CHAPTER 223: CHAPTER 190: HAMLET DOES NOT NEED TRASH_4

Just then, a soldier ran up to report, shattering the chaotic mood.

The training camp was already outside of town, near the old road. Stepping out, he immediately saw a densely packed crowd on the other side of the riverbank.

Walter noticed they were all refugees and, without a second thought, hurried over.

He was determined to settle accounts with that guy...

Lance, carrying a knife, followed among them like a Supervisor wielding a whip, instantly boosting their efficiency.

Sometimes people don’t know their own potential until they’re pushed. The speed of the group’s progress exceeded his expectations, and they arrived before dusk.

The Slaves caught sight of the town and were moved to tears, though their eyes had long since dried up.

As for the people with the caravans, they harbored infinite longing for this new place they had never seen. They did not mind Hamlet’s shabbiness; simply having a place to stay was good enough for them.

"Everyone wait here at the bridge. Follow the procedure to receive clothing, bathe, undergo detailed physical examinations, and register..."

Of course, some special individuals were not bound by these rules and were allowed to enter Hamlet ahead of others.

"Go on, take your family to the square, pick a house to settle into, have a nice bath, eat with your family, and take a rest," Lance signaled Reynard to lead his wife and child into the town.

But at this moment, someone suddenly interjected.

"Lance! You bastard..." Walter stormed up, furiously shouting his name.

Lance turned to face him. At that moment, Walter froze, the words he hadn’t finished shouting catching in his throat.

Walter was a man who dared to lead Guards against bandits, but in that instant, he was cowed. Lance’s gaze was filled with danger, not to mention the bloodstains still fresh on his clothes.

Following behind, Tiffany, not understanding what had happened, hurried forward.

"Father?"

This greeting awakened Walter. His gaze involuntarily shifted, and he felt a rising heat on his back—a sensation like narrowly escaping death.

"Something the matter?" Lance asked, a faint smile on his face. He sized up the father and daughter, a curious, assessing look in his eyes.

"Where is my family?"

A true man knows when to yield and when to stand firm. Walter calmed down; his family’s safety was now the most important thing.

"Don’t worry. There are just so many people, so progress is slow. Nothing went wrong on the way," Lance reassured, gesturing towards a certain direction.

Yet his words rang hollow when paired with the bloodstains covering him and Reynard.

Walter didn’t know what had happened on the road, but seeing his wife and child safe reassured him.

Tiffany glanced at Lance, her expression unreadable. She said nothing, turning instead to join her family.

Lance didn’t care much—once inside Hamlet, it would be difficult for them to leave.

No longer bothering with Walter, Lance ordered some people from the docks to be brought over. They were familiar with the procedures and had previously managed a camp of two thousand people, so handling this situation was a small matter for them.

Lance had the soldiers who had just returned stand down, distributing their bonuses and granting them a three-day leave. The ten men, who had endured countless hardships on the journey, could finally rest properly.

Now that the necessary personnel were assembled and everyone expected had returned, it would only take a few more days to assimilate the four thousand refugees into Hamlet.

Then it would be time to raise an army...

Lance was already lost in thought, but reality delivered a harsh slap in the face.

This all hinged on being able to settle so many people properly and quickly find work for them. At the same time, some of the existing policies also needed adjustment.

Managing a small town of fewer than a thousand people had already been a headache for him. Now, with close to five thousand, even he couldn’t help but feel the pressure.

Lance realized he lacked anyone with administrative talent. If only he had someone like Zhuge Liang to handle these burdens, he could rid himself of these troubles tomorrow and go deal with Elder Gan directly.

Unfortunately, he didn’t.