CHAPTER 468: CHAPTER 301: ARRANGEMENT_1

"You cannot speak of the Lord in such a manner," Walter couldn’t help but turn his head at these words. The nobility system was still deeply ingrained in his heart.

Besides, gossiping about one’s boss behind their back was hardly a good thing. It’s a major taboo in any workplace.

"He doesn’t care..." Tiffany, however, pursed her lips dismissively and brushed a hand through her hair, which had grown quite a bit longer.

But she didn’t continue on that subject, instead speaking excitedly about her family.

"Father, you have no idea how impressive Brother is now! He’s teaching people to read at school. A whole bunch of little kids follow him around every day calling him ’Teacher.’ He enjoys it so much he’s reluctant to come home, preferring to stay at school."

Walter was rather surprised to hear this. His son’s timid nature had been a headache for him for a long time. It was a classic case of ’hoping for iron to become steel,’ but there was nothing he could do.

But to think he’d actually improved here?

"Is he really up to it?" Walter asked, still somewhat worried.

"He’s not a child anymore. He earned his current position step by step through the school’s assessments. I didn’t help him; I couldn’t have, even if I’d wanted to."

Walter, however, said no more upon hearing this. His worries lay elsewhere.

But in an instant, he understood. No wonder the Lord hadn’t re-emphasized the reward earlier; this was the reason.

Walter didn’t say it out loud. After going through such a life-and-death experience, he had let go of many worries, his focus shifting from business to his family.

Having navigated the world for many years, he knew the war couldn’t possibly end in three years; it would likely only intensify. For now, living under the Lord’s Sanctuary was perhaps not bad. At least his family’s lives weren’t in danger.

Otherwise, he’d be no different from those constantly bankrupt merchant caravans.

"Father, what are you thinking about?"

"Oh! Nothing much. How is your mother? What has she been doing these days?" Walter didn’t want to burden his daughter with the chaos of the outside world. This was a father’s protection.

"Mother is now..." Tiffany, oblivious, continued to speak smilingly about their family.

After Walter had left, Lance didn’t just issue simple commands. Instead, he went to visit the twenty soldiers who had accompanied the caravan to learn about the conditions of their journey.

He then rewarded them, gave them leave, and allowed them to truly rest.

But what was even harder to face were the two fallen soldiers. All that could be brought back were their ashes.

Lance was unwilling to delegate this task. He personally comforted the bereaved families and saw the two soldiers interred in the Heroes’ Cemetery.

He stood before the newly erected tombstones. Beside him was the squad captain, Vick, the sharp fellow Lance had thought highly of from the start.

The content of their reports was largely similar. However, Walter’s focused on commerce, while Vick’s centered more on the enemies encountered on their journey and the initial efforts to establish an intelligence network for Hamlet. It was still rudimentary, but everything was just beginning.

"Vick, I would like to seek your opinion on something."

"Please speak, My Lord."

"The challenges Hamlet will face in the future will be even more complex. We need our own information channels. I hope you’ll consider leaving the army to dedicate yourself to building a network of hidden eyes and ears for Hamlet."

Lance hadn’t made this decision suddenly; on the contrary, it was the result of careful consideration.

This feeling had become particularly urgent after the clash with the Romani people.

These twenty men had left before the army’s reorganization. Although they had endured many battles on their journey, with only eighteen surviving, they would find it difficult to adapt if suddenly thrust into the current army structure.

So, Lance was now offering them a choice: leave the army and become Hamlet’s shadow operatives.

Vick was no fool; quite the opposite. He understood perfectly what the Lord’s request entailed. His hesitation to answer immediately wasn’t a sign of disloyalty. Rather, he was carefully considering whether he was capable of shouldering such a responsibility...

"Alright, a matter like this is indeed difficult to decide. Give me your answer when your leave ends." Lance had no intention of pressuring him. He had a few other candidates in mind, but Vick, being quick-witted and having experienced caravan operations beyond their territory, was the most suitable.

"I offer my heart to you, My Lord!" Vick snapped to attention and saluted.

"Keep your heart; you’ll need it to contribute your strength to Hamlet," Lance said with a smile, patting Vick’s shoulder. If he agrees, this will be much simpler.

"Go on. That caravan is yours now. Tell me who you need."

"Yes!"

Vick’s departure left Lance standing alone in the Heroes’ Cemetery, his solitary figure appearing somewhat desolate amidst the tombstones. Gazing at the names etched on them, it was as if he could still see their faces.

"This is the price..."

With that, he withdrew his gaze and departed.

News of the caravan’s return quickly spread throughout Hamlet. Besides grain, it brought many goods that Hamlet could not produce itself.

Ultimately, Hamlet’s economy was still primarily based on agriculture and animal husbandry. Iron Ingots, for example, had to be imported. Furthermore, Walter, through some unknown connections, had managed to acquire a batch of standard-issue breastplates discarded by the Empire’s army. Although extensive corner-cutting had left them as thin as sheet metal, and many even had nicks and dents, they were still life-saving pieces of equipment.

Naturally, there was competition over these resources.

Reynard hoped to acquire more horses. Barton wanted the metal for casting cannons. Dismas wished to use it to forge muskets.

Everyone wanted to get their hands on those breastplates.

However, Lance forcefully suppressed all these claims.