CHAPTER 115: CHAPTER 115: SHERIFF_1

"How are the armed forces?"

"The town has thirty sheriffs. As for a militia, there isn’t one. Instead, they outsource part of the defense to mercenaries."

A town with only a thousand people definitely wouldn’t have much money to form an army, Lance thought. It would be more practical to contract the work out to a guild.

Considering these armed forces, even one of my Elite Squads could launch a decapitation strike, Lance considered. Once the town leader is dead, the rest will have no room to resist.

With this in mind, Walter’s talk of reclaiming the territory might actually be achievable—

But he quickly suppressed the thought. I don’t have enough management talent on hand. Even if I reclaimed territory, it wouldn’t be of much use; on the contrary, it could drag down Hamlet’s development. At this stage, it’s better to focus on more significant tasks.

Moreover, it was that good-for-nothing old ancestor who voluntarily gave up his rule. I can’t just start a war without a good reason, as it would damage my reputation. I have to find a way to possess the moral high ground.

As night fell, this small town indeed seemed more bustling than Hamlet. After people returned to their homes from a day of work in the fields, lights flickered on across the town, and the sounds of household chatter could be heard.

Then, gradually, most families settled down. Exhausted from a day’s labor, everyone wanted to lie down and sleep quickly. Besides, candles and torches were quite expensive, so common folk were reluctant to use them excessively.

"Here they come—" Dismas whispered. Lance hurriedly peeked through the crack of the door at the building across the street.

Two figures in black hooded robes emerged from the opposite house, swiftly carrying out a sack.

Before leaving, they scanned their surroundings a few times. Making certain no one had noticed them, they headed off to one side.

These Heretics don’t seem very professional, though; their actions look very clumsy, Lance observed.

"Keep an eye on him. If he tries to run, just run him through with your sword," Lance said, glancing at the man tied and immobile on the bed, then gave the woman his instructions.

After that, he and Dismas followed.

The man avoided the main roads, instead weaving through alleyways. Fortunately, thanks to the woman’s explanations and the simple map she had drawn, Lance was familiar enough with the town’s layout to tail him closely, even from a distance.

Soon, the man carrying the sack stopped in front of a large gate. He knocked three times, and then someone let him in.

"My Lord, we’ve found it!" Dismas’s voice was low but couldn’t hide his excitement.

"Wait. I want all the Heretics in the town to come here. Plus, we’re not certain about the situation inside yet. We need to figure out a way to see inside..." Lance said as he observed the area, realizing it was the town’s slaughterhouse.

It’s located far from the town center, and its function as a slaughterhouse serves as good cover. No wonder the Heretics’ bloody rituals have gone undetected.

But how to get over there?

While he was contemplating this, another person in a hooded robe knocked on the door and went inside.

"My Lord, shall we not strike yet?"

"They won’t start until everyone has arrived."

"But that girl—" Dismas hesitated. He was eager to save the girl; the sight of her elderly mother today had truly pained him.

"We don’t know how many Heretics there are in the town. If we don’t eliminate them all at once, even if you save one person, others will still suffer later. Only by wiping out all of those bastards can we prevent this from happening again," Lance said, calmly assessing the situation and soothing Dismas’s emotions.

"Don’t forget, we’re up against Heretics, not bandits. Staying calm is the only way you’ll be able to fight them."

He too wished to rescue the girl directly, but it was necessary to eradicate the town’s evil cult; otherwise, the disaster would be endless.

Nonetheless, Dismas’s words did remind him. He had initially planned to adopt a relatively mild observation strategy, but now he decided to change his approach.

Lance smiled at Dismas and asked, "Is your sword still sharp?"

"Why would you say that, My Lord?"

"We’ll surround their meeting point and ambush any other Heretics who try to join them from outside. Try not to use muskets, to avoid alerting others."

I’ve always had Dismas use a musket. I wonder if his melee skills have dulled, Lance thought.

"Rest assured, My Lord, not a single Heretic will make a sound," Dismas said, understanding what was implied. He drew his short sword, a fierce expression appearing on his face.

But before he could step out, Lance pulled him back, raised a hand to gesture for silence, and then pointed towards the street.

Dismas looked and saw a person approaching.

However, this person wasn’t dressed in the Heretics’ robes and hoods. Instead, he wore ordinary hemp clothing with a colorful shawl draped over his shoulders, and several tool pouches hanging from his waist.

But this was no ordinary townsfolk, for in one hand he carried a club like a Wolf Fang, spiked at the end, while in the other he led a long-haired hunting dog.

Dismas’s sharp eyes caught sight of the brass sheriff’s badge pinned to the shawl.

The newcomer was actually a sheriff!

But Dismas couldn’t care less. He turned to look at his Lord, raised his hand, and made a throat-slitting gesture, the meaning of which was obvious.

I don’t believe a town sheriff would be on patrol after hours instead of seeking entertainment in bars, casinos, or brothels. Coming to such a remote location at this time makes him even more suspicious, Dismas fumed internally.

"He’s not one of them," Lance whispered, observing the newcomer. "Look at the handkerchief in his hand and the paper rolled into a tube—that’s a missing person poster. Moreover, the dog is sniffing, not patrolling, which indicates it’s looking for something. The path he took is one we also used. Clearly, the dog has picked up the girl’s scent."

Only after careful observation did Dismas realize there were so many details he had missed, and he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Yet, such a diligent sheriff felt almost unreal to him.

"Not good! I’ll stop him. You keep an eye on our surroundings to make sure the Heretics don’t notice us, otherwise our plan will be ruined," Lance said, realizing something as the dog headed straight for the slaughterhouse. He swiftly emerged from the shadows where he was hiding.

His sudden appearance immediately drew the dog’s attention. The well-trained animal didn’t bark. Instead, it crouched low, ready to attack at any moment, emitting menacing growls. Its snarling demeanor looked vicious; a bite from that thing would certainly not be pleasant.

Lance, however, wasn’t intimidated. He held up his hands, palms open, signaling the man to stay put while also indicating he posed no threat, then walked over alone.

The sheriff was puzzled. Seeing Lance approach, he raised his club, clearly not letting down his guard.

But just as the sheriff was about to speak, he saw the approaching man make a hushing gesture and point to a nearby building. This odd action made him halt and tighten his grip on the already taut dog leash.