Then, after the bandits had plundered, they didn't leave. Instead, they entrenched themselves on the old road, frequently ambushing travelers. This disrupted trade routes, causing prices in the small town to soar and food to become scarce, ultimately leading to famine.
Furthermore, the town mayor's sudden imposition of a defense tax added insult to injury for the common folk. Some freemen were even forced to sell themselves to farm owners just to survive.
"Where is your Lord? Does such a large town not have a militia?"
"I have no idea where the noble lord has gone. There was a militia, but most of them died or fled when the bandits attacked. Only a few remained..."
As he spoke, the shop assistant's expression turned cautious. He glanced around to ensure no one was nearby before saying in a low voice, "Those who remained have become the kind of sheriffs we saw earlier. If you encounter one, it's best to stay far away."
Lance understood what he meant. The town mayor had indeed gathered a number of mercenaries to fend off the bandits. After the conflict, these mercenaries, along with the surviving militiamen, became sheriffs.
In reality, they were merely the mayor's enforcers, controlling the town. Their misdeeds made them even more detested than the bandits.
"What about the Church?"
"Heh," the shop assistant chuckled. "After the bandits retreated, the Church left along with the people from the Mercenary Guild. Now, the church building and the guild hall are both empty."
Reynard's expression changed upon hearing this. A trace of disappointment crossed his resolute face, but he said nothing more.
The town's situation was far from optimistic. On one hand, there were the farm owners, who controlled numerous serfs and large estates, thereby holding most of the town's food supply. On the other, there was the town mayor with his security force composed of mercenaries and thugs.
Normally, I should find the Butler first to establish my identity.
However, I know that would definitely alert the mayor. With only three of us, a powerful dragon cannot suppress a local snake. We'd end up being constrained by him...
"What about that woman?"
Lance continued to ask about the strange woman they had encountered. The shop assistant's expression turned helpless.
"Sigh... It's all because of these bandit troubles. Her family of three used to live well, but her husband and son died in the bandit raid, leaving her the sole survivor.
No one knows if she went mad, but it's said she dragged a critically wounded old soldier from the ruins and took him home to care for him. The Priests demanded money for healing. In her attempt to raise funds, she tried to sell the old soldier's gear but was robbed by that group of mercenaries. They tortured her for an entire night before throwing her out onto the street. By then, the Priests capable of performing Divine Arts had already left with the Church, and she completely lost her mind.
She survived by picking up scraps the mercenaries left behind. I helped by saving her some fish gills and guts."
"An old soldier?" Lance noted the shop assistant's choice of words.
"That's right. That mercenary used to be a soldier. During the bandit attack, he was the only one who stood up to lead us against them. But given his condition back then, he was critically injured and is probably dead by now."
Dismas and Reynard were both moved by the story.
"This is yours." Lance tossed a copper coin to him, then took out another and tossed it to the shop assistant.
"Another pound of dark bread to go."
The shop assistant seemed to understand Lance's intentions but said nothing more, merely shaking his head as he went to the back.
"I want to go take a look. What do you two say?" Lance knew he didn't have much combat ability. The pistol at his waist was mostly for intimidation; he'd need someone with him to move safely around town.
"The Holy Light is my Sanctuary," Reynard said, donning his helmet.
"Then I'm definitely fine too," Dismas declared, downing the last of his beer with gusto.
As Lance stepped out of the tavern, he saw the woman crouched by the doorstep and approached her.
Just moments ago, she had seemed to want to get closer. Now, for some reason, her expression twisted in terror. Her body tensed, and she hugged herself tightly, not daring to lift her head to look at Lance again.
Lance made no sudden movements. He simply squatted down and slowly offered her the paper-wrapped dark bread.
"Don't be afraid. We won't hurt you. Take this and eat," he said soothingly.
The woman lifted her head to look at the bag, then slowly met Lance's gaze. She seemed stunned by the smile on his face for a moment but quickly reacted, snatching the bag and fleeing as if escaping.
"She just left like that?" Dismas frowned, about to stop her, but Lance raised a hand to halt him.
"This land is full of unfortunate souls. It seems the corruption has already begun. Our mission will be very difficult."
With that, Lance started to follow her. Dismas, still puzzled, asked a question.
"Lord, why are we doing this?"
"We're outsiders here; the locals don't know us at all. To gain a foothold, we need to establish a connection with them. A mercenary who was the only one willing to protect civilians during the conflict is of great value to us."
Lance had been wracking his brains about how to make inroads in this town. After hearing the woman's story, he finally had an idea.
His idea was simple: leverage the old soldier's reputation among the common folk. However, he'd need to assess the situation on-site before making a final decision.
The three men trailed the woman to a modest house, watching as she hurried inside.
It was evident her family had once been relatively well-off; otherwise, they wouldn't have owned this detached mud-and-stone house. Unfortunately, a sudden war had destroyed everything.
The door wasn't locked, just lightly closed. As they approached, even before entering, they could smell a faint, foul odor. Recalling what the shop assistant had said, Lance suspected the mercenary might already be dead, the smell coming from a rotting corpse.
He glanced at the other two; it seemed they thought the same. Yet, having come this far, none of them intended to leave.
"This is just the beginning. Anyone who can't adapt to this isn't fit to stay here."
Lance led the way, pushing the door open. The moment they crossed the threshold, the stench intensified a hundredfold, assaulting his nostrils and making the recently-fed Lance feel nauseous.
But then he saw what was happening inside.
The woman had slit her wrist, letting her blood drip into the mouth of the person lying on the bed.
However, the sudden intrusion of Lance and his companions startled the woman. She let out a strange cry and stumbled to the ground but quickly scrambled back to her feet, brandishing a piece of metal threateningly.
"Get out of my house now!" she shrieked.
"Don't be afraid. We're not those mercenaries," Lance said, then moved directly towards her.
Seeing Lance approach, the woman, as if truly mad, raised the piece of metal to strike. Reynard wouldn't stand idly by and was about to step forward, but Lance stopped him with a raised hand. Instead, Lance opened his arms towards the woman.
"If you want to strike me, then do it. I bear an inescapable responsibility for what has become of you."