Chapter 24: Expulsion

Victor was suffering from a headache.
During these past few days on the road, he had noticed that Nicole was in a deep depression.
Clearly, the threat posed by the savage gnoll last time had left the self-conscious and sensitive apprentice knight feeling wracked with guilt.
Watching Nicole become increasingly withdrawn and silent, Victor wanted to comfort her but could find no way.
Thus, he thought to distract her with delicacies unknown to this world. Edwin praised this idea, and amid the cheerful atmosphere, Nicole gradually became more lively.
Today, Victor had Lilia lead a group to the river to catch fresh prawns, intending to prepare his signature grilled prawns for everyone. Yet, unexpectedly, an incident occurred in which a guard killed a militiaman.
“That is how things happened, my lord,” Mouse said, lowering his head humbly beneath Victor’s disgusted gaze, hiding his sly appearance under his hood.
Mouse was a cunning scoundrel. Back in Blackcastle Town, he was a thief in a gang, hunted by the boss after pilfering a sum of freshly-stolen gold sovereigns.
To escape, Mouse pretended to be a tanner and joined Victor’s southbound group when he was recruiting settlers.
But Mouse was never content to simply survive; once he confirmed his safety, he began scheming again.
Knowing he was weak and unattractive—not cut out to be a leader—he sought a protector.
It was then he noticed Logan, the militia squad leader responsible for distributing food.
Logan and his two brothers had originally been farmers from the eastern province—reckless but fairly honest. Later, their strength brought them to Nelson’s attention, and Logan became a squad leader.
Though Mouse was unpleasant to look at, his bloody and cunning gang experience made him adept at reading people and flattering them. His subtle ingratiation soon won over the inexperienced Logan brothers, who came to regard Mouse as their own.
Under Mouse’s constant encouragement, the Logan brothers began to abuse their authority over food distribution, extorting and threatening timid farmwives. After a few successes and the silence of their victims, the brothers grew ever more brazen, forsaking their former simplicity and becoming scoundrels no better than Mouse himself.
Until they met Linda.
After Logan was killed by Linda, Mouse let out a shriek sharper than any woman’s and raced toward the camp with the speed of a rabbit fleeing a hound.
Cunning Mouse knew staying put meant certain death; he had to cause a scene before Nelson could react, hoping to gain a slim chance of survival.
“Murder! Murder!” Mouse ran through the camp, shouting. He quickly drew the attention of everyone, including Victor.
Before the assembled crowd, Mouse openly accused Linda of killing Logan, who had bought her services.
Victor looked at Logan’s two brothers, sobbing over the corpse, at the settlers gathered around, and at Linda, the female mercenary standing beside Nelson, hands bound and face pale. He was troubled.
Nelson’s War Bear mercenaries were Victor’s only reliable armed force, and Nelson had never disappointed him. Victor also knew Linda was Nelson’s companion, so he could not order her execution.
Yet Linda had brazenly killed a militiaman—a fact acknowledged by all involved, including herself. If Victor failed to deal with her justly, he would lose the trust of his people—a fatal wound for a new lord.
Victor decided to seek advice from the old scholar.
“Master, how would you handle such matters?” Victor asked Edwin in a low voice.
“I never deal with these myself; my steward handles them,” Edwin replied, spreading his hands.
When Victor turned his gaze to Bruce, the knight shook his head, indicating he too avoided such affairs.
Seeing Victor caught between a rock and a hard place, Mouse secretly rejoiced; whatever Victor decided about Linda, Mouse’s life was safe for now.
“My lord, I am willing to accept any punishment,” Linda said, stepping forward despite Nelson’s grim expression.
Victor said nothing; instinct told him the matter was not as simple as it seemed. Yet even the farmwife admitted to selling herself to Logan and his brothers for money and food, and Linda had indeed killed Logan after learning the cause.
But seeing Mouse’s sly face convinced Victor something was amiss—he was a good judge of character and resolved to uncover the truth.
Most lords of this world, eager to uphold their authority, would simply execute or release Linda, never bothering to seek the truth as Victor did.
Victor quietly activated his heightened senses and limit state, seeking more information from the details.
Sight, hearing, and perception formed a vivid, three-dimensional image in Victor’s mind; with X-3’s constant correction and filtering, he grasped everyone’s expressions and whispers with precision.
Beyond the War Bear mercenaries’ anxiety and the settlers’ anger and numbness, he caught a few flashes of satisfaction.
“Good riddance!”
“That beast finally got what he deserved.”
These were the murmured words of a few farmers, picked out by X-3.
“You, you, and you—step forward,” Victor singled out the men from the crowd.
“Don’t be afraid. What’s your name?” Victor asked gently, choosing the farmer who most hated the deceased.
“My lord, I am Reed,” the farmer replied, emboldened by Victor’s kindness.
“Reed, I give you a chance. Tell me what you know. If you conceal anything and I judge wrongly, I’ll order you hanged,” Victor’s direct words cornered the hesitant farmer like a sharp blade.
“My lord, I have something to say! Logan and his brothers claimed children couldn’t receive rations, so they never gave our families enough food. To feed our children, we had to use our savings to buy food from them. Now the money is gone, and the mothers had to sell their bodies to those beasts to get money to exchange for food,” Reed said, feeling a surge of satisfaction as Mouse and the implicated militia turned pale.
“Is this true?” Victor asked the others.
“Yes, my lord.”
“It is as he says.”
After receiving their confirmation, Victor mused aloud, “So, Linda killed a thief who was stealing my food.”
“My lord, spare me! It’s not my fault, I knew nothing about it. I was Logan’s friend, not his militia. I wasn’t involved in the theft,” Mouse pleaded, falling to the ground, distancing himself from blame. As for the boss, first to eat, also first to take the fall.
“Linda, as a Wimbledon family guard, you killed a thief who was stealing family property without my permission. You have overstepped your bounds. I fine you two hundred gold sovereigns as penance,” Victor declared, earning a grateful look from Nelson.
Two hundred gold sovereigns was a fortune for Linda, but with Nelson’s help she could pay it, though Nelson would be working for Victor for free for the next two years.
“As for these thieves, strip them of their settler status, give each ten lashes, and drive them from the camp.”
Hearing they would merely be expelled, Mouse rejoiced inwardly, though outwardly he kept up a facade of fear.
“My apologies for the spectacle,” Victor said politely to Edwin.
Edwin understood Victor needed to handle internal affairs next and replied with a smile, “Never mind, Victor, but you mustn’t forget the grilled prawns you promised.”
After Edwin and Bruce returned to their carriage, Victor dispersed the crowd and called Nelson over.
“My lord, I…” Nelson began, but Victor’s icy gaze stopped him.
“Nelson, I don’t care how wretched those scoundrels were, but you must remember: no one may kill my settlers without punishment, and no one may execute criminals in my domain without my consent. This is the last and only time. Do you understand?”
As a lord and protector of order, Victor would not tolerate such a challenge to his authority; he felt it necessary to warn Nelson.
“I understand, my lord,” Nelson replied solemnly, heart chilled.
“And isn’t it time old Ham’s hounds were let out for a run?” Victor said coldly as he turned to leave.
Victor was not a cruel or cold-blooded man, but he loathed those who took pleasure in tormenting the weak.
“Yes, my lord, they do need a run,” the War Bear leader replied, a cold smile revealing gleaming white teeth.
Gazing at the receding caravan, Mouse and his companions limped away in the opposite direction.
“We’re all going to die! The beasts will eat us! Mouse, it’s all your fault! If you hadn’t incited Logan, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” one of Logan’s brothers complained loudly.
Mouse said nothing, marching on.
Seeing Mouse, who usually fawned over them, ignore him, the man roared and lunged at Mouse, grabbing his collar, intent on teaching him a lesson.
Before the man’s fist struck his face, Mouse drew a sharp knife from his fingers and pressed it to the man’s throat.
“Listen, fool, I was killing men before you ever worked the fields. Do you want to try me?” The knife pressed against the militia’s artery, and Mouse’s venomous aura made him tremble.
Stripped of the madness that power brought, the farmer’s humility and cowardice returned to these pitiful wretches.
“You trash, listen up: only by following me will you find a way to survive. I’ll lead you back to Blackcastle Town. Until then, anyone who causes trouble will feel my knife,” Mouse said with a twisted grin, pleased to intimidate men far stronger than himself. As he prepared to employ further threats, a chorus of howls echoed from afar and drew closer.
Terrified, they looked around and saw the dog handler, old Ham, riding up on horseback, smiling coldly at them.
Justice may be delayed, but it never forgives.