Chapter 1440 - 773: Bastia Memories (Part 2)

Chapter 1440: Chapter 773: Bastia Memories (Part 2)

Back then he’d still been pissed that the Lord had sweet-talked his daughter into giving away the family fortune he’d spent half a lifetime building; but looking at it now, even if nothing had happened at the time, once the Lord decided to make a move he’d probably have ended up just like those people anyway.

The soldiers entered the city, sealed what needed sealing, arrested who needed arresting; they were old hands who’d done this many times, the whole process smooth and efficient.

By the time Ovando was once again bathed in sunlight, the residents finally realized that they’d changed rulers overnight and were back under Hamlet’s jurisdiction.

Did that make any difference to them?

None.

The factories and fleets belonging to the big merchants in Ovando City completed their handover as if they’d been ready for it all along, everything proceeding very smoothly.

The turmoil that night had only affected a small number of people. Lance had no intention of touching the small shops and little households, as long as they operated under Hamlet’s rules.

Lance hadn’t left yet; instead, he appeared in one of the more interesting places in Ovando: the prison—or rather, the slave traders’ warehouse.

Come to think of it, both Tadiff and Boudica had "studied" here, and last night, among the people they’d burst into the meeting room to arrest was that same slave trader, or warden, from back then.

Now the man had been locked inside. Sometimes fate really is that bizarre.

A complete reversal!

But Lance hadn’t come here to kick a man when he’s down; this trip was mainly to resolve the issue of mixing prisoners and slaves together in detention.

Because inside you had criminals mixed in with slaves who’d been seized; and even among the registered "criminals," there were plenty who’d been wronged, or had simply offended the wrong people like Tadiff.

And apparently, thanks to the situation in the mountains, quite a few from the Barbarian Tribes had fled like Boslake, and with Bastia refusing to recognize the Barbarian Mercenaries, they’d ended up grabbing a lot of barbarian slaves. Some of them didn’t even speak the common tongue, much less communicate.

So the work of sorting and identifying people was extremely hard to push forward; Lance could only bring in professionals.

Right now in that prison you could see the work already underway. The ones coming and going were no longer the slave traders’ guards or slave-hunters, since those bastards had also been thrown into cells last night to await judgment—either sent to build roads or to the sanatorium.

These people coming and going now were legal-affairs clerks specially trained by Hamlet.

Handling all these cases along the way had given them ample practical experience. They weren’t in a hurry to release anyone; the first step was to haul out the dust-covered files and reopen investigations.

This was a massive workload, not something that could be done in a short time; some of the people involved weren’t even alive anymore.

But someone had to do it. Maybe some justice that came late could still be served, and fairness could still be realized.

"My Lord, these are the records of those slave transactions."

"Once you’ve verified their identities, release them. Anyone who wants to leave, give them some supplies and send them off; anyone who wants to stay, have them register and wait for assignment. Make the policies clear to them."

The first step was to separate slaves from criminals. Of course, some of them had been targeted and then dragged in as "criminals" through all sorts of shady tricks, so they had to be reviewed.

"As for those people from the Barbarian Tribes, I’m leaving them to you two."

Lance gestured for Grendel to step in. With her reputation in the mountains, she could probably explain the situation to them clearly: the place wasn’t controlled by slave owners anymore.

As for Boudica, she was mostly there to make up the numbers. When those punks didn’t understand human speech, she’d use her fists and feet to teach them.

"Boss, don’t worry, leave it to us." Boudica thumped her chest as she agreed. "Whoever dares make trouble—if someone has to die, I’ll beat him to death!"

"Good~" Lance smiled at Grendel, signaling them to get to work.

Lance himself went deeper inside and met those wealthy merchants who’d been locked up.

Ordinary methods wouldn’t work here, so Lance had to step in personally. The assets tied up with these people were enormous; if Hamlet could swallow them whole, it would be extremely important.

People say he doesn’t value commerce, but in truth Lance values it a great deal. After all, the budding of capital is a tide of the era that cannot be stopped.

"I know you all hate me. But in fact, I’m a good person. I’m sure some of you will come to agree with me."

Normally, to conceal himself, Lance would suppress his aura; otherwise he’d be affecting everyone around him indiscriminately, kind of like how those legendary sages walking among mortals would receive worship wherever they went.

No wonder the Church’s saints back then were able to organize manpower to resist the Ancestor and get people to willingly sacrifice themselves. Aside from faith, there were probably reasons like this as well.

But Lance wasn’t a saint, and he didn’t like attracting attention. So ever since advancing to Demigod, he’d constantly kept his aura suppressed, looking utterly ordinary, like a regular man.

Right now, though, he didn’t mind showing his power.

Lance’s face—normally so indistinct in memory—began to turn sharply clear. Those people looked at him as if against their will, sinking into a strange silence, with nothing but Lance’s voice echoing in their minds.

It wasn’t long before Lance left that place, but the unsettling part was that several people walked out after him; as for the others, they were probably beyond saving.

These few he’d picked out no longer had the hostility they’d shown before. On the contrary, they were almost unnaturally calm, and the glances they let slip were full of awe.

When Lance turned up at his door, Walter wasn’t surprised. It was only when he saw the others with Lance that he felt fear in his heart.

"Let’s hear it. Hamlet’s long-term commercial plan..."

...

"It may not be as spectacular as Totnes, but being built against the mountains, right in the gorge, it’s truly steep and formidable—definitely easy to defend, hard to attack.

No wonder it can choke the main route and seal off the mountain range, keeping the Barbarian Tribes from daring to raid south for over a decade. That’s Bastia—the stronghold that ’will never fall.’"

Riding at the front, Lance looked out toward the fortress ahead with some emotion.

"It’s just a pity that no matter how solid the walls, a city is always taken from within..."

Lance had stayed in Ovando for two days, mostly to unify Hamlet’s upcoming commercial development.

In the end, he didn’t approve Walter’s resignation. Since there was no one suitable to replace him, he’d just have to suffer a bit more.

With the nobles occupying territory in the south dealt with, and Ovando to the southwest now in his pocket, Bastia was the only place left.

From what he’d just said, it was clear Lance knew exactly what had happened over in Bastia.

Back when the Blood Moon had yet to fade, that evil cult had incited Alvin to kill the Old Earl and then spread corruption throughout the city.

But for some reason the cult seemed under-prepared, and in a large city the Church’s strength wasn’t weak. Under the Church’s lead, resistance took up most of the cult’s forces.

Add to that the bodyguards who laid down their lives, letting one key figure—the heir, Bruce—escape the cult’s assassins.

The Bastia army encamped outside the city actually hadn’t taken much damage. Bruce escaped the city and took command of the troops, then led them back inside to fight for control.

The problem was, Knights need open ground to fight effectively. The Order of Knights the Earl had built up over half a lifetime could barely charge properly once they forced their way into the city; their effectiveness was limited.

Still, it was precisely this tug-of-war that allowed most people to flee before the corruption fully spread and devoured the city.

It was just that Bruce ended up losing to the cult. To preserve his strength he had to withdraw, though he did manage to rescue the Church’s people.

By then, other nobles had also received the news and gathered their armies, but whether they were coming to fight the cult or do something else was anyone’s guess.

Bruce wanted to rally the other nobles and storm the city together to purge the cult, but those same nobles who’d been shouting to crush the cult earlier all started dragging their feet, clearly unwilling to commit forces—after all, it wasn’t their city.

If not for the Church supporting Bruce, those nobles would probably have taken Bruce out first.

Bruce could do nothing but gather the refugees and lay siege to the city, stuck in a very awkward situation.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to attack again; it’s just that the "easy to defend, hard to attack" fortress had turned into a boomerang that smashed straight into the heir’s head. Several attempts all ended in failure, and the cult completely seized control of the city.

Since then it had just been constant stalemate and pull between both sides. By now, it had already been half a month...