Ruin has come to our family

"I don't think they were brigands," Barristan said, his brow furrowed as if trying to recall the details of that day. "I think... they may have been soldiers."

"What? How is that possible?" Dismas looked astonished, but Lance nodded in agreement.

"I think so, too."

"But the army would not attack civilians here," even Reynauld found this problematic. It was then that Lance produced two items.

"Look at these."

One was a crossbow. The other was the long-barreled flintlock taken from David. Dismas knew a bit about such things. He took them, examined them closely, and understood.

"These are standard-issue weapons of the Imperial Army. But the markings have been ground off."

"These items were likely taken by David after killing the brigands. Which would mean those men were, in fact, soldiers. But why would soldiers be mixed up with brigands?"

"Deserters," Barristan said, and with that single word, everything fell into place.

Though soldiering was a profession in this world, the pay was by no means good—certainly not as good as what Lance was offering his new recruits. But life in this world was hard, and many joined the army for a mouthful of food. Even so, the soldiers' wages were often delayed or went unpaid, to say nothing of the abuse they suffered at the hands of their officers.

Such an army might perform well when the odds were in its favor, but in the face of a difficult battle, it was prone to collapse. The deserters were then either hunted as criminals, or officially written off as "killed in action," allowing their officers to pocket their death benefits. The upper echelons drinking the blood of their soldiers was standard practice, a truth that had not changed even in more modern times, let alone in this benighted age.

And so, these soldiers, their identities erased, had no choice but to become brigands, preying upon some remote region until they caused enough trouble to attract the attention of the authorities—or more likely, until they infringed upon the profits of some nobleman, who would then dispatch a regular army to exterminate them. An action which, in turn, might give rise to a new wave of deserters.

It was a vicious cycle. But these things happened in the remote territories. The people living in the great cities would never notice. The great lords and ladies would never notice these—ants.

But it was clear now that for the Hamlet, these imperial "ants" were a pack of savage, hungry wolves, who had just recently torn a great chunk of flesh from the town. The Hamlet could not possibly withstand another such raid.

After a moment of silence, Lance finally spoke.

"An army of unknown size, armed with firearms and cannons, is camped nearby and could attack the town at any moment. If that is truly the case, I do not believe that the few of us, along with an untrained militia, can do anything. A single cannonball, and none of us would be left standing."

The weight of this judgment settled upon them all. It was a very real problem. Though they were all battle-hardened, elites among common men, the enemies they had faced so far were either degenerate mercenaries dulled by wine and women, or common thugs. They had not yet faced a truly hard target, which was why their victories had seemed so effortless. But to face a large-scale assault from an army with guns and cannons... Barristan's own previous fate had already proven that an individual's strength was severely limited.

Dismas, who had been so eager to go and fight cultists, now fell into a low mood. He knew that what Lance said was the grim reality.

"Hahaha!"

But into this heavy atmosphere, Lance suddenly laughed. The action seemed strange to the others. Why does our lord laugh?

Sensing their questioning gazes, Lance explained, unhurriedly.

"You have all overlooked a very important factor. They are deserters, not a real army. This means that after their attack on the Hamlet, they received no logistical support. But their expenditure of supplies was very real. And how much ammunition can a few deserters carry?"

His words opened a new path in their minds. If there were no cannons, all they had to do was hold their ground. No matter how strong the brigands were, it would be difficult for them to break through.

"So, our main task now is to train our new soldiers. We will prepare with the brigands as our target. The next time they come, we will show them a thing or two. I, Lance, am not that failure of a Magistrate!"

With the tone set, Lance began to assign tasks. Barristan, with his military experience, would be in charge of basic training and formations. Reynauld, with his outstanding swordsmanship, would be responsible for teaching the new recruits close-quarters combat.

Dismas waited for Lance to give him his assignment. But the lord's arrangements were all focused on the other two, with every detail meticulously planned. And for him, there was not even a simple task like patrol duty. It was as if he had been personally separated from the team. Dismas could not help but fall into a spiral of self-reproach. Was it my cowardice in the face of the corruption... or my failure to control my baser urges with the women... that has earned the lord's displeasure? This tangled emotion only grew stronger as time passed.

"Dismas, I have a mission for you."

Finally, my turn! Dismas felt as if the lord's hand had just pulled him up from the depths of hell. A surge of energy filled his entire body. He desperately needed to prove himself to his lord.

"My lord, just say the word. Whatever you ask of me, I will do."

Lance found his excitement a bit strange, but paid it no mind as he began to lay out his strategy.

"Training soldiers takes time and a great deal of resources. And what we lack most right now is time. We do not know when those brigands will attack. At the same time, we know too little about them. We do not know their equipment, nor their exact numbers. To change this situation, we must know the brigands' stronghold, their movements, and the terrain of the wilds and the Old Road."

Lance's expression turned serious. "This information will be of great use to us in exterminating the brigands. But to carry out this action, we must send one person deep into the area around the Old Road to investigate. This is an exceedingly difficult task... and I wish for you, Dismas, to complete it."

"Leave it to me. I guarantee the mission will be completed," Dismas accepted at once, feeling no resentment that the lord had given this dangerous task to him. On the contrary, he saw it as a sign of the lord's trust in his abilities, a chance to prove himself. He had been waiting for this.

The shame must be washed away with blood.

Lance had not thought so deeply on the matter. He had chosen Dismas simply because the man was more familiar with brigands and the wilds. As for Barristan and Reynauld, he needed them here to train the new recruits.