Ruin has come to our family

Though the situation had taken an unexpected turn, he had still been able to counter-attack swiftly by leveraging the advantages at hand. Using the landowner as bait had allowed him to pinpoint the crossbowman, and as an unexpected bonus, had drawn out the hidden gunman. For the first time, Lance felt that the knowledge he had absorbed from years of immersing himself in all kinds of games was now being applied in the real world. Back in his old life, he had just been a corporate drone. He never knew he was capable of such things.

Reynauld brought the captive back to the manor grounds. Lance looked at the man before him and was somewhat surprised, wondering if he had made a mistake. He hadn't expected that David, the man who had orchestrated so much and given him such a sense of crisis, would be this sleazy-looking, thin, dark-skinned man. He had two wisps of a mustache and an old-looking face that made him seem thirty or forty. He was so small that the breastplate he wore looked comical on him, like a turtle's shell. Blood was seeping from his right shoulder, no doubt from Dismas's earlier shot. The highwayman had likely been aiming for his head, but at a distance of over a hundred meters, the bullet had lost momentum and veered off course.

It had to be said, one's face truly did shape first impressions. Lance's first thought upon seeing him was that this man was no good.

"You are David?"

"My lord, you must have the wrong person. I am not David. I am Sam," the man said, trying to argue, but it only made Lance laugh.

"You are the only one on this entire farmstead with a firearm. I do not believe you would entrust it to anyone else."

At these words, David fell silent. He sized Lance up for a moment, then let out a breath. "When did you know I was here?"

"Both of your guard squads were committed. If they were both present, it meant you had to be nearby. Furthermore, without a direct order, I do not believe they would have chosen to stand and fight rather than run." The quality of those guards was clear to everyone. For them to not break after Dismas had sniped one of their captains, and to instead organize an effective defense, meant a higher commander had to be present. Otherwise, those guards would have already run for the hills.

Hearing Lance's explanation, David could not help but sigh. "It seems my loss was not unjust."

Seeing David captured, the disheveled landowner ran out in a rage, rushing forward and landing two clumsy punches. "I gave you my daughter! And you, you dare to imprison me! You shot at me! I'll kill you!"

"You old fool, you still have the nerve to speak?" David shot back, not showing any weakness as he fought back. "Without me, would you have what you have today?"

In an instant, the two of them were wrestling on the ground. Barristan moved to separate them, but Lance stopped him. "Leave them. Let them fight." Lance found this dog-eat-dog spectacle rather amusing. He even found the time to comment on it.

"Who do you think will win?"

The old veteran looked at the scene. It was hard to say. One was old and weak with little fighting ability. The other was a street-brawler, but had an injured arm. The outcome was uncertain.

While they were enjoying the show, the twang of a bowstring sounded, and an arrow shot through the air, embedding itself in the ground nearby. Dismas's warning shot caught their attention. They looked over and saw several armed men approaching. Barristan immediately moved to Lance's side, his stout shield slightly raised, ready to protect him at a moment's notice. Reynauld turned his horse, ready to scatter them with a single charge.

"My lord! Don't shoot, it's me!"

The turncoat captain, realizing the situation, cried out in alarm, stopping the men behind him and advancing alone. When he reached Lance, his face was a blooming chrysanthemum of a fawning smile. "Congratulations on taking the farmstead, my lord."

"Hmph. You nearly ruined my great work," Lance said, showing him no courtesy. His voice was cold. "Where were you just now? What of the task I gave you?"

To not appear when the battle was uncertain, only to show his face the moment it was over... one didn't need to think hard to know the bastard had been hiding somewhere, watching to see who would win. If David had won, he would have run. If Lance won, he would appear to claim his credit. A textbook opportunist. Lance naturally had no kind words for him.

The captain knew he had failed to provide support as planned. He could only offer a placating smile and make excuses. "My lord, I was busy capturing one of their captains. He is a die-hard loyalist of David's. If he had called for reinforcements, it would have been troublesome."

Lance followed his gesture and saw that among the men he had brought, one man in a breastplate was indeed being held captive.

"It would not have mattered how many came. The outcome would have been the same. Unless," Reynauld added from atop his horse, "you wish to test the sharpness of my longsword."

The captain understood perfectly. He had seen Reynauld's charge earlier. He knew that all his men combined would be no match for the knight. He dared not waste any more breath trying to claim a reward. After a stern warning, Lance did not press the matter further. He waved a hand.

"We will leave this matter here for now. Go and inform the other guards to maintain stability. I want this farmstead running as usual, with no trouble. Do you understand?"

"Yes!" the captain agreed quickly. A task that didn't require him to risk his life was one he was more than happy to accept.

"And one more thing. Find someone to take a wagon and bring the grain shop owner here at once. Bring the guards we captured there as well."

The captain quickly took his leave with his men. As he went, he glanced at the landowner and David, still tangled on the ground. He knew these two were finished.

"Separate them."

Reynauld and Barristan each grabbed one of the men and pulled them apart. The landowner still had not grasped the situation. He continued to shout at Lance's party.

"What are you doing? Don't you want your money?"

David, on the other hand, had accepted reality. He taunted, "You still think you're the master here? You're just a loser, same as me."

"Impossible! They came to rescue me!"

As the landowner wailed, Lance looked at the two of them and smiled. "I forgot to introduce myself. I am the lord of the Hamlet. And you two... you have made quite a mess of my domain."

At these words, both men were stunned. They had both assumed Lance's party were mercenaries in the Magistrate's employ. They had never imagined he was the new lord.

After a moment of silence, David laughed, his face a mask of contempt. "Hmph. Where were you when the brigands came? You only show up now."

CRACK!

A gunshot, a flash of fire. When the smoke cleared, a hole had appeared in David's forehead. A trickle of blood traced a path down his face.

"Rest assured," Lance said, slowly lowering his pistol. "Neither of you will escape." David's body crumpled to the ground.

This David was clever, but his cleverness made him dangerous. Lance could not leave such a menace alive. He had to die.

The landowner was paralyzed with fear, his eyes fixed on David's corpse.

"Take him inside," Lance said, having no more time to waste on the man. He beckoned to Dismas, who was still on the wall. "I need to know where everything is kept."

Dismas, naturally, accepted the order.

Once everything was arranged, Lance strode towards the farmstead manor. He was now the master here.