Chapter 34: Burdens of Command
"Don't get too carried away. There are still some problems in the town."
With this final piece of advice, Lance parted ways with his companions. It was only natural that they would need to unwind after facing the stress of a bloody battle. But Lance did not have that luxury. There was a mountain of affairs in the town that required his attention; he did not dare to relax for a single moment.
First, the town was not yet his to command absolutely. From his conversations with Walter, he had learned more about its inner workings. The most powerful factions, the Church and the Mercenary's Guild, had already abandoned the town after the raid, seeing no more value in it after the widespread destruction and loss of life.
The second tier of power—the Magistrate with his constables and brothel, and the Landowner with his farmstead and serfs—had already been dealt with by him. They no longer posed a significant threat.
What remained were the other powers, who were not to be trifled with: the casino boss, the ship-master, and the tavern keeper.
The casino boss was a former pirate who kept a few local thugs as enforcers and still had unclear ties to active pirate crews. To move against him could invite a raid from the sea by pirates of unknown strength. Lance currently had no naval power; a few cannonballs from the sea could destroy what was left of the town's buildings.
The ship-master controlled the boats. If he were to flee with the remaining fleet, the recovery of the town's fishing industry would be severely delayed, a grave problem for Lance.
As for the tavern, its influence came from a single person: the owner, a retired mercenary with deep, unspoken connections to the Mercenary's Guild.
Simply put, the fact that these three factions had survived the brigand invasion was a testament to their strength. The Magistrate had only been able to keep them in line by offering them a share of the profits. Walter had been worried because Lance, upon his arrival, had been so brutally direct.
But Lance understood the situation clearly. He had no intention of moving against them until he held an absolute advantage. For now, his control of the most important resource—grain—gave him the leverage to play for time. Once he had developed his own power, it would not be too late to settle accounts.
A more immediate problem was that the three-day distribution of gruel would end tomorrow. If he stopped it without providing a new solution, the people would surely riot. But Lance had no intention of continuing this charity. Instead, he planned to implement a work-for-relief program, giving them a way to survive and, more importantly, a sense of hope. The reconstruction of the town was the perfect project. It required a massive labor force, and also, urban planning.
Luckily, he had played a wide variety of games, including many city-builders. While he couldn't copy them directly, he understood the key principles. He would also use this opportunity to change some of the people's more slovenly habits and reform their way of life.
In a way, the brigand raid had been a great help to him. It had not only removed the two greatest powers, the Church and the Guild, but had also shattered the stagnant, closed-off environment of the old town. Then, the Magistrate and the landowner had conveniently consolidated all the wealth and land for him to seize. Without destruction, there could be no creation.
He was too busy. There were too many things he wanted to do. Thankfully, with the existence of [Bestow], he could work almost without rest. When he grew tired, he would simply expend a few [Boon] to refresh his state. For these past few days, he had been working around the clock, turning two days into four, all to devise a rational and effective policy for governing the town.
As he was working late into the night, Susan brought him a message. There was trouble at the brothel. Dismas had already brought the situation under control.
Hearing this, Lance frowned. He had shut that place down. It was now a temporary shelter for the women and a food distribution point. Why was Dismas there? And who was causing trouble?
"Let's go and see."
When he arrived, nearly everyone in the brothel was awake, crowding around to watch the spectacle. Two candles lit the main hall. On the floor, three men were bound hand and foot, but were still shouting defiantly at Dismas, who stood off to one side.
"Do you know who we are? You've made a mistake, you know that?"
"And do you know who I am?"
Lance, wearing a simple overcoat with one hand resting on the pistol at his hip, looked thoroughly annoyed at having been disturbed. He walked in, and with a single sweeping glance, his menacing aura silenced the noisy hall in an instant.
"My lord." Dismas quickly came to his side.
Lance gave him a cool glance. "Why are you here?"
"Well... I..." Dismas, who had been feeling rather proud of himself, now looked embarrassed. What business, after all, could he have here?
"We will speak of your business later. What is the meaning of this?" No matter what, Dismas was one of his own. Lance had no intention of reprimanding him in public. He turned his attention to the matter at hand.
"These three came in and started causing trouble, so I gave them a beating."
Lance drew closer. In the faint candlelight, he could see the three men were already bruised and swollen. Dismas had clearly not held back. But the real point of interest was that they did not have the starved look of the other townsfolk. They were used to getting their way. No wonder they had dared to shout at him.
These thugs might not have recognized the less-seen Dismas, but they knew Lance. The realization that they had drawn the attention of the lord himself now dawned on them. The natural authority of a nobleman over a commoner, combined with the fact that this was the man who had publicly executed the Magistrate, was a heavy weight. The image of him swinging the sword had truly shaken many.
"My lord, it wasn't us! This man just attacked us for no reason! We've been wronged!"
"That's right, my lord, we just came in to have a look."
"..."
The three of them were common street toughs, well-versed in the arts of begging and feigning innocence. But Lance was not buying it.
"What kind of place is this? Did you come here to see your mothers?" He drew his pistol and pressed the barrel to one man's forehead. "You came here to play, did you?"
To deal with men like this, one had to be more ruthless than them. The manic energy that radiated from Lance as he drew his gun without a word terrified them. They spilled everything. The three of them were enforcers for the casino boss. And why else would one come to a place like this, but for a woman? Despite the brothel being closed, they had managed to make a deal with some of the women for their "services." Dismas, who had also come looking for a woman, had stumbled upon them. Assuming they were causing trouble, he had taken on all three of them at once and beaten them soundly. If he had not remembered Lance's strict orders against killing, they would already be corpses.
"Untie them."
After hearing the story, Lance said nothing, only waving a hand. Dismas wanted to object, but seeing the look on his lord's face, he held his tongue, frowning as he cut the men's bonds.
"Leave the money you agreed upon," Lance said to the thugs, "and you can go."
"Thank you, my lord!"
The three men did not dare to haggle. They dropped the coin they had on them and fled.
But for Lance, the matter was only just beginning.