Ruin has come to our family

Lance immediately began his inspection. As an archaeologist, he had some knowledge of the secret mechanisms and compartments of old buildings. He quickly found the trigger, and after moving a stone slab, he discovered a hidden compartment beneath the desk. It was situated such that it could only be found by someone sitting in the lord's chair. It seemed the large cellar was merely for storage; the real treasures were here.

After a careful check for traps, Lance slowly opened the compartment. Inside was a single, locked iron box. He tried to pull it out, but found he couldn't move it. He would have to open it here. He did, in fact, have the keys. He tried the ones from the Magistrate's ring, one by one, and soon the lock clicked open. But when he lifted the lid, Lance froze.

Gold coins! It was filled with gold coins!

Even in the faint candlelight, they shone with a dazzling luster. Everything else was forgotten. Lance eagerly began to count the coins in the box. The massive crates of copper in the cellar were worth perhaps twenty or thirty gold coins in total. Here, he counted one hundred and fifteen. This great fortune was equivalent to twenty-seven thousand, six hundred copper pieces, enough to fill three of the large crates in the cellar.

And that was not all. The box also contained several pouches made of deerskin, filled with citrine, jasper, agate, and jade, as well as rubies, sapphires, and gold jewelry. His professional eye told him these were all antiques, likely worth tens of thousands of gold coins. Gold coins, not copper. A sum so large you couldn't fit it in a crate.

Without a doubt, these were heirlooms that had flowed from the hands of the Ancestor. Only the nobility would possess such things.

Lance also found a thick stack of land deeds in the box. A quick look revealed that the Magistrate had come to own most of the property in the town.

Now, it all belonged to him.

It was, unquestionably, a massive fortune. He had never experienced anything like it in either of his lives. His heart pounded in his chest and would not quiet. But close behind the elation came a wave of anxiety. He was afraid of losing it. He felt as if someone was already trying to steal his money. He had the urge to carry the box with him at all times, as if his heart were now shackled to the gold.

Just then, a knock at the door nearly made him jump out of his skin. Thankfully, it was Susan's voice.

"My lord, the others have gathered."

"I am coming."

Lance quickly put everything back in order and went outside. Everyone was assembled in the dining hall, waiting for him before they would begin the meal.

After they had eaten and drunk their fill, he discussed the next day's operation with the group. Dismas and Reynauld had no objections. The veteran, Barristan, however, while not showing the same fear as the captured captain, still had his doubts.

"I do not think this is a good idea," he said. "The risk is too great."

Five men trying to defeat fifty guards was a difficult proposition, to say nothing of the hundred-odd serfs. This kind of irrational, suicidal attack reminded him of bad memories. A mature commander should not make such a decision.

Lance did not lose his temper at the veteran's questioning, nor did he use his authority to force the man to obey. That was something a child would do. Instead, he calmly laid out the intelligence he had gathered and pointed out the farmstead's weaknesses.

"First, the farmstead has expanded too quickly in recent times, its area increasing more than tenfold. This means there is a great distance between the manor, where the landowner resides, and the barracks where the serfs live. Twenty of the guards are assigned to manage the serfs. Given their efficiency, it would take them half a day to respond to an alarm. Therefore, the enemy we will actually be facing is much smaller, and concentrated within the manor itself.

"Second, a situation that is to our advantage: David's aggressive style has caused resentment among some of the guards. We can exploit the friction between them to divide their forces, which will further relieve the pressure on us.

"As long as we do not give them time to react, we will only need to face one or two squads of guards when we infiltrate the manor. In terms of equipment, we have two crossbows and two pistols. And in terms of skill, I am confident that all of you are superior to guards who are not even as good as common mercenaries. If we can find the landowner and David and eliminate them quickly, the remaining forces will have little ability to organize an effective resistance."

Lance spoke eloquently, analyzing the farmstead's current situation and the strategic rationale for his plan, advocating a surgical strike that played to their strengths and avoided their weaknesses. The plan was risky, but the potential reward was equally immense. If it could be executed, all combat would be confined to the manor, leaving the rest of the farmstead intact. Afterwards, he would be the master of a complete and functional farm.

His urgency in attacking the farmstead was not only to seize control of the town's food supply, but also because of the threat of David. The man was clearly no simpleton. In just ten days, he had taken control of the farmstead's security. If Lance gave him any more time, he would likely gain complete control of the entire farmstead, making a takeover much more difficult.

It had to be said, Lance's words had moved the veteran. In his long career, he had fought in few battles so daring. But he did not fear death. Still, out of concern for safety, he offered one last piece of advice.

"Then this mission can be carried out by the rest of us. There is no need for you, my lord, to participate personally. The danger is simply too great."

"No, no," Lance said with a smile, shaking his head. "There are some things I cannot yet explain to you. But I am the core of this operation." He then glanced at Dismas and Reynauld and added, "Besides, the men of House Hamlet are always on the front lines."

The real trump card that gave Lance the confidence to attack the farmstead with only five men was, of course, his own unique abilities.

[Sacrifice] could clear away bodies and replenish his boons.

[Bestow] could be used on his companions, making them tireless.

[Reconstitution of Flesh] could heal any wound. As long as they were not killed instantly, he could pull them back from Death's door.

Noticing Lance's gaze, Dismas felt a strange sense of purpose wash over him, a feeling he had never known before. He sat up straighter, his expression suddenly serious. To keep a secret, to fight a great and shadowy evil without the world ever knowing... the thought of it gave him goosebumps. It was a man's romance.

Barristan looked on, puzzled. He followed Lance's gaze to the other two, but they only looked mysterious, offering no explanation.

"Some truths require a heavy price to be known," Lance said, noticing the veteran's curiosity. But he had no intention of telling him directly. Some things were more interesting when left unsaid, to make the other person seek the answer. "If you survive this operation, and still wish to know, I will tell you."

He hated two things above all else: riddlers, and not being allowed to be a riddler himself.