Our family is in decline

"Count Bastia threw you here like garbage, and then encouraged you to cause trouble just like he did just now, and wanted to use my hand to kill you."

Lance looked at the refugees, and their reactions were not shocking.

There was no hatred for the Earl, nor gratitude to him. On the contrary, he was so numb.

That look of indifference, as if the words shouted loudly from Lance's mouth had nothing to do with them.

That's right, don't they know that they are discriminated against, hated, and despised?

They know that they have experienced too many such things along the way, but they have no power to choose at all.

To put it bluntly, they don’t know if they will live to see the sun tomorrow, so it’s better to have dinner than tell them this.

Lance had a lot to say in his heart, and he wanted to guide these refugees to vent their emotions on Count Bastia and make them grateful to Hamlet.

But at this moment, looking at them like that, they just pursed their lips, and finally turned into a sigh of helplessness.

"I can let you be killed by the cultists, or I can massacre you because of what happened just now, and then drive you to the next place, just like the count did.

But I did not do that, my soldiers exercised restraint because you are human and part of the Empire. "

After saying that, Lance waved his hand and said, "Continue to serve the porridge."

Lance originally wanted to take this opportunity to remove the food directly, let them dry it all night, and teach them Hamlet's rules.

But... these people have already reached their limit. If he does this, countless people will die that night.

He was not a lord, and he could not destroy the lives of innocent people with a wave of his hand like Count Bastia.

In the end, I still relented...

But you can't change what you said. Lance quickly restrained his unnecessary emotions and turned his attention to those guys who tried to rob and were knocked down by the sheriff and administrator with sticks.

"Kick them out. The troublemakers have no right to eat a grain of Hamlet."

His decision immediately made those people beg for mercy painfully. Even the scars on their bodies could not stop them from squeezing out the last drop of tears in an attempt to make Lance change his mind.

But since they choose to cause trouble, they must be prepared to bear the price.

"This is Hamlet's rule." Faced with these restless guys, Lance didn't want to waste time, let alone waste medical resources on them, and waved his hand, "I don't want to see them again."

Under the threat of death, the dozen or so people were forced to leave, and this situation was even more shocking to those people than Lance's long speech for a long time.

And for the first time, they clearly felt "Hamlet's rules."

At the same time, there was a wave of fluctuation in the void invisible to humans, but it subsided again in an instant.

Lance withdrew his eyes from those people, turned to look at the refugees and said something.

"All the undercover agents in Bastia came out on their own. I won't kill you, but if you don't come out and get caught, don't blame me for not giving you a chance."

Everything Lance said had its own considerations.

If they knew what they were doing, Lance would not be willing to kill them, because they can exchange money for them, blackmail the Earl severely, and at the same time expose the Earl's trick in front of everyone.

He said that the count had planted an undercover agent to stir up trouble, but no matter how much he said, there was no evidence in front of him.

Reputation is a subtle and interesting thing.

But as long as those among the refugees are not stupid, they cannot escape on their own.

Lance was not in a hurry and raised his hand to wave.

"Everyone took off their coverings and came up one by one to receive the porridge."

The convoy's supplies were not only for the guards, but the refugees could only eat some tree roots and wild fruits on the way.

It can be said that the status of refugees and spies will be much different. This can be seen with just a little attention.

Sure enough, there was a commotion in the crowd as soon as he said these words, but the musket with the bayonet would not talk nonsense to them.

Lance's words just now had an effect. At least they had cut off the possibility of confusing the refugees, and the riot had subsided before it started.

The restricted refugees were released one by one and queued up to receive porridge again. Most of the refugees did not mind taking off the rags that were used to cover them, and then went to receive a bowl of porridge to end this terrible hunger.

But those guys hiding inside are not willing to take it off so easily, and they will not bet on the kindness of the enemy.

Lance didn't even urge them to take off the coverings, but continued to push things forward.

The reduction in the number of people means less cover. They are like fish in a pond. Lance does not follow any rules and directly pumps the water, leaving them in trouble.

This is killing people and killing your heart~

Not everyone can withstand this gradually increasing pressure. Soon some people can't hold it any longer and shout out loudly from the crowd.

"Killing!"

A refugee could be vaguely seen lying on the ground with blood on his body.

If this move were used elsewhere or if it was used effectively, the crowd would explode in an instant.

But the problem is that these refugees are ignored even to death. They are not afraid of death at all. On the contrary, the guy's stupid behavior directly exposed himself.

When all eyes were focused on him, he couldn't hold himself tight anymore. He immediately jumped up, the rag wrapped around his body was lifted, the feather necklace around his neck rose up, and the secret bursting technique was instantly revealed. Showing amazing agility, he actually stepped on the heads of those refugees and flew up.

His move was like a switch, and several figures running in all directions suddenly appeared among the crowded crowd of refugees.

"boom!"

Just with the sound of a gunshot, the figure who had just jumped fell to the ground in the next second.

It wasn't that Lance fired, he just looked at it without any intention of taking action.

"Damn it! I didn't miss the shot in the head." Disma stood with his gun raised and curled his lips when he saw this scene, seeming to complain a little dissatisfied.

But looking at the way he turned around to reload, it was obvious that he was still very satisfied with the power of this new gun.

The gun is also alive, and only those who can tame it can shoot where they want.

There was not a moment to mourn for that man, everyone was busy running away, trying to take advantage of the chaos to break out of the siege.

"Hmph! Want to escape?"

With a cold snort, an iron hook was thrown out of the darkness and directly hooked the figure of a spy. The tightness of the rope instantly interrupted his movement and pulled him off.

Under the flickering light of the torch, Tardif's figure rushing up with an ax was reflected.

Not all of those spies were eagles. Some were pushing and shoving among the crowd to create chaos, but he didn't expect that he would be targeted long ago.

"Kill them, girl!"

Following the order, Figes jumped out, and the pointed fangs bit down without any politeness. At the same time, he turned his head crazily, dragging and biting with the weight of his body.

The bite wound immediately started to bleed, and there was fuzzy flesh and blood on top of it.

Disma, Tardif, William, they have been waiting for a long time.

That means Boudica hasn't fully recovered yet, otherwise she wouldn't mind joining in the fun.

Even if they rushed out of the refugees, it was useless. The long-awaited musketeers did not hesitate to pull the trigger.

This distance was the target. There was no room for resistance as the dense barrage pierced his body and he fell down.

Funny, Lance surrounded him with troops just because he had thought of this, and no one could escape.

The outcrops were quickly dealt with. Lance originally thought there would be some special elites, which was why he stayed here.

Unexpectedly, Count Bastia was so stupid that he was not willing to use some elites in the invasion. They were just some rotten fish and shrimps, so he immediately lost interest.

It would be strange if Count Bastia looked at Lance with the eyes of an ordinary noble lord.

This is not a matter of taking it lightly, but because under normal circumstances, the first thing to do when facing refugees is to prevent them from unrest, and usually just drive them away or give them some food.

To put it simply, it should be like Totnes and Bastia. If you block it from the outside, who will have time to control you?

Provoking refugees is a trivial matter in the eyes of veteran aristocratic rulers such as the Earl, so it is naturally impossible to use any elites.

How can any lord personally take charge and deal with the refugees seriously?

He doesn't understand Hamlet at all, nor does he understand Lance...

As the front calmed down, Lance had no intention of staying any longer and turned his horse around to leave.

When he returned to the Lord's Mansion, he saw the three people in the hall.

Laura was a little better, but the other two could hardly sit still.

"Why didn't you greet my guests and go get some food?" Lance said to Susan on the side, not forgetting to warn, "They have been hungry for a few days, so get some easy-to-digest porridge."

"yes."

Susan turned around and went out, while Lance was looking at the two people.

The rag covering her body has been removed, and the black-haired woman's graceful figure can be seen wrapped in ill-fitting clothes.

It's a pity that the weakness is visible to the naked eye, and the face has lost its rosiness and luster. The experience of these days has left only haggardness and paleness, and even the blood stains from many days ago are still on it, but there is no pleasant beauty at all.

She should be the daughter of Baron Lawrence that Laura was talking about. Looking like that, she knew that she was usually pampered and pampered. It was no wonder that she suddenly fell into this situation.

The other one had disheveled red hair, and he looked handsome that way. Unfortunately, several days of hunger made his face look thin and tired, but his eyes were still bright, and the suffering did not completely defeat him.

It can be seen from the figure that there are traces of exercise. The stick in his hand can be seen from the cut rags and there is a musket inside.

Laura didn't say who she was, but anyone who could defect to Bastia was worthy of being won over.

No! That's not called defection, more accurately, it's called turning from darkness to light.

"Why are you injured?" Lance noticed the lightly bandaged wound on the back of the black-haired woman's head and couldn't help but get closer.

The woman was now at the mercy of others. She really didn't have the strength to care about Lance taking off the gauze and exposing the wound.

It was obvious that it had not been treated for a while, but the medicine and bandaging techniques used were quite good, but in such a harsh environment, pus and rot still appeared.

To be able to come to Hamlet and meet Lance before she fainted completely can only be said that she was really lucky.

There was no bone injury, that is, a flesh injury. For Lance, it was just a matter of blowing air. The reconstruction of flesh and blood easily healed the wound on the back of the head, but he still had to put on a show and pretend to let her deal with it. Then rebandage.

"It's not a big problem, I just need to raise it for a few more days and it will be fine."

Laura was a little confused when she saw this. Why would the lord still do such a thing? At that time, I was dismissed with just one sentence.

Susan soon brought over a pot of warm fish porridge. It looked similar to those served to refugees outside. It was made from Hamlet's Big Pot Rice. At most, it was thicker than the bottom of the pot.

But this was already a delicacy for the two people who had been eating grass roots for several days. Even their weak bodies couldn't help but hold on to the table and chairs and look up.

Before Margaret could react, the black-haired woman on the side stepped forward first.

It's just that after being hungry for so long, it's not that easy to stand up once you sit down. Your movements immediately turn into staggering and jumping forward.

"Be careful." Lance raised his hand to stop her from jumping on him, otherwise the food would be knocked over.

He helped the person to the table and motioned for Susan to take care of him. Lance didn't pay too much attention to the two of them. He couldn't listen to them no matter how much he said now. He would wait until they were full.

Turning to look at Laura, he stood up and walked into the room.

Laura was not hungry as she followed the convoy, so she noticed the lord's gaze and walked in.

"Then why is the baron's daughter injured?"

Lance looked a little helpless. He wanted to use someone to beat Baron Lawrence. At least it had to be intact, otherwise wouldn't the injury mean that he was abusive?

Regardless of whether he did it or not, as long as someone appears here and is injured, the Baron will think that it was him who caught the person. This becomes a threat, and his attitude is different.

It’s just that Laura didn’t understand when she heard this?

"She wasn't hurt?"

Hearing this, Lance couldn't help but pause in his steps, and looked back at Laura with a strange expression to ask.

"That red-haired one is Baron Lawrence's daughter?"

"Yes, sir." As soon as Laura said this, she also understood that she had admitted the wrong person, and immediately nodded and corrected her.

In the situation just now, the focus was on Count Bastia's arrangements for the refugee team. As for the two people, they only talked about it in one sentence, so misunderstandings would inevitably occur.

Lance was a little surprised when he received the confirmation. His treatment just now was just to gain favor.

Doesn't this mean that the person he was showing kindness to was wrong?

Instead, put the real owner aside?

I don't know what I thought of, but I didn't say it out loud, but continued to ask.

"Who is the black-haired one?"

“…” Laura was silent for a moment, and then she continued after a short pause, “I don’t know either.”

"Uh...?" Lance is confused now. Why don't you bring it to me if you don't know?

Laura also realized that there was an ambiguity in her words, so she explained it as she felt, telling the story of how she met the woman and then rescued her. (End of chapter)