overnight.
In Walter’s view, Lance’s youth worked against him. While the swift execution of the mayor earlier that morning might have been decisive, why did the mayor pay for those mercenaries? Precisely to keep them occupied with alcohol and women.
Without the mayor’s constraints, what would these mercenaries do next? They were all desperadoes!
The notion of distributing porridge was unprecedented. Even with ample grain supplies, it wouldn’t suffice for them all. What would they resort to once the food runs out?
Walter could foresee the town’s security deteriorating further. In his eyes, only by aligning with the farmstead owner and his guards could he ensure his safety. This young lord seemed naive; outsmarting the seasoned operators of the town was a tall order. Walter even envisioned this lord quickly becoming a mere puppet, with the town of Hamlet turning into a haven for criminals and perhaps even a base for bandits.
Lance could sense Walter’s reservations about him. He hadn’t expected it to be due to his youthful appearance, nor was he aware of Walter’s complete criticism of his decisions.
However, even if he knew, he wouldn’t bother retorting. Instead of engaging in a war of words, he preferred to let his actions do the talking.
“Let’s make a wager,” he proposed. “If I guess wrong about who’s about to knock on the door, I’ll let you go. But if you’re mistaken, you’ll stay put.”
In the midst of their casual conversation, Walter inadvertently forgot the alarming reality: he was being held hostage.
The sudden realization jolted him. If the lord was here, the granary was unmistakably his target.
But before Walter could contemplate further, a knock resonated from the door. Startled, he instinctively looked up, seemingly waiting for the visitor’s identity to be revealed.
If it was the farmstead owner’s guards, it meant the lord’s plan had gone awry. But if it was anyone else, the lord must’ve succeeded.
“My Lord, all has been taken care of,” Little John’s voice echoed.
“Looks like I’ve won~”, It appeared Lance was the victor; a smug smile graced his lips, clearly reveling in his triumph.
Yet, Walter’s face displayed an odd mix of confusion and suspicion.
Surely, if five fully armed men were defeated, there should be some commotion? How could it be over so swiftly?
“I’ll make another bet with you,” Lance challenged, “By tomorrow, we’ll see who truly runs this place.”
Without waiting for the somewhat dazed Walter’s response, Lance confidently left him behind.
Watching Lance’s retreating silhouette, Walter was struck by a fleeting premonition that this man might very well change the course of the town.
But he quickly dismissed such thoughts. Despite his distaste for the farmstead owner, Walter was all too aware that the man had hundreds at his command. Overpowering those five guards was one thing, but standing against an army was another.
Given his defeat, Walter decided not to interfere further. He contemplated hiring some mercenaries and making a swift exit when the time was right…
Meanwhile, inside the granary, Dismas, the highwayman, had already subdued the guards. Spotting Lance’s entrance, he couldn’t help but praise his foresight.
“Just as you predicted, my Lord. Those men, blinded by their thirst for wine, didn’t notice our advance. By the time we entered, none could mount a defense.”
Dismas grew more admiring of Lance’s prophetic-like talents. A direct confrontation could’ve proven disastrous, especially considering one of the guards’ armor-piercing capabilities. Yet, with just a barrel of wine, Lance had effortlessly dismantled their defenses.
“It wasn’t a mere guess,” Lance explained, patting Little John’s shoulder, “It’s thanks to John’s intel.”
“These men were accustomed to indulgences, and with their sources cut off, their frustration grew. Knowing they were leaving tomorrow made the wine an irresistible temptation.”
Lance surveyed the captured guards. Except for one who seemed slightly robust, the others clearly lacked proper training. Their combat experience probably didn’t extend beyond whipping peasants. Witnessing their plight, Little John felt a surge of vindication, recalling how they often bullied him in the past.
“Go buy some food from the tavern,” Lance instructed, handing Little John a few copper coins. The implication was clear: what was about to transpire was not for the faint-hearted.