Ruin has come to our family

The low agricultural yield of this world was largely due to the land being continuously farmed without rest. This could only lead to increasingly barren soil and, naturally, lower yields. For this, Lance introduced the simplest of solutions: collecting human and animal waste. After just a few weeks of fermentation, it would become a harmless fertilizer. This initiative also provided many jobs and improved the sanitation of the town.

Dismas was only half-comprehending of these matters, but he felt they were deeply impressive all the same.

As they passed through the square, he saw that the area outside the grain shop was now bustling with people coming and going. The townsfolk would greet Lance warmly when they saw him, and smiles had returned to their faces. The tense atmosphere of the past few days was gone, replaced by a sense of harmony. Dismas had never seen a nobleman interact with common folk in such a way.

Through his work-for-relief program, Lance had begun to circulate coin through the town again. The common folk could now purchase grain. Those with slightly higher wages could afford milk, eggs, and meat. Some of the bachelors would spend a copper coin at the tavern after work for a few mugs of ale. Small items like candles also began to circulate as people had more money in their hands. Lance's measures had successfully pulled the town back from the brink of collapse. Everything seemed bright.

His reputation had now reached a very high point. Everyone in town knew him, and everyone would praise the name of their lord. But as time went on, some new problems began to emerge. There was a surplus of some goods, like grain, wool, and cloth, which were piling up in the warehouses. On the other hand, there was a shortage of other resources, like coal and iron ingots, as well as some daily necessities that could not be produced locally.

Lance felt an ever-more-pressing need to exterminate the brigands and open the road to the outside world. And now, Dismas's return meant the conditions were finally met.

"Come, tell us what you've found these past few days."

As was his custom, Lance discussed business at the dinner table after they had eaten their fill. Reynauld and Barristan were also eager for news. Just because they had been in the town did not mean they were without pressure. On the contrary, knowing that the brigands could attack at any moment, while they themselves knew little about the enemy, had been a difficult ordeal. It could be said that they were all waiting for Dismas's news.

Dismas, having bathed and changed into fresh clothes, looked much improved. Facing the expectant gazes of the others, he dropped a bombshell.

"There isn't just one band of brigands on the Old Road. There are at least seven or eight, large and small. In total, at least a hundred men."

The news was staggering. For a moment, even Lance felt the immense pressure. A hundred vicious, bloodthirsty brigands who lived by the blade, not a hundred meek serfs. This is too damn hard. What kind of starting scenario is this... He was already cursing the Ancestor in his heart. Just how many men did that old bastard call in to slaughter his own people?

It was not just Lance. The other two also fell silent. They did not know how to handle this problem.

"Continue," Lance said, quickly regaining his composure. He knew he was the backbone of this group. He could not falter. He had to remain calm.

"The largest band of brigands should be that group of deserters. They have the most men, at least sixty or seventy. Their equipment is also excellent. A full third of their force are gunmen, and they even have artillery, a weapon of war that is far beyond what they should possess. However, they do not act like an army. Their discipline is lax. The second band of brigands has far fewer men, probably only twenty or thirty. But every single one of them is an elite..."

As Dismas continued his report, a clearer picture of the situation emerged. Lance quickly realized that while there were many bands of brigands on the Old Road, there were only two that truly mattered: the one composed of deserters with their cannons, and the other, a group composed entirely of elites. The remaining scattered bands, the largest of which was no more than twenty or thirty men, were of little consequence. If he could deal with the two major groups, the rest would not be worth mentioning.

"Tell me more about this all-elite band of brigands."

Dismas was a man of considerable pride, but even he acknowledged the skill of these men. This told Lance they were no ordinary foes. And Barristan had mentioned them before, which only deepened Lance's concern.

"To be honest, I don't know much about this group. I estimated their numbers based on the size of their camp. But I did discover that they have trained a number of white wolves, which they let roam around their camp. If a stranger approaches, the wolves will sound an alarm, or even attack. Because of these wolves, I was almost discovered just from observing them from afar. Fearing I would alert them, I did not dare to get any closer and left."

"You did the right thing. To have alerted them under those circumstances would not have been good." Lance approved of Dismas's decision. Sometimes, choosing to retreat is not a mistake.

"White wolves?" The mention of them in Dismas's report caught Barristan's attention. He couldn't help but repeat the words. "It was them. The brigands who wore white wolf pelts as ornaments during the battle. I fought with them. Their skills were indeed extraordinary. Many good sellswords died at their hands."

"With that kind of strength, they should have made a name for themselves anywhere. Why would they suddenly appear here? And why would they become brigands?" Dismas found it strange. By all rights, most people who became bandits were either criminals on the run or those with no other way to survive. So the ranks were usually a mixed bag. For an entire group to be so strong... they didn't seem like a band of brigands. And with that kind of skill, what could they not do? Why choose the dead-end life of a brigand?

"Have any of you heard," Reynauld said suddenly, "of the 'Claw of the White Wolf' mercenary company?"

His words made Dismas and Barristan pause for a moment. But then, as if a light had gone on, they understood.

"Of course."

"That would be possible."

Their reaction left Lance at a loss. He could only ask, "What are you talking about?"

Dismas quickly explained. "The Claw of the White Wolf was a rather famous mercenary company in our circles a while back. They were a tribal mercenary company. Such groups are very close-knit, strong, and fearless. They would take any job for money. In a way, they were no different from brigands, and just as notorious.

"They became famous because they somehow offended a nobleman. And this nobleman had real power. He put out a warrant for the entire company, and they caused quite a stir when they resisted. Later, the army was mobilized to hunt them down. I heard they were wiped out somewhere. I thought they were all long dead, which is why I didn't think of this possibility at first. But thinking about it now... if it really is the survivors of that company who have fled here, then everything would make sense."